by C. L. Donley
Mya and Kim had tried to coach her as much as they could in 2 hours.
“He’s going to say whatever he needs to say to sleep with you,” Kim predicted.
“He literally doesn’t need to say anything,” Amara protested.
“DO NOT give it up to him on the first night, Amara! Unless you never want to see him again,” Mya said.
Kim was a little more pragmatic.
“Girl, GET IT. And try to get pregnant.”
Amara snapped herself back to the present.
“Well, since this dress is borrowed, I’d say you’re right, Mr. Davis,” she answered.
“Amara… you can call me Grayson, you know that.”
“People are looking at me, Grayson.”
The sound of his name coming out of her wide feminine mouth triggered a pang of hunger he’d never known before, to hear his name out of her again at least one million more times, and in all its infinite combinations.
“They’re trying to figure out who you are and why you’re with me,” he finally said.
“And who am I?” she smoothly countered.
“Who do you want to be?” he answered back, not to be outdone.
“Hmmm…” she replied.
Your next meal, she thought in her head.
She was so achingly close to him, and only after a few minutes she was beginning to get used to it.
She smiled and looked away at something, anything to keep her soul inside her body. She surveyed the plum colored sunset, marveling. “God, it’s beautiful here.”
Grayson watched her watching the sunset and studied her expression.
She was taking it in. This was not her life, and he knew she was counting the hours when she would have to return to it.
He had done the same thing at her age. It had driven him to live among this world, but he got the distinct feeling Amara had no intentions of counting herself a part of it.
“Do you want to meet them?” he suddenly said.
“Who?”
“Your adolescent obsessions.”
Amara lit up, slightly apprehensive, and then a heart melting smile. “Yes, I think I would.”
Grayson didn’t do a lot of mingling, and he’d built up quite a mystique from the practice. He enjoyed little anonymity and relished it when he could get the chance to blend into a crowd. Even if someone was ignorant enough not to know they were in a room with the man responsible for their life’s greatest modern distraction, he was often mistaken for some handsome leading man or another, and many times had the unfortunate task of being grilled by strangers to tell them who he was.
But to observe Amara’s doe-eyed excitement, Grayson could make an exception.
Grayson and Amara made the rounds, and everyone she met was warm and spoke cordially to her. Amara was her unassumingly delightful self, a pitch-perfect blend of reverent and respectful. A few times she was indeed asked what or where they knew her from, and each time she had replied, “I’m nobody,” quickly turning the conversation back to them with some intriguing, genuine question about their work or their process. Her fascination was fascinating, and she pulled some great industry stories out of them while they were loose with liquor and the abandon that came with a safe place of peers.
The party buzzed as Amara reminded her heroes of their prior greatness. Everyone loved it, especially the DJ who called her on the platform to play a request. She, of course, picked the perfect 90’s throwback song that sent the party into the stratosphere where it stayed for the rest of the night.
As the evening wore on, Grayson’s touch had moved from friendly to flirty to possessive. Amara was aware of each transition. That and the overall surreal nature of the night kept her body on high alert. She was a potent cocktail of anxious, turned on, and completely alive. Grayson handed her a flute of champagne, and they found a gorgeous, white satin draped cabana near the beach. It was one of three others facing a large infinity pool where there were a few swimmers, but mostly everyone was congregated along the edge sipping drinks, which struck Amara as a bit dangerous.
“I can’t believe I just met Clarisse Brooke and Noah Taylor.”
“Pretty amazing,” Grayson admitted.
“They are totally hot together and beautiful. I want them to adopt me.”
A random group of people was eyeing them, and Grayson raised his glass to acknowledge them. They did the same.
“So, it seems you were right. Perhaps I have missed my calling,” Amara began.
“What’s that?” Grayson asked, looking as though he would kiss her.
“I’m not sure how to get paid for it, but it involves going to celebrity parties and generally being awesome,” she answered, not looking at him.
“You’re good at schmoozing; I’ll give you that.”
“The secret is just to pretend like you’re dreaming,” she revealed. “There’s a lot of interesting people here.”
“Including yourself.”
Amara ignored his comment as she took a sip.
“So where is this Palm Hotel I’m supposed to be staying at?”
“Look behind you.”
Amara’s mouth gaped open “…Holy shit.”
“What, did you think Dale would put you up at the Beaver Lodge Truck Stop?”
“Sort of, I mean he already gave me a thousand dollars.”
Grayson laughed. “You’re drinking a thousand dollars.”
She took another sip. “Funny, it doesn’t taste like my first car,” Amara replied.
“You haven’t spent that much time around the affluent have you?”
“The truly affluent are only those who do not want more than they have,” Amara quoted.
“Erich Fromm,” he cited, inching a single slender digit down her bare shoulder.
Amara shuddered. She took in a sharp breath as she looked past him, hiding a trembling smile.
As she tried and failed to hide her reaction to him, he got even more of the sense that she was horribly inexperienced. That perhaps her mind had been sharpened to within an inch of its life, and in all that schooling she’d left her body behind.
