Avarice Unfortunate Sons CH 24

Vincent Vice

It was one of those unsettled evenings when, at one moment, the wind blustered violently, tearing at the tops of the evergreen trees. Then in the next moment it died down to an almost uncomfortable stillness. The dark clouds rumbled menacingly in the distant northern sky.

Carlos leaned against a wall with his arms crossed. His employer firmly in his sights. He appeared nonchalant in his attitude, yet he was ready to spring to Celeste's defense in a heartbeat. She was wearing a form-fitting red dress with a daringly plunging neckline. The bold garment was a statement that shouted 'look at me.' She was easily the center of the busy room, watched by everyone. A status that she seemed to revel in. She laughed, and she shone, and it seemed that everyone wanted a piece of her.

Hundreds of candles burned in sconces. Lending the scene a golden old-world feel. Couples sat at the high round tables, drinks in hand. Some eagerly leaned toward their partner, hanging on their words with delight over wine. Others were engaging on a more transactional level. Elderly gentlemen accompanied by the painted and perfumed ladies of the night.

The live music and the patrons at the gaming tables were at times raucous. Almost drowning out the overtures of the threatening weather outside. Carlos took a pause in his surveillance and gazed out of the north facing window. It would be a relief to get some rain, he thought. For so long it had been bone dry, and bull-dust coated everything. Then he went right back to work scanning the room. The reassuring pistol, accompanied by a sharp blade pressed into his side beneath his shirt.

His quick dark eyes roved over the crowd, missing nothing. The courtesan who abhorred her customer. The gambler who was down on his luck. The man who wished he could afford more. He was, as always, interested in people. Just as he had been when he was younger. Before he had been dragged off to the desert as a captive. When civilization still stood, as he watched his mother and those she entertained. He could instantly spot those who played at power and wealth, and those who comfortably wore them. Yes, she had taught him well for this new life.

Carlos had begun to enjoy this line of work. So far, offering Celeste personal protection had been easy, and far more lucrative than the bar work that he had left behind. Carlos' and Celeste's relationship had blossomed. It was a comfortable unity, and deep down they understood one another.

Tonight he could see the Commissioner seated at one of the card tables. Perhaps he was winning, but Carlos could not tell. That man's poker face, as ever, never gave away easy clues. There were also men from the Banned Angels present. Rough, dangerous men. Easily identified by the colors that adorned their biker leathers. Many with heavily painted harlots draped over their arms. Carlos always made a point to give Gage's men a wide berth. From that first meeting, he was wise enough to understand that Gage Freeman had a secure grip on the Bridge, and most who inhabited it. One didn't need to be noticed by him.

This evening Celeste was entertaining a regular client. One of her 'easy' ones, she had stated. Carlos knew that any risk to her would be minimal to non-existent. So he let his eyes freely roam over the crowd. They came to rest on a handsome young man who was surrounded by a plethora of feminine attention, and yet he appeared to be with no one in particular. He was dressed impeccably. His attire was tailored to his lithe and well-made form, and he wore his straight golden hair long beneath a rakish black felt hat. It was apparent that everyone knew him. Though not all seemed to approve of his presence. Many patrons whispered and pointed when they thought that he was not looking in their direction.

This handsome individual excused himself from the bevy of adoring women, and boldly made his way directly to Celeste's table. Carlos felt himself stiffen in an attitude of uneasy readiness as he watched the suave stranger approach and take off his hat. Yet he visibly relaxed when Celeste shot the handsome stranger one of her alluring smiles. Greeting him with genuine warmth. It seemed that she knew him well.

Observing this interchange, Carlos was struck by a strange sense of familiarity. This debonair man conversed easily with the most high-profile courtesan in the Bridge. Giving little regard to her client who sat opposite, clearly unhappy that his paid time was being wasted.

Pleasantries exchanged, the man did not stay long. Departing into the night moments before the heavy rain began to noisily pelt at the windows. Carlos wondered if the stranger had been drenched in his fine attire in the sudden downpour.

The remainder of the evening passed uneventfully. Carlos watched Celeste bid her longstanding client goodnight and sauntered over to her. He had questions playing in his mind. The handsome fellow had in some way unsettled him. He had to find out just who he was.

Celeste turned and smiled brightly at her bodyguard. "I am tired," she remarked, squeezing his arm. "But this rain! We will have to wait, or we will be soaked!" Raising her hand to politely stifle a yawn.

The River Princess never truly closed. If there was a buck to be made, the boat would always provide. However, the casino and restaurant had set hours of operation. The music had faded to quiet as the musicians packed their instruments away, and the last of the customers filed down the gangplank. Doing their best not to be drenched by the sudden angry squall. That everyone knew would dissipate as swiftly as it had arrived.

They stood quietly waiting for the worst of the storm to pass. The diminutive Celeste leaned back into Carlos' possessive embrace. Her eyes half closed.

"Who was that blond guy with the hat?" Carlos had to ask.

Celeste turned her head and looked up at him coquettishly. A look that made him melt every time. "That was Vincent Vice of The Unfortunate Sons. I'm amazed you don't know who he is. Everyone does."

"Nope, don't know him, but I've heard of them. Who are they exactly?"

"The underground. There isn't much in this city that they don't have a hand in. The Commissioner, and even Gage Freeman, have trouble touching them. So the factions all exist side by side... well mostly."

Vincent Vice. The name left Carlos with no sense of recognition. Yet the handsome stranger seemed so familiar. "Can I meet him sometime?" The request was uttered before Carlos even had time to vet it.

"Sure, he's often about. I think you would like him." Celeste replied brightly. "The Unfortunate Sons, though, are secretive. Someone has to recommend you..."

