Tremble

by Alison Foster

  My skin trembles and tingles all at once at the sensually suggestive quality in his voice. “What is this? Twenty questions?”

  “Come on, Nora. Tell me.”

  “It’s such an open-ended question.”

  “I know it’s not the money,” he says, rubbing his right temple. “You want your inheritance but I know it’s just a means to an end. I want to know what’s motivating you, what you desire most, the reason you’re doing all this which I am sure you never thought you could ever do.”

  “I get that’s what you want, Lukas,” I say. “But I really have no desire to discuss the meaning of my entire life with you or anyone for that matter.”

  “That’s exactly why it’s so fucking interesting,” he says. “You guard it like you guard your virtue.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Does every girl really just throw their virtue at you so easily?”

  He doesn’t respond, but his guilty expression makes it obvious.

  “That’s so disappointing,” I say. “I’m so disappointed in all women right now. I get that you’re hot, but to just give it up instantly based on that criteria is so sad, don’t you think?”

  He stares at me, almost marveling. “That’s exactly what I think.”

  “Well, we agree on something,” I say.

  We stare at each other forgetting what we were talking about.

  “Oh,” he says in the end. “We were talking about your true motive.”

  “You were talking about that.”

  “Right,” he says. “I really want to understand you. I find you fascinating and if we are to spend a year together…”

  “Lukas, fine,” I say as I exhale. “You are so persistent. You’re like some annoying little brother sometimes. My God.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. It’s just a secret for us. A few secrets will make us closer and we can appear like a real couple.”

  “I’ll tell you, but you’re going to think it’s weird.”

  “What else would it be? You’re Nora,” he teases. “You have nothing to fear. It’s all good. I’m an escort for fuck’s sake. That’s weird.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” I say. “There’s this book. A children’s book. My grandfather wrote it. He wrote a lot of children’s books. He self-published just enough copies to give to his family and a few others. Are you bored yet?”

  “Fascinated. I hope this is going someplace.”

  I punch his shoulder. “Losing interest already?”

  “I’m just kidding. Please, go on.”

  “No more jokes. So Grandpa lost most of his remaining copies. He kept them in his attic in Palm Beach which caught fire years ago due to a short circuit. Most of the books were destroyed. There was one particular book he wrote for me and me only. He was going to give it to me for Christmas that year with a special dedication. I was nine at the time.”

  “Oh my,” he says. “You never got to see it?”

  I shake my head. “No. Never. All copies and the manuscript were lost in the fire. My grandfather was already very sick then. He died less than two weeks later. We never even told him about the fire. I guess that is what I want most. A chance to hold the book my grandfather wrote for me.”

  Lukas furrows his brow. “You want a time machine?”

  “No, you idiot,” I say.

  “Then what else? I’m sure Gramps didn’t keep any handy digital files.”

  “You’re such a bother right now. His manuscript was handwritten with the artwork and everything. He did it all himself. My thought is that there just might be a lost copy floating about somewhere. He might have given the first typed copies to an editor or some other friend for beta reading. It’s possible an earlier version might still exist in a home library or a storage unit out there in the wide world.”

  “And asking those friends was fruitless?”

  “My parents did, of course, but nothing came of it. My grandfather was secretive in many ways. My mother was devastated over the double loss of her father and many of his works. After a few years, my father convinced her to move on. The search ended.”

  “That’s all very sad,” Lukas offers. “Let me proclaim, right in this moment, that the search for the lost book is reborn. With or without the money. I, too, need to read your book. I’m all in.”

  “I’ve already been searching. I’ve taken every easy route I could take while broke in Los Angeles. It’s not so easy. I don’t know if the money would even help, but you asked so I told you.”

  Lukas shakes his head at me. “You’re not giving up.”

  “Can we change the subject?” I say, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

  “Hey, man,” he says as he stands up suddenly.

