“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“And if this benefactor doesn’t let you borrow it?”
“Then, I’ll figure it out from there and…get a new violin somehow.”
Musicians—even successful ones—couldn’t afford nice violins. I made forty thousand a year and worked my butt off to get there. Meanwhile, most violins cost an exorbitant amount. Often, an investor with the love of music bought an instrument and would lend it to them. This triggered a symbiotic relationship. The investor benefited from a personal relationship with the musician.
A well-trained ear could hear the difference between a cheap violin and an expensive one. Even the bow might influence the instrument’s sound.
If I could somehow catch the interest of a musical investor, I’d be their violin-playing bitch, and happy about it. I’d do almost anything.
“What would solve everything?” Aunt Celina asked.
“A wealthy benefactor.”
“I can help with that. You should’ve been playing at my brothel anyway. When I do have them, I pay quite a lot for live music. I could save several hundred a week having you there with Eros.”
I had no idea she’d had live music there. Aunt Celina had forbidden me to visit or check the Candy Shop out.
She sighed. “You can’t afford to say no.”
“I’m…actually glad that you said this.”
“Of course, you’ll have something on. Usually, my musicians are naked.”
I parted my lips.
“You’ll wear clothes.”
“Thanks.”
“Eden, do me a favor and look fabulous. Wear something breathtaking. The clients will love it.”
“Okay.”
“We can keep your identity a secret. No need to get a reputation as the brothel violinist. Get a pretty mask that doesn’t hide your face too much. A lace number. And cover up the back tattoo.”
Last year, Leo had tattooed my back, transforming me into a violin. My body served as the instrument’s shape. Four strings ran down my spine. He placed the f-holes at my lower back. Every detail was perfectly placed so that when someone fucked me from behind, they saw their cock enter a female violin. My ex-boyfriends—all musicians—loved the ink.
“Yes. It’s settled,” Aunt Celina said. “You’ll work at the Candy Shop.”
What other choice do I have? At least I’ll still be playing music. And it won’t be a boring job.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. And sometimes what daddy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Although I was an adult and could do what I wanted, he’d lost my mother, and I didn’t want to push him further into depression.
Dad and Aunt Celina hadn’t talked in ten years. This started the exact moment my aunt opened her brothel. Dedicated to public service all his life, he argued that prostitution promoted the enslavement of women.
Mom spent those years trying to get them back together. She’d visited Aunt Celina’s brothel and semi-supported the venture. Mom only worried about the illegal part and the dangerous clientele.
That last year of her life, she asked me to help Dad and Aunt Celina work it out. I’d done a piss-poor job. They still hadn’t stood in the same room together. At the funeral Auntie had sneaked in the back of the church early, paid her respects, and hurried away.
Sighing, I took the money from my aunt. “Thank you. It wouldn’t hurt to play the Candy Shop.”
“It wouldn’t. Come tonight. We’ll talk about your schedule further, tomorrow. Call me in the morning.”
I could play there, while I search for a job.
Working at the brothel would be a long schedule for sure. The Candy Shop never closed. Not even for the holidays or snow storms. Sex remained a rising recession-proof commodity during any occurrence.
Aunt Celina gave me a weak smile. “Everything will be fine. You’ll get some extra cash, and something will come up.”
“You’re right.”
“Auntie is always right.” She rose from the couch. “And don’t tell your father. I don’t have time to argue with him this month.”
I stood with her. “I’m not telling him.”
“Good. Because if my brother isn’t going to help you out, then he can keep his religion and advice to himself. You want to be a famous violinist? Come to my establishment. Big hitters are there.” She shrugged. “You never know, Eden. Someone may fall in love with your music so much they want to be a benefactor.”
“True.”
“It’ll bring an air of elegance and sophistication to the place.” She winked at me and strolled off. “Shalimar will see you tonight.”
“Good. I like her a lot.”
Knowing that Shalimar would be there, eased the tension gathering in my shoulders. She was Asian American and taller than me. Close to six feet. Her long black hair fell past her waist. She was the only one of my Aunt’s employees that I’d communicated with the most in these five years.
Shalimar served as brothel manager and my aunt’s personal assistant. Anytime I couldn’t find Aunt Celina, I called Shalimar. When I needed help coming up with Christmas or birthday ideas for Aunt Celina, I went to her. In our small exchanges, we would comment about the weather or current state of politics, and then jump off the phone. Any dinner party or charity gathering Aunt Celina held, Shalimar and I hung around together and chatted amongst the city’s influencers. At times she could be a little crass, but she kept me laughing anytime she was around. During summers, Aunt Celina vacationed throughout Europe, leaving Candy Shop in her hands.