“My problem is that your girl has a mean mouth and I think she should apologize.”
His eyes narrowed and the girl looked surprised.
“Who the fuck are you?” he jeered.
“Melissa’s boyfriend. And I don’t like bitches and bullies.”
Melissa tugged on my arm. “Hallen, leave it. It’s fine.”
My instinct was to force an apology but I could see Melissa was bothered by the curious stares we were getting.
“Okay, baby,” I said, dropping a kiss onto her bare shoulder.
We walked away, leaving the bitch fest behind us.
I was happy to hear Melissa giggle. “Oh wow, that was great! The look on Mercedes’ face! I think you just made my year!”
“Happy to be of service,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “So, can I get you a drink? They have punch or spiked punch.”
She laughed. “Just a soda, please.”
At the bar, a couple of girls smiled at me and did that twirling their hair around their fingers thing. It was supposed to be alluring—but really, it just made them look dumb.
When I got back with the drinks, two geeky-looking guys were standing talking to Melissa. They looked at me nervously as I placed the drinks in front of her.
“Um, Hallen, this is Adam and Will—friends from math club.”
I shook hands with them. “Good to meet you. Melissa’s told me about you. I’m glad she’s got you guys for friends.”
They looked surprised and shuffled from foot to foot. I hid a smile. I remembered being kind of awkward like that, except it was when I was 13 not 18.
“You guys going to sit with us?” I asked.
“Yes, that would be great,” said Melissa, looking more relaxed than I’d seen her so far.
“Did you come with dates?”
I pretended to look around as they both shook their heads wordlessly. Melissa narrowed her eyes at me.
“Well,” I said, sounding grudging, “I guess you can have one dance with her, just so long as you’re clear she’s with me.”
“Sure, man!” squeaked Adam.
“Yeah, just one,” said Will, rubbing his palms down his thighs in what I assumed was a nervous gesture. Either that, or the guy had a permanent boner for Melissa. I winced. It for sure looked like option two.
I winked at Melissa and she rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, as well.
“So, um, Hallen, you play football? You look like you play football,” said Adam, tugging at his lopsided bow tie.
“Nah, not really. Hockey was my game.”
“Oh, right,” he said, a tic developing behind his eye. “Do you go to school around here?”
I looked at Melissa. “Didn’t you tell them anything about me, baby?”
I pretended to look hurt and Melissa … she actually blushed with embarrassment.
“We met online. I’m going to university here next year to be near Mel.”
Will frowned. “I thought you were going to Brown?”
Melissa coughed.
“Yeah, I’ll be on the east coast, too,” I said, quickly. “When I said ‘here’, I meant in the US. I’m from Sweden. My mom’s American, so…”
I let them fill in the blanks and Melissa looked relieved.
A few couples were filing onto the dance floor so I stood up and held out my hand to her.
“Dance with me, baby?”
“Oh, um, I…”
“Please, baby. I’ve been looking forward to this for so long.”
She took my hand and stumbled slightly as she stood up so I had to catch her elbow.
“I love it when you throw yourself at me, baby,” I whispered into her hair.
She flushed again, but when we were away from the table she threw me an angry stare.
“I don’t like dancing,” she spat out.
“Everyone likes dancing,” I said. “They just don’t know it.”
I took her hands and placed them around my neck, then pulled her into my chest. Jeez, she was so shy, she didn’t know where to look. I swear she spent more time staring at the seam on the shoulder of my tux than anywhere else. I thought her eyeballs were getting pretty attached to that part of my body but suddenly her hands gripped my collar and her eyes drilled holes right into me.
“And what was with the whole thing about getting Will and Adam to dance with me?” she huffed.
I shrugged. “I figured while I was here, I’d make their evening memorable, too, especially as they both have a thing for you.”
“They do not!” she snorted.
“Hey, I’m a guy—they’re guys. I know this stuff,” I said, smiling at her. She was speechless, so I dipped her down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “And now they’re jealous, too.”
She gasped then laughed as I pulled her upright.
The next song was slower, James Blunt’s You’re Beautiful, and more couples came onto the floor. Melissa started to pull away from me as if she was going to sit down.
“One more dance, before I let your admirers have a chance?”
I didn’t give her time to answer before I started moving us to the music. I mouthed the words as we swayed to the sad, lyrical sound. I saw purple and blue and aqua as the notes flowed around us.
I was aware of all the astonished stares we were getting, but I ignored them and so did Melissa—after a while.
In the end we danced to two more songs before she admitted that she wanted to get a drink and rest. I don’t think she was used to wearing heels. I wasn’t surprised to see that Will and Adam were still sitting by themselves. High school was brutal. If you weren’t part of the popular crowd, you were ruthlessly ostracized. Put that in a well-off suburb like this one, and it was social suicide before junior high had even started.
I was relieved that my own high school experience had been far more low key. We were all country kids and lived too far from shopping malls to worry about designer anything. I had friends and we hung out playing hockey in the winter, and riding dirt bikes in the summer. And yeah, I took a girl I liked to prom; we made out behind the barn after—and during—but for sure after. My truck saw some action when I took her home.
