NOT FOR SALE
Andrew's Pov
He steps out of the shadows, gun pointed at me.
He's a tall man, and was even taller still when he was young. But now, age has added a bit of a curve to his shoulders and belly, which I can see because the robe he wears is open. Although that is all it has softened, time has not been able to sand away the hardness in his eyes.
His scalp has been devoid of hair since I first saw him, shaved smooth every week by his own hand.
I grin, even though my heart is thudding in my chest. I know how quickly this could go wrong. “You still have this old thing?”
The gun in question is his favourite, battered little piece with an insane recoil. It's his lucky charm, he says he's never lost a fight with this in him.
“Yes I do. And what a surprise,” he says without lowering the gun. “Although I'm not yet sure if it's a pleasant one. Why are you here?”
“To talk.”
He tilts his head slightly, the way a predator does when studying something that might actually not be prey. "There was a time when you fucking had manners, when you used to come through the front door.”
“There was a time you used to leave it unlocked for me."
Nothing flickers in his expression.
“You shut that door yourself when you left, Andrew.”
I did. I was tired of this life. I wanted something different. “No matter Khan, I apologize for breaking in. I just needed to see you today.”
He takes a wheezy breath and finally puts the gun down. “Then come, let us have some tea.” Head tilted backwards, he calls out, “You girl!”
A woman comes out of the bathroom with clothes that look hurriedly tossed on. The shirt fits her so badly that I know it's not hers. It's just long enough to cover her until she's walking, then it rides up a little. She's wearing only underwear.
She's young, very young. As the Khan got older, his preferences in women didn't. “Make us some tea.”
She nods quickly and flits away to do this bidding. He beckons me forward as she leads the way into the living room. I wait for him and take the seat opposite him.
“Speak then, why did you want to see me?”
I roll the words around in my head, twice before I open my mouth. If I ask too nicely, the Khan is going to think I have no power of my own anymore. And if it sounds too much like an order, I'd be escorted out of this compound with comparably more bruises than I walked in with.
“I've come to get something of mine back,” the Khan's brows arches, more curious than angered. So far so good. “You found her and now she's in your possession.”
“Ah, I see. Excuse me, one moment,” He stands, nodding, then looks over to the kitchen, where the girl is leaning down rooting around for something in the cupboard. Then she straightens, back to us as she fiddles with something in her hand.
“Are you not done?”
She startles and drops the sugar bowl. The metal hits the floor with a dull thud, and she immediately kneels on the floor, fear all over her face.
“You idiot. That'll bring in ants,” he thunders and I know that if she were standing he would have slapped her across the face.
The girl knows it's too, and she keeps her head bowing muttering that she's sorry, and she'll sweep it up, and that she's very sorry.
“Shut up," he sighs, “Just bring the tea for me and my guest. Then leave. I don't want to see your face around me again.”
There's weirdly a range of disappointment in her expression colouring her happiness and she nods, rushing to the kettle on fire.
Hands shaking she places two tea bags in intricate ceramic cups, potting hot water over them. Placing them in a matching tray she brings them over quickly.
“The men outside are yours?”
I nod, stopping myself from whispering a thank you to the girl. Manners to the help aren't one of the Khans core values.
“Then I'll tell Chrystal to let them keep their heads.”
So she’s still here. Chrystal is a wielder, and was a child when I still worked here. The Khan knows I'm a wielder but I don't think he ever deemed it any of Chrysal’s business.
“Thank you, Khan. I appreciate it.”
He takes a long healthy swallow of his tea compared to the bare-bones sip I manage. This is his favourite tea but it tastes like burned sand and he knows my feelings on the matter.
“About the reason I'm here, Khan.”
He takes another swallow sighing enthusiastically. “I must say, I'm rather tickled that after you come back you need something for me, Andrew.”
This is the second time he's said my name and he’s said it more like a slur. “Fate is mysterious and unpredictable. I myself knew we'd cross paths again,” I spew dishonestly. I hoped I would never see him again.
I attempt another sip of the tea although it doesn't go well. “She came in today. Short red hair, with a small birthmark on the side of her nose.”
The Khan raises a brow. “I think I know who you're talking about.”
My hackles rise and I put down the cup gently, careful that it doesn't clang against the tray. I don't like the sound of that.
“Clarisse showed her to me. She's a beauty.”
I smile, as if he'd personally paid me a complement, apprehensive. The women his handlers show to him are the ones they think are pretty enough to be his personal toys and here he is agreeing that she's beautiful.
“I'd like her to leave your house with me and I have a business meeting tonight. You understand.”
“I do, I do.” He finishes up his tea with a sound of enjoyment that I can't believe is as a result of that wet, distilled sound. “However I don't think that would be possible. She's not for sale.”