  When Lukas takes a step away from the table I turn and spot a tall, blond man walking towards us. He’s tan, fit and a little edgy. A single hoop earring, matching tattoos running the length of his inner arms and coolly messed hair give him a striking appearance. Surprisingly, his eyes are brown and inviting. A bit unusual on a man with platinum blond hair.

  “What’s up, Luke?” he says, high-fiving Lukas. And then his eyes find mine and I’m stunned. I feel his attention all the way down to my stomach.

  “This is Nora,” Lukas says. “Nora, this is my dude Shane.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Shane says, still devouring me with those big wholesome eyes. He turns to Lukas before I can respond. “When did you get back to town?”

  I didn’t even know Lukas was out of town. I’m reminded that I know absolutely nothing about the man I’m about to marry.

  “Which time?” Lukas says. “I have a hard time sitting still. There’s a great big world out there.”

  I immediately sense an uneasiness in both men. Maybe I’m paranoid, but Shane did not expect that answer and Lukas is the least comfortable I’ve ever seen him. He sits back down and taps his fingers on the table.

  “So you two are old friends?” I say to break the awkward silence.

  “Luke’s my boy, yeah,” Shane says, keeping his eyes on Lukas. “We’ve been down with each other since Jump Street.”

  I think that means old friends. My curiosity is piqued, there’s no denying it. I wait with baited breath for Lukas to add to the conversation. Instead, all he does is shrug.

  “Let’s catch up later,” he tells Shane in a low voice.

  “I feel you,” Shane says to Lukas. “I don’t want to interrupt. Nice meeting you, Nora.”

  “Yeah, same here.”

  Shane glides over to the counter. I want to press Lukas for some answers about his friend, but it’s obviously not my business. “You didn’t have to be rude on my account,” I say, finally. “You could have talked to your friend.”

  Lukas Dupree loses his cool for the first time. I think. His cheeks look warm. He fidgets ungracefully, avoiding eye contact. It’s as if he suddenly fell out of his element. “Shane and I don’t bullshit with each other. I wasn’t ready to take my focus off you.”

  The question pops onto my lips before I can stop it. “Is he an escort, too?”

  “Shane? Nah, not his style at all. He’s too much of a prude.”

  “Are you serious? That guy’s a prude?” I say, pondering the absurd idea. “He looked like a GQ model doing a Mad Max shoot.”

  “Sounds like you have an apocalyptic fetish,” Lukas says. “Do you want him to be an escort?”

  It’s like Lukas already knows how to push all my buttons. “Maybe what you call a prude I’d call a bad boy. He was all tattoos and muscles.”

  “Do you want to talk about Shane’s sex appeal or rehearse our stories before I have to go take care of an errand? Your call.”

  “Fine. Look who’s suddenly touchy.” I bring my cup to my lips only to discover there’s no coffee left. Irritating. I could have used the distraction of sipping slowly and deliberately.

  “So what did you pick?” Lukas says. “A boy or a girl?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know, for that Disney movie.�
��

  “Ah, yes. A girl. We need more female leads in movies.”

  “I can’t disagree. Women are more interesting,” he says. “Especially in movies. And the world might be better run if women were in charge.”

  “You’re such an ass kisser,” I say. “And don’t make that a sexual entendre. That’s too easy. Okay, so let’s figure out your job. You’re almost thirty, you should have more than a job. You should have a career.”

  “Okay,” he agrees. “Just ask yourself what career your dream guy would have and that’s what we’ll say I’m doing.”

  “Hollywood would be believable but too easy to check out. No, we’ll say you’re in marketing and advertising. Something specific. A market research analyst. My aunt will love that.”

  “So I’ll be your aunt’s dream guy.”

  “It’s just a job. You’ll be yourself, Lukas. Well, but not entirely…”

  He rolls his eyes. “You know I never bring up the fact that I’m an escort. You really need to get over that. You’re a bigger prude than Shane.”

  “I universally reject that he is a prude so I take no offense to that whatsoever,” I say, which is almost true.

  I’ve amused him somehow. “The way you talk takes getting used to, but I’m into it.”

