I went to the size 8 rack and started rummaging through the dresses. There were short dresses, long dresses, ball gowns, knee-length dresses, A-lines, sheath, sleeveless, sleeved, off-shoulder, and other dresses I couldn’t describe. I pulled a red silk sheath dress that I figured would hug my body in all the right places and looked at the label. Yikes! It was an Italian name I didn’t recognize but judging from the sleekness of the fabric, I knew that the dress must have cost a fortune.
The bathroom was bigger than my entire apartment and smelled like fresh roses. It was adorned with lights, mirrors, and marbles. I stepped out of my two-cent outfit and pulled on the dress, reaching behind to zip it up. If fit perfectly. I turned to look at myself in the mirror. I didn’t look so bad. If I applied a little bit of makeup and let my hair down, I would pass for a high society lady. I started to regret not bringing my makeup till I saw a spread of cosmetics on a counter. The cosmetics were packed for individual use. Again, they bore an Italian name that I could hardly pronounce. I found my shade of foundation and powder and applied it as expertly as I could with my limited knowledge of makeup. I let my long, dark hair loose. I still needed some shoes, and so I walked back to the room, toward the shoe room. From what I had seen so far, I knew the shoe room was going to be expansive, but nothing prepared me for what was before me when I opened the door. Rows and rows of all types, sizes, and colors of shoes lay before me, arranged by color. I tried a couple of shoes until I found size 9 black heels that fit perfectly. I took another look at myself in the wall to wall mirror, and I had to say I had transformed from the street girl that just came off the bus to a high-class society woman or whatever it was I was going to be doing here. Or maybe I was just going to be an overdressed waiter.
I put my clothes and shoes in a plastic bag I had found in the bathroom, unsure of what to do with them. I stepped out of the room to find Mr. Gordon sitting on a couch in the hallway. The look on his face told me I was right about how I looked. I expected him to say something to me, but he simply stood up and starting walking back toward the main lobby.
“Sorry I took some time. It was a little overwhelming,” I said, trotting behind him, trying to catch up. He seemed to have noticed my effort to stay in step with him and slowed down.
“I’m used to that. Most girls take longer than that.” His face was blank.
“Most girls? You mean like temporary staff?” I asked, stopping in my tracks. What was I missing? Was this something they did regularly? Have young women dress up and play rich?
“No. Any girl that goes into that room will have a difficult time leaving.”
“Then you don’t know my sister. She’ll be in and out of there in seconds and will ask you where the sweats and tee shirts are.” I giggled at my failed attempt of a joke with this very serious man, and even though he didn’t laugh, I could tell he was amused.
My only sister, Beth, was a few years older and in her mid-twenties. She was the opposite of me in every way, and there was no way she would spend more than five minutes in that room. Then again, she wouldn’t even have found herself in my situation so seeing the room wouldn’t have been necessary. Thinking about what sensible Beth would have done in that situation, I decided to ask some questions.
“So, what if I don’t want to participate in whatever it is I’m dressed up for?” I asked, already knowing that I wouldn’t like what I was about to hear.
“It’s not your choice.” The reply was cold.
“What do you mean? I’m not a prisoner here. I come and go as I please.”
“Maybe so, but not for the next six hours. Now, save your questions for your orientation.
Orientation? I wanted to ask, but I knew he wasn’t going to tell me much, so I bit my lips and kept moving with him.
He stopped at a door in the hallway and knocked before opening the door and walking through it. I went with him, unsure of what to expect. I had already decided to play cool. I knew a huge and famous hotel like that in the middle of the city was not going to be involved in anything that would be deemed scandalous or hurt me either.
I peeked into the room before finally going in. It was a boardroom with a huge mahogany table and several leather chairs surrounding the table. A man was sitting at the table, but he rose up to meet us when Mr. Gordon walked into the room.
“Ben, this is Sara. She’ll be one of the hostesses for tonight,” Mr. Gordon introduced us.