It had been fun. Nothing special, but fun.
I looked over to the ‘popular’ table, filled with the bitches who ruled Melissa’s school. They were instantly recognizable by their looks of boredom and disdain. Three of the girls had their heads together and kept flicking their eyes toward our table. I leaned back in my chair, meeting their gaze, while I held Melissa’s hand and ran my thumb over the back of her wrist.
She looked at me in surprise and then smiled, quickly catching on to what I was doing.
We shared a few sodas, danced some more, and I played the possessive boyfriend while she danced once with Will and once with Adam. A few more of the math squad came over to chat and Melissa introduced me confidently, showing that there was another side to the shy girl I’d met a few hours ago. It was good hearing her laugh, and I hated that a few mean bitches could make her feel so bad. And I’d been paid to make this night memorable. If Melissa was up for it, I wanted to do just that.
“Hey, Melissa,” I said, running my hand up her arm, “can I talk to you outside for a moment?”
I saw a flicker of panic in her eyes before she nodded, took my hand and followed me out.
There were several other couples from the high school in the lobby, so I took her over to a quiet corner and pulled her down onto a couch with me.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Are you up for a challenge?” I asked, teasingly.
“I don’t know,” she stuttered, her eyes wide.
“If you could tell those girls what you really thought of them, what would you say?”
She looked bewildered and then took a deep breath.
“I’d tell them that they were a bunch of shallow, vacuous bitches who were weak, thoughtless bullies and I hoped they never had to suffer the way they’d made people at school suffer, because n
o one should go through that.”
I smiled. She was some girl.
“So, if I walked you over there and offered to sweep you away as soon as you’ve said it, would you do it?”
“Hallen, I…”
“How many times have you wanted to say that to them over the years?”
Her lips thinned and her jaw clenched. “A lot.”
“Now’s your chance. Unless you want to wait until your graduation ceremony. It’s up to you. But I’m here for you, if you want to do it.”
“Can you get me one of the spiked punches?”
“Sure!” I smiled at her and winked.
When I returned with the glass, she pulled it from my hands and drank it down in one go. Then she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and squared her shoulders in the ugly dress.
“Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
I put my arm around her waist and kissed her hair.
“You can totally do this.”
We walked over to the table where the popular kids were still sitting. The blonde girl, Mercedes, was in a lip lock with the footballer guy. She looked up as we approached.
“What do you want?”
“My girlfriend has something to say to you.”
“Like I’m interested.”
“You will be. It’s very … educational.”
I leaned to kiss her cheek and whispered, “You’re on, baby.”
Melissa froze and the blonde girl laughed.
“Yeah, that was fascinating.”
“You’re a bitch,” said Melissa.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard. You’ve been a bitch for four years. And you know what? That won’t change. But we’ll all be leaving soon and I’ll never have to see you again. But I just wanted to thank you.”
“What?”
“I’ve learned how not to treat people. I’ve learned how not to speak to people. I’ve learned how easy it is to belittle people. I’ve learned about the kind of person I never want to be … from you. Have a nice life.”
Then she turned on her heel and I followed, a huge smile on my face.
That was one of the best nights of being an escort.
I didn’t think I’d see Melissa again, but I thought of her from time to time and hoped she was okay.
I was wrong. About not seeing her again.
But that was years later and I think I’d better tell this story in order. Because I need you to understand.
So that was a good night. Guess you could say it was balanced out by what came next.
Eloise invited me to her home.
Her summons was accompanied with a text that gave me the code for the private entrance that guarded the property.
I knew she had money and I knew that she lived in Santa Monica, but I didn’t really know that much more about her private life—except that she was divorced. Véro had confided that, although I would have guessed if I hadn’t known.
I assumed she’d live in one of those sprawling ranch-style homes that I’d glimpsed from the road. I was so wrong. Eloise’s home was a vast, beautiful paean to Art Deco architecture. Glistening white-rendered sugar cubes, dissolving into a curving frontage, almost monolithic in appearance, but filled with light and space.
How much would a joint like this cost? Millions, probably. I could only dream about owning somewhere so amazing. How many women would I have to fuck to afford it? I couldn’t do the math.
A new BMW Z3 was parked in the driveway. My battered Toyota was starkly out of place.
Eloise answered the door, her gaze appraising as she took in my Chinos and open neck shirt, then she smiled.
“Welcome, Hallen,” and she kissed me on both cheeks in the European style.
She led me through an impressive entrance, where twin staircases curved upward to a gallery—all white, all marble, cool in the afternoon sun.
She continued toward the back of the house, and I caught glimpses of Le Corbusier furniture that looked like the real deal. The only thing fake about the house was that it was recently built. Or perhaps recently reinvented—like Eloise.
Finally, we were outside again; a large, raised patio, looked down onto a white, rectangular swimming pool lined with pale blue tiles, and shallow steps leading to the water. Everything was calm and tasteful.
