Chapter 38: Out of Time

Looking after Tricia hadn’t been nearly as bad as Quentin was expecting. After an initial period of looking around the house slack-jawed, she collapsed into Razia’s bed. He spent the rest of the night dreading the next day, as there was no way in hell it wouldn’t be awkward. The next day came, and aside from a bit of awkward, sullen silence at breakfast, it had been fine. Tricia had been more than happy to wander around the courtyard between houses, meeting the other family’s kids and spending time with them.

Quentin watched her laughing and playing with the two girls who did his laundry once a week. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to cause trouble or get in a fight with the others, he went back inside and spent the morning talking with Razia about her plans. Then she left and it was just the two of them. Tricia took an interest in his book collection, and then it was all over.

Even now, out in a tavern for the evening, Tricia sat next to Quentin with her head buried in a book. She wasn’t an especially strong reader, mouthing along to the words and running her finger along the word she was on, but she hadn’t really needed any help. More than anything, Quentin was glad to provide her with a distraction so she didn’t spend all of her time worrying about her mother.

Still going out with the girls was a distraction for Quentin. They stuck to familiar places now that they were no longer being hunted by those three idiots, and in truth things had been...a little boring. Things were smooth. A little too smooth. Quentin sat there at the table, clutching his mostly empty drink and wishing there was a fight. An argument. Anything to let him be distracted too.

“How far are you?” Quentin asked Tricia after dark thoughts chewed on his last nerve. “What’s the last thing that happened?”

Tricia looked up from her book in a daze. She popped her bottom lip out of her mouth, where she’d been thoughtlessly nibbling on it. “They just got off the boat after the storm shipwrecked them. They can’t find Isabelle, and say she’s probably dead.”

Quentin smiled to himself, remembering when he’d first read that book as a kid. It was a pretty simple adventure story, but sometimes those were the best when you felt trapped. “Do you think she’s dead?”

“No way,” said Tricia. “She spent so much time saying her grandma was a mermaid there’s no way she drowned. That would be stupid.”

Yeah, the author was a bit heavy handed with that. The way Quentin saw it, it wasn’t meant to be a surprise. It was a reward to readers that paid attention. “I guess you’ll find out, huh?” Quentin shrugged, not willing to confirm or deny.

Tricia scoffed, but there was a smile underneath it. Until her eyes slid from his to someone behind him. Quentin turned around and like usual, there was a man there, waiting for him to notice him. That had been one of the hardest parts of getting used to this side job. He was in charge, and people came to him and waited for his attention mostly patiently. He’d only had to give one warning stare.

“How can I help you?” said Quentin. He leaned back in his seat, presenting the image of lazy bravado and confidence. It was getting easier and easier to pretend to be relaxed.

“Well, you’re the guy to talk to about getting your dick sucked, right?” he asked, a hopeful look in his eye.

“Well, not me personally,” Quentin returned evenly.

Color flooded the man’s face. “No, but the girls --”

“Yes yes,” Quentin said, biting back laughter. “You’ve come to the right place. But as you can see, all my girls are busy right now.” He gestured to the table, empty save for him and Tricia.

The man cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “Not all of them.”

That was when Quentin understood. He made a face. “She’s not for sale,” he said, finding himself angry at the very idea of it.

Tricia spoke up. “But...What if I want to go?”

There was nothing she could’ve said that would’ve surprised him more. The silence stretched on for an uncomfortably long time as he struggled to kick his brain back into working. The man, probably in his twenties, took the initiative and added, “I’ve heard about your rules and I’m okay for it. Not gonna do nothing rough or mean. I just want my dick sucked, and she’s cute enough and --”

“She’s too young,” Quentin snapped. He held up a finger as he fought to wrestle the anger back into the boss. The poor bastard had no idea what nerve he was trampling on. Hell, Quentin didn’t expect this to be a hard no from him either, but then he hadn’t thought of this happening. No one else had asked after her over the past couple of days she’d accompanied him and Razia out.

“No, really, it’s okay,” Tricia said, standing up. “This is what mom does. Kinda figures I’ll end up doing the same thing when she’s gone.”

“Sit,” Quentin ordered, pounding his fist on the table. All at once, Tricia’s relaxed, easy demeanor changed back to the sullen, pouty teenager he first saw.

“What do you care? I’m going to need a way of making money when she’s gone anyway.” There was pain in her voice, and stubbornness. “Grandma always said I was gonna follow in her footsteps. I don’t really see other options coming up for me.”

“I’ll come back later,” the prospective client said helpfully, retreating with his hands up.

“Forget your grandmother,” Quentin said. He forced himself to calm down and speak at a normal volume. “You shouldn’t listen to her. She seems like a hateful old bitch.”

Tricia’s frown cracked. “Yeah,” she almost smiled, sitting back down. “She is. But my point still stands. I’m not a child. What do you think’s going to happen when I’m living on the streets and starving?”

Quentin hated how logical that was. But he wasn’t going to budge on the matter. “Look,” he said, taking a deep breath. “There’s nothing wrong with being a whore. Your mom and her friends are good people. Some of the kindest people I’ve known. But it’s dangerous. And you might not be a child, but you’re not an adult either. You’re what, 14? That’s too young. Don’t worry about money right now.”

