Curing His Love Allergy

Chapter 35 - The District

"Sylvia," my boyfriend called out.

"How do you know me?" a redhead asked, getting up from where she was seated.

"How do you know Lucian?" I retorted. A small flash of panic washed over her face before she masked it. Now I knew for sure she was guilty of something.

"Come on in," she said to us, ushering France and me into a secluded section of the brothel. The room she brought us into was dreary, with dark red curtains and matching drapes. A stain was on the satin sheets, and I didn't want to know what it was. This place is disgusting. I unconsciously reached for my purse where a small bottle of hand sanitizer lay. A small couch sat opposite the bed, barely big enough for both of us. France sat on the couch with me in his lap, while Sylvia sat on the bed, way too close to the stain for my liking. She probably made it.

"So, how do you like the district?" she asked.

I scoffed, annoyed at her trying to make small talk. "Cut the bullshit for me, please. I want to know all you know about Lucian Matthews, Sylvia."

"And why should I tell a couple of kids?"

"Because these kids know your secret," I retorted. If she was nervous, she gave nothing away as her face remained impassive.

"What are you kids talking about?" she said, her voice void of all emotion.

"We know you have HIV, Sylvia," France spoke up for the first time. She flew out of her seat at that revelation, her eyes wide and her movements clumsy.

"Keep your voices down, you idiots. You could ruin my career if anyone knows about the sickness."

"But you ruined my LIFE, bitch. Your sickness killed my mother because of Lucian. Now tell us what we want to know," I demanded, now having the power in this conversation.

She hung her head, seeming conflicted. "He'll kill me if he knows I told anyone," she whispered. "No one is supposed to know I'm sick, much less him. He's a powerful man. If he ever finds out that I told you, I will come for you two, if I'm not dead," she threatened. I swear she was bipolar because how could one be afraid and scary at the same time?

I nodded, a silent promise of keeping her name out of it when I inevitably confronted my father.

"Okay, so Lucian and I met at a nightclub in Dallas. He was a regular-looking man at the time with kind eyes bombarded with crow's feet. His smile was gentle, and his words sweet like sugar. But little did I know, his sultry personality would soon be long gone. That night, he accidentally spilled his drink on me. I even remember what it was: Coca-Cola and gin. At first, I was mad, snapping at him, and then he offered to help me get the stain out. I followed him to the bathroom as it was gender-neutral. The bathroom was icky, and several people were fucking, but he led me to the sink and took out a small vial from his pocket. To this day, I still don't know what was inside. He poured it onto my party dress, and it was as good as new. I gushed over how nice it was of him to do this, etc., etc., and one thing led to another, and he was bending me over in a stall," she said, but I interrupted her.

"Please don't get too graphic."

"But our whole relationship was graphic, so no can do."

I groaned. "Fine."

"As I was saying, we were having pure, unadulterated, raw sex. At the time, the pleasure of the sex made me forget that I was sick. It was only after that I remembered, but I thought better of telling him as I'd never see him again. But it was the best sex I had ever gotten, and I'm a prostitute, so that is saying a lot. We went our separate ways. At the time, I did not even know his last name, much less the fact that he was married or that he would give the sickness to his wife. I did not think about the repercussions of my actions. I didn't see Lucian again for two months, and I was shocked to see him and so furious at that. He was nothing like the man I fucked in the club's bathroom. He saw me and pulled me outside, shouting how I had given him HIV and how I ruined his life. I merely blinked at him, seeing as he shouldn't have fucked a random girl knowing that he was married. I tried to quell the situation, but that only made it worse. He was complaining to me that his wife got the disease and how she refuses to have sex with him again. He looked up at me when he said that with seduction in his tone. Not long after, he was leaning me up behind the brothel. He started coming to the brothel once a week until it became a regular thing for him every night. The brothel was where he met this shady guy who was fucking my coworker Mindy. They developed a friendship, and that friendship changed him. His full-of-life eyes turned as hard as stone, his deep chuckle turned to a smirk, and worst of all, he used to make love to me. After that, we only fucked. Until one day, he stopped coming. Then I heard from Mindy that his wife died. He came back two days later to threaten me, holding a knife to my throat, saying that if I told anyone about anything, he'd kill me. The crazed look in his eyes made me believe him. I then heard from Mindy again that he moved to New York with his daughter."