A Model Escort

by Amanda Meuwissen

  Owen could only answer with flustered laughter, but she barely paused before moving on. The flurry of Keri Nye and the speed with which she was in total control after tripping over her words was what Owen aspired to be like someday. He never had any illusions about recovering from foot-in-mouth syndrome completely, but she wasn’t even ruffled.

  “Let’s see if you consider us up to snuff to steal some of your time from the mayor’s office.”

  “Is that really okay?” Owen shuffled after her into the large skyscraper that humbled the mayor’s office with its modern design.

  “Conflict of interest with the mayor, you mean? Not to worry. I didn’t call in any favors with my husband. You agreed to meet with me all on your own, remember?”

  “Right! No, I know, but he won’t be upset if I split my time? There’s so much to do….”

  “This is your show, Owen,” she said, leading him briskly to the elevator for his tour of the building like she was just another office worker instead of president and CEO. “You decide what you want. You’re only contracted as part-time at the mayor’s office, specifically because you wanted time for other opportunities. Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

  Owen huffed like he’d been running a marathon when the elevator door closed behind them, bringing them up to the 32nd floor. “I’m just not used to having….”

  “Options?”

  Freedom. “Yeah.”

  “This is your moment.” Keri nudged his shoulder, betraying her youth and easygoing nature, which was part of what Owen had liked about Wesley too. Anyone too uptight to be at ease with their peers—and those technically below them—could never understand the common man. “We’re trying to please you today. Enjoy it.”

  The final reason Owen had chosen Atlas City was because of Nye Industries and Walker Tech. Both were local and thriving software companies that did so much more than create marketing platforms or cloud technology. Walker Tech was working on nanomachines to better distribute gene therapy to terminally ill patients, and Nye Industries had developed a prototype for an electromagnet-pulsing chip that could help thousands of people with debilitating spinal injuries. If Owen’s predictive models could in any way help these companies with their next projects, he wanted to be a part of that.

  “I hope Keri hasn’t scared you off yet,” Frank Holtz said after Owen’s tour of the R&D labs.

  Keri had been called away to an investor meeting, handing Owen over to Frank for the duration of his tour. As head of Design Innovation, Frank had been the lead engineer in coming up with the biostimulator chip for paralysis patients, so Owen was keen to hear his perspective on the company’s direction.

  Owen also got the impression that Keri had a soft spot for people with her same rambling tendencies—which Frank had in spades. Owen could admit that it eased him to be around someone who stumbled into unfortunate ways of wording things even more than he did.

  “You’re gay, right?” Frank blurted as they were passing a cluster of people at a water cooler. Owen nearly tripped over his own feet. “That was inappropriate. It’s just that… I’m gay too. At least my husband thinks so.” He elbowed Owen with a laugh, then clammed up again when Owen wasn’t sure how to respond. “Bad joke again. Sorry. I just mean… I’d heard you were gay, and you know how we tend to move in packs, so if you felt concerned for any reason being in a new city, Keri and the mayor are, like, super cool besides being genuine and extremely attractive people. Not that I think about the mayor’s attractiveness!”

  Owen had to laugh. The awkwardness had reached a boiling point, but for once, he wasn’t the cause.

  “You’re running straight for Walker Tech and never looking back, aren’t you?” Frank said.

  “No! No. I mean, I’d like to work with both companies. And also, yes… I’m gay. Just nothing more to say at the moment.”

  “Bad breakup?”

  Once again, Owen faltered. If Frank knew he was gay, that meant he knew about Harrison. Orion Labs in Middleton was well-known, even if the small software side of things wasn’t as big a player as anything here. The right circles likely knew about Owen’s ex without him having to say a word.

  “Which you obviously don’t want to talk about.” Frank broke into another harried ramble. “But if you ever need some friendly faces around for a game night or drink at the bar, my husband and I have incredibly friendly faces. Him more so, coz obviously I think he’s perfect. That’s why I married him. He’s also a much better conversationalist, I promise.”

