Page 46 of Rubies and Revenge

“My family is taking the brunt of the backlash, and money only goes so far.” I let my shoulders slump just so, my body curl inward as if dejected. I play into what they expect of me, a girlamongst men—incompetent, silly, more nurturing than cutthroat. “I need help.”

Jimmy squints at me. “What kind of help?”

“Nothing…loud.” I swirl the dregs of my drink, ice tinkling against the glass. “There’s been an influx of crime around the Den—my club. Just tonight, men were intimidating and harassing the line, scaring my customers, yelling slurs.”

Logan shakes his head as if this is the saddest thing he’s ever heard. “That’s horrible, Tamayo.”

“I know.” I meet his performance with my own, pained expression covering my face, a tremble in my chin. “Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon. Queer people are still targeted in these modern times, attacked for existing.” I scoff. “A handful of stores under my care were vandalized this week. Hateful words painted over their windows.”

Jimmy and Logan meet each other’s eyes, a loaded pause passing between them. I watch without looking, my gaze focused on my hands as if stuck in the recollection of a painful memory. But inside, I’m reveling in their reaction. Nothing makes privileged people more uncomfortable than being faced with the product of their oppression.

Jimmy nods and pats Logan’s knee. “We can’t allow such prejudice to run rampant, my friends. Our city is better than this.”

Logan leans forward in his seat, finger jabbing into the supple leather of the arm rest. “This isexactlythe kind of crime I’m trying to highlight in my reelection campaign. Everyone deserves to feel safe on the street, especially people like you, Tamayo.”

I clamp down on a spiteful reply, keeping my face pathetic.

“Of course”—he leans back again, adjusting his suit jacket—“I can’t get the word out alone. It takes a team to campaign, money to fund, man-hours to investigate and increase vigilance in the area.”

Jimmy waves his hand with a fond shake of his head. “For the safety of the people, money is no object.”

“Hear, hear!” Logan raises his drink, smiling too wide.

I clink mine to his. “To new friends.”

“And to Louredo.” Jimmy joins his glass with ours.

We all drain our cups. The last of the liquor hits my tongue, bitter as it rolls down my throat. I set it on the side table and watch as Logan pulls a case of cigars out of his breast pocket and taps it on his knee.

“When’s the party by the way?” he asks.

I frown. “Party?”

“The event of the season, Tamayo! Your engagement!” Logan spreads his arms with a laugh. “I’m keeping an eye out for my invitation.”

“Right.” I clear my throat.

Jimmy throws me a bone. “It’s expected of a Cardinal engagement.”

I want to snort—the Council would have never accepted my engagement to Zarina if the threat of consolidated power wasn’t a knife at their necks. “Invitations are going out this week.”

“Great. I’ll speak to my friends at the precinct—we’ll find these bigots and serve justice.” Logan pulls the cigars out one by one and cuts them before passing them around. “To the ol’ ball and chain! At least she’s pretty, eh?” He chuckles as if he’s made the best joke.

I accept the cigar, leaning toward the lit match Logan holds before my face. Not for the first time, I wonder if men even like women. He lights his own last and melts back into his chair. His suit is Tom Ford, his shoes shined to gleaming, his hair styled. He likes his things, cares for them. And yet I wouldn’t be surprised if he treated women worse than the objects he owns.

They chat about things I don’t care about—Logan’s reelection campaign, the state of the potholes on the street, thewomen in the room. I smoke my cigar and try not to cringe with each deplorable comment, offering a remark here and there. Suspicion grows in my gut, tangling around my heart and lungs. Zarina’s been gone too long. More than the five minutes she promised. There’s no way it’s not purposeful. But for what?

Darius stands at the archway and tilts his head. Time to go.

“Jimmy, Logan, thank you for tonight.” I snuff out the last of my cigar in the ashtray and stand, buttoning my jacket. “But the ol’ ball and chain has been gone too long.”

Jimmy breathes a puff of smoke. “Zarina’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

“I know, but I can’t.” I wink with a grin bordering on indecent.

Logan guffaws, going so far as to slap his knee. “She’s got a date in the bathroom! Let her go, Jimmy.”

I let the grin widen as if he’s right, as if I’m unable to hold myself back from meeting Zarina behind a locked door and slipping my hands beneath her dress. Like I haven’t already gone multiple miserable days without having her in my lap, moaning my name and begging me to fuck her. But these men don’t understand self-control, only seizing.

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