Romeo for Hire

by Ali Parker

  James smiled and stepped inside. “Not me,” he said. “PR sleeps for no man.”

  “Isn’t that the truth.”

  We both laughed, silence falling over us seconds later. I waited for James to speak, but no words slipped from his lips. He simply stood in front of me, his confident eyes never leaving my face.

  “Is something wrong?” I finally asked. Taking a step back, I leaned against my desk.

  “Not at all.” James cleared his throat. “We’re right on track for the release of the spring line.”

  Confused, I smiled and stood up straight. “Perfect,” I said. “Well, in that case, I should go.”

  “I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “Ask away.”

  “Are you free for dinner tonight?”

  I blinked. “No. I’m just on my way to meet my mother.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  James smiled easily, the same smile I’d seen on his face every day for six years, and yet, something was different.

  “James,” I began. “What is this about? Are you resigning? Just be straight with me.”

  Tilting his head back, James let out a loud laugh and shook his head. When his eyes met mine again, they were soft. Amused.

  “I’m not quitting, Candice,” James said. “Far from it.”

  “Then, what’s up?”

  “I just want to take you out,” James said boldly. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, and well, I finally got up the nerve to go for it.”

  With a sigh, I stepped around him and headed to the door. Putting my hand on the knob, I turned back to see his face pulled down in a confused frown.

  “I’m your boss,” I said simply. “This is a place of business. Have a little respect for your position here, James. How can anyone take you seriously if you’re going around asking out every woman in the office?”

  “Not every woman,” James said. “Just you.”

  “That’s even worse.” I shook my head and turned away from him. “I’m your boss, James. Treat me that way, or you may just be turning in that resignation after all.”

  Without another word, I breezed through the doorway, walking briskly toward the elevator. I didn’t see James again until Monday morning, and when I did, everything had returned to normal. He was professional, easy-going, and charismatic. Exactly what I wanted out of my Public Relations Manager, and not at all what I would want out of a boyfriend.

  That night, I grabbed a cab to my mother’s walk up, sitting back against the seat and holding my breath the whole way across town.

  “You’re late.” Mom’s angry red face stared at me from the other side of the threshold.

  Stepping around her, I sighed. “Work ran long, Mom. I’m sorry.”

  “The photo shoot was today,” Mom said. “We’ve talked about this before, Candice. You don’t need to be at every shoot. When your father ran the company, he—”

  “I’m not Dad. This is how I do things.”

  “By running yourself into the ground?”

  Mom’s gray eyes stayed fixed on mine. I blinked, dropping my eyes to the floor the way I only did with her.

  “I’m fine,” I said. Clearing my throat, I stepped around her into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Roasted duck,” Mom said, waving her hand casually around the room.

  “Wine?” I asked.

  “Chilling.”

  With a nod, I hurried to the wine chiller. Mom had a bottle of white ready for the night. I poured us each a glass and gently slid hers across the counter. She didn’t so much as look at it.

  “Mom,” I said firmly. “Drink the wine.”

  “Not until we’re finished discussing this.”

  I rolled my eyes. She followed me into the dining room where we sunk down onto our usual chairs and commenced our usual standoff.

  “I like my job,” I said simply. “And I like being at every photo shoot.”

  “That is just ridiculous.” Mom brushed her light brown hair off her neck. “You and I both know that being around those models is not good for you.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Mom’s hands flew to her ears. “Don’t curse, Candice Deborah Smart. I raised you better than that.”

  “I’m sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender. “But seriously, Mom, what does that mean?”

  Mom didn’t speak at first. Her gray eyes surveyed my body slowly. My stomach tightened, a wave of nausea rolling into my throat. Mom didn’t need to answer. I already knew.

  Ever since I was a little girl, I’d been chubby. As an adult, my chubbiness turned smoothly into curves. Curves that I loved. And curves that my mother hated.