  As uncomfortable as things turning toward Harrison had made Owen feel, he wasn’t upset with Frank. “I appreciate that, but I’m still settling in right now. In fact, when I get home, hopefully I’ll actually have furniture.”

  “Is that why you had that catalog in your bag? Not that I was snooping.” Frank raised his hands to defend himself. “I just… noticed.”

  “Yeah. In case I didn’t hear from them, but they texted me awhile ago that they—” And just then, when Owen decided to take the catalog out of his bag, the business card that should have been tucked securely into its designated page fluttered out like making a jailbreak, and Frank bent to retrieve it.

  “I got it.”

  “Wait—”

  “Nick of Time Escort Service?”

  Shit.

  “Hey, I know this place!” Frank smiled, then blanched when he saw Owen’s expression. “Not like that. I mean, maybe once or twice like that, before me and my husband, obviously, I don’t, I’m… not judging, is what I mean.” He thrust the card back at Owen.

  Wonderful. At least there wasn’t anyone near them in the hallway right now. Owen needed to remember to blame Alyssa if he ended up with a “reputation” at work. “It’s for dates only, if I needed one for events or anything. Not that I think I’ll use it. Probably never. I just don’t really want to date for real right now, you know?”

  “I get it,” Frank said, genuinely seeming to understand. “Plus, I’m sort of glad that fell out.”

  “Really?”

  “Now when you look back on your first day at Nye Industries, hopefully you’ll remember your totally unwarranted embarrassment over my completely justified humiliation.”

  Owen laughed. Frank and Keri made him feel like he could belong here as an escape from the more daunting task of managing the mayor’s program. If what he’d experienced the past few hours was an indication of the next several weeks, months, and hopefully more to come, he might actually be able to do this.

  CAL entered his apartment with a crick in his neck but a satisfied sensation buzzing through him. Piper did tend to twist him into interesting positions, but as always, it had been a worthwhile and lucrative evening.

  Now that it was late and Cal had the opportunity to relax, he looked forward to a long shower and nothing to disturb him until morning. He was a night owl by nature, since his hours of operation tended to go late and he usually had the freedom to sleep in.

  Relieving himself of his jacket and heading to his sound system, he turned on his mix of classical crooners. Nothing relaxed him like Ella Fitzgerald or Tony Bennett.

  Tony’s version of “Cold Cold Heart” began to play, and Cal closed his eyes to ease into his private space and personal thoughts. His home was his and his alone, a place untouched by anything he did outside these walls. Only Rhys and Lara had been inside, and his sister, who rarely visited. More often he visited her in Middleton, because this space was his—his escape.

  A frown passed over his features as the old thread of peace didn’t fill him like it used to. Lately his quiet home felt more suffocating than he cared to admit, and he couldn’t understand why. Midlife crisis, his sister had teased him after he turned forty. Maybe. And if so, how dull. How ordinary and expected. Just because he was getting older didn’t mean he had to have some secret desire to settle down. It didn’t mean he was lonely for something his clients couldn’t offer. He was perfectly content.

  But content was something he strived for know
ing happiness was rare. Happiness was still nice, but experiencing it was happening less and less often. Maybe that’s why Cal felt off around Merlin, and the man himself had nothing to hide. He couldn’t be sure now, and it bothered him that the peace he craved was being chased away by errant paranoia.

  He took his shower anyway, long and hot, as he hummed to the music playing over the speakers wired through his apartment. It was a studio, but a large one, in whites and gray and navy blue, with only a few closets and the bathroom separate, while his bedroom merely had a wall that blocked the view to the bed from the entryway. He didn’t need excess privacy when he lived alone.

  Running a hand over the short buzz of his hair once he’d toweled off and wrapped himself in his softest robe, Cal sat at his desk near the window to peruse his calendar. As expected, Lara had emailed him an updated copy of his schedule.

