Page 36 of Good As Hell

She looks up, her face flushed with so much emotion I’m not sure to respond.

“Okay, you made love?” I ask only because my friend calls sex many things but never this. I also know she’s not been with anyone since long before her transition.

“Yes,” the words come out on a hiccup and a sob.

Rushing over to her side, I hug her close. “Shh, hunnie. It’s okay. Was he mean? Are you okay?” My tummy is in knots. I know how vulnerable sex makes us and I know this is a big deal for Fi.

“He was amazing,” her voice strikes a high pitch on the last word.

“T-that’s good. That’s what we want, right?” I ask, trying to figure out why she’s so upset.

She nods even as her eyes fill with more tears. “Yeah, but —” her words trail off. Then she looks back. Leaning in close, she says in hushed tones. “I’ve been working with Prosper to get usout of here, but now I’m scared I’m involved with him and worse. I think he may really like me back.”

“Fi.” A deep baritone has us both turning to the entrance. The moment Fariq’s gaze lands on her, his face darkens, and he spears me with a menacing look. Then he does the unthinkable — steps into our royal suite.

Striding directly over to us like his life is not in peril with every step he takes inside of the suite of the prince and his royal consort Fariq doesn’t stop until him drops to his hunches in front of Fi.

“Why are you crying beautiful one?” His voice is rough as he rubs away a stray tear.

“We just saw a little boy — it was a boy, I think?” Her eyes search over to mine and I nod, helping with her smooth lie. “He was being pulled out of the rubble and he was alive. I just got overwhelmed, but Lyric was helping me through it.” She smiles over at me.

Turning to look at me, Fariq gives me a fleeting smile. I don’t think he will ever like me. It’s fine as long as he’s good to my friend.

“Shukran,” he murmurs to me. “Come, we must go. The prince will be here shortly, he’s had a very hard day. He will need his family.” Rising after offering the little heads up, he pulls Fi to her feet and they exit through the gardens as they often do.

Sitting back, I finally do as Fi suggested earlier and turn off the TV. I don’t want Hassan to see what he’s been immersed in all day.

I call for fresh tea and refreshments. It’s early evening, and the sun is going down. I already know he will have his Mahgrib, evening prayers before coming to the suite, so that gives me a little time to freshen up.

I hurry through my ablutions, bringing Ayaan with me to play a little after the attendant drops him off with a smile.This is rote for me now. Each evening I’m the very picture of domestication when my husband arrives. I can’t lie and say there is not a part of me that doesn’t actually love this life that has been forced on me.

Retirement was a very real dream, but if I’m being honest, that’s all it was. Maybe I was fooling myself. If I were never found out, I don’t know if I would have ever stopped going on tour. The draw of excitement and the drug of my fandom’s adoration is something I have always struggled not to let motivate me to do more than I should.

Taking the wine to market as part of my brand would have been a huge endeavor, but I would have loved it too much to stop. There is just something about making your own money, and being the queen of your destiny, that always hits a sweet spot for me. Especially after seeing how my mom was caught up in Rob’s snare of his controlling my dad’s money and using his position in the church to quell any dissent from us. Always reminding us of a woman’s place and the man as head of the household.

Hassan making me sit down is the only way this life would have come to pass. Though his methods are foul as fuck. I want and need my career. I want and need my family. I stop myself at the thought. When did I start thinking of him as such? Nemesis, lover even reluctant husband but family?

“Baba,” Ayaan squeals running on feet surer than they were a month ago over to his looming father.

“Ibni,” comes the soft chuckle as Hassan hugs him close. He has eyes only for Ayaan, yet I can see the shadows lurking in their depths. He pulls him close to his freshly shaven face and clean clothes he’s changed into before his prayers. Closing his eyes he holds Ayaan, seeming to take in all the love our son is more than happy to shower on him. That is until his mini-me gets antsy and starts to squirm away.

I watch as he puts him down to let him play.

“Are you hungry?” I ask moving to call for refreshments.

“No.” I pause at the sharp reply.

Pausing at the clipped severity in his voice, I turn back. “Tea?”

He shakes his head, his eyes flicking to me barely, then on a sigh he sits on one couch facing where Ayaan is busy placing blocks. Focusing completely on our son he seems intent on shutting me out.

Flummoxed, I stand feeling lost, my tummy knotting with worry and feeling more than a little silly, not sure if I should go to him or settle on the floor and play with Ayaan.

I’m terrible at this. Never had to cater to a man in my life. I’m the one people cater to. The person servants constantly inquire if I need anything. And never have I ever been as dismissive to any person as he being to me.

Head high, I go over to my son and sit on the floor crisscrossed opposite him. His smile is beatific. “Here, Mommy.” He hands me an armful of blocks before resuming his tower.

Again and again he builds the tower as high as he can until it falls. Each time I praise his ability. Yet it is his father he looks to for acknowledgment.

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