At Your Beck & Call

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  Despite her insistence that we treat this like an ordinary date, she told me about her friends who’d arranged this evening for her.

  “Well, it was mostly Maria. We were just talking one night and laughing about renting a hot escort and paying for … you know … it. I didn’t think she’d ever have the nerve. I’m still kind of stunned. And you’re just so…”

  Her vocabulary gave out at that point.

  “Friendly?” I offered, smiling at her.

  “Fuck hot!” she slurred back, a broad grin on her face.

  She fell asleep on the drive back to her home. I nudged her awake as I pulled up outside her house, wondering if she’d want to continue with the date. She made me wait in the car while she paid off the babysitter. Five minutes turned into ten and I was beginning to wonder if she’d fallen asleep, and if she had, how long I had to sit here before I could go home.

  Just when I’d given up and had decided to leave, a car’s headlights pulled up behind me and I saw a woman get out. I was surprised when she tapped on my window.

  “Hi, Hallen,” she said. “I’m Paula’s friend Maria. Do you want to party? We’ll pay extra,” she said.

  I looked at her curvy body and dark, sparkling eyes. God, I’d do her for free. Sometimes I really loved this job.

  But then I saw Paula walking towards me and she shook her head.

  “Maria, I don’t think … look, I haven’t had sex in like, forever, so can I just…”

  She couldn’t finish the sentence, and her whole face was flushed with embarrassment.

  Maria looked disappointed but smiled and hugged her friend.

  “Sure, honey.” She sighed as she looked at me. “Another time, Hallen?”

  I smiled and watched with genuine regret as she drove away.

  Paula and I got into it as soon as we got back in the house. But this time, she’d lost all her inhibitions and practically assaulted me.

  I’d have to ask Eloise if a ripped shirt could go on expenses.

  I wasn’t happy that this was going down in the living room—well, that Paula was going down on me in the living room. I thought her kid could walk in at any time. But, not my home, not my rules. I thought I might want to stick to hotels after this.

  But then rational thought was out the window, because Paula was undressing.

  She asked if she could take photos and I guess I didn’t really think about it because it had been fine with Audrey and her friends. So I said I didn’t mind.

  It turned out to be a mistake because one of Paula’s pictures ended up on her Facebook page. It was a bit blurry, but you could tell it was me. It felt like I’d trusted her and she’d used it against me. Eloise wasn’t pleased either, and it had tarnished what had been a pretty fun evening.

  Some months later, Paula tried to book me for another date, but Eloise declined on my behalf. After that, I’d come up with my ‘no photos’ rule.

  “Seriously, Eloise? A high school dance. Balloon arches and spiked punch?”

  She laughed, although there was an edge to her voice.

  “I would have thought it would make a nice change from older women, Hallen, and for once you can a knock a couple of years off your age.”

  I frowned.

  “Besides, the money is the same so what difference does it make?” Eloise said, brusquely. “Look, have you got any idea how brutal high school is for plain girls?”

  Sometimes she made it sound like working as an escort was a mission, not … well, what it was.

  “Melissa’s mother says she is very shy and a little overweight. She doesn’t want all her daughter’s memories of high school to be ghastly. And, frankly, there are very few reputable escort services offering anything to girls of her age. You’re only three years older and when you shave you’ll look younger. Look on it as an act of charity.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Melissa would love to hear that,” I snarked back.

  “I told you to look her age, not act it,” Eloise replied, sharply. “Sweep her off her feet, but don’t sleep with her. Understand?”

  “Yes, boss. Just one question.”

  “Go on.”

  “Does Melissa know her mom is paying for this? She hasn’t been told I’m a friend of the family or something?”

  “No. She knows the truth.”

  I wasn’t sure if that made my job harder or not.

  For once the client wanted me to use my own car. I’d sold the truck for scrap and bought myself a beat up Toyota. It got me around. Tonight, Eloise said it made it more believable that I was just a high school kid. Either that or Melissa’s mom had blown the limo money on me.

  But as I neared the address again, I decided I was wrong about her mom’s checkbook—their house reeked of wealth. The gated driveway ran at least a quarter of a mile to the house, sprawled out beneath tall cedars. Manicured lawns lay thickly on either side, and ugly sculptures glared at me through the neat foliage.

  Lots of money. No taste.

  Perhaps Eloise’s lessons were rubbing off on me—or perhaps I recognized that the art had been bought to impress, not for personal enjoyment.

  I parked near the front door and put on my game face as I rang the bell.

  A pencil thin woman with a stretched face and dyed hair answered the door. Her body had more corners than a cabinet, and was just as hard.

  She looked me up and down, assessing, appraising, before she spoke.

  “Good, you’ll do. Come in and meet Melissa.”

  Her lack of manners stung. My place in her grand scheme was all too obvious.

  The girl was sitting on the edge of the large Italian sectional, fiddling with one of the flounces on her dress. Her light brown hair had been twisted into an unflattering knot on the top of her head and her cheeks were pink with embarrassment and too much blush.