“Sara, Ben Hunter, one of the senior personnel. He will let you know what your duties will be for tonight as well as go over the financials.” And with that, Mr. Gordon walked away without looking back.
“Hello, Sara. Welcome to Fox Manor,” Ben smiled at me, extending his hand for a handshake.
“Thanks,” I said as I observed him. Ben seemed to be in his mid-forties and was dressed in a suit that looked tailored for him. He was handsome in a rugged way, and I noticed that he had on a wedding ring. But what I really wanted to hear was the financials. Was he going to offer me a tip up front? That would be nice, as I needed extra money to fix my car.
“Please have a seat.” He pointed to a leather chair that seemed so luxurious I was afraid to sit on it. He walked over to other side of the desk and sat down.
I reluctantly lowered myself into a seating position. The upholstery was as comfortable as I had imagined, and I sank a little more into it as I sat.
“So, the first thing I’ll do is to have you sign a contract.”
“What contract? Wasn’t that already signed at my staffing agency?”
“This is a different contract that is just between you and Fox Manor.”
“For what? What am I signing?”
“You are going to agree that you will not discuss anything that happens here tonight with anyone.”
“Excuse me?” My heart missed a beat. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“Whatever you see here tonight or in future that maybe related to Fox Manor is a business trade secret, and you cannot discuss anything about this night with anyone.”
By this time I was getting tired of the suspense and frankly, a little irritated. What was I doing here? What did these men want from me? What if they raped me? Or at worst, killed me and dumped off my body? Surely they would be found out as someone would miss me.
“Does my boss, Tony, know about this second contract?”
“No, because every girl that becomes a hostess for us is sworn to secrecy and so your boss will have no way of knowing.”
“So this is a prostitution ring. I’m out of here.” I was furious and my voice reflected every bit of my anger. It took all I had not to scream at him and curse at Fox Manor. What did I look like, a two-cent whore?
I stood up and made to walk away, and he reached out and held me by my wrist.
“At least let me tell you what the job description is before you decide to walk out on ten thousand dollars.”
The mention of money made me sit right back on the chair with a thud. Did he say ten thousand dollars? Who did I have to sleep with?
“I’m guessing you want me to kill someone or sleep with someone.”
“None of those,” Mr. Gordon said. “You’re simply one of the hostesses for the event today, and all you do is mingle at the party and carry out intelligent conversation as the day goes on.”
“Let me understand this, you’ll pay me to attend your party?”
“Yes, Fox Manor will pay you ten thousand dollars for six hours of your time, and all you have to do is attend this party and maybe entertain one guest.”
“Is there a Mr. Fox?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Then, he’s crazy,” I muttered under my breath. I figured he was some rich old man who had nothing better to do with his money than to pay young women to look good and attend his party.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Gordon asked.
“Nothing. This wasn’t the job I was told I was coming to do.”
“Remember what goes on here stays here, hence the compa
ny you work for doesn’t have all the details, and we want to keep it that way.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “As long as there is no sex or murder involved, I’m game.”
He pulled out a leather portfolio with paper and started flipping through it, leaving me in an uncomfortable silence.
“So when do I start?” I asked, as I was beginning to get nervous. I needed to get the night started so I could get my money and get out of there.
“As soon as I’m done verifying your resume.”
“I need a resume to attend a party?” I asked in disbelief.
“So, you are a sociology and international studies student?” he asked, ignoring my question. He was flipping through papers I imagined were my resume.
“Yes,” I said, wondering why he was interested in what I did in school.
“And you’ve never travelled out of the country?”
“No, but I’ve been to New York.” It was supposed to be a joke; I mean, who considers travelling from DC to NY a trip worthy to be discussed when real vacationers went to Europe and other exotic places like the islands. He didn’t laugh at my weak attempt to joke.
“Maybe you should avoid topics about travelling when you’re at the party."
“Sure.”
“You lived with your mom and then recently got your own apartment?”
