Sexy Bad Escort (Sexy Bad Series Book 5)

by Misti Murphy

  “It’s a great gig, actually,” he answers. “A little different but I’m enjoying it.”

  “We’re working together,” I blurt before Danny can fill in the details. I was mortified when he told his family I was his pimp. Telling my family that would be so much worse, not to mention the ribbing I’ll receive for the next fifty or sixty years.

  “Oh.” Paynter takes a seat as Chloe comes out of the house. “I thought you said you were managing...” He narrows his gaze on me. “Something. I can’t recall the details.”

  Yes, I’d been purposefully vague when we’d talked about what I was working on now that I was home. I wanted to make sure we’d be successful before I explained the details.

  “I’m an escort,” Danny says with a shrug, like it’s the most ordinary career path in the world.

  “So you finally found a loophole where you can get paid for sleeping around?” Garret says. I swear I can hear the music from Final Jeopardy! in the background. Tick tock. It’s not a difficult leap.

  “Why do you have to make a joke out of everything?” I glare at Danny. “What he means to say is—”

  “So is my sister paying you for your company?” Paynter asks. “Because I can’t imagine she’d be happy with this arrangement otherwise.”

  “Oh, honey.” My mother climbs out of her chair and makes her way around the table. “It’s all starting to make sense now. You’re pretending to date Danny.”

  “What? No, that’s not—”

  “I’ve nagged you too much.” She presses her hand to her heart.

  “Yes,” Garrett agrees.

  “You are a little obsessed with grandchildren,” Paynt adds.

  “A little?” James smirks, folding his arms over his chest and resting back in his chair. “You don’t know when to stop. Myra told me you asked her when we were planning to have our next child. Jane is three months old, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I only want to see you all happy and settled,” Mom says. “Is that too much to ask?”

  “Not all of us are cut out to be like you, Mom,” I snap. This conversation is getting out of hand.

  “Wait,” James says and the whole table falls silent as he gestures between me and Danny. “You said you were working together. You’re managing his escort business.”

  “Oh,” my mother exclaims, the lines around her eyes and mouth deepening.

  “Yes.” I exhale the word as I look to Danny for help. “But it’s not like that. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

  “You’re a pimp.” Garrett actually sounds slightly impressed.

  “No. Not a pimp. A manager.”

  “Ronnie sets me up on dates with women who need a guy who can give them the special touch,” Danny explains.

  I groan and press my fingers to my forehead as warmth creeps over my neck and face. That sounds worse. Is he doing this on purpose? “Danny has a gift. With women.”

  “High five.” Danny lifts his hand in my direction. I ignore it.

  “He’s better at matchmaking than you are, Mom. Sorry, but he is. I don’t know how else to explain it. I set up the date, and he shows up and fixes their love life. That’s what he was doing that day at the restaurant. Helping a woman come out to her mother so that she could introduce her girlfriend. There’s no sex involved. I’m not his pimp. I’m really proud of Rent-A-Danny.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell us that?” she asks.

  “Uh, because obviously people draw conclusions.” I gesture at everyone. “And I wanted to know that it was viable before I told you about it.”

  “And is Danny fixing your love life?” she asks me before turning on him. “Since you’re so much better at this matchmaking thing that my daughter insists I’m doing, have you found a great guy for her yet?” She arches an eyebrow and plants her hands on her hips the way she used to when we were younger and she caught us sneaking cookies from the cookie jar. “Perhaps you have a brother.”

  Danny freezes with his drink halfway to his mouth. His eyes widen, and his lips part as he lowers the glass to the table like it weighs 100 pounds. His chest rises and falls in an increasing tempo. It’s like she reached out and twisted his nuts into dried up husks with five little words.

  “Damn it, Mom. Why would you say that? You like Danny.”

  “I do. Which is why you decided he would make a great beard, I’m sure. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you. I knew I shouldn’t have set Ben up with my dentist when I found you and Danny kissing in my kitchen. She’s a great girl, by the way. Single, loves kids.” She shakes her head to get back on point. “But he was into you. Why would you pretend to be with Danny?”