"Like an exclusive club?" He could remember his mother being invited to many of those, and the fuss she would make over how she dressed to attend.

"Sort of. I have never been there."

Carlos was surprised at that, but perhaps it wasn't a place for a woman. Even a courtesan.

"Have you dated this Vincent?" He asked, mischievousness in his voice.

Celeste again glanced up into his dark countenance and giggled. "No, I don't think any of the girls have. He has Stormy's ear though."

"I'm not surprised." Carlos kissed her. Playfully biting at her lower lip.

The rain had begun to ease on the decks. Carlos looked at his lover and said playfully. "Let's make a dash for it, shall we?"

Celeste nodded in affirmation, and like two carefree children they ran for their cabin hand in hand.

Most of the customers had by now left the salon. The staff was cleaning up. There remained an older blond woman who was seated alone at one of the tables. Her harsh red lipstick was drawn in a severe line. Her brow creased, and her hollow cheeks were drawn with tension. She frowned as she observed the vibrant couple leave the salon. Lighting another cigarette and sighed softly to herself before taking another thoughtful drink of her gin.

*****

The lovers burst through the door, fingers entwined, laughing. Luna ran about their feet in silent greeting. The wetness of the rain on their skin and clothing was a contrast to the inviting warmth and darkness of the cabin. The heavy curtains were still drawn. Carlos fumbled the door closed. He was conscious only of Celeste's hands divesting him of his weapons belt.

"Careful, don't drop that, it's loaded." Carlos reminded her in a husky whisper, as he drank her lips. The last thing they wanted was Stormy's lackeys to come running. "Anyway, I thought you were tired?"

Celeste giggled playfully and nibbled his neck just beneath his ear. The sensation fed through his body all the way to his groin. He moaned, and his eyes rolled back.

"I was... tired of old John Turner." She laughed musically again and renewed her assault on his neck.

The scent of her hair and perfume intoxicated him. Her hands were roaming the hard planes of his chest beneath his shirt. Slowly he backed her onto the bed and pressed her down into the softness of the covers. The darkness further fueled his tactile bliss. He closed his eyes and succumbed.

They kissed deeply as Carlos deftly removed her clothes. Celeste was doing the same. He could see Celeste's unblemished, pale skin even in this darkness. His lips went to her hard upstanding nipples, her skin pebbled beneath his touch. She arched and moaned beneath him. The ache in his trousers was beginning to rule his every move. He felt her open to him as he loomed above her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his torso and urged him onward. Not that he needed any coaxing.

Decent Proposal

They lay for some time on top of the covers, entwined. Wet, heated, and panting. Remaining that way until their heartbeats quieted. It was then that Celeste spoke.

"You know, my love, you are so unlike all the others." Tenderness was in her voice that was no more than a whisper.

Carlos, in reply, just kissed her lightly on her breast.

"You never get jealous. Even of Mr Vice. How do you do it?"

Carlos didn't answer; he only shrugged. He dearly loved Celeste, and he completely understood the struggles of a sex worker. The desperate need for intimacy and belonging. Yet the act itself had long ago become a thing of commerce. Rendering it to something purely transactional. He wanted to tell her why he understood. He had watched his mother struggle with it for years, to ultimately realize that she would never have that intimacy that she had always craved.

"The other men all make ultimatums. They tell me I MUST retire if they are to wed me. They don't understand. I love my freedom and my status. I can keep my mum and sisters safe and comfortable. But sometimes I worry... I mean, yeah, I know I am still young, but one day, just like Stormy and so many other girls, I know... Though I don't want to think about it, someone else will take my place. What do I do then?"

Carlos didn't know how to respond. So he just held her tightly. His mother had fretted over the same problem. Yet she had remained popular and stunning right up to the end. There was always a market for a beautiful and self-confident courtesan no matter her age. He wanted to tell her that. But he didn't utter a word. To reveal that would ultimately reveal more of his past than he was willing to share.

She turned to face him. Her pretty nose touched his. His lips curled upward in a satisfied grin. He could hardly believe this contentment could be his, and he wondered when it would end.

"Would you consider... an alliance?" Her lips again met his with passion.

Carlos stiffened.

She felt the change in his demeanor, and she hurried to elaborate. "What I'm trying to say, but it seems so wrong for me to say it. Is... would you marry me?"

Carlos slowly sat up. He affectionately pushed the nest of tousled blond hair away from his lover's eyes.

"Oh, Celeste..." His response was guarded and breathy. "I can't."

He felt her body slump at his softly spoken refusal. He was deeply honored. However, he was still very much in the dark on many of the political alliances and factions in this town. He knew that to wed Celeste would bring troubles on both of them. She looked as though she would cry. He didn't want that. Not after their beautiful lovemaking. He cared for her deeply. She was in many ways a window into his own soul.

"It's not because I don't want to." He added swiftly in a hushed voice. Hoping to placate her.

Celeste sniffed. He could feel the first traces of tears running down her velvet cheeks. He brushed her tears away tenderly. Doing his best to explain his refusal.

"I have no position here, sweetheart. I'm a random bodyguard. Your union with me would become political. Every man of power you had ever refused... To wed... you would invite danger for us both. I don't need a piece of paper or a ceremony to care for you." He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, hoping his explanation would be enough.

"But you are a warrior; I know you could hold your own..."

He cut her off, his voice less quiet and steady than it had been. "Celeste! Those are powerful men; what you ask for is impossible. A high-profile courtesan isn't free to marry."

Her reply came thick with tears. "But you understand, and I don't wanna be forever alone." Her hands were balled in frustration.

"I know," he said softly, "but I am not in a position to protect you."

Celeste curled into his arms and wept profusely; all he could do was comfort her.