“It’s a quote from one of your SPEC conferences,” Amara finally said when she was composed enough.
Grayson stood and held out his hand for her to take.
“Where are we going?”
“Just for a walk. It’s a beautiful night.”
They walked arm in arm wordlessly on the beach in the direction of the high rise hotel. The ocean was barely lit by moonlight and distant tiki lamps. The crashing waves were unusually loud.
“I’ve been here a few years now, and I never go to the beach.”
“Never?”
“Well…more than once, less than thrice.”
“You’re a virgin aren’t you, Amara,” Grayson suddenly said.
Amara gave an eye roll and looked out at the water as though it were endlessly fascinating. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only if you’re paying attention,” he said. “But I would expect nothing less from you,” he continued, smiling. “Saving yourself for the man of your dreams, somewhere out there in the world, the only man that would ever make you feel like a woman.”
He was saying it not only in jest but also with the clear indication that he was not nor would ever strive to be that man.
Oh.
The illusion of the night shattered around her with great force, and her heart was pierced with one of the shards. Even with all her fail-safes in place, hope had slipped through her armor, and she was bleeding between its plates.
She smiled through it.
“You’re actually incorrect, Grayson Davis, but please, keep trying and failing to read me, it’s starting to become amusing.”
He stared at her and smiled, the two continued walking.
“It seems I’ve hit a nerve,” he said.
“Not at all,” Amara lied. “I just find it funny when guys assume that my lack of experience is a conscious choice. Like I have a gentleman c
aller waiting list.”
“Surely, I can’t be your first gentleman caller,” he replied.
“No, not the first. But by far the best.”
“Don’t talk like that,” he insisted as they walked.
“Like what?”
“Like… I’m a catch,” he said sounding mystified.
“Umm… you are,” she replied, mimicking his mystified tone.
“No, I’m not. I don’t do relationships because I’m no good with them.”
“Why, what happened?” Amara queried.
“Nothing. And it never will,” he said.
“Well if you’ve never had one, how do you know?”
“Isn’t there something in your life you don’t need to try to know that you’d be terrible at it?”
“Pretty sure I’ll be terrible at sex, but like anything else, I’ll get better with practice.”
Was she baiting him? Flirty little Amara.
“The thought of you being terrible at sex is endearing. Failing at love is not.”
Amara was silent, and he continued.
“I’m enthralled with women,” he said, “but I can only give them what they want, not what they need.”
“That sounds… kind of sad.” Amara replied.
“Well that’s where you and I differ because it works for me,” he asserted, convinced. “If Dale hadn’t brought you here I’d probably be elbow deep in a random blonde right now.”
“Gross,” Amara deadpanned.
“Well, it’s true. I should be shattering your illusion of me, not encouraging it.”
“I’m under no illusions,” she informed him, the breeze subtly blowing her hair.
“Aren’t you?”
“You’re a playboy, I get that. Most people know that.”
Grayson never thought of himself as such. Sex was a need to be fulfilled. And a habit was formed typically after 21 days. So he had to change them out every few weeks, naturally. With periods of solitude in between to, you know, recharge. Women were generally very tiring to him. Like kryptonite he couldn’t resist.
But he had very few one night stands. One night certainly wouldn’t be enough with Amara, whom he was starting to realize he would never have.
“Not a playboy, just a pragmatist,” he corrected.
“Don’t you want love?” Amara probed.
Grayson merely shrugged. He tried to remember the last time anyone had asked him that. Dale had asked in a roundabout way. It was the only thing he’d ever wanted, but he’d learned to stop letting that desire rule his life. It was what drove him to fits of blackout rage in his youth, drove him to spiraling depressions that didn’t seem to plague other children, what kept him choking down antipsychotic pills for years, and what made him hide them under his tongue years later. The desire for love practically killed him.
“I imagine if I were in your shoes, I’d give up on the idea of anyone loving me for me too,” she continued.
Grayson’s heart skipped a beat and couldn’t seem to recover.
Had she known about his past?
What did she and Dale talk about on the way there?
Did he tell her about the relentless bullying and isolation and the crippling hopelessness it caused? Did he tell her about that macabre Christmas, when his cries for help culminated in what was to be his final grand gesture?
He waited for her elaborate.
When she didn’t, he prompted her.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because… you’re a billionaire?” Amara said as though she assumed it was obvious.
Oh right, the money.
He smiled, “I’ve long given up on the idea of permanent companionship, before the money, but yes, it certainly doesn’t help.”
Amara looked at him then, square in the eyes as though she’d had an epiphany.
She wasn’t shy anymore, and she had that same look she’d had in the conference room, and it made him feel the same way.
“I have a very wicked, very naughty idea, Grayson Davis.”
“Those are my favorite,” he smiled.
“Let me be your gold digger.”
Six
Chapter 6
Grayson laughed out loud at her words, but Amara didn’t.
“You’re serious?” he grinned.
