by Alex Exley
about it. He wished he could be driving to her house now instead of driving to bring an escort to a client. Oh, well. He’d see her tomorrow in class. He’d waited this long for a prospective girlfriend; he could certainly wait one more day to see her.
He found the street Lauren lived on, a narrow one-way side street, and took the turn, rolling slowly along looking at the numbers of the tightly packed duplexes and triple deckers. He finally saw the right number. There were no empty parking spaces along the street, but since there were no other cars coming behind him, he stopped in the street and pressed the horn. A few short, friendly beeps to let her know he was here. A second later the door opened and a young girl came out. Jesse leaned down to look out the passenger’s window and get a glimpse. He could make out what she was wearing as she passed under the porch light: a schoolgirl’s outfit, short dark-colored skirt, white knee-high stockings, a white blouse. Jesse laughed to himself. Probably a request of the client, someone who wanted to indulge in the schoolgirl fantasy. It looked like he would be getting his money’s worth.
Lauren passed too quickly under the light for Jesse to make out her face. As she came down the steps, the porch light creating a golden glow around her edges, he straightened up, not wanting her to think he was staring. She reached the car and opened the door.
“Lauren?” Jesse asked.
“Yup. How’s it going,” she said, a flash of recognition, of concern, across her face as she got into the car.
The voice jarred Jesse. It wasn’t until she was in the seat and turned to face him that he processed what he was seeing. Sitting in the passenger’s seat wasn’t Lauren at all. It was Corey.
There was a pause, heavy and silent, as they looked at each other.
“Oh my God,” Corey said, not to anybody, but as an involuntary reaction. She looked forward and slouched down, as if in a daze. “This is like, the one thing I feared. I can’t believe this.”
A glare of headlights illuminated the interior of the car as someone pulled up behind Jesse. They laid on the horn, an irritated blaring honk, and Jesse instinctively put the car in drive and moved forward.
He’d felt mostly shock when he first realized that Lauren was Corey. He’d thought about her so much, daydreamed about her in so many different scenarios, but none of them came remotely close to this. She had seemed so unpretentious, good-natured, kind, and most of all compatible. Compatible with him. She was supposed to be the one he could relate to, share things with, get close to. What did this now mean? He wasn’t in a position to think about it clearly. He was trying to navigate the city streets. He hadn’t yet said anything and he probably should.
“You’re not the person I expected to see.” An obvious statement, but he wasn’t sure what the situation called for. He couldn’t talk about what he was feeling; he didn’t even know what he was feeling.
Corey’s voice sounded resigned, tired. “No kidding.”
“So where am I going?” Jesse asked. He’d taken a few turns and was heading toward the main drag where he had asked directions. He knew where the client lived, but, having thought about Corey so much in so many agreeable ways, he couldn’t imagine driving her to a client. He almost expected her to say Just drive me back to my house or Let’s get something to eat somewhere. But she didn’t.
“Newton. The guy lives on McDermott Drive in Newton. Do you know where that is?”
He did. He’d gotten the address from Chrissy and looked up the directions beforehand. It was easy to get to: less than a mile off Route 90. He was approaching the on-ramp to Route 90 now.
“Ye-ah” Jesse’s voice cracked. The vibe was strained and he was a little nervous. Not because of his fear of talking to her, but because the situation was so unfamiliar, and he was unsure of how to react to it. The shock that he initially felt began to settle, but he still wasn’t thinking clearly, his main sensation a twisted, ugly feeling inside.
They drove for several minutes in silence. Corey rested her elbow on the car door, her chin on her hand. She looked glumly out the window. Jesse glanced in her direction, the street lights throwing a flash of pale yellow over her every few seconds. He noticed her thigh, smooth and soft and much exposed, running into the black and red plaid of her pleated skirt. He imagined the client touching her, in that very spot on her leg, in what, ten minutes from now? The thought turned his stomach and he shook it from his head. He couldn’t stand the silence, the strained awkwardness, so he said the only thing he could think to say.
“Did you do your chem for tomorrow?”
