The Endgame

by James, Cleary

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Grayson asked, breaking into her thoughts. She looked up to find him frowning at her in concern.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, noticing that she had been twisting her napkin into a knot and her shoulders were up around her ears. She clasped her hands together to stop them fidgeting. This was work, she reminded herself. She didn’t have to enjoy it. She just had to suck it up and get on with it.

  The gesture didn’t escape him. ‘It’s something,’ he said, placing a warm hand over hers, stilling them. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I just– I’m not sure what you want me to do.’

  He looked bemused. ‘Well, it’s a restaurant.’ His lips twitched in a smile.’ I want you to choose something to eat.’ He indicated her menu.

  ‘Oh, right. Okay.’

  ‘Hungry?’

  ‘Not very.’ She had been – she was always hungry – but now she felt too tense, her stomach in knots. She gazed unseeingly at the menu, unable to concentrate. She doubted she’d be able to eat anyway – the prospect of performing sexual acts in public had taken away her appetite.

  ‘Are you ready to order?’ Grayson looked queryingly at her as the waiter stood by their table, notebook and pen poised.

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ll have the prawn salad. Thank you.’ She handed the waiter back her menu. She had automatically zoned in on what Mark would have ordered for her if he were here, she realised.

  Grayson ordered roast sea bass, and a bottle of sparkling water, declining wine as he had a busy afternoon ahead, including a site visit for one of his latest projects. ‘But you have some, if you like,’ he told Lisa.

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll just have water too.’

  She was distracted, waiting for Grayson to make some move to let her know what he wanted, expecting every moment to feel his hand on her leg.

  ‘Lisa?’

  She jumped at the sound of his voice, aware that she hadn’t been listening to him. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

  ‘I just asked what you’ve been up to this morning.’

  ‘Oh, I just hit the gym.’

  ‘You work out a lot?’

  ‘Yes, every day for two or three hours.’

  ‘That’s very dedicated. You like it?’

  ‘No, not really,’ she said absently.

  Grayson laughed. ‘Why do you do it so much if you don’t enjoy it?’

  She shrugged. ‘For the results, I guess. It keeps me fit and in shape.’ She felt edgy and nervous, wishing he would just dispense with the small talk and do what they had come here for. Their food arrived and he continued to chat as he started to eat, telling her about the new project he was working on. He was clearly excited about it, but Lisa barely listened, just toying with her salad. Finally, she could bear it no longer.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked in a whisper, putting down her fork.

  His brows knitted in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, um ...’ She decided maybe it would be better if she initiated things. Perhaps that was what he expected. She put a hand on his thigh under the table, sliding it up to his crotch, her fingers finding his zipper.

  ‘Jesus!’ he gasped, grabbing her hand and pushing it firmly away.

  ‘Sorry,’ she blushed. ‘I thought–‘

  He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What do you think I brought you here for?’

  ‘Well ... sex,’ she whispered, leaning towards him so she wouldn’t be overheard. ‘I mean, that’s what you’re paying me for. I thought we’d go to a room, but–‘

  His eyes widened, and he looked horrified.

  ‘I’m not objecting,’ she said hastily. ‘If you want to do it here, that’s fine. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.’

  ‘Christ!’ He leaned back against the banquette. Then he turned to her and took her hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking into her eyes earnestly. ‘I guess I should have made myself clearer. I didn’t bring you here to have sex, or so you could get me off under the table. I just want to spend time with you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Is that okay?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said faintly. ‘Whatever you want.’ But she wasn’t sure that it was okay. She almost wished he would make her get on her knees and suck him off under the table. It would be easier if they didn’t blur the lines, if he just treated her like his sex toy, bought and paid for to cater to his every demand. The nicer he was to her, the harder it was going to be not to fall for him.

  ‘Are you sure? I like you, Lisa. I’d like to spend time with you, not just in bed – though obviously I want that too.’

  ‘But ... you’re paying me.’

  ‘Yes, I’m paying you.’

  ‘Just to have lunch with me?’

  ‘Just for the pleasure of your company.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Would you be here if I wasn’t paying you?’ he asked, his eyes telling her he knew the answer.

  ‘No,’ she admitted, looking away.

  ‘I’d like to get to know you better, Lisa. I’m paying you for your time. Does it matter how I choose to use it?’

  ‘No, I guess not,’ she said, fighting the warm feeling it gave her that he wanted to get to know her as a person, that he had said he liked her. ‘It’s your dime,’ she added, mentioning the money to remind him of the nature of their arrangement. They may like each other, but this wasn’t a date. It wouldn’t lead anywhere. They would never have a relationship. She was on a job. Whether they were having sex or just talking, it was still just a business transaction between them.

