The Sudden Star (6 page)

Sirens sounded in the distance. The battle had stopped. Now Aisha heard only sobs, moans, and screams. The street smelled of death.

Ildico said, "We can go now."

Aisha closed the book on her lap and looked over at the old man lying in the large bed next to her. He was asleep. He had been tired when she arrived, and had drifted off after only a few pages. But she couldn't leave yet. When René dozed off, he expected her to wait until he woke up. Then she would have to reread everything he had missed while sleeping.

Reading aloud to someone was not the same as reading to herself. She liked to wallow in a book, making pictures in her mind, imagining herself in the midst of it. She enjoyed rereading passages she particularly liked and trying to figure out words she did not know. It was harder to concentrate this way, and even worse if Kathleen Ortega came in. René would ask Aisha to finish a passage and she would have to read it while Ortega watched her with her pale eyes. She would wait while Ortega and René discussed business. Then Ortega would leave, sometimes glaring at Aisha as she closed the door.

Aisha was afraid of Ortega. If anything happened to René, if he should die while Aisha was in the room, Aisha knew Ortega would kill her. She always worried about that when the old man was sleeping, afraid that he might go into a coma again. Juan, who always overheard things, had told her a lot of people thought Ortega had tipped the police about the doctor who used to give René his insulin injections. The old man had another doctor now, but Aisha was sure he did not like the new physician. She had seen the doctor talking to Ortega, and wondered what they were plotting.

No one would risk mentioning any of this to René. Maybe he already knew and was waiting for Ortega to make a mistake. Or maybe he was too old and tired to care, and would let Ortega ease him into retirement so she could take over. Or perhaps he felt secure in the knowledge that at least a few of his associates might get rid of Ortega on general principles, even if he died a natural death. Maybe he believed that she would have to keep him alive, if powerless, to preserve her own position. Aisha wished that she did not have to think about it.

She stood up, stretching to relieve her stiff muscles, and walked over to the window which overlooked the street. In spite of the crowds, the street was calm, numbers runners amiably taking bets, pushers joking with their clients, young people dancing as a street band played. The air was cooler today. A summer storm had come during the night, washing away some of the dust and rotting garbage, cleaning away the blood on the streets a few blocks down.

René stirred. Aisha turned, ready to sit down and resume her reading. But the old man was still asleep.

Things could be worse, she thought. At least reading to the old man was easier than working. She didn't get paid for it, and Lono was unhappy about having one less whore earning money while she was here. But sometimes René gave her an old book. She had twenty books now; once she had more, but Lono had thrown most of them out.

Lono had come to her about reading to René almost half a year before. She and Juan had been huddled in a blanket at one end of their bed, shivering in the cold. She was giving him a reading lesson. Ildico was at the other end of the bed, staring into space, unaware of the cold. Ildico was a heavy thinker. The blond girl sometimes spent hours looking out their small window or listening to sounds no one else could hear.

Then Lono came to the doorway. He stood there, cape draped over his shoulders, purple over his red jumpsuit, rings shining on his fingers, knife and pistol hanging from his belt, his skin, in the dim light of the hallway, almost as purple as the cape.

She was nervous, afraid that Lono would get angry at her and Juan for using the light. It was a running battle. Lono would lose it whenever Ildico was there; he never stood up to the blue-eyed girl for long. But he always got even, usually by giving Aisha a particularly nasty john, a pervert or a crazy.

"Get dressed," Lono said. "Get your ass downstairs in five minutes. You're going to René."

"Why?" she asked.

Lono came to the bed, grabbed her arm, and twisted it, dumping her on the floor. He raised his foot to kick her, then stopped; Ildico was there. "You dumb bitch, you don't ask if it's René. Maybe he'll set you up. You be downstairs." He left the room.

Aisha had scrambled out of bed, shaking as she dressed.

"What a break," Juan said. "Maybe you can find out if he likes boys. Might be something in it for all of us."

"There could be," Ildico said, coming out of her trance.