But it was the man sitting at the patio table drinking coffee who caught my attention.
“Marco, darling,” called Eloise. “I want you to meet Hallen Jansen. I’ve told you all about him.”
Which put me at a disadvantage, because she’d told me fuck all about Marco. I suspected that she wanted to catch my candid expression as she introduced us.
“Hallen, this is Marco Sandieri, my newest recruit.
He stood up and flashed me an amused and expensive looking smile.
“Ciao! Good to meet you, Hallen.”
We shook hands, sizing each other up.
He was in his mid-thirties, dark where I was fair, and perhaps an inch or two shorter than me. He wore a tailored suit, with handmade Italian leather shoes, no socks. Christ—had we dropped into a re-run of Miami Vice? Due to Eloise’s training, I could calculate to the nearest buck the cost of his clothes. He was wearing an Omega wristwatch, a vintage Seamaster. Nice.
“Coffee, Hallen?”
Eloise interrupted our stare-off. Well, that’s how it was for me—Marco looked completely at ease in the immaculate surroundings.
“Yeah … yes. Thank you.”
She waved me into a seat and Marco leaned back in his chair, his legs crossed, sipping an espresso.
“So, gentlemen,” Eloise began, as she passed me an Americano. “The reason I’ve asked you here today is because I’ve had a rather unusual request.”
Marco raised his eyebrows.
“Not many requests are usual in this business,” he said, his light accent showing obvious amusement.
“Indeed,” Eloise responded, acknowledging his comment with a smile. “Perhaps I should say that this request originates from one of my competitors—and this is what makes it unusual. It seems that several events are taking place this weekend, leaving a shortage of escort services. My competitor has offered a significant level of reward to make this deal attractive. For an evening of your time, gentlemen, he would be prepared to pay you a $4,000 gratuity. Each.”
Holy shit! Four K for one evening of…
I met Eloise’s eyes. Okay, so probably not an evening of escort work, but an evening of fucking. Probably.
Marco nodded. His expression serious for the first time since I’d sat down.
“I suspect there is a catch, signora.”
“Yes, I suspect so also,” Eloise agreed. “I just don’t know what it is. And that makes me irritable. I hate being the last to know. He won’t offer me any further information, so it’s take it or leave it. I have already received a fee for agreeing to put his proposal before you, so I leave the decision to you.”
Four thousand dollars would make a decent dent in my debts so I was willing to overlook what I’d have to do to earn it.
A thought process which made me both naïve and stupid.
“I’m in,” said Marco, easily.
“Sure,” I agreed, certain that I could handle whatever was thrown at me.
Eloise looked like there was more she wanted to say, but held back whatever she was thinking.
She gave us a pair of invitations and the directions, showing us out soon after.
“I need a beer,” sighed Marco. “Join me, Hallen?”
I was surprised, wondering what he wanted.
After all, everybody wants something.
“I guess.”
He eyed my weary Toyota without passing judgment, and I tailed him for three miles before he stopped outside a small Italian restaurant.
“I’m a regular here,” he explained offhandedly, then ordered two bottles of Peroni which were served in chilled glasses.
I enjoyed the liquid spilling down my th
roat, wiping out the heat of the day, experiencing a moment of peace that only drinking cold beer in a quiet bar can bring.
Marco did the same, swallowing appreciatively before placing his glass on the table with a small sigh. Then he came straight to the point.
“How long have you worked for Signora Brienne?”
“A few months.”
“How old are you?”
“Kind of personal, man,” I said. “Old enough.”
He smiled. “I do not mean to offend. It’s just that you look younger than most of us.”
“Us?”
“Escorts,” he explained.
When I didn’t respond he ran a hand through his lightly gelled hair.
“The signora didn’t tell me much, but I can tell that she likes you.”
I stared at him stonily, neither confirming nor denying, just waiting for whatever the hell he wanted to say to me.
“She asked me to look out for you on the weekend, should you decide to participate. That’s why I wondered how old you are.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say.
He drank some more beer as his eyes slid across me.
“I think this weekend will be interesting. I suspect it’s going to be a party.”
I frowned at him. “Yeah, so?”
“A sex party,” he clarified.
“What? Like … an orgy?”
“Yes, of course. Although I don’t think anyone calls them that anymore.”
I leaned back in my seat. “Fuck!”
“Yes, I expect so,” he said, with an evident lack of concern. “I take it you haven’t worked one of these before?”
“No! I mean … well, no.”
Although I guess it wasn’t far from what I’d done for the porn movies, but there was no way I was telling anyone that.
Marco nodded. “That’s what I thought. The signora wasn’t sure if you would be comfortable with that scenario. You can still change your mind.”
But I was curious now, and four grand was four grand.
“Thanks,” I said, raising my bottle, “it’s cool.”
“Do you entertain male clients?” he asked, as I took a long drink.
The beer went down the wrong way and I spent the next two minutes coughing angrily.
At Your Beck & Call Page 13