Page 69 of Madam, May I

She pulled to a stop at the red light and put her phone on speaker. “Let me be clear. I’m the best at what I do because I am the keeper of secrets, includingyours. I will carry what I know and whom all I know about to my grave. But allegiance is paid for with the same loyalty. See, to protect those who deserve it I will absolutely handle a traitor. Even threatening me makes you that. Do you understand me? I willabsolutelydestroy youifyou ever threaten me or mine again. I will give you that first hiccup as a show of my grace.”

The line remained quiet.

The traffic light turned green, but she remained where she sat.

“Man, I’m tripping,” he said suddenly with a little laugh. “Let me sleep off this drunk.”

“It’s been good knowing you, V. L. and if there is anything I can do for you, outside of adding you back to my list, you let me know,” she said before ending the call with a press of her thumb to the screen.

A car horn blared behind her. She accelerated forward, steering with one hand and dialing Choc’s phone with the other. Still no answer.

Choc lived in Harlem, and Desdemona pulled up her address and fed it to her GPS before she headed in that direction, eventually hopping on the FDR Drive. With traffic, it took close to forty minutes to get there. She parked two blocks down from Choc’s house, wishing she had used a car service to prevent anyone—even Choc—from getting her license tag number—a direct link back to her.

Another ball dropping.

The tree-lined street was clearly gentrified with white residents strolling up the block at a leisurely pace, with no signs of mom-and-pop corner stores to be seen for miles. Whether rent or a mortgage, it was all a sign that the cost of this neighborhood was high. Choc was pre-med at NYU—another costly expense and the reason for her work as a courtesan. How could she afford this as well?

Perhaps she’s not alone.

Desdemona texted her this time. “I’m outside your house. Wanted to make sure you’re okay. U home?” she said aloud as she typed.

She looked up the street at the brownstone. A shadow broke up the light in the second-floor window. She was glad for the dark pitch of her tint and that none of her courtesans knew what she drove; she usually made sure of that.

Cha-ching. Cha-ching. Cha-ching.

CHOC: Coming downstairs.

Desdemona waited until the shadow disappeared from the window before she climbed from the car and locked it. She walked up the middle of the street where the snow had been cleared, creating a path. She was just approaching the brick porch with beautiful scrolled wrought-iron railings when Choc opened the ornately carved wooden door.

Everything sung “Money, money, money, money” like the O’Jays.

She took in the tall and elegant dark-skinned woman with the looks and grace of Lupita Nyong’o as she clutched her cashmere wool coat closer to her body and came down the stairs before Desdemona could come up.

“Are you okay?” she asked, studying her face.

The left side of her face was puffy, and her eyes were red-rimmed from tears.

“I’m done, Mademoiselle,” Choc said. “I didn’t sign up to be hit upon.”

“I am so sorry. I try my very best, I promise you, to ensure that every consort is above this kind of behavior—”

“I don’t blame you. I’ve . . .servicedhim before and he wasn’t like that the last time,” she said. “But all I could think of was something going really wrong with him—or another one—and then what would I tell my fiancé?”

Desdemona didn’t hide her surprise and looked up at the building to the window where she’d seen Choc’s outline.

“Yes, he’s home.”

“Is this new?” she asked, wondering how her intel of the woman being single had been wrong.

“Just a few months ago. It was all whirlwind,” she said.

Desdemona relaxed. Not wrong. Out of date. That she could accept. “If you’re sure about your decision, then I’ll cancel any upcoming sessions,” she said, not even trying to convince her otherwise.

“I am,” she said, her eyes sad. “It was a little fun before tonight and the money was so good, but I’ll just have to figure something else out to pay for school. And maybe I should have done that in the first place.”

She wasn’t the first—or the last—to come and then go. In fact, Desdemona never wanted any of her courtesans to make it a lifelong career.

Then why are you?

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