  Nearing sixty years old, Deborah Anne Smart was petite and gorgeous. Her eyes were deep, soulful. Her frame was exactly as it had been before she’d had two children. And her hair, no matter how much stress she was under, simply refused to gray.

  Me, her eldest daughter, had always been a disappointment. I came out of the womb a mirror image of my father. With dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes, I didn’t resemble my mother at all.

  “The models are fine,” I finally said. “Amelia is one of my dearest friends, Mom. And we just hired two new regulars. Tricia and Heather, both of whom are sweethearts.”

  “How can you be friends with women who …”

  “Who what?” I demanded. “Who are smaller than me? Taller? Prettier?”

  “Oh, Candice, don’t say those things.” Mom shook her head. “You are beautiful, honey. All you need is a little less weight around your middle.”

  “Mom.”

  She fell silent immediately. It wasn’t often my mother inspired anger in me. Mostly, I existed in a constant state of mild irritation when she was around. This night, though, I was ready to lunge across the table.

  “The duck will be ready in a few minutes.” Mom cleared her throat and slowly got to her feet. “You, sit. Relax. You’ve had a long day.”

  Without another word, Mom disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned, it was with two plates in hand. She laid one down in front of me, lowering herself gracefully onto her chair.

  We didn’t speak again for several minutes. From the look on my mother’s face, she was waiting for an apology.

  “I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  “Thank you, Candice.” Mom sniffed. “You know I only want what’s best for you, honey.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “Which is why I wish you wouldn’t work so hard.” Mom took a pointed bite of her duck. Chewing slowly, she breathed heavily through her nose.

  “I enjoy it.”

  “We don’t need the money,” she said. “Your father set us up for life. You should have sold the company like I first suggested.”

  “I enjoy the work,” I said softly, wanting to avoid another fight. “It gives me purpose. Something to look forward to. Besides, it was Daddy’s company. I’m not ready to part with it.”

  My mother knew she couldn’t argue with that. While she and I were always butting heads, Dad had been my constant companion. Even after four years, I still felt his passing so deeply, it could take my breath away if I wasn’t careful.

  “I understand,” Mom said. She reached over to pat my hand. “Anyway, we couldn’t sell now. The anniversary dinner is just around the corner.”

  “It’s still months away,” I said.

  “Only two.”

  “The party planners are already on it,” I promised.

  Mom raised her eyebrows. “And what about you?”

  I pushed a green bean across my plate to avoid looking at her. We both knew what she was getting at.

  “Candice?”

  Sighing, I popped the green bean in my mouth and looked up. She eyed me carefully, examining my face as if she had x-ray vision.

  “No, Mother, I do not have a date.”

  “Candice.” Her eyes fell
closed as if this was the worst news she’d ever received. “It is only two months away. A man needs time to rent a tuxedo and prepare.”

  “I’m not bringing a date.”

  My words fell on her ears like a brick. She winced, her forehead creasing as her entire body caved in on itself.

  She recovered quickly. “You have a reputation to uphold,” she said. “As the boss, you cannot show up alone, Candice. You just can’t.”

  “Being the boss is exactly why I can.”

  “Candice.”

  “Mom.” I held up my hand. “This is not the nineteen fifties. I am a thirty-one-year-old businesswoman who has successfully run Smart Cosmetics alone for four years. I do not need a man by my side.”

  She didn’t push me, but I knew she wanted to. When I left that night, her eyes betrayed her every emotion. Disappointment. Exasperation. Pity.

  It wasn’t until I was alone in the cab that I felt the weight of her warning. Flashing back to my conversation with James just hours earlier, I couldn’t help wondering if maybe my mother was right.

  Chapter 3

  Ryan

  “Hey Pea, it’s time to wake up.”

  Pushing open Paisley’s door, I inched inside with a tray poised over my hands. Paisley was curled up beneath her blanket, a tiny bit of brown hair poking out the top. When she heard my voice, she rolled over and blinked against the bright sunlight.

