The Amber Columns (The City of Dark Pleasures Book 2) by Bibi Rizer Read Free Book Online Page B

open courtyard, lit only by weak emergency lights and stars. Rows of concrete tables spread out across the space, their polished tops reflecting the dim glow of the sky. The layout of the courtyard reminds me of the lunch room at my school. Orderly. Restful in its minimalism.  I wonder if servants eat here during the day. Citizens aren’t allowed in the Pleasures from dawn until just before dusk, when the gates open. What kind of lives do servants have during the day? I suppose they must eat and bathe and do their laundry like normal people.
    The courtyard seems deserted, the tables empty. Remembering what the Cull said, I crouch down, searching beneath the concrete tables and benches. Down towards the end of one row I see a dark shadow. It could be a person, but it’s hard to tell.
    I approach, cautiously, reminding myself that I have no evidence that real life Tully is anything like the one I sometimes encounter in my nightmares.
    “ Gentle as a lamb ,” I whisper to myself. Then I’m close enough to see it is a person.
    It is Tully.
    He’s sitting on the floor under table, his arms draped over knees raised up in front of him, his head hanging as though he’s asleep. And I find myself frozen, trapped in a world in between making my presence known and tip-toeing away.
    Even dozing, he’s beautiful. I’m tortured by the urge to touch him.
    “Tully?” I say, almost involuntarily. “Tully?”
    He looks up, his golden eyes focusing slowly.
    “Oh,” he says. As though someone has just given him the answer to a perplexing question. Then he nods, a little smile growing on his beautiful face. “It’s good to see you, O’Mara.”
     

Chapter Five – Tully
     
    “It’s not safe for you to be here.” She takes a step back as I clamber out from under the table, as though my warning applied to me. My sudden and confusing euphoria at seeing her has receded, leaving only anxiety in its place.
    Women aren’t safe here. It’s one of the many paradoxes of the Pleasures that the vilest citizens come here not to buy sex but to make trouble. Many men who frequent the Amber Columns are nice men – I mean as far as male citizens can be nice with their privileged existence. But some men come here to prey on those weaker than them: male servants who have lost the protection of a citizen pass, Culls of course, and women, citizens or not. It is a terrible crime to attack a citizen woman in the Pleasures. But here in the Columns with all the secrets and shame, it’s easy to get away with if you know where the scanners are.
    If O’Mara has gotten this far it means one of two things: the security network has latched onto her and is following her, painfully buzzing any male citizen who gets too close; or a servant is tailing her, waiting for the right moment to jump out and be the knight in shining armor. It’s a known tactic in the darker corners of the Pleasures, a favorite especially of Culls who rarely earn the tips that make life so much easier here. Gratitude is worth money in the Pleasures too, as are all the things that aren’t for sale in the outside world. Everything has a price.
    O’Mara still hasn’t spoken. She looks at me, her wide brown eyes framed by silky skin and her thick doll-like black hair. I think for a second that maybe I’m dreaming.
    “Wh-what were you doing under the table?” Her voice is plaintive, as though she’s been talking to me for hours and I haven’t been listening. But it’s a reasonable question.
    “Hiding.” I answer. There are, of course, details to add to that, but hopefully those can wait. “Let me take you back to the East promenade. It’s not…”
    “Safe?” she supplies. “ You’re here.”
    “It’s not safe for me either, but I don’t really matter.” I mean it to come out lighthearted. Like a joke, but when I see the expression on her face, I see that I’ve failed.
    “Tully…” she finally says, reproachfully. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like