Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

“I have but thank you for the offer.” I tried to walk around him.

He got in my way. “I could play your body like you play that violin.”

Two massive men left Jean-Pierre’s table and stormed onto the stage. By the time they reached us, the smooth-talking drunk man had widened his eyes and appeared ready to shit his pants. He raised his arms in the air. “Hey, I know she’s off-limits, but I was only talking to her.”

“Mr. Fabron would like you to get some rest for the evening.” One of the guys opened his jacket and displayed the gun in his holster.

The man frowned. “I have to go home?”

The big guy nodded. “I believe that’s a fitting place for you to rest.”

The man didn’t disagree.

All three left the stage after that. Jean-Pierre’s men decided to escort him to the front door. And when I turned to Jean-Pierre, he nodded his head as if gesturing for me to play.

I scanned the room.

Shalimar was nowhere to be found.

I figured she would’ve at least had news about my playing for Jean-Pierre.

Now’s not the time. I’m supposed to be playing. That’s why everyone is staring at me.

I smoothed down my dress and went to my chair, doing all my typical motions and slipping into playing with a nervous energy. I didn’t even know what I ended up starting with. I remembered that it was a lot of sad songs.

I kept thinking about Jean-Pierre and him walking into his home to see his wife screwing another man. The more I thought of it, the more my bow strung hard against the strings, pushing out the vibration of sound harder.

And how bad was the fight where one died? In the end, they both lost their lives?

Every few notes, I gazed at Jean-Pierre and then turned away with a blush.

And what is he now? Famed violinist to. . .accountant for the French mafia.

The French had colonized this part of the U.S. long ago, which was why the city was named Belladonna. Many of the residents had French roots. So, talk of the Corsican mafia came up from time to time. It was the French Mob originating from the town of Corsica. My small understanding of them was that they were influential and operated in France, small parts of the US, and many French-speaking African countries.

The only other thing I knew was that they definitely killed people.

Shalimar is right. I should leave him alone.

But my body didn’t want to yet. It hadn’t gotten a taste of that sexy man. And hadn’t I deserved a tiny little morsel of Jean-Pierre?

Dude? What am I talking about? We’re in a brothel!

I decided to wait for Shalimar’s return and find out what deal they’d worked out. She knew him and his history at the brothel. I told myself that all I cared about was making more money. Deep down inside, I yearned to learn more about him.

My aunt had forbidden Jean-Pierre to come here.

Why?

It seemed like the more I learned, the more I needed to know. He continued to be a puzzle that I was unable to solve, and that too caused my body to ache for his touch.

Maybe, I should ask him more about broken hands? Although sad, I enjoyed the lesson.

Chapter 4

Breaking Bread

Eden

At the last hour, Jean-Pierre left. I felt a little hollow as I continued to play. Now that I knew his history, he was the only one I’d been playing for in the ballroom.

Once he left, I went into mechanical mode, performing the correct notes, but without emotion.

Where did he go? Stop. You shouldn’t even be thinking that.

At the end of my whole set, my arms ached, and fingers throbbed. If I had the extra money, I would’ve run straight to a masseuse. I didn’t know if I could keep doing this for two weeks straight, but I sure would try.

Tonight, my tip hat wasn’t as full as before, but it was definitely more than a typical day of work. I counted my blessings and put my violin up.

And Shalimar never showed up at the end of the performance.

I returned the next day, unsure of what would happen next, but excited for all the possibilities. The bouncers nodded and let me in without my saying a word. A few of the women waved hello, and a couple of men winked. In a small way, I felt like a celebrity and it was awesome to be appreciated.

Playing here had also started giving me a new respect for the women that worked here. While I hadn’t looked down on them for what they did, I hadn’t embraced their stories.

When I entered the room where I always played, my nerves flared. I stood by the empty stage.

No dancer?

Tonight, a good amount of people packed the room. Several men and women dressed in gowns and tuxedos. Masks covered all of their faces.