  “I don’t want to wake up yet,” she whined. “It’s too early.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s already nine o’clock.”

  “But, it’s Saturday.”

  Rolling over, Paisley faced the wall with a glare. Her signature scowl covered her face. I sighed and moved across the room.

  “I brought you breakfast,” I said.

  Paisley didn’t move at first but after a few seconds, she turned over and glared at the tray in my hands.

  “Is it more bacon?” she demanded.

  “See for yourself.”

  I perched on the edge of Paisley’s bed. She rolled over and looked down at the tray. A single plate sat in the middle with only one thing on it.

  “Pop-Tarts!”

  Paisley immediately threw the covers off and sat up. She grabbed the Pop-Tarts off the plate and ripped open the foil wrapper. Tossing it on the floor, she sunk her teeth into the strawberry icing.

  “Mogood!”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” I reminded her, but I couldn’t hold in my laughter.

  Paisley ate both pastries in record time. When she was done, she smacked her lips and rubbed her belly dramatically.

  “That was so yummy! Thanks, Daddy!”

  “You’re welcome.” Grinning, I pulled her to her feet. She followed me downstairs where I poured her a glass of milk and myself a cup of coffee.

  “You never let me eat Pop-Tarts,” Paisley said. She took a sip of milk, leaving a white line above her lip.

  “You have a milk mustache.”

  “Nu-uh!” Paisley wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “See?”

  “You wiped it off,” I said seriously. “It was there. I saw it.”

  “No way!’

  Laughing, I sat down beside her and took a long swig of my coffee. To Paisley, this was the greatest morning ever. I woke her up with Pop-Tarts in bed. We were laughing together, joking about milk mustaches. But for me, I could already feel the effects of my guilt burning a hole in my gut.

  “Get up,” I told Paisley as she downed the last of her milk. “Time to get dressed, Pea.”

  Paisley frowned. “Why? It’s Saturday, remember?”

  “I know.” I took a deep breath. “I have to work today.”

  “But …”

  “I told you last weekend, remember?” I said quickly. “I said you were going to spend all day with Uncle Max.”

  “But, Daddy.” Paisley sunk down in her chair. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, not wanting to think how many times she’d heard me utter those two words.

  Paisley didn’t say anything as I kissed her and walked from the room. I reached downstairs and could still hear her soft footsteps padding overhead. Our house was two stories but tiny. I could hear every sound that little girl made. So, when she sniffed softly in her room, I knew she was crying.

  My chest ached. Getting to my feet, I hurried to the stairs. I didn’t know what I would say. How can you explain bills and money and responsibility to a four-year-old?

  I didn’t get the chance to try. Paisley bounded back downstairs, dressed and with a bag thrown over her shoulder.

  “I’m ready,” she said simply.

  “What’s the bag for?” I asked. “Uncle Max has toys.”

  Paisley tightened her fingers. “Uncle Max wants to see my books about snakes. He thinks they’re cool too. Just like me.”

  Smiling, I ushered Paisley through the front door. I knew my brother’s sudden interest in snakes was just for Paisley’s benefit, and yet, I couldn’t help feeling a wave of jealousy wash over me. While I worked, Max would be bonding with my daughter.

  “Bye, Pea,” I said as Paisley hopped out of the car. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Max was waiting for her by the front door. He lifted one hand but didn’t meet my eyes. Paisley ran forward without looking back. No wave. No goodbye. Nothing.

  ***

  Rebound Romeos. That was us. Good looking men in our twenties, handpicked by the one and only Beatrice Cantone, designed specifically to help struggling women make it through a breakup.

  Max hated what I did. “You’re an escort,” he would always say. “A gigolo. A male hooker.”

  Never mind the fact that we never had sex with a client or that Romeo Rebound was nothing more than a glorified dating service, my big brother hated everything about my career.