Silence fell again, tense and heavy. Tricia nibbled on her bottom lip again in deep concentration while Quentin willed her to just drop the subject and move on. No more trouble, no more thinking of putting herself in harm’s way when under Quentin’s protection. There wasn’t anything wrong with what Maria and Razia did, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a cost. Listening to them complain about some of the clients as nights wound down made that abundantly clear.

“I kinda have to worry about money, don’t I?” Tricia said softly. “Doesn’t everyone? We’ve got some saved up, enough to live on for a month, but what happens after that?”

Quentin grabbed his mostly empty drink and downed it. He supposed it was only a matter of time until this conversation came around. That it took three days was probably a kindness he hadn’t properly appreciated. “You won’t have to worry about that. Your mother will be fine. We’re making sure of it.”

Tricia made a face. “Yeah, because a whore and a moonkissed pimp can break a woman off death row. What if you can’t? Huh? Shouldn’t I be thinking about the future and making plans? That’s what mom would tell me.”

Anger flared up again, instantly dispelled by her easy logic. Quentin was forced to concede that no, she really wasn’t just a child. But that didn’t mean he was going to throw her out to a night full of lusty bastards who had to have constant reminders just to treat sex workers like human beings. “If the worst happens, then I’ll do what I can to look out for you. You won’t go hungry as long as I’m around. I promise.”

Some of the anger and frustration melted from her, leaving her looking mostly tired and sad. Tricia put her arms on the table and rested her chin on her arms. “Not the first time mom’s friends have made big promises. Are you really that close with my mom?”

No, he wanted to say, he’d known her for all of two weeks. Not even. All of this was new, and happening faster than anything else in his life. Instead, Quentin said, “Yes. If I have to, I’ll kill to get her home safely. You can count on that.” It was as honest an answer as he could give her.

Tricia looked like she had something more to say, but it got caught in her throat. She looked past him with widened eyes. Quentin followed her gaze to the front of the pub where a disgustingly handsome teenage boy was heading right for them. “Hey Jonas,” said Quentin. “No Demetrius today?”

Jonas beamed, showing white, even teeth. “Hey Mr. Q. Just me. The old bastard didn’t want to risk spending time with the fork tongued whore. His words, not mine. How’ve things been?” He pulled out a stool and sat down, oblivious to the open gawking Tricia was doing.

“Slow. That’s not a bad thing, especially after a hard day of practice, but if I’m not careful I’m going to fall asleep and Tricia here might do something stupid.” Quentin grinned as Tricia didn’t look up or even seem to notice what he’d said. She was too focused to notice or care about much of anything.

It was then that Jonas noticed the girl. He turned his winning smile to her and Quentin swore he saw her stop breathing for a second. “Hello there! I’m Jonas.” He held out his hand. Tricia extended her own, shaking badly, and took it, holding onto it. She didn’t say anything for a long enough time that even she noticed.

“Oh. Um. I’m Patricia. Tricia. Call me Tricia.” Her cheeks flushed bright red. It was all Quentin could do to avoid laughing his ass off. She was worse than he was as a young teen. And he’d been pretty obvious and awkward about his crushes. Then he had an awful idea.

“Tricia here was just telling me about a job she plans on getting. Weren’t you, Trish?” Quentin elbowed her.

Tricia jumped, releasing Jonas’ hand. Realizing what he was implying, she made a face. “Y-yeah,” she said. “I was thinking maybe I’ll be a..a teacher. Teach kids how to read.” She held up her book. “Quentin let me borrow this one.”

Perfect. Little did she know, Jonas had no issues with whores. He seemed particularly taken with Isa, and had met up with them a couple times after their practices together. Most of the time without Demetrius, who made any excuse to not be around Razia. Whether it was out of outright hate for her or knowing his own temper and doing them a favor, Quentin couldn’t say but he hadn’t questioned it.

It had been nice, getting to know Jonas a bit better. The teenage gladiator was great in the ring, pleasant, uncomfortably good looking, and a bit empty headed. It wasn’t that he was stupid so much as straight forward and a bit oblivious. It took a while for Quentin to realize Jonas didn’t have an agenda because he wasn’t the type of person to even think of agendas to begin with. And now he was in a perfect spot to help Quentin out.

Gods help him, Quentin was beginning to think like Razia.

“Let me get you a drink,” Quentin said, standing. Jonas murmured a quick thanks but all of his attention was on Tricia, who was speaking rapidly about the virtues of being a teacher in a big city. She still hadn’t released his hand, but either Jonas didn’t notice or didn’t mind.

He took his sweet time getting that drink. The problem with this new job was how much sitting around he did. Quentin supposed that it would probably be better if he was more social and went around making connections instead of relying on others to come to him, but he was content enough doing it as he was for the time being. He took this opportunity to stretch his legs and wind his way around the pub, getting a good look at the people inside. Anything was better than letting himself worry about tonight.

