Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

I trusted Shalimar because Aunt Celina did, and my aunt was no fool.

“Wear something elegant and black.” Aunt Celina strolled off. “And don’t forget about the mask. And not a horror mask.”

I laughed. “Of course not.”

“Something lace. See-through as much as possible. Showing, but not showing. Don’t freak the men out. A pretty face and nice body gets tips. A mysterious sexy woman gets checks.”

Giggling, I followed after her. “Anything else?”

“Hair down in curls. Minimal make-up. No jewelry. We want you to dazzle, but not entice. The other girls are there for that.” Aunt Celina stopped at the door and turned to me. “And remember how beautiful you are. You look like your mother Valerie, more and more each day.”

My heart ached.

Aunt Celina lowered her voice. “I miss her.”

“Me too.”

Pulling me into her arms, she hugged me for a long time. I came close to never leaving her warmth.

“You’ll be fine.” She pulled away and opened the door. “You have to hustle.”

I nodded.

“You don’t earn without bold steps. Shake up life and wait to see what falls out.” She handed me the black card, as if I didn’t already know The Candy Shop’s address. “Shalimar will be managing this evening. You know I’m too old to hang out there anymore. She’ll have strict instructions to keep you out of trouble. Shalimar has your back, or I’ll break her pretty neck.”

“O-kay. That won’t be necessary. We won’t get in any trouble. And thank you, Aunt Celina for the opportunity—”

“Don’t thank me yet. Let’s see if you can do it. This isn’t the opera. You’ll be playing around a lot of stuff—sex, a little violence.” A worried expression hit her face. “You can handle it. Play the violin. Mind your business. Keep on playing unless there is a fire. Don’t talk to anyone, especially the clients. You’re there to play, not entertain them in any other way.”

“Okay.” I’d read the news articles that talked about Aunt Celina’s brothel. Every now and then, the cops discovered a body there. Other scandals occurred. I tried to stay out of it, and not pay too much attention to the media when my aunt was concerned.

“I love you, Eden.”

“I love you too.”

She left and closed the door behind her.

I stared at it and let out a long breath. “To shaking up life.”

Chapter 1

Pimpa’s Paradise

Eden

On the inside of my apartment, V lounged in the windowsill and watched me through the window.

I stood on the outside, decked out, and wearing a lace mask that barely covered half of my face. “I’ll be back, V.”

V closed her eyes and took a nap.

“No, don’t worry about me, V. I’ll be okay.” I tapped my foot on the sidewalk over and over. My violin case knocked against my leg.

Cars sped by. The sky grayed as the new moon rose.

I probably shouldn’t have smoked before going. Bad move.

The marijuana hadn’t helped my nerves. If anything, I’d become edgy and paranoid.

It’s fine. You’re wearing a mask. Pretend like you’re a superhero.

My Uber™ arrived.

I hopped inside.

“Oh wow.” The guy glanced over his shoulder. “Are you going to a masquerade ball?”

“Something like that.” I shut the door and gestured to my violin case. “I’m playing at one.”

He laughed. “Well, get your work on.”

“That’s right.”

He sped off, heading toward Belladonna’s Red Light District.

Earlier, I’d left a note to my roommate. Leo would get in late. He’d grabbed a midnight gig playing for an erotic puppet theater near the Red-Light District.

Hustle. Hustle.

We headed to the Candy Shop. As I sat in the back of the car, I was sure I appeared calm, but on the inside? My head walked a tightrope of insanity.

I wore a black chiffon skirt and see-through black lace blouse. The lace mask matched the shirt and covered my forehead, nose, and around my eyes with a swirl patterned. The band of the skirt hit right at my waistline. The contrast of the fitted skirt and the voluminous blouse made me look thinner.

I’d wrapped my hair into an updo and wore minimal makeup—elegant but understated. My long split exposed the crimson red silk lining. I found the best undergarments I could find and went with it. Mismatched stockings, thigh highs, panties and a bra.

It doesn’t matter. No one will see under the dress.

Since the struggle with poverty, my dating had declined. In psychology, I learned about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The base of the pyramid included food, water, and sleep. He believed that those needs had to be met before people could move on to safety and love. Since the symphony scandal, I’d been wondering how I would eat and pay my rent. I’d lost my desire to even call guys back.

The brothel could help me get my sexy back.

My body was like a violin. It needed to be regularly played to stay in tune.