  “Melissa, sit up straight, honey. This is your date, Alan.”

  I walked over to Melissa and held out my hand as she stood up nervously. “Hi, Melissa, and my name’s Hallen.”

  Her mother huffed in the background while Melissa twitched and timidly held out her hand. I squeezed it gently and she blushed even redder as she peeked up at me.

  I offered her my arm as her mother looked on approvingly.

  “You kids have fun. There’s no curfew tonight, Melissa, honey.”

  “I know, Mom,” she said, softly. “You’ve said it like a thousand times.”

  “Look after my princess, Alan.”

  “I will, Mrs. Pinchek.”

  I ignored her mangling my name for a second time, assuming it was either deliberate, or that I was too unworthy for her to bother remembering it. Bitch.

  We walked to the car in silence as her mom continued to watch us from the porch. I opened the car door for Melissa and she sat down, pulling her ruffles in as an afterthought. I held out the seatbelt clip for her and she stared up at me with surprised doe-eyes.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I slid into the seat and reprogrammed the GPS for the hotel where the dance was being held. No high school gym for these kids.

  As we pulled away, I saw that her mom was still watching us and waving from the door.

  “Your mom really wants you to have a good time tonight,” I said, trying to find a way to break the ice.

  “If she wanted me to have a good time she’d have let me stay home,” Melissa said, quietly. “No offence, Hallen, but do you know how embarrassing it is to have to pay for a date?”

  “I don’t see why. You’d pay for a limo, wouldn’t you? You’d expect a guy to rent a tux. I just happen to come with the tux, that’s all.”

  It was a line that had worked on Audrey—I had a feeling it was one I’d be using a lot.

  Melissa gave a small laugh then sighed.

  “It’s going to be so obvious. They’ll all know that you can’t be real.”

  “Jeez, so I’m just a figment of someone else’s imagination. Wow, that’s pretty rough.”

  She laughed agai
n. “You’re funny.”

  “Funny as in strange or you think I have a sense of humor?”

  “Well, both. But yeah, definitely strange if you do this for a living.”

  Here we go.

  “Why do you do this? I mean women pay to sleep with you, right?”

  “I’m here as your escort, Melissa. I’m not a prostitute.”

  Which was economical with the truth, but she didn’t need to know that.

  She fiddled with her purse and mumbled an apology. “Then why?” she said.

  “It’s a job. I get to meet interesting people and go interesting places.”

  “Is a high school dance interesting?” she asked, snidely.

  I laughed. “It’s shaping up that way.”

  There was a pause and I thought I could see from the curve of her cheek that she was smiling.

  “Can I ask you something, Hallen?”

  “Sure, why stop now?”

  “Sorry. Do you mind?”

  “No, go ahead. We should find out a bit about each other a bit before we get there.”

  “How old are you really?

  “How old did your mom tell you I was?”

  “She didn’t.”

  “I’m 21.”

  “How did you … you know … start with … this?”

  I didn’t really like talking about myself but I thought I should make an exception.

  “I was working in a bar. I got talking to this woman whose daughter needed a date for a friend’s wedding. She asked me if I’d help out.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Pretty much. What, you thought it was a white slave thing?”

  Her laugh was genuine. “No!”

  “We could make up a story tonight, if you like.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, alien abduction, next door neighbor: how did your mom say you should pass me off? A friend of the family?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “I could be your online friend, and you’ve been writing me for two years and this is the first time we’ve met up. We want to get married and have 15 children but your mom says you have to graduate college first.”

  “Fifteen children?”

  “How about 12? I can be reasonable.”

  “Ha, yes! That would be funny. Pen pals?”

  “Sure. It would explain why no one has met me before. And if you let me, Melissa, I’ll be crazy in love with you all evening.”

  I heard her breath catch in her throat and then she snorted.

  “No one will believe that!”

  “They will by the time I’m finished. If you want.”

  “I … I … I don’t know,” she said, uncertainly.

  “Well, it’s your call. We can go in for five minutes, get your picture taken, and then head downtown for burger and fries—my treat. Or we can go in there and make every girl who’s ever been a bitch to you jealous.”

  “You … you can do that?”

  I know that sounded arrogant, but it was the truth.

  “Yeah,” I said, honestly. “I can make them jealous. And I’d enjoy it.”

  She laughed nervously. “Um, okay.”

  “Cool. But if you want to leave at any time, just say. All right?”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  “So, where am I from?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, as I’m just an illusion, where should I be from?”

  “Oh!”

  “Well, I flew in for your dance, right?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “I was born and brought up in Newfoundland and live here in LA. Take your pick. Or you could say I’m from Sweden. My dad was Swedish.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you speak, um, Swedish?”

  “Enough.”

  “I like that one,” she said, shyly.

  “Okay, but say my mum, I mean my mom … say she was American or I’ll have to speak with a comedy accent all evening.”

  She sniggered and gave a funny little hiccup.

  “And I’m going to school here after graduation to be near you.”