“I am totally, 100%, mega balls serious,” Amara said, her brow furrowed at the growing sense of brilliance at her own plan.
“Oh, geez…” he groaned increasingly with a lowered head as she spoke.
His out and out refusal was conspicuously absent. He seemed a little dejected at her words, as though disappointed in the shallow gesture.
Was she shallow? She honestly didn’t know, she’d never been given the opportunity. She put it out of her mind for the time being. He was missing the big picture, here.
“Let me dig your gold, bro!” Amara slowly exclaimed. She launched into an elevator pitch. “You don’t do relationships, but you totally like me and you know it, I’m wicked smart, I’m fun, I’m super low-maintenance, I love free food… c’mon dude, this is like, a no-brainer.”
He shook his head as he chuckled. “Amara, that’s… you’re… wow.”
She cocked her head at his non-response as she looked at him with complete confidence, her tongue behind her teeth as though her wheels were turning. He couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t adorable to watch her wheels turn. After awhile a girlish, somewhat cocky grin emerged on her lips.
“What?” he smiled.
“I’m waiting for an answer,” she shrugged.
He hesitated as he looked out at the beach, suddenly feeling shy.
Her naive air was lulling him into a false sense of security. What’s the harm in entertaining the thought?
The idea of Amara being his next mistress delighted him, it’s true. The mere thought of her had made him want to take a vacation. He’d put off having one on no less than four occasions, and now he suddenly couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time. Three weeks of Amara in his bed, spoiling her completely rotten… better make it four.
But he couldn’t dance around the obvious. His stomach lurched.
“You do realize that golddigging typically involves sex,” he broke the news.
“Yes, I’m… fully aware.”
“Amara… I can’t take your virginity.”
“Why not? Someone has to. You know you want to. I’m pretty sure you know that I want you to,” she said frankly.
“I do,” he admitted, without clarifying to which statement.
Amara was all business now and she wasn’t bluffing. She continued flippantly.
“You know… now that I’m thinking about it, I think I’m gonna need a lump sum.”
“Amara…”
“That should keep everyone off my back for a good long time while I figure out my life.”
“I haven’t even agreed to this,” Grayson interrupted.
“I mean affairs are nice and all,” Amara continued as though he hadn’t said anything, “but if I’m going to grow accustomed to a certain lifestyle… I’m not going to want to get up and knead bread at 3 in the morning afterwards.”
Grayson’s brow furrowed. “You lost me.”
“You didn’t hear? I got a job at Carolina Bread Company.”
Grayson couldn’t help the wide grin spreading across his face. “You’re leaving Webster to go bake bread?”
“I’m leaving Webster because I couldn’t properly function at all after your visit, and also I get to eat all the bread and pastries I want.”
“Amara—”
“So technically this is your fault, and you owe me.”
Grayson sighed and craned his neck toward the moon. He was seriously considering her offer and he felt as though at any moment the police would be swooping in on all sides to arrest him.
“How much…” he reluctantly asked, still looking up.
“…A million dollars?” Amara ventured, entirely unsure of the going rate of virginity
as well as her own ability to negotiate.
“I’m relieved to see how terrible you are at this,” he replied.
“I mean, I know it’s a lot—”
“It’s not,” he simply said.
Damn!
Amara didn’t falter. “All the more reason to take the deal then. It’s a bargain.”
“Amara!”
“Grayson!”
“This is madness.”
“It’s not, it’s pragmatic, like you said, right? How long are we talking, a few months?”
“…More like a few weeks.”
Oh.
The confession stung like falling into a cold lake but there it was, and she was starting to get the gist.
Sex was a heartbreaking business and she hadn’t even begun in earnest. She was glad to be coming away with a sizeable consolation prize then, and now in much less time than she anticipated.
She suddenly felt ridiculously lucky. She was about to be richer than anyone she knew and it was all due to her hot bod. She found herself confronting an age old truth and thought about all the women that had come and gone. She wondered if they’d been fed a whole load of bull before they managed to confront the same truth.
Likely not.
“Maybe I should make it whatever would net me a million after taxes. Also, maybe there should be some sort of clause where I can pay off my student loans.”
“A clause.”
“Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you would be able to write this off as a charitable contribution.”
“I would pay off all your student loans right now just to see one of your boobs,” he joked.
Amara looked at him very seriously and he thought she was offended, but then she said, “Oh my God… this is my calling.”
“I’m just kidding you, Amara,” he laughed.
“No you weren’t, and honestly, I would enjoy showing you my boobs, almost as much as I would enjoy seeing my student loan balance at zero.”
“It’s a much better feeling when you can earn it on your own.”
“Who says I can’t?” Amara said provocatively.
Jeez, maybe this was her calling.
“Look, Amara… I see what you’re trying to accomplish, I do. And, maybe I respect it in some way. I won’t sit here and pretend to be a better man than I am. I really, really… really want to take the deal. I’ve spent more money on things so ridiculous I’m embarrassed to admit them.”