  “I’m sorry.” Danny stands up, raking a hand through his hair as he does. “I have to go. I’ve got a client this evening that I better get ready for.”

  There’s no one on the books for tonight. Danny side-eyes me. Hurt shadows his features and sits heavily on his shoulders. My heart loses time as he turns to walk inside.

  “I’ll come,” I say. “I should get some work done anyway.”

  “No need,” he tells me, gesturing for me to stay.

  “If you’d told me he had to work tonight, I would have rescheduled,” Mom says.

  “He doesn’t.” He’s leaving because you suggested I hook up with his brother, like he isn’t good enough for me. Racing after him, I catch up to him in the foyer. “Danny, wait.”

  “Not now, Ronnie,” he says, his back to me.

  “She didn’t mean it. About your brother.” I grab his elbow and force him to face me.

  “I know she didn’t, but she’s right. Joe would be a better choice. Joe’s always the better brother.” He grips the side of my neck and stares at me. “There are many choices for you that are better than me.”

  “Do you really believe that?” I don’t. “We go together like John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John.” Unbidden, the memory of the time I saw Ducky riding around on Spot’s back pops into my head. Maybe we’re more like that. Different, but ultimately happier together. “Or-or a goat and a duck.”

  He smirks a little, lets out a soft snort. “I guess I’m the goat in that scenario. Stubborn and always getting into things I shouldn’t.”

  “Are you implying that I’m the duck? That I waddle?”

  “No. You waffle, Ronnie. Which is why I think you know that this isn’t going to work out between us.”

  Waffles have been haunting me all day. I grasp his wrist, holding his hand against my skin. I don’t want to let go. “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? Your mother now thinks we’ve been faking being together, and you couldn’t correct her. Or you didn’t want to tell her how serious things have gotten between us.”

  “It just isn’t the right moment,” I say.

  “You feel the same way about me as you do Rent-A-Danny. Neither the business nor I are quite good enough for Ronnie Frost.” He drops his hand to his side. “We both knew this fling wouldn’t last. Best to end it now before we make it hard to run our business together.”

  “Danny, we don’t need to do that.”

  “Yes, we do.” He nods as though accepting his own words as he bridges the distance between us to press a kiss to my forehead. It does nothing to quell the distance I feel in my heart. Opening the front door, he puts a little bounce in his step. “Email me my schedule. We’ll talk soon.”

  I watch him leave. It’s the oddest sensation. I rub at the ache blooming in my chest right where my heart is as my eyes start to burn. It’s not like I won’t see him again, but it feels like goodbye. An irrevocable twisting of the landscape we created between us.

  “He left,” Mom says, joining me in the foyer.

  “Yes.” She winds her arm around my waist, and I rest my head on her shoulder. “We weren’t fake dating, you know. It was real.”

  “Okay, love,” she says, in that soothing way mothers do.

  “I mean it, Mom. Danny and I... He was my boyfriend.”

  “That serious,
huh? And you didn’t want to tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to hear about weddings and babies, no.” I grimace. “Not that it matters now. He doesn’t think we should see each other anymore.” I exhale and squeeze my eyes shut. He thinks I’m ashamed of him and nothing could be further from the truth, but even if I could explain that, he has his own self-worth issues I can’t overcome. “Maybe he’s right. We should concentrate on Rent-A-Danny.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DANNY

  “Look at him. He’s gorgeous.” My client says this not with love and admiration in her voice, but with sadness carved into the words. Her eyes are equally as depressed as she stares across the room at the man of her dreams.

  Technically, she isn’t my client. Her boyfriend is. That gorgeous guy strumming a guitar across the room while sitting on a stool in the middle of a spotlight, crooning out a love song for the crowd assembled here tonight. He contacted Rent-A-Danny, informed us that he and his girlfriend broke up, and he needed help winning her back.