"Shit," Aisha replied, "it just means trouble. If he doesn't like me, things'll be worse."

"He'll like you," Ildico said as if she were stating a fact. Ildico was right. Aisha had been surprised to find that René only wanted someone to read to him. He was going blind, and that had frightened her. She had expected a strong man. She wondered how long he could hang on.

The old man stirred again and opened his eyes. She sat down. He said, "You were caught in the disturbance yesterday."

She nodded.

"I had a very nasty call from General Rice this morning. She expects us to control these insurrectionists. She keeps threatening martial law. That would not do my businesses much good."

"Oh, I don't think you have to worry," Aisha said, trying to cheer him. "The mayor wouldn't let that happen."

"You think not? I think Rice is already telling him what to do." He turned on his side and looked at her, squinting as if he were seeing her for the first time. She fidgeted in her chair, crossing her legs.

"Aisha, why is a girl like you a whore?" It was the first time he had questioned her directly. She was disappointed. She had been asked that a hundred times.

She shrugged. "I have to eat."

"Bullshit. Don't talk to me like I'm a dumb john. You can read, you had good schooling."

"I just picked it up," she said nervously.

"Bullshit. How did you get the books? How did you find the time? You're not a roof kid. You don't have the manner."

She thought of Lono and twisted her hands nervously. Lono worked for René; anything she said might get back to him. "I don't want to get into trouble. Please don't ask me."

"I don't want to make trouble for you. I can guess, anyway. Your name. You're a Muslim."

"So what? I can't go back there now."

"You were safe there. Muslims are strong. They have their own police, their own farms outside for food. No one leaves that enclave. What happened?"

"I went over the wall. It was a dare," she answered. "I didn't know what it would be like. We didn't have screens. They said what was on them was sinful, so I used to read a lot." She paused. It was all so distant: her uncle's home, her five cousins. The star, long before, had been a sign to reject infidel ways, to gather together until the evil world around them died. Now she would die with that world, condemned. "Some guy grabbed me on the street and took me to Lono's."

She had screamed at Lono to take her home. He had locked her in a tiny room, then come to her hours later. He had beaten her into unconsciousness. When she came to, he had beaten her again. She had a lot of time to think as she lay in the room waiting to recover. She had realized she could die. She knew she did not want to be beaten again. Lono had put her to work after she was well and she had made money for him; a fresh, pretty ten-year- old had been worth something. She had worked hard, recalling his fists and the pain, which oddly enough had seemed worse after the beating was over. "Lono put me to work," she concluded.

"Why didn't Lono take you back home? Nobody makes trouble for Muslims, if they can help it."

"He said they didn't want me." Aisha looked down at her hands, not wanting to talk about any of this. "My uncle was sick then, and my aunt didn't want me." Her aunt had never wanted her in the first place. "An extra mouth," her aunt had said in her hearing. "And not even your brother's child."

Her father had died when she was five and her mother long before. Her aunt had said Aisha's mother had loved another man and that Aisha was a child of sin. Her parents were dead because of it. That was what her aunt had told her—her mother punished in childbirth, her father dead of a broken heart. Maybe it was why fate and Allah's will had sent her to Lono.

René was silent. Aisha waited for him to speak. She tried to smile. He wasn't interested in screwing her, and that meant he couldn't do much for her. "Lono really isn't so bad," she said, meaning it. "I've heard of worse. He's fair most of the time, even if he has a temper."

"You can go now," the old man said wearily. "It's nice outside. Join your friends and enjoy it."

She got up, still smiling as she said goodbye. She opened the door and walked into the hallway, past the guards. As she went outside, she felt dizzy for a moment.
 
She stood still, trying to get her bearings.

The street band was still playing, pounding drums and blowing horns. Two older whores, jeweled knifebelts around their hips, laughed and threw a few coins to the band. One of the horn players stopped playing long enough to pick up the coins and stuff them into his pocket.