  “Do people punch you a lot?”

  Now we both smile. He reaches out suddenly. His fingers brush against my cheek, long and tanned and tender. I feel the strength and determination in them, and I lean my head to the side just a smidge to enjoy his hand.

  “Lukas,” I say, unable to reprimand him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, “been needing to do that.”

  A shiver goes through me and I’m brought back to my senses. “Now that you’ve done that, please, don’t do it again,” I say, pushing my chair back. “If this is going to work, you have to respect my wishes.”

  “The thing about wishes,” he says, bending his face at me, “is that they often change into new wishes.” With that he springs to his feet and snatches his jacket off his chair. “I have an errand. I’m late. Let’s pick this up later.”

  He leans down to kiss my forehead before he dashes out the door. I exhale long and hard, realizing I’m way out of my depth. It’s futile trying to understand Lukas. He’s hiding something, but he has every right to hide things from me. It’s not like I’m going to be his real wife.

  Chapter 5

  Nora

  If we could go back to simpler times, say the eighteenth century, when there were no fashion shows and a woman only had three or four dress styles to choose from – like the printed gown or the embroidered bodice or whatever they were called – my afternoon would be infinitely less stressful.

  But wishes are not horses or dresses or however the saying goes and so I’m trying on my fourth dress in the spacious fitting room at MaxMara’s in Beverly Hills.

  Jules’ face sours. She has not liked any of the dresses. “I don’t know, Nora. It’s just not you,” she says, surveying the sleeveless, midnight blue duchesse and organza dress I have just slipped into. “You need something more youthful and ingenuous, but sophisticated and sexy at the same time.”

  “Oh, that’s all.” I’m not even sure such a dress exists but she’s right. Nothing I’ve tried so far belongs at my cousin’s beach wedding in Santa Barbara this Saturday. “It’s hopeless.”

  “Not if we throw money at it,” she says with a snort.

  I give her a condemning glance. “You do realize I’m spending money I don’t have, right?”

  “Imaginary money is the best money,” she says, taking the fifth and final dress we have picked off the hanger. It’s a long cady pink dress with a teardrop neckline and long wide sleeves. “This last one… what were you even thinking?” Jules says as she puts the dress back on the hanger and growls in her cute and dramatic way.

  “So what now?”

  “We’ll take another look here and then move on to the next shop.”

  “Wait, I can’t,” I say, remembering my plans suddenly.

  “You can’t what?”

  “I can’t leave. Lukas is coming to meet me here. I forgot. He texted me earlier. He told me to stay put. Apparently, we need to talk.” I find my phone in my purse. It’s 11:36 a.m. – he’s six minutes late. No new texts.

  We return to the dress racks. This is pointless. We’ve seen everything already.

  “Have you given any thought to the fact that Carlton might be at the wedding?” Jules says out of the blue.

  I shrug. “Carlton? God, no. I barely think of him.”

  Carlton’s whereabouts is the furthest thing from my mind. His parents were friends with my parents as well as Aunt Sonya and Uncle Paul. There’s every chance the whole crew’s been invited to the wedding, including Carlton.

  They all thought Carlton and I were cute together back in the day but, really, we were mostly fighting behind closed doors. We dated for a few years on and off through high school and the first years of college. One day I decided to stop the rollercoaster and end things for good.

  Carlton was a cool kid—popular, funny, charming and mostly nice, but he also was completely lost which made him emotionally volatile. Right when he had everything he’d fall apart. On his bad days he’d lie through his teeth and on occasion, he would consume alcohol to the point of passing out. He embarrassed me in public more than once. And on a few dreadful nights he got really nasty in private. No one would believe the things he said to me and I have no desire to repeat them.

  “And yet you know he’ll be there,” Jules insists. “He would never miss a chance to see you.”

  “I’m sure he’s long since moved on,” I say, patting a thin silk dress with my fingertips.

  “He so hasn’t. Remember the last time we saw him?”