  Considering she’s perched across from me, drooling over the guy, I’m not sure why he had such a hard time that he paid in full upfront and demanded I rearrange my schedule so I could bring her to the show tonight. And offered a hefty bonus if I’m successful by the time he finishes his first set.

  “He’s not really my type, but I suppose, yeah, he’s good looking.”

  She thinks I’m her sister’s friend, that I’m here because said sister got sick but knew how much she still wanted to attend the show.

  “Way more gorgeous than I deserve.” My date, Sylvia, sighs and props her chin in her hand, while her gaze never leaves the man on stage.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask. “What do looks have to do with it if you’re both in love?”

  She lifts her head so she can flap her hand. “He’s a musician. And he’s amazingly talented. He’s going to be famous someday. And famous musicians date supermodels. And supermodels are not size twelve. Which means I’m out of the running.” She sounds as glum as if she were announcing she has terminal cancer.

  I cock my head and scratch my temple. “Um, if he’s so shallow that all he cares about is the number on the waistband of your jeans, you’re better off without him.”

  I know this isn’t true about Mike, the guy we’re talking about. When I spoke to him on the phone earlier, I could hear the despair in his voice. The guy is crazy about Sylvia. Insane. Over the top. Like, he’s probably planning to rent one of those airplanes with a streamer hooked to the back, which will announce to the whole damn world that he’s in love with this girl, all twelve pants sizes of her.

  “He insists he’s not,” she says, sighing again. “And to be honest, I don’t think he cares. He tells me I’m beautiful all the time. And it’s, like, sincere. I can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes.”

  I shake my head. “Not seeing the issue here.”

  She waves her hand impatiently. “It’s not about what he thinks. It’s the rest of the world. As soon as he signs a record deal—which could be very soon, since I’ve spotted at least three execs here tonight—he’s going to leave me in the dust. There’s an expectation of musicians, you know.”

  “That they produce quality records?”

  “Don’t be obtuse.” She sounds so much like Ronnie, I smile, but it quickly fades as I lean over the table and place my hand on her arm.

  “Listen to me, Sylvia. I happen to know Mike. And I can say with absolute certainty that he loves you, regardless of your pants size. In fact, I’d wager he likes it better that you aren’t a waif, because that’s more skin for him to lick. And guys like to lick their girl’s skin. Trust me on this.”

  She shifts her focus to me, but she’s still frowning.

  “The other thing that guys who are in love do is not compare their girl to other women. Someone who is as in love as Mike is doesn’t even see other women.”

  She gnaws on her bottom lip, her gaze straying back to the man on stage.

  “Mike wants this relationship to work, Sylvia. For the long term. But it won’t, if you don’t want it to.”

  “I do,” she says instantly.

  I give her arm a squeeze. “Then you have to figure out how to believe in yourself. Because he does. He’s ready whenever you decide to respect yourself enough to believe the two of you can make it work, no matter the external circumstances.”

  She glances down at her body. “I do respect myself. I’ve never doubted myself until I started dating him. And it wasn’t even him; it was other people in his circle, telling me how it’s supposed to be. What sort of woman he’s supposed to date.”

  “If you truly respect yourself, you aren’t going to let them into your head. They aren’t in your bed, are they?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why are you letting them into your head?”

  “Um…” She starts rubbing her hands together, like she’s just put lotion on them.

  The set comes to an end and the crowd is on their feet, clapping and whistling and shouting for more. Mike stands and says into the microphone, “Okay, okay, you’ll get another set. I just need to take a short break. I’ll be back in ten.”

  He jumps off the stage and locks his gaze onto Sylvia’s back as he strides toward us. Uh-oh. Not sure I’m going to get my bonus out of this one.

  “Hey, Syl,” he says, reaching out and touching her shoulder. “I’m glad you came to the show.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” she whispers, staring up at him with big doe eyes and a quiver in her lip.

  “I’ve missed you,” he says.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I was scared.”

