“Good.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “I know the man in charge of recruitment, and I’m afraid he’s very particular about the type of guard he employs.”
“Particular how?” I hesitated. “He sleeps with them?”
“As far as I’m aware, no. Even in Central, such harassment is frowned upon.”
“‘Even in Central’? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s nothing more than an acknowledgment that even with Central’s somewhat lax employment laws, overt sexual harassment is not allowed.”
Meaning it was allowed—or at least ignored—if it was done covertly?
“Anyway,” he continued, “all of those chosen as guards are curvaceous in build, with large breasts and orange hair. It would appear the owner of Winter Halo has something of a fetish for the color.”
As fetishes go, that was definitely one of the minor ones—and while my natural hair color was white and black tiger stripes and I couldn’t exactly be described as curvaceous, as a body shifter it wasn’t a hard form to attain. “Which isn’t actually a problem, as you know.”
“No.”
I frowned, sensing an odd . . . not reluctance, not really. But there was definitely some sort of background resistance to the idea of my applying for the job at Winter Halo, and I couldn’t figure out why. “Do you think you have enough swing with the recruiter to get me an interview?”
“Possibly. I should warn you, though, that the night watch has a very high turnover. Women do not seem to last very long in the position.”
And did the reason have something to do with harassment of some kind? Or was something else going on?
My frown deepened. “Any idea why?”
He shook his head. “But there are few here in Central who are comfortable at night. The fear of vampires is fierce, even with the UV lights and the wall keeping them at bay.”
“Then why would they apply for the job in the first place?”
“You really haven’t been in Central very long.” There was amusement in his tone, but the shadows were deeper in his eyes. “It’s not all sunshine and roses, believe me.”
“For you, it must be.” I waved a hand around his apartment. “You have all this, after all.”
“Yes, but I didn’t always live and work on First Street. I started on Twelfth—and believe me, it’s a very long, very steep road to get from there to here.”
I guess it would have been. Certainly Deseo was a far cry from Hedone—and if I ever had to work in a brothel, it would be at one like Hedone. I hadn’t seen much of the place, but the foyer alone suggested the rooms where the transactions took place would contain far more than merely a bed and a box of toys.
“Anyway,” he continued, gathering the plates, then rising and walking them over to the dishwasher, “I’ll see what I can do. Of course, you do know it means you’ll have to see me again.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You say that like you expect me not to.”
“Oh,” he said, his grin cheeky, but the shadows even stronger in his eyes. “I can smell exactly how much you want to. I was merely giving you the option to walk away if you so desired.”
I smiled. “I haven’t seen another déchet for a hundred years. That, I believe, is answer enough.”
“Well, then how about dinner? Somewhere fancy to celebrate our reunion?”
“I don’t think I have the clothes to do fancy—”
He held up his hand, stopping me again. “Then it will be my pleasure to supply you a dress. Shall we say six tomorrow evening, in the lobby?”
“Sure.” It would give me time to gather courage and head back into Chaos. Hopefully, Nuri would be as good as her word when it came to getting me an ID.
“In the meantime,” he said, spinning my chair around so that I faced him. “I have forty-five minutes before I must leave for my appointment. Shall I fill you in on some of my missing years, or shall I simply fill you?”
“My, my,” I murmured. “Haven’t we lost some finesse over the years.”
He smiled. “Finesse, I have learned, doesn’t always get what I want. And you didn’t answer the question on the table.”