  Jules is referring to an incident near the end of college. Carlton was wondering down Sunset Boulevard drunk. We had no choice but to check and see if he was okay. He dropped to a knee, proceeded to spit out some incoherent confession about missing me, and then broke into tears.

  That wasn’t a confession. It was drunk-guy bullshit. Jules never dated a drunk and took it all too seriously.

  “Jules, that was like two years ago and Carlton lives to put on a show, trust me. I bet he goes through women now like socks. And when he gets drunk, he tells every one of them they are special. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’s changed. I hope so. In any case, he’s not my problem anymore.”

  “He will be if you let him get too close to Lukas. He’s charming and no one can manipulate like Carlton. You don’t need any drama.”

  “Speak of the devil,” I say as Lukas shows up finally. It’s a good thing, too, because nothing bums me out more than memories of Carlton’s tortured soul.

  “Hey, Jules,” Lukas says and then plants a quick kiss on my lips.

  There it is then. The kiss that I’ve always sensed him wanting to land.

  Jules can’t respond. Her mouth hangs open.

  I fight hard to suppress the butterflies and dragonflies all waking together in my stomach. I do my best to act casual. But then comes a second shock, even more unexpected as he slowly rubs and then pinches my butt.

  “Has my girl been giving you much trouble?” he asks Jules who has finally managed to close her mouth. “She’s not big on making up her mind.”

  I’m stuck in Twilight Zone. Rage heats my cheeks. I roughly slap his wrist away from my hip where he’s decided it belongs. “Are you on drugs? We’re with Jules,” I tell him in my most scolding voice. “Stop playing your part. And no matter who we are with that is not acceptable. Pinching my ass? Really, Lukas?”

  “He pinched you?” Jules says, trying to cover her grin with her hand. My discomfort has always been a great source of her amusement.

  “I beg to differ,” Lukas says to me with a crooked smirk. “To keep the act going you have to believe in it, live it out. Borderline inappropriate is the thing that will make this undeniable.”

  “OMG, he’s
gone all method actor,” Jules says in a voice still muffled by her undying laughter. “Maybe you need to roll with this, Nora.”

  Lukas wants this. He wants to be stuck in this awkward moment where he’s crossed the line and I have to hide the fact it’s kind of exciting. I’m learning his tricks and I’m not falling for it this time.

  “What is it you wanted to talk about?” I tell him, abruptly moving on.

  “One second,” he says as his phone rings.

  I’d bet good money he’ll walk away to take that call, but he actually answers right in front of us.

  “What’s up, Ronnie?” he says.

  Lukas scratches his chin while he listens. There’s scruff on his face today. It’s every bit as appealing as when he’s clean shaven.

  “Can’t do it, man. I told you I’m booked with work right now.” He smiles at me. “Yeah, it’s a sweet gig. Might be a minute before I’m free,” he says, gazing at me devilishly.

  I look away, bothered that he’s talking to the escort agency. Lukas is too intelligent, too good-natured and capable to be an escort. He has goals, work ethic, and a concern for others. I’ll never understand him choosing that work. School bills or no school bills he could have found another way—said the woman who is fake marrying an escort for money.

  His face becomes serious as he listens to his phone. “Can’t happen. I’m not available,” Lukas says before he exhales and bends his face. “Yeah, fine, Ronnie, I’ll ask if I can take a short break. Just chill a little, dude.”

  Oh, hell no, is he actually considering another escorting job on the side? That’s not the deal. How dare he? He’s mine, exclusively. That’s what the contract states. He’s mine in a business sense. That’s all, but, you know, it’s binding. I can’t believe his nerve.

  And now Jules’ eyes are burning holes into my mind. She’s thinking what I’m thinking. I’m not crazy. I have my lawyer right here. Time to get this audacious, ass-pinching lothario straightened out.

  Lukas clicks off his phone. “Sorry about that,” he says. “It’s one of my regulars. She’s been busting Ronnie’s balls for days about seeing me for a night and, here’s the thing...”