“Yes. Wait. You did a background check on me as well?”
“It’s my job,” he said, again not raising his eyes to look at me but focused on flipping through the papers to study me and ask questions.
Why in the world did anyone need to do a background check on me just for me to attend a party? And as a hostess or whatever they chose to title me as.
“I’m not a murderer, you know. So all of that wasn’t necessary.” The more I thought about it, the more I felt violated. Some stranger had taken it upon themselves to study me behind my back. I would have preferred he’d just asked me the questions directly when we met, rather than go over my background report.
“Interesting stuff you got here,” he said, raising his head to look at me.
I blushed, as I knew what he was referring to. Years ago, right before I had turned eighteen, I had gotten into a fight with a kid on the street and we had both ended up being in trouble with the law, and I had spent a night in jail. But I made sure my background information recorded that it wasn’t my fault. I kept quiet, hoping he’d move on to a different topic. And it worked.
“So, you’re going to be in the party, laughing and socializing and talking book smart. At the end of the night, you’ll come back here and get your money.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“There is only one caveat,” he looked directly at me.
“What?”
“Under no circumstance must you engage these men in any type of sexual activity.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” I said coldly. Did I look like a slut to him?”
“Good. There are three other hostesses who are already at the party, and you may be able to spot them once you get in there.”
I nodded, that shouldn't be hard. Just find three girls who looked like sore thumbs! I wondered what the other girls looked like and if they were all getting paid ten thousand dollars just to talk to men for six hours.
“I’ll walk you to the party,” he said, getting up, a cue for me to follow him.
I got up from the chair and gingerly walked behind him till we came to the main lobby.
The sight before me was a movie. I had worked in hotels and bars, but the lobby, which was used for receiving guests as they arrived, looked like something I would find in the famed 7-star hotels. I stood mesmerized, just staring at the chandeliers and décor. There were paintings that looked like original artworks from people whose names I would never be able to pronounce. An impeccably dressed man was playing a piano that was set in the middle of the room, next to an indoor fountain that was illuminated with lights. As I walked behind Mr. Hunter, my heels clicked on the spotless and polished marble floor. Suddenly, I felt underdressed and out of place. I caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
“This is too glamorous,” I whispered. What I meant to say was that I didn’t think I could do it, but the thought of the ten thousand dollars cash that I would be making in a few hours distorted the truth that I had meant to express.
But he caught on to my discomfort because he grinned and patted the back of my hands lightly, “You’ll be okay. Just breathe and relax. You were prescreened and our process had never failed. You’re a very smart and beautiful woman, so use that to your advantage.”
I didn’t get a chance to ask him how far they had delved into my life because a man who was dressed similarly and I imagined was staff as well, suddenly swung open large, double French doors that I had not noticed, and with the door being opened, lots of laughter and music came. He had just stepped out of the main party room, and behind him was the slaughterhouse where I was going to definitely get slammed. There was no way everyone in that room would not know that I was paid to be there. People who moved in this type of circle all knew each other and any intruder was never going to be welcomed. I wondered how long Fox Manor had been providing my kind of service for these types of parties.
“Thank goodness, Ben. I’ve been waiting for her.”
“This is Sara, one of our hostesses. Sara, this is Eric, the hotel’s event manager.”
“Hi.” I extended my hand, but he didn’t shake it. Instead, he grabbed me by the wrist.
“Come, Sara. I need you right now.”
“What?”
“One of our guests just arrived earlier than planned without a date, and you were supposed to have been waiting for him,” he said, swinging the door open and hurrying me through the double doors, still holding my wrist.
“What am I supposed to do for him?” I asked as I wiggled my wrist free of his clutch.
“Just flatter him and talk smart.”
