Ring Ring
“Hello?” I answer my phone nervously as the number on the screen is not one that I recognize. There are only a few people who know my phone number, which is how I like to keep it. Since it’s a prepaid cell phone, my name isn’t tied to this phone number anywhere that someone can find it. While that should reassure me, I still get very nervous when a number calls that I don’t recognize.
“Kenzie? This is Bridget,” the voice on the other end says.
“Bridget? Oh… hi.”
“Look, I’m sorry to call you, but I need to speak with you and was hoping you could meet me later today?”
“Oh, I’m sorry Bridget, but I’m not scheduled to work. I’m sure if you call the store—“
“I need to speak with you outside the store actually.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Can you meet me around four today?”
“Ummm… I don’t know.”
“I have a business proposition I want to discuss with you. Meet me for dinner, listen to my offer, and if you’re not interested, then no harm done. I promise you that whether or not you accept my offer will have no impact on my account at your store. If you don’t accept my offer, I won’t pull my account or ask for someone else to be assigned to my account, if that’s what you’re worried about. You have my word, Kenzie.”
“Okay… thank you. I suppose I can meet you today, I’m not working this evening.”
“There’s a Brazilian steakhouse on 7th and Main, do you know it?”
“I’m familiar with the area, so I’m sure I can find it.”
“Great, I’ll meet you there at four today. The reservation is in my name.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Nicholas:
“Mr. Parker?”
“What?” I snap.
I’m desperately trying to focus on responding to this arrogant ass who has been dicking me around on a decision for the last month. If I don’t concentrate on my response, I’m likely to tell him that he has his head up his ass if he thinks the shares in his company won’t plummet with the announcement of the merger next month.
“She works there.”
“Who? Who works there? What are you talking about, Carter?”
Now he’s just pissing me off, too. If you’re going to interrupt me, at least make it something worth my while; otherwise wait until I’m not fucking busy.
“Ms. Kenzie Rose.”
“Carter… seriously, what the fuck? What are you fucking talking about? Who the hell is Kenzie Rose?”
“The woman from outside the coffee shop… the one we inadvertently drenched during the rain storm.”
“She… she works at the bakery?” I’m shocked, I never thought we would find her again. I even had Carter and Asher check security cameras in the area but none were able to give us a clear picture of the mystery woman who has haunted my thoughts ever since.
“Yes, she had prepared the order for today’s meeting. We’re running early, if you want to go in—“
“No, just drive to the office.”
“Sir?
“PFS, Carter.”
I can’t help but glance out the window at the bakery as Carter pulls away. Part of me wants to tell him to stop the car so I can go in and meet this Ms. Rose properly. But then her image is in the front of my mind once again and I’m reminded that there’s no way that I could ever be what she wants or needs. I’m reminded that she isn’t the type of woman who is just going to want to fuck me, that she isn’t the type of a woman for a one night stand. I’m not the type of guy who can do anything more than a one night stand or a quick fuck… not again.
Chapter 5
Kenzie
I have no idea what to wear tonight to meet Bridget or even what she wants to meet with me about. I’ve racked my brain over and over again, trying to figure out what she could possibly want to discuss with me outside the store and still can’t seem to find anything that makes sense. Initially, I assumed it must have something to do with shopping for her at other locations besides just the department store, but then I realized that everything she has pretty much comes from our store.
I checked the website for the place we are going to meet and it seems like a pretty dressy place, which is exactly what I expected of Bridget. I pick out a dress that I’ve worn to work a few times; I doubt that anything else I own would be appropriate for this type of place. The restaurant is located pretty much where I thought it would be, about a four block walk from the nearest bus stop that will bring me to the subway line I need, but the area it is in is pretty safe so I’m not worried about walking back to the bus stop after our meeting. The menu was posted online as well but no prices were listed, leaving me only to assume that dinner would likely cost half of my paycheck if I were to go there on my own. I take some of the cash I keep hidden in case of emergencies and toss it into my purse in the event that I need to grab a cab or pay for something.
My stomach feels like there is a knot in it, whether it’s from nervousness or anxiety, I don’t know. I hope that I know her well enough by now that she will keep her word and that no matter what happens tonight, I won’t lose her as a client. She had said this wouldn’t be an option, but I can’t help but worry that it could happen if she doesn’t like my response tonight. It may not be the best job in the world, but without it, I wouldn’t be able to pay all my rent so I value it for that reason alone.
When the bus stops, I slowly get off and make my way along the busy sidewalk. My stomach feels like a brick is sitting in it and I’m practically shaking with nervousness. I try to calm myself down, but I can’t seem to stop my body’s natural reaction. I’m not so much nervous about the actual proposition she has in mind but more so about the consequences if I decline the offer. I try to push those thoughts out of my head and desperately try to find something else to focus on during the short walk to the restaurant.