  “Of what?”

  She glances at me through her lashes. Mike shoots me a confused look.

  “My demons,” she says. “But I think I’ve got them under control now. Or at least, I’m going to work really hard on it. Because it sucks not being with you. I don’t want to be broken up anymore.”

  “Me neither,” he says, and he pulls her out of the chair and into his arms. The patrons at the surrounding tables clap and Mike laughs. “My girlfriend,” he calls out to the crowd. “We just got back together.”

  Wolf whistles accompany more clapping, and a few people start banging on the tabletops. Mike apparently takes that as a cue and cups Sylvia’s face before treating his fans to a hell of a makeup kiss.

  And that’s a wrap.

  I catch his eye, give him a nod, and then slide out of my seat and make my way toward the exit. Time to head home to Danny’s Love Den.

  Which hasn’t felt like home in a long while. Even before Ronnie and I called it quits.

  Longest week of my damn life.

  I scrub my hands through my hair and then stuff them into the pockets of my shorts as I amble along the streets of downtown Chicago. At some point I need to head out to the ’burbs. But right now, I don’t feel like dealing with Pucker, who keeps asking where the hell Ronnie is. Or Erin, who checks on me constantly, all while giving me these annoyingly sympathetic looks. Or Garrett, who randomly offered to give me golf lessons this morning.

  Jesus, I must be seriously pathetic if he’s going that far to try to cheer me up.

  I find a bar with outdoor seating along the riverfront, and I park myself at a two top, my back to the building. I place my order, and a short time later, the server brings me a beer and a plastic basket of popcorn. I prop my feet on the railing and stare out over the water as I mentally recap my latest assignment.

  My latest successful assignment.

  In fact, I haven’t had a single disappointed client. Not one. And the tips and bonuses have surpassed both mine and Ronnie’s expectations.

  No, wait. I can’t say they’ve surpassed her expectations, because honestly, I don’t know what she thought she was getting into with this gig. Ah, who am I kidding? She’d been far more enthusiastic in the beginning than I expected. And while I initially thought she hadn’t wanted to tell her family because of th
e nature of the business, in reality, she’d been hiding for her own personal reasons. They had nothing to do with me, this business, or us.

  “If you truly respect yourself, you aren’t going to let them into your head.”

  I’d given Sylvia some damn good advice tonight. Advice I should consider following, actually. I frown, my gaze on the river, the beer bottle a couple inches from my lips.

  “If you truly respect yourself, you aren’t going to let them into your head.”

  Sylvia had been worried about how other people perceived her body size. Not Mike, the guy she’s in love with, but a bunch of other people who were pretty damn inconsequential, when it comes down to it. And to be honest, she didn’t even know if they looked down on her or if they had been speaking in general terms. Like, did they even know she was his girlfriend at the time? They might have changed their tunes if they’d spent ten minutes in Mike and Sylvia’s company. Because the love those two share is pretty damn obvious. I don’t think Mike will be swayed by superficial supermodels if or when he makes it big.

  Because he won’t even see them.

  Just like I am with Ronnie.

  I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time in the company of other women since she and I started sleeping together. And a fair share have made it clear they were willing to give me a physical bonus as opposed to a financial one. I turned every single one down, and it wasn’t because I’m a highly ethical person.

  It’s because I didn’t even see them. Not as potential dates or fuck buddies or one-night stands. Whenever one of my clients propositioned me, all I thought was, I can’t wait to get home to Ronnie.

  And every single time, she greeted me with the enthusiasm of someone who doesn’t see other people either.

  My feet hit the concrete with a thud as I sit up in my chair. I’m blinking like there’s a fog and I’m trying to clear my vision.

  Holy shit. I’ve spent most of my life creating a persona to protect myself against my father’s critique of the person I really am. But never once did I stand up to him and say, “I like who I am. This is the person I’m going to be, take it or leave it.” I never respected myself enough to have faith, to believe I was actually a good person.