Page 53 of Roulette: The Madam

“Yes, Sir. Of course.”

“Have fun.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

I entered the dimly lit restaurant with my diamonds leading the way. They glistened under the warm white lighting. The yellow undertones matched perfectly with the black decor. Together, they set a vibe that kept me coming back to the spot at least twice a quarter. The food was a major factor as well.

“Welcome to Blue Prime Seafood. Do you have reservations with us tonight?”

“I don’t. But, put me down for a table of four, set for two, as soon as one comes available.”

“Any preferences for location?”

“The back of the house.”

“Great. I have you down. Can I get a name for you, Sir?”

“You know my name, love. It’s the same as last time and the time before that.”

The smile of the hostess faded as she nodded. Each time I visited, she was the person I was talking to. She did her job well.Not only did I believe it but her bosses did too because she was always front and center.

“Right.”

“I’ll be at the bar.”

I took off, headed for the bar that was near the area I was interested in dining. There were not many empty chairs, so I grabbed one of the two vacant ones next to an older couple enjoying a drink and each other’s company. The bartender was in front of me with a napkin and menu before I was able to settle in the high top chair.

“What can I get for you?”

“A Manhattan.”

“Coming right up.”

Intently, I observed as my drink of choice was constructed. I placed both hands in front of me, elbows on the bartop. My palms combed down my face as I gathered my thoughts.

“Argh,” I groaned, lowly.

My drink arrived a mere sixty seconds after the order had been placed.

“Here you are, Sir. Will you be closing out your tab or leaving it open?”

“Keep it open.”

“Alright. I’m Henry. Holler if you need anything else.”

I nodded, assuring him of my understanding. The chilled glass and ice-cold concoction inside brought saliva from my glands. The glass was relatively small in my hand, reminding me of my daughter’s tea cups between my long fingers during the many tea times I’d attended in the past. I pulled it closer to me, then up toward my lips.

The first sip was revitalizing. Things faded. Not everything, but many. Enough to make my shoulders less heavy and my heart not feel like anchors were keeping it grounded. A lengthy sigh followed the sip.

The issue I was facing was unlike anything else I’d encountered. At the snap of a finger, the pull of a trigger, the ambush of a location, or a payment that couldn’t be refused had fixed every problem I’d had in adulthood. But, this was different. There was no amount of money I could pay Yara to convince her to get better for our child.

I felt like I was fighting a losing battle at times. There was hope, but the longer this shit went on, I was wondering how much hope I could have for someone who wasn’t hopeful for themselves or their situation.

Giving up on her is not optional. I reminded myself.

I didn’t plan to.

“We’re in this shit together, pretty,” I whispered as a whiff of wild florals, zest, vanilla, and berries swept past me.

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