“Good evening, Miss… can I help you?” I’m greeted by an older gentleman in a suit as soon as I walk into the restaurant.
“Yes, I’m here to meet with Ms. Wilder, I believe she has—“
“Ms. Wilder has our private room reserved. Please follow me,” he cuts me off and quickly leads me through the busy restaurant. Despite it being fairly early, I’m surprised at how busy this place is. It seems most people here are having business meetings as there are folders, notepads, and laptops at almost every table. I suppose this place was a good option for conducting business dinners… the tables are far enough apart that you wouldn’t feel like someone could eavesdrop into your conversation and the food would surely impress any guest based upon the reviews written online.
“Ms. Wilder, your guest has arrived.” I am led into a small dining room where Bridget is seated at a table that looks rather large just for the two of us.
“Kenzie, it’s so nice to see you again.” she stands to greet me as soon as I walk in.
“Thank you, Bridget, it’s nice to see you, too.”
“The waiter will be in shortly with your meals.”
“I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of ordering for both of us so we can focus our time on discussing business. The food here is delicious, but if you don’t like what I ordered, please let me know. The chef will make anything you want, even if it’s not on the menu.”
“I’m sure whatever you ordered will be fine Bridget, I’m not a very picky eater,” I assure her.
“While we wait for our food, I need to ask you to sign this.” She hands me a folder with what appears to be a legal document in it.
“What is this?” I ask.
“It’s called a non-disclosure agreement, an NDA. Please read through it carefully. I want you to understand what you are signing. Essentially, by signing this document you agree to keep anything we discuss here between the two of us. You cannot go home and tell your roommate about this discussion—“
“I live alone so you don’t have to worry about that.” It would be much easier if I had a roommat
e, financially speaking of course. The idea of living with someone, sharing my space with them… I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t trust someone that much.
“It also means you can’t talk to anyone about this at the store what we discuss tonight.”
“I understand.”
I spend the next few minutes reviewing the NDA, which seems pretty straight forward. It warns that I can be sued if I discuss the contents of this meeting with someone, especially if the information is then leaked to the media. My curiosity is peaked even more as I wonder what Bridget could want to discuss that would require such a high level of confidentiality. Immediately, I toss out the idea that she wants me to be a personal shopper for her at other stores, not that it was a very good idea to begin with.
A waiter quietly brings in our salads and entrees, setting them in front of us before Bridget nods, dismissing him. She pours us each a glass of wine from the bottle that has been opened and is on the table with us. I take a deep breath and sign the NDA, closing the folder before taking a sip of the wine she just poured. I haven’t had a glass of wine, or really anything containing alcohol, in the last year and a half; not that I haven’t often wanted something but more because I was focused so much on saving money and just surviving.
“Do you mind if we discuss things while we eat? I’ve had a busy day and ended up missing lunch today so I’m famished,” Bridget asks.
“I don’t mind at all.” I’m secretly relieved because I’d rather get the reason for this meeting out in the open than dragging it on much longer.
“Kenzie, I want you to keep an open mind with what I’m about to offer you,” she warns, and I nod in agreement as the anxiety in me rises even higher. “As you know, I run a very successful consulting firm here in New York. What you don’t know is what my services entail. I work with very successful business men and women across the tri-state area who, because of their busy lives, find dating to be either undesirable or something they don’t have time for. This is where I come in: I set them up with men and women who match the qualities they are looking for.”
“Like a matchmaker?” I ask completely surprised.
“Sort of… I suppose you could call me a matchmaker. However, unlike most services out there, my ultimate goal is often not about wedding bells and happily ever after. That doesn’t mean that some of my clients haven’t ended up married, of course, but the primary objective of the match is not compatibility for life.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a little confused. If you’re not looking for a husband or wife for someone, what’s the point in the match?”
“Company, companionship, and sometimes even friendship—what most people want out of life. The people I work with are very successful individuals in their respective industries. Oftentimes they work sixty, seventy, even ninety hours per week, with little to no time for their personal lives. They have sacrificed those personal lives for their success, and this is something they accepted long ago.
“However, sometimes they just want to go to dinner with a lovely woman and have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around the stock market or the latest merger. They don’t want any type of commitment, and because of their success, they always worry that someone is only with them for money so they never trust anyone completely. I pair them with someone that I think they have something in common with or that I think would be a good match for them. The two have dinner, go to a play, see a movie, or more often than not, go to social events together. You would be surprised how many business deals are ironed out over social events with husbands and wives present.”
“I’m actually not as surprised as you would think,” I mumble aloud.
“Oh?” she asks, but when I don’t comment, she continues. “I’ve known you for more than a year now, so I’d like to think I know the qualities you possess. I am confident that you would be a good match with several of the men, or women if you prefer, that I work with. I would like to offer you the opportunity to join my consulting firm.”