That was easier said than done. As I stepped into the room, my legs stopped working. As I stood, frozen in one spot, I surveyed the crowd. There were about ninety, maybe a hundred, men and women milling around with glasses of wine. I didn’t need anyone to tell me that the guest list comprised of the richest people in the country. The women’s dresses shone more than the chandeliers, and suddenly I wished I could go back to the closet and pick out a shiner outfit. I tugged at my dress, smoothing the lines over my waist and hips. From where I was, the men looked like they were all cut out from a fashion magazine. Most of them had a drink in their hands, and I imagined that they were drinking the finest wine money could buy. I noticed several waiters, stationed at every corner of the room, holding trays of hors d'oeuvres. I suddenly felt my stomach growling. Out of hunger and out of nervousness. I wanted so badly to grab whatever it was they were serving but I had to wait until I was settled in the room.
Eric grabbed a glass of wine off a tray and gave it to me.
“No, thanks.” Normally, I would have grabbed a glass of wine if I was in the company of friends, so I could relax and talk dirty. But this time around, I needed a clear head to figure out what was going on. I didn’t want to get tipsy and end up in the wrong place either, or get cheated out of my money. Damn, I thought, I should have asked for half the money up front. I had been too shocked by the amount I was being offered to think logically.
“Yes,” he insisted, pushing the cup to me. "You only have to pretend you’re drinking from it.” He grabbed an empty glass off another tray and poured half the glass of wine into it and handed the glass back to me.
I took the glass from him and cradled it.
“Now, leave your lipstick mark on it.”
I placed my mouth on the rim of the glass and left a red lip mark on it. Now it looked like I was drinking from the glass.
“We’re going to stand here for a few minutes to allow you to study the room.”
“So, who am I supposed to be babysitting?” I giggled.
“James
Brickstone , he is one of our patrons. And please, no matter what you say, don’t tell these men you’re babysitting them,” he grinned. “That would not be good for business.”
“Okay, I’m going to be entertaining James Brickstone . Who is he?”
“You don’t know the Brickstone family?" Eric raised his eyebrows at me. “You’re kidding right?”
“No, I don’t move around this circle, and the only Brickstone name I know is Brickstone foods.”
“That same one,” he said, heaving a sigh of relief.
My heart skipped a thousand beats and I struggled to find my words. “I am going to be babysitting, sorry, entertaining the Mr. Brickstone who manufactures the majority of foods in this country?”
“Yes.”
“You’re kidding.” My palms suddenly started trembling. I held the glass with two hands, trying to control my movements. James Brickstone was only the most eligible bachelor in town. I didn’t follow gossip about him, but I'd heard his name mentioned here and there, and I knew he had just recently gone through a bad breakup.
“I don’t joke much.”
“Didn’t he just get stood up at the altar a few weeks ago?” That piece of the story suddenly came to me.
“So you do know him.”
“Not personally, obviously, but you know, gossip and stuff.”
“Well, it may be wise not to mention his past relationship. Just keep him company and talk business.”
“And he’ll pay me ten thousand to talk with him for six hours?”
“No, he paid fifty. You get twenty percent. The rest goes to business expenses.”
My jaw must have dropped really low because he smiled at me and said, “It’s all business, my dear. If he requests you at another event, you get twenty thousand, and at a third event, you get fifty. We of course mark up our prices accordingly as your take-home goes up.”
I nodded, not sure what else to say. The glass of wine I was drinking suddenly seemed very attractive, and I took a swig out of it, draining out every last bit of fluid from it. I looked around to see if I could identify him, but all the men looked alike from where I stood–in their late twenties or early thirties, mostly dressed in dark fitted suits, muscular, and handsome. There was no way to tell who he was. Maybe if I had been paying attention to the gossip surrounding him, I would have taken time to study his picture, but I hadn’t cared as I knew the lives of the rich and famous were too over-dramatized and unrealistic. I then started looking for men without supermodels hanging on their arms but with that many guests moving around, all the chatter, and the life jazz in the background, it was a little impossible to separate the single men from the crowd.
Ultimate Alphas: Bad Boys and Good Lovers (The Naughty List Romance Bundles) Page 35