  A new request had also come through from Merlin, since the system took too long, and he was still on the roster until the paperwork finished. Cal wouldn’t respond. Even if he was overreacting, he was done with the man, and good riddance. His other regulars were enough.

  He checked his finances, then his calendar outside of work, which included upper-class events to avoid where he might run into clients, past or present. His sister and very few close friends called him meticulous to his face and anal behind his back—and to his face, if that friend was Rhys.

  Cal didn’t mind. It comforted him to have control down to the minute detail. There were probably psychology papers written about how neglected children with abusive parents sought out destructive ways of controlling their lives—textbook really. Cal wasn’t a slave to predictability or fate, but he wouldn’t pretend that having a mother who’d left and a father he would have been better off without hadn’t led to some of his life choices.

  Still, what he wanted now was something to stir up the monotony that left him feeling like something was missing from his life, something he couldn’t put a name to.

  After glancing at the clock to ensure it wasn’t too late, he dialed his sister’s number.

  “Missing my sweet voice, Cal?”

  “Always, sis.” He leaned back in his chair to peer out the window. It wasn’t the most spectacular view in town, but it was lovely all the same. Maybe he’d just needed Claire’s voice in his ear instead of Tony Bennett. “How are the kids?”

  “Good batch this year. Just starting beginners figure skating.”

  “Your favorite.”

  “When’s the last time you put on a pair of skates?”

  “Lord knows.” Cal chuckled. “Sibling activity next time I’m in town?”

  “You’re on.” Claire ran the youth programs at Middleton Community Center. She hadn’t “settled down” either, no husband or kids of her own, but she was a good decade younger than Cal. “How are you, Calvin? Any princes added to your clients yet?” She always asked that, wondering when he’d be whisked away to a life of luxury by some benevolent benefactor, but real life wasn’t like Pretty Woman.

  “Princess, in a way, but I dubbed her ‘Prince’ in the books just for you.”

  “Really? Like, a real princess? From where?”

  “Now, sis, you know I can’t divulge specifics.”

  “Spoilsport.” He could hear her pout over the phone, but it was enough of a concession that he’d mentioned Prince since he’d been seeing her for a while now. “What can I say, your glamorous lifestyle does sound appealing on occasion.”

  “You love your life,” he said, which was all he’d ever wanted for her.

  “I do. Do you?”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

  “You have that tone again….”

  “What tone?” Cal frowned at how well she read him even over the phone.

  “Wistful. Like you’re up in your head too much. I just want you to be happy.”

  “I’m not… unhappy.” Wincing at not being able to uphold the lie he’d had ready, Cal fumbled to continue, “I have full control over my life.”

  “Yeah? Well sometimes losing control is needed to shake things up. Don’t be opposed to unexpected surprises.”

  “What are you now, my horoscope?”

  “Just your concerned sister, smartass. I hate that you’re all alone so far away.”

  Shrugging off the tension in his shoulders, Cal pushed from his chair to walk closer to the window, staring over the skyscrapers that were very different from the ones he’d grown up with. He’d moved here to put some distance between him and his father years ago, but Claire wasn’t the only thing he missed.

  “I’ll visit soon. And I’m not alone. I have Rhys.”

  “And when’s the last time you two had a deep conversation?”

  “I have Lara for that.”

  “Who you almost dated.”

  “We didn’t almost date,” Cal defended. “I stole a kiss under the mistletoe in her office last Christmas. Rule number two: never date a coworker.”

  “What’s rule number one?” Claire asked.

  Glancing down at the open calendar on his computer, Cal fought a sneer he couldn’t wrap his head around. “Never date a client. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

  “Okay, Cal, but like I said, change could be good for you. We’ll talk soon.”

  Change. Cal could use some change, but toward what, he had no idea.