She straightened up and took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her hair. “Yeah. I, ah, I read the chapter and did about half the problems. I tried to anyway.”
Jesse was glad he’d done some chemistry that morning. They talked about a few of the problems they could both recall. The conversation was thin and choppy, the awkwardness of their situation heavy in the air around them. Not talking directly about the situation probably didn’t help, but neither was sure how to proceed, so the innocuous and superficial chit-chat that would have to do.
The twenty minute ride felt like an hour, and as they turned onto McDermott Drive, Corey ignored a question Jesse asked about covalent bonding and instead said, “I don’t know what to say. This is just, I mean, the worst thing was that someone would find out, and, I don’t know what’s gonna happen, if you, I don’t know…“ Corey became exasperated, and, gave an aggravated sigh as Jesse pulled alongside the curb in front of the expansive front yard of the client’s house.
Jesse didn’t know how to respond and muttered something barely audible. After a brief silence, Corey took a deep breath to compose herself, pulled down the sun visor to look at herself in the mirror, and opened the door.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” she said.
Jesse watched her walk across the lawn to the front door. He’d never seen her in an outfit like that, and he couldn’t help but be slightly aroused. But then the rottenness that had been simmering in his stomach oozed back in. The sickly feeling wasn’t just because she had left his car to be with another man—for money. That she probably sees many guys on a regular basis for money. It had something to do with that, of course, but it was also a result of what that meant: She could not be to him what he had hoped she could be, what he had imagined and dreamed she would be. He had thought about her so much that he felt like he knew her more than he really did. It felt more like he was having a girlfriend torn from him in the vilest of ways, not a girl he had only spoken with on a few occasions.
He reached to the back seat and picked up the thick anthology of short stories that he’d planned to read. He looked at the book and tossed it back onto the seat. He wouldn’t get any reading done tonight. Then he thought of The Sun Also Rises. Jake Barnes hadn’t gotten Brett Ashley in the end, either. Jake had watched her go with other men, even set her up with that bullfighter, in spite of his own feelings. His desires had been thwarted and unfulfilled, practically mocked. And then he was cast adrift. Maybe that’s how Jesse was meant to be—alone and adrift in the world, a rudderless boat in a vast ocean. Just like Jake Barnes.
Jesse tried to clear the thought from his head. He wished he’d never talked to Corey. He was much happier with his daydreams. At least they always left him feeling good. Reality wasn’t for him; it was bound to disappoint you.
As he sat in the car, he thought of the long talk he’d had with Corey in the cafeteria. It had made him feel so good. Her infectious smile, her blithe manner. She was the last person he would think could do something like this.
What does it matter, Jesse thought. The fact is, she’s in there with another guy doing God knows what. A pang of jealousy gnawed away at him. He couldn’t shake the idea of her in the house, not only being sexual with another guy, but talking and laughing with him, sharing with him—even if she was being paid. Or should it be especially because she was being paid. Which was worse? That she’s being paid means she has no real allegiance to this guy, no emotional connection. The t
ime they share is just work. But come on, that means she’s no more than an upscale prostitute. Jesse laughed at the thought of having fallen for a prostitute. What a world. What a life.
As the thoughts lingered, shades of arousal softened the edges of his jealousy and anger. Those smooth thighs and short skirt were enough to temper any man’s resentment. Jesse had found it exciting to think of the other escorts and what they did. Before he learned that Lauren was really Corey, he had wondered what she would be like, imagined she was a college student like himself, an otherwise respectable person living a secret life, and the idea had turned him on. He had gotten all he imagined and then some.
Jesse looked at his cell phone. She’d been in there over half an hour. They were well along with whatever they were doing by now. He wondered about the guy she was with—what he looked like, how old he was, what he did for work. He wished, for a moment, that it was him in that house.
His bitterness slowly subsided and turned into resignation. He realized that his expectations were overblown. His feelings about Corey were as much the result of his imagination and longing as they were from anything they truly had between them. He couldn’t help how he felt, but he tried to think about the situation logically. And hell,