“Ummmm… this is a lot to take in. Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course, ask anything you want. You’ve signed the NDA, so I feel comfortable speaking freely with you about this.”
“What exactly is expected on a date?” I ask, cringing at the word date. Can you even call it a date if you are being paid to be there and the person is paying for your service?
“It depends on the context. Assuming it’s not a business-social event, think of it like two friends going out together. You eat, chat about whatever you want: sports, the weather, aspirations in life… really anything. If you are accompanying someone in a business-social situation, you would likely have met the person ahead of time and he would have outlined what he was looking for at that event. Usually they need you to play the doting girlfriend role: hold hands, maybe dance if the event calls for it, and just make small talk with the other guests. They will have briefed you ahead of time on the key players and given you their opinions on business or political topics.”
“How long do these… arrangements typically last?”
“I have some staff who have been meeting with the same client for years now. The press, without a doubt, assumes they are a couple, but in reality, they only see each other for business events and the occasional dinner beforehand. I have other clients who will ask for someone to go to dinner with once every few months when they are in town traveling for business. It really depends on the client and how well they click with my staff.”
“What about… physical contact? Is that an expectation—“
“Absolutely not!” Bridget slams her hand down on the table between us. “I do not run a prostitution ring, Kenzie! Beyond holding hands, any physical contact is limited: a hand on the small of your back when you walk into the room, an arm around your waist when discussing something with another couple, etc… At most, a kiss on the cheek at the end of the evening. There is nothing beyond that—it is spelled out in the contract all clients and employees sign, stating there will be no intimate contact between the two parties unless they both terminate their contract with my firm.”
“I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect. I just had to know. I could never… that’s just something I couldn’t do.”
“It’s a common misconception; escort businesses have been given a bad name by companies who disguise themselves as providing escorts, when they really provide prostitutes. My clients have no problem finding a woman to be intimate with them, what they come to me for is something more than sex. They want someone who they can spend a few hours with who won’t expect flowers the next day or a diamond ring on their finger in a week. Sometimes all they want is to conduct business, but the people who they are conducting business with assume there is something wrong with them because they don’t have a wife, girlfriend, husband, or boyfriend to bring to dinners.”
“Why me?” I blush when I realize I asked the question aloud.
“Kenzie… whether or not you know it, you’re beautiful. You have this innocence about you that I know many of my clients will find endearing. You’re not the type of woman who dresses incredibly sexy or tries to get into a man’s pants for his wallet. From what I can tell, you haven’t had any plastic surgery; the natural look is very appealing to most of my clients. You’re polite but can handle yourself when necessary as well. These qualities are highly sought after for business events. My clients want someone who can hold polite conversations with their business associates but can also hold their own if they need to leave their side for a few minutes.”
“I…”
“I’m sure these are qualities you don’t even see in yourself, but I’ve made it my business to get to know everyone I come in contact with. I think this could be a good opportunity for you … you wouldn’t have to work two jobs any longer and could afford to move out of that crappy neighborhood you live in—“
“Wait… how do you know where I live?”
“I ran a background check on you, of course, dear,” she answers, as if
it’s nothing. “Before I approached you about this opportunity, I needed to know if you would hold up to public scrutiny. It’s possible you would be photographed at events with clients, and I needed to know what the press could dig up on you.”
“There shouldn’t be anything…” I try to figure out what could be on a background check about me.
“There wasn’t anything to worry about. Looks like you had bad luck a few years ago: a tumble down the stairs landed you in the emergency room with several broken ribs and a gash on your arm requiring stitches—“
“You could access my medical records? That’s confidential!”
“For the right price, anyone can access anything, Kenzie,” she sighs. “I needed to make sure that I knew everything that the press could find out about you.”
“Shouldn’t that be my choice? I haven’t accepted your offer!”
“Yet,” she corrects. “You haven’t accepted my offer yet. Kenzie, I know this feels like I invaded your privacy, but I didn’t know much about you before I ran these background checks. I doubt the store ran detailed background checks, but even if they did, it wouldn’t be as in depth as mine. I needed to know you were trustworthy before I even could approach you about this.”
“I… I don’t know what to say, Bridget,” I sigh heavily. What she says makes sense, but I’m still angry that she could access my medical records. However, I’m relieved that even if she accesses all of them, she won’t find anything else. There is nothing there to raise suspicion, nothing to make someone take a second look…
“Will you consider my offer? I have men and women who work for me who don’t have to work other jobs to pay bills. This could get you out of your apartment and into a place where you wouldn’t have to worry about walking out your front door at night or that the police might barge through your door at any moment because your neighbor is dealing drugs. You wouldn’t have to scrimp and save every penny. You wouldn’t have to work ten, twelve, or fifteen hour long days.”
The Arrangement Duet Box Set Page 5