  ‘Understood,’ he said with a sad smile, and Lisa felt a pang. She got the impression she’d hurt his feelings. ‘I just want you to relax and enjoy lunch.’

  ‘Okay,’ Lisa said, picking up her fork again, her appetite returning as her tension melted away. ‘I can do that.’

  It didn’t have to mean anything, she told herself. As long as they both understood it was nothing more than a business arrangement, they could enjoy each other’s company in or out of bed. She would be like Vivian in Pretty Woman. After all, she had been a hooker, but Richard Gere’s character had paid her to spend time with him in other ways besides having sex. She tried to silence the little voice inside her head that reminded her that story had ended with them falling in love.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  When she arrived at Grayson’s that evening, he took her straight into the library. A blanket was spread in front of the fireplace, where a blazing fire roared, throwing cheery warmth into the room.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked her.

  ‘You took me out for lunch,’ she reminded him. ‘I didn’t expect you to cook for me tonight as well.’

  ‘It was just prawn salad. And you hardly ate a thing.’ He led her over to the blanket. ‘Anyway, I haven’t cooked – just bought a bunch of stuff from the deli. I thought we could eat in here picnic-style, and have a game of chess.’

  Lisa eyed the blanket warily. On it was a bottle of wine and two glasses, and an assortment of cheeses and bread, pâtés and chutneys, and little savoury tarts. It looked delicious. Beside it, the chess board was already laid out on the little table between the two deep armchairs. It seemed like such a lovely, sweet gesture, so thoughtful and ... romantic, she thought, alarm bells going off in her head. It was the sort of thing a man might plan for an evening with his girlfriend – not a woman who was charging by the hour.

  ‘Lisa? Is something wrong?’ She looked up to find him frowning at her in concern.

  She took a deep breath. She needed to put a stop to this now. ‘This all looks lovely,’ she said, nodding to the blanket. ‘But I’m not here to play chess and have picnics, and we both know it.’ Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt and she smiled up at him flirtatiously. ‘I’m on the clock here, Grayson. Why don’t we just get on with it?’

  He grabbed her hand, stilling it as she started opening the buttons of his shirt. ‘I thought we agreed that I could use your time however I wa
nt as long as I’m paying?’

  She sighed. ‘But we both know what this is, Grayson. You don’t have to dress it up. I won’t think any less of you, I promise,’ she said dryly.

  He frowned, pushing her hand away. ‘Did you think I’d just take you straight to the bedroom to fuck? Or order you to strip and get on your knees for me the minute you came through the door? Did you expect me to push you around and treat you like trash?’

  She bit her lip. Honestly, when she had started this, that was exactly what she had expected. And it would have been easier if he had just used her like a whore and shown her the door when he was done with her. She wouldn’t have to think of him as a person then – a person who was kind and considerate, who treated her with respect ... a person she liked more and more as she got to know him. That was the problem. It would make things so much easier for her if she could despise him – if he was just another callous, manipulative asshole who she could leave behind along with Mark when this was all over.

  ‘You’d be entitled,’ she said in a small voice. ‘It’s what you’re paying me for.’

  He shook his head. ‘You said I could do whatever I want, remember?’

  ‘That was when I thought you might want to be rough.’

  Grayson let out a harsh breath. His expression was horrified. ‘So it’s okay for me to hurt you, but not to cook for you or play chess with you?’

  ‘It’s very nice, Grayson,’ she said reasonably, nodding to the blanket. ‘I appreciate it, really I do. But we both know that’s not what I’m here for. We’re not lovers, except in the most basic sense. I’m not your girlfriend. You can buy my body, but you can’t buy me.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘I’m here to fuck, pure and simple. I mean, you don’t really want to play chess and have picnics with me, do you?’

  ‘What if I do?’

  ‘It’s not what I agreed to.’

  ‘Do you want me to pay you more?’ he asked, frowning.

  ‘No. You’re already paying me far more than I’m worth.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, looking down at her in concern. ‘And yes, I want to have sex with you. But I also want to do this,’ he nodded to the blanket. ‘Okay?’

  She sighed, giving in. ‘It’s your money,’ she said with a shrug. She kicked off her shoes and let him pull her down on the blanket beside him. As he poured them both wine, she wished she could relax and enjoy this. It had all the ingredients of a perfect evening. She liked Grayson’s company, she enjoyed playing chess with him, and the food all looked delicious. Mark was far away on the other side of the world, and she should be able to make the most of the opportunity to spend an evening in the company of a nice man, who seemed intent on pleasing her. But she felt tense and off-balance, wary of the growing attachment she felt to Grayson. She had to be on her guard against it. She couldn’t give in to it and let it weaken her resolