Chapter Song Inspiration: Culture Club - Karma Chameleon

Illustration Credit: Nathy-Marisson from DeviantArt

Chapter 13: The Article

Mokuba held Joan's hand to the elevator but released it before pushing the button. He crossed his arms and stared at the buttons while he recounted what he'd just witnessed. Seto had never acted that way towards a prostitute. If he kissed them at all, it was only behind closed doors. On rare occasions, one would join them at breakfast the morning after, but Seto would always push her away if she tried anything remotely affectionate on him. "You're right," Mokuba said.

His abrupt words jolted Joan. "About what?"

"That headline is true."

Joan let everything swirl around in her head for a moment. "I think we need to read the whole article."

The elevator opened on the ground floor and Mokuba went about flashing money until he got the hotel manager's attention. Joan followed demurely while Mokuba negotiated wages and promised tips. When he finished, two of the Hyatt's best security officers followed them outside and into the waiting limo.

Once inside the limo, Mokuba found the article on his phone. He scooted close to Joan and they situated themselves with arms around each other so they could both read comfortably. Just as Michael had said, the headline proclaimed: "CEO Falls in Love with Whore."

Mokuba sucked in a breath. There was a photo of Joan, her mascara running, and Seto's iconic white trench coat belted around her. Both brothers had an arm behind her waist and blistering glares. Three Blue Eyes White Dragons rippled across Mokuba's body, and Seto's snarl matched theirs. "Holy shit," Mokuba whispered.

The article itself was lengthy and thorough. Tricia made sure to state that "whore" was merely a "pet name" and that "love" was merely her personal "hunch." The article brought up Marc and Laura but made no mention of Michael, which Joan hoped would keep him safe from his boss' ire, but there were no guarantees. Even so, Michael's wages could never sustain the two of them. Joan kept her fears of unemployment and homelessness to herself as Mokuba kept scrolling down.

Tricia included quotations to back up her conclusion that the rumor — as Pegasus told it — was a gross exaggeration of the facts. The final words of her article drove home her conviction: "The bewildered girl before me was certainly no hardened crack whore but a cherished companion to both Kaiba brothers. I have no doubts that the men responsible for inciting the altercation will be brought to justice."

"Tricia must have stayed up all morning putting that thing together," Joan commented.

Mokuba scrolled back up to the photo. "She did a great job under the circumstances. I told her we needed to get this out before Pegasus and his buddies recovered from their hangovers and realized what hit them."

"Aren't they in jail with Roland right now?"

Mokuba pocketed his phone and took Joan's hand. "Oh, if only. They're too rich to be held for more than five minutes. Maybe if one of them had shot Roland . . . no, they'd have had to kill Seto or me to spend a night in jail. As it stands, the best we might, and that's might, get out of them over this is money, if we settle out of court. Otherwise their lawyers and our lawyers will be locked in a head-to-head battle for a decade. We could tear their companies apart, but we'd risk our own in the process. I'm sure our stock has already taken a dip. Actually, in that case, we could sue Pegasus for defamation, but again we'd want to settle out of court to avoid this flaring up again. I know what Seto said last night, but we've got to face facts."

"Damn." Joan hoped the Kaiba brothers would recoup at least enough money to cover what they shelled out for Roland's release. A night with her was supposed to cost hundreds, not millions of dollars. The limo pulled up in front of a hoity-toity store that Joan recognized immediately. "Hey, Marc and I got kicked out of this place. The attendant was super rude to us."

Mokuba had never been jilted by the attendants at this place, but under the circumstances, he wanted to avoid more drama. "OK, where would you like to go?"

Mokuba took Joan to a store that was more her speed. They laughed at the silly things they saw and exchanged compliments when nice things crossed their radar. It almost felt as if they were pretending again, though the need for that had passed. Despite Joan's insistence that she only needed one dress, not the whole store, Mokuba kept buying until they had six, exceeding Michael's suggestion of five, and throwing in a pair of shoes for good measure.

Though he still preferred not to think about whatever her fees might be, Mokuba accepted that he'd developed a penchant for the same whore as his brother. The word "whore" continued to paralyze Mokuba's tongue, but it ran through his mind nonstop. Mokuba coveted the ease with which Seto could make the word sound respectful, even reverent.

After Joan claimed her purse at the club, she discovered that her phone battery was dead. She sheepishly explained the Clockify situation to Mokuba.

"Just turn it off when you can and don't worry about the extra time," Mokuba said. "Just, you know, let me know when we can do this again."

Joan looked back at the club where she'd been assaulted.

"OK, maybe not that again, but how about this?" Mokuba stepped forward and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. It was sweet but nothing special.

"Definitely," Joan said when it was done.

Mokuba cocked his head at her odd smirk.

"Because you need more practice." Joan pulled him in for a fuller, deeper kiss. Mokuba felt time slow to a crawl. Red, gold, and green paraded through his mind's eye. He thought the kiss was still happening when he heard her speaking again. "I'm not letting you go back to Japan until you learn to kiss like that."

"Hey!" Their attention turned to a young valet, swinging Mokuba's keys around his finger. "You're that escort, aren't you?" He smiled in a casual, carefree way.

"Yes and no." Joan slipped a business card out of her purse and turned it over to the valet. Getting more clients could be the break she needed if her editing career fell through. "If you want something, I occasionally freelance."

"Cool, good to know." The valet slipped the card into his pocket and handed Mokuba the keys.

Mokuba met the valet's eyes. He seemed harmless enough, certainly more harmless than Marc, Seto, or Michael, but if Joan ran into someone else who recognized her, who knew what could happen. Mokuba turned back to Joan. "OK, until next time?"

"Until next time," Joan agreed. She gave Mokuba another hug before stepping back into the limo. One security guard moved to follow Mokuba, but Mokuba waved off the guard, leaving both with Joan.