People whirled around the band, popping pills into their mouths, a few drinking from bottles. Aisha spotted Juan and Ildico, who had been waiting for her. Juan moved his hips and danced on his toes. He jumped into the air, twisting his hips and shaking them before landing again on his feet. A few older people sat on the curb, clapping and laughing, the older men screaming encouragement to the dancing girls. A red-haired girl responded by lifting her skirt and waving her bare ass at the people on the curb.

Juan turned and saw her. He waved. "Aisha!" he yelled. The dancing people took up the call. "Aisha!" they shouted, laughing. It was as good a word as any other to yell.

Aisha, suddenly feeling better, threw back her head, let out an ear-piercing yell, and joined the dancing mob.

The blond man was impotent. Looking at his frail face and frightened eyes, Aisha wondered how he had found his way here. He was a rooftop person; his perfumed hair and tailored jumpsuit told her that. She lay next to him, stroking his hair absently, on the small bed which took up most of the room.

She had not believed her luck when Lono sent her in to him. She was tired, it was late, but if this guy liked her, it could open up plenty of possibilities. She sighed. She had failed. She ran a hand down his chest, ready to try again.

He sat up and pushed her away. He got out of bed, grabbed her by the wrists, and slammed her against the wall. He released her, and she slid to the floor. The back of her head hurt. She rubbed it with one hand and winced as she felt a tender spot. She got to her feet. A slap sent her back across the bed. She rolled out and stood up; the bed was between them now. The man stared at her, panting.

"That kind of thing's extra," she said, feeling disappointed. "If you touch me again without paying, I call Lono."

She moved toward the foot of the bed, where her knife belt lay. The man sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched. "They're all sluts," he said suddenly, his pale eyes turning toward her. "You see that, don't you? They try to mask the fact with their money, or their positions, or their husbands' positions. All I ask is honesty, you know."

She watched him apprehensively. He was a crazy, she realized, wondering if Lono had known that when he sent her in. "That's the problem," the man went on. "You see that, don't you? My prick's telling me I need somebody honest. You must not be honest. You aren't what you seem."

He was on his feet again, lunging for her. She stepped back, seized her belt, and slapped him in the face with one end. He stumbled back, falling on the bed.

"Don't touch me again until I see more money."

He looked up at her. His eyes were calm. He got up and began to dress. "I understand," he said quietly. "You think I don't, but I do." He fumbled for his money belt and pulled out a coin. "Here."

"Lono gives me my cut," she said loftily, grabbing the coin anyway. The man finished dressing and left, slamming the door. She heard him retreat, shoes clattering on the old boards.

She bit the coin. Silver, no alloys, and city issue, too. She sighed as she put on her dress. She would find Lono and give him the coin; he would be impressed with her honesty and might even let her keep it if he was feeling good. Ildico would have kept it, but she wasn't Ildico.

She went into the hall, then down the stairs to the small sitting room in the front of the house. It was dark; Lono was probably asleep. She went to the window to be sure; he could be outside.

"Aisha." It was Ildico's voice. "Stand back from the window." She stepped back and peered around the room. She saw a shadowy shape in the corner. The shadow moved toward her, and she felt Ildico's hand on her arm.

"You worked late," she whispered to Aisha. "I was sure everyone was asleep."

Aisha could still see the street. It was almost dawn. In front of the house, seven people in bright clothes preened and fluttered, a flock of large, giggling birds bobbing near the dark silent shapes of Lono and two of his men. A bright red truck was parked nearby; two armed women dressed in sequins and red velvet watched the vehicle.

Meilani! Aisha wanted to laugh and run into the street to greet him. Meilani hadn't been uptown in almost a year. He must be arranging a party with Lono. That would be good for everyone. Meilani would bring a few of his rooftop clients here; everyone would have a good time and get paid plenty. Meilani's girls and boys usually went to the rooftops; he did little business in his own house. But occasionally his clients wanted something less refined; then he would bring a party here. Lono, who got a cut, was usually in a good mood for a couple of days afterward.