  Melissa sighed. “That’s so romantic. You’re really good at this, Hallen. What should I say you’re majoring in?”

  I replied without thinking.

  “Art.”

  She snorted. “No, we should at least make it realistic.”

  “I don’t mind. Say whatever you like, but it’ll be easier to remember if it’s as near to the truth as possible.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “You … you studied Art?”

  “Yep. Graduated in the summer.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You don’t look like an artist,” she said in a small voice.

  “What do artists look like?”

  “I don’t know. All unwashed and emo.”

  “Yeah, well, not tonight. I want to impress my girl.”

  Although in some ways, she wasn’t far off of the mark. The other students on the art course with me had all seemed to think that they needed to look artistic. I wasn’t the only straight guy majoring in Art, but I was for sure the only one who played hockey. I hung out more with the guys on the team than I ever did with other ‘artists’.

  Melissa didn’t reply but I think she was smiling again.

  We were getting close to the hotel and she was starting to fidget, tugging on her dress and rooting through her purse. I needed to distract her.

  “Melissa, do you have any girlfriends who are going to wonder why you never mentioned me to them?”

  “No,” she said, softly. “I’m friendly with a couple of guys on the math team, but we never speak about our personal lives. Probably because we don’t have any.”

  She laughed uncomfortably.

  I felt sorry for her. It was rough not having friends at high school. And if she’d had some girlfriends, maybe they’d have talked her out of that god awful dress and weird stuff she’d done to her hair.

  I pulled the Toyota in behind a long line of limos and expensive foreign cars. When we stopped at the entrance I tossed the keys to the parking valet.

  “Don’t bring her back with dings, man.”

  He caught the keys and grinned.

  “How would you know, dude?”

  I muttered something under my breath. I didn’t care about the car and the exchange had made Melissa smile.

  “Maybe we should have brought your car. I bet you don’t drive a beat-up Toyota.”

  “I like your car, Hallen,” she said, politely. “It’s got character.”

  She really was kind of sweet. It made me determined to make the evening the best possible—one she’d never forget. Even without sex.

  “Melissa, can I make a suggestion?”

  She looked at me nervously. “Um, yeah?”

  “Trust me?”

  She flinched—Bambi looking down the barrel of a hunter’s gun.

  “I just want to loosen up your hair a bit. It’s a really pretty color but I can’t see it like this.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, in a small breathy voice. “I never wear my hair like this. I usually just put it in a braid.”

  I reached up and pulled out some of the pins, leaving it up at the sides, but loose at the back. It looked a hell of a lot better.

  She blinked rapidly as my hands moved through her hair.

  I smiled, and watched her eyes come back into focus.

  “Ready to be adored?”

  “Um, no!”

  “Try to relax and let me lead. If you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

  The hotel entrance was brightly lit and filled with shrieking girls, as colorful as flamingoes, flapping around, embracing each other. It was shrill enough to make my ears bleed. Melissa clung to my arm, her face tight with dislike.

  “Were your school dances lik
e this, Hallen?” she asked, anxiously.

  I hid a smile. My recollection of school dances was that half of us had been drunk, the other half stoned, and the parking lot had seen more action than the dance floor. But maybe that was just me.

  “Yeah, kinda,” I lied, “but not so ritzy. One of the girls had this huge barn on her parents’ farm. So it was straw bales and glitter balls.”

  “Sounds fun,” she sighed.

  “Tonight will be fun,” I promised her.

  She didn’t look convinced.

  “Hey,” I said, stopping and drawing her toward me.

  Her eyes were wide and fearful. Slowly, so as not to scare her, I ran my hands up her arms and gently pulled her into a hug. Her body felt stiff and awkward against me.

  “We can leave any time you want,” I whispered into her hair, and then placed a kiss on her forehead. I felt her hands curl into my chest as she rested her cheek against my shoulder. She was like a little mouse, trying to find somewhere safe to hide away.

  We stood there for a moment as I gently rocked her. Finally she looked up.

  “Okay?” I asked, quietly.

  She nodded and I leaned down to kiss her cheek, making her skin suffuse with a deeper blush.

  First challenge was the obligatory photograph.

  “Are you going to smile for me, baby?” I said, stroking her fingers with my thumb as I held her hand.

  She frowned, but worked to twist her lips upward.

  “See, you can do it. You have a lovely smile, Melissa.”

  “Thanks!” she said, making a more genuine attempt as she met my eyes. “You, too.”

  I grinned back at her, and that was the moment the photographer caught.

  Then we walked into the ballroom and I slid my arm around her waist.

  “Is this okay?” I asked, as her body tensed for a second time.

  She nodded and started chewing on a nail. I took her hand and kissed the fingers softly.

  “Relax. It’s okay.”

  She nodded again but neither of us was convinced.

  I heard a girl snicker behind us. “It’s like Beauty and the Beast in reverse.”

  Melissa flushed red and I saw tears glisten in her eyes.

  I turned around and stared at the girl who’d made the comment.

  “What’s your problem?” said her date, a bulky looking guy who was probably a football player.