There he went, thinking of it again. Quentin frowned, trying to banish the thoughts and worries from his head, but they weren’t going anywhere. Sighing, he stepped up to the bar and ordered another round. A tug at his cloak had him turn around to see Razia was back, looking absolutely terrible.

“Hey,” she said, voice completely lifeless.

“Oh,” said Quentin, face falling. “It went that poorly?”

“Worse.”

The drinks arrived. Quentin paid the man and lifted the tray. “Gimme just a second. Get a drink, and we’ll talk about it. I’ll have Jonas babysit for us.”

Razia looked over to the table. A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. “She’s got it bad, doesn’t she? Can’t blame her. The boy’s a snack.”

Quentin mumbled something that wasn’t a disagreement and brought the tray over. He set drinks down in front of Jonas and Tricia. “Hey,” he said, interrupting Tricia. She shot a murderous look his way. “Mind sitting with Tricia here for a few minutes? I need to take care of something.”

“Ahh,” Jonas said, full of understanding. “The job calls. No problem. Take as much time as you need. Tricia here’s real lively.” He flashed her a good natured smile that had her all but swooning. Tricia’s murderous intent turned very quickly into giddy gratitude.

Quentin pat Jonas’ shoulder and took his drink over to where Razia was sitting at the bar. He sat down next to her, shoulders hunched forward. “Tell me what happened.”

Razia took a deep breath. “I found him at the temple like we discussed. I talked with him. Everything was going well. He was on the verge of breaking, when a priestess came out and caught me with his cock in my mouth. She scared him off, and I failed. Now I think I’m banned from coming back to the temple.”

Quentin winced. “Shit,” he said.

“Shit,” Razia agreed.

They sat together for a few minutes, silent save for the occasional sound of drinking. Quentin could tell this was bothering Razia, but for the life of him he had no idea what to say to make it better. Even bringing it up or trying to offer comfort seemed like it would make it worse. It wasn’t just that the plan failed, it was Razia’s plan, and she looked crushed.

“Are you okay?” Quentin finally asked, unable to keep it in any longer.

Razia shook her head. “I can’t believe that spineless sack of shit is letting his wife put an innocent woman to death because he’s too much of a coward to own up to his vices. No, I can believe it. I just can’t accept it.” She took a long gulp, draining most of the cup in one go and slamming it on the counter. “It’s a load of shit.”

“Yeah,” Quentin agreed. He risked putting his arm around her shoulder. When she moved in closer, he relaxed and just squeezed her. “I’m not going to let it happen. The way it’s going down, there will be five of us in that maze, hunting each other. Last man standing walks out. I’m going to make sure she’s okay, and then I’ll take out the rest of them. When it’s just the two of us left, there will be nothing they can do. I’ll refuse, and either Amicus will go along with it like he agreed or I’ll publicly embarrass him. He won’t let that happen.”

Razia nodded, and wrapped her arms around Quentin’s side, burying her head against his chest. “I believe you,” she said. “I trust you. I wish we had more time to try something else. I just wish we had more time.”

“I do too,” said Quentin. Two days. That’s all the time that remained, and even that was a stretch. It was more like a day and a half. It was so close that tomorrow Quentin wouldn’t be practicing. He’d be resting his body, preparing for the fight to come. The day after, he’d spend most of the day at the Colosseum, dealing with all the preparations and being in place early for security reasons.

“I’m worried,” Razia said after another brief silence. “About what happens if you can’t save Maria. I trust you, but shit happens. What do we do about Tricia if the worst happens?”

Quentin had spent much of the last few days wondering the same thing. It was one thing to promise to not hurt Maria and to try to protect her, but in Quentin’s experience things rarely went as planned. Especially for him. Amicus promised, but he trusted Amicus as far as he could throw the fat bastard. So where did that leave them?

“I don’t know,” Quentin admitted. “I’m not...I’m not sure I can look after Tricia permanently. I can make sure she’s fed and not in danger, but I’m not sure any of us would be happy if she lived with us. I feel like it’s irresponsible of me to claim to be there for a kid when I don’t know on any given day whether or not I’ll be coming home.”

For once, she didn’t rag on him for being overly morose. Razia just squeezed him one more time before letting him go. Quentin found himself wishing she didn’t, but it was too late now. He finished his drink. “I’m glad Jonas came by, at least. He’ll distract her for a while and maybe she won’t be so quick to offer herself up.”

Razia looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Quentin said, “a guy came up wanting a blowjob. I had to tell her no, she couldn’t accept.”

Razia made a face. “She’s too young for that. Two years too young for it, bare minimum. I’ll have a talk with her about it. Thanks for looking out for her, Quentin. For all of us.” She stood, and kissed his cheek. Razia over to their table, putting her hand on Jonas’ shoulder and joining the conversation. Quentin stood back, waiting.

Thinking. Barely a day and a half left, and he was going to need all of his strength for the trials to come. He couldn’t afford to be distracted or to have his head anywhere but the Colosseum. He needed to take this seriously. But no matter how hard he tried, Quentin couldn’t shake the idea of failing again. If that happened, would Razia still want to be around him? Or would it just be a painful reminder of losing a friend?

It wouldn’t be too terribly long before he found out, for better or worse.