The Last Coffee Shop

Chapter 20: The Curse of Small Desires

It was easy enough for Mads to retrace her steps, to make it back to Commodore Leroy's door before she thought better of it. The two guards waved her through with raised brows but no questions, and she wondered if the fancy invitation and heavy security of before had all been for show.

When she walked into the abandoned dining room, the Commander was waiting for her, and she realized that the guards must have alerted him somehow.

"Miss Capot," he said. "Come through to the parlor. It's more comfortable. And there's tea."

Mads eyed him warily, feeling like the person who brought a knife to a gunfight. But he just stood, waiting, his hand on the farthest door.

"I have no intentions of hurting you, girl," he said, his melodious voice dropping to a calming low. "But I take it you have something you wanted to say, without your men-friends present?"

"They're not—" Mads began, but then she decided it wasn't worth it. "Tea sounds good." She said instead, following him into a smaller room. A parlor, I guess?

There were smooth, dark, soft couches lining the walls, and a giant window facing out into the smoggy clouds, but no other decorations. Mads sank onto the couch and accepted the mug of steaming liquid from the Commodore's giant hand.

But she didn't drink it. Instead, she set it down on the couch beside her and looked up at him with tired eyes. "What's the price?"

His laugh startled her. Not because it was loud - it wasn't - but because it bubbled up, spilling over into a choking sound that she couldn't identify for several frozen moments.

Finally, she allowed herself to smile a little too. "What's so funny, sir?"

"I don't know what you did to Phelan," he said, ignoring her question and taking a seat. "I don't know why you're with those 'twins of misfortune and ruin,' or where they found you, but no one has ever assaulted one of my Suits in my own dining room because he tried to do a little skin trading."

Mads scowled. "Can I be honest with you, sir?"

The Commodore waved a hand. "Please. Whatever you say here stops here."

Mads looked from the Commodore to the tea. "Clubs is a despicable piece of garbage, sir. The fact that he can trade in people, and 'younger girls' . . . that's just disgusting. And you didn't tell me what I owe you for the tea?"

The Commodore finally sat down, sinking into the couch farthest from Mads. "You're already paying for it, with your . . . refreshing honesty. I'm surrounding by cons, murderers, rakehells, gamblers, whores, liars, and those are just the nice people. It's been too long since I heard an honest word, or had something to laugh at. Hell, it's been years since I had a good conversation." He leaned back, taking a sip of his tea and sighing with satisfaction.

His brow furrowed, as if he'd just tasted something nasty in the tea. "Despite what it looks like, there's only so much I can do. But we have an age limit on whores and entertainers here. Have to be old enough to consent. I'll have my people look into it."

The Commodore took another sip of tea, and then glanced at Mads. "Drink your tea. And tell me, why are you here, spilling fires of righteousness?"

Mads, who had just picked up her tea, proceeded to choke on it, and then glower at the Commodore. "What do you mean?"

"You've been judging us all since you stepped off your ship. It was written on your face. You despise us and our way of life. But I am curious. What did you have to say to me that you couldn't say in front of Phelan or Peck?" He leaned forward, his lips twisting a bit at the corner. "Your business partners."