  Most days, I could defend myself to him or anyone else. I was not ashamed, I was proud to have a full bank account that could pay for anything my daughter might need.

  Who cares how I got the money, right? All that mattered was that I had it.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

  Saturday morning was different. After leaving Paisley behind, my guilt never faded. I pulled into the parking lot and pushed open my car door, all the while wishing I was back at my brother’s house.

  When I stepped into the office, my guilt only worsened. Pictures of smiling, happy women stared down at me from B’s success wall. She advertised a guarantee of happiness and confidence, promising that after one date with her Romeos, any woman would feel unstoppable.

  I wondered if that promise would ever extend to the Romeos.

  “There you are!”

  I spun around to see Kason, my oldest friend, walking toward me.

  “Kase.” We slapped hands and Kason led me toward the espresso machine. “What’s up, man?”

  “Nothing. Nothing.” Kason went to work making himself a cappuccino. “Want anything?”

  “Nah.” I shook my head. “Had coffee this morning.”

  “Gotta keep that blood flowing,” Kason said, pumping his arms. “You can’t lose energy in this business, baby.”

  Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a jelly-filled doughnut off the counter. Kason grimaced as I took a huge bite, dripping strawberry jelly down my face.

  “How can you eat like that?” Kason demanded. “I know you haven’t worked out once since college.”

  I shrugged, wiping away the jelly. “I jog.”

  “Not the same.”

  “Whatever. You’re just jealous of my insanely sexy body.”

  Kason cackled and sipped his cappuccino. “Don’t forget who got you this job, Ry.”

  “And don’t you forget that I’m B’s favorite.”

  “Only because you’re a fucking pushover.”

  He was right, but I would never admit that. Kason led the way to the conference table at the back of the lobby. We sat down, kicked our feet up, and waited for our weekly meeting with Beatric
e.

  “Where is everyone?” I glanced around the room. “It’s at ten, right?”

  “Eleven.”

  I jerked my head around to face him. “You said ten.”

  “I didn’t want you to be late.”

  “Jackass,” I mumbled. “I could have spent the morning with Paisley.”

  Kason waved his hand dismissively. “She’s with Max, right? She’s fine.”

  “Not the point, Kason.”

  “Let it go.” Kason rolled his eyes and lifted his feet off the table. He dropped them to the floor and leaned closer to me. “You should be thanking me. Remember last Monday? B almost canned your ass for being late.”

  “I’m never late for a client,” I said defensively. “That’s all that matters.”

  “Whatever you say, man.” Kason sat back. “But we both know B is a fucking hard-ass.”

  I stretched my arms over my head and ignored him. Kason knew Beatrice would never fire me. I was one of her top earners. Only Kason and Tyler pulled in more business than me, and both had been with her for years already.

  While we waited for the meeting to start, a soft click pulled our attention to the door. Turning my head lazily, I expected to see a fellow Romeo step inside. Instead, my eyes fell on a severe-looking woman with light brown hair and narrowed gray eyes.

  “She’s gotta be like sixty.” Kason whistled softly. “That’s all you, man. You know I don’t do cougars.”

  Beatrice’s office door swung open. B stepped into the lobby, her blindingly white hair falling over her back. Her lips were a shocking shade of red that matched her dress. As she breezed across the room, her arms spread wide, the dress trailed a path behind her like a wedding gown.

  “Mrs. Smart?” Beatrice asked. She reached the woman and curtsied dramatically. “Right this way, right this way.”

  B ushered Mrs. Smart across the lobby. Both women eyed me and then Kason. Mrs. Smart’s eyes slid down my body slowly before turning to Kason. We were undeterred. In this business, we’d grown accustomed to the scrutiny of women.

  They disappeared into B’s office, the door closing with a sharp snap. Rolling my eyes, I groaned and looked up at the ceiling.

  “God, I hope she’s not the client.” I closed my eyes. “I don’t think I have it in me to deal with a needy grandma right now.”