  OWEN’S first week had gone wonderfully. It really had. Everyone was great, and he did intend to take Frank up on that offer to reclaim his status as a third wheel for a married couple some night soon. But he was exhausted, and whenever he got home after a long day, he wished he had someone to talk to who wasn’t a coworker or hundreds of miles away.

  As he hung up his jacket and looked around his newly furnished apartment, he considered the weekend ahead with no plans whatsoever to look forward to… and wondered what Harrison might be up to.

  His phone ringing interrupted him.

  “Hello?”

  “Don’t call him,” his best friend’s voice came over the line.

  “Mario? How did you know?” Owen said, plopping down onto the sofa. It was a large, plush, half-square shape in deep burgundy that easily could have allowed a grown man to stretch out on either side. Owen lay that way now, staring at the empty side opposite him.

  “I know you, dude,” Mario said, one of the few college friends Owen had connected with, and someone who’d known him before he met Harrison. “You’re hundreds of miles away from your friends, and you don’t make new ones easy. You’re probably sitting at home alone, pining after that asshole because you’re lonely.”

  “Why are you always right?” Owen groaned. Everything else was perfect, and Harrison still managed to ruin his evening.

  “Do me a favor, man, okay? Go out. Meet someone new. Meet anyone new. Don’t give in and call him. It’s been months. You’re finally over the hurdle. And remember, you left him for a reason. You deserve something so much better.”

  If it hadn’t been for Alyssa, Casey, and Mario, Owen probably would have gone back to Harrison out of sheer fear after the first few days. “I just wish I could skip the hard part of meeting someone, ya know, get right to… having someone over for dinner, someone who’d talk with me, hold me, and not only want me for sex.” There he went again, sounding like a Lifetime Channel movie, but it was the truth.

  Mario hadn’t once belittled him for it. “I get it, man. Too bad you can’t hire someone for that sorta thing.”

  Glancing at his shoulder bag on the floor, which still had the catalog in it because Owen had been debating ordering more pieces all week, the last thing that sprang to mind was the furniture in its pages. “Yeah….”

  “Dude, I’m kidding!”

  “Me too!” Owen sprang up and turned to face the coffee table. “That would be… totally weird.”

  “I’m serious, O,” Mario said. “Go out. Have fun. Trust yourself. I wanna come visit sometime, but only after you’ve settled in and can actually show me around.”<
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  Alyssa had said something similar earlier in the week. “That sounds awesome.”

  “Be good, man, okay? You’re gonna kick ass at everything coming your way. I know it.”

  “Thanks, Mario. And I’ll take your advice. I promise.”

  He wanted to. After all, Mario knew him almost as well as Alyssa did. They’d bonded after having various classes together, and Mario had gone on to become an engineer. There were many things they could talk shop about, or just wax on for hours about comic books and sci-fi movies. But Mario’s biggest appeal as a friend was how sometimes he just knew when Owen was about to do something profoundly stupid and stepped in to intervene, like a sixth sense.

  Tapping his fingers on his shiny new coffee table, Owen tried to dismiss how antsy he felt on his first Friday night in the city. He wasn’t the partying type. He didn’t want to go out to a bar or a club or anything like that. He wanted a date without having to find one, and not a one-night stand either. He didn’t want sex. All Harrison had ever wanted from him was to take, take, take. Owen wanted company without the hang-ups.

  He snatched his bag from the floor before he could second-guess himself and took out the catalog. He’d left the business card inside all week when he easily could have thrown it away. Pulling out his laptop next, he went to the web address listed on the card, something else he hadn’t dared to do all week.

  It was a fairly classy layout, all things considered, and Alyssa was right that everything was worded in a “don’t expect sex, but it’s totally on the table” sort of way for legal reasons. But the rules would be his to set; he could have whatever he wanted, no “sexy times” required. He could even choose the type of man he wanted, sort of the same way he’d picked out his furniture—which was a terrible thing to think about a person, yet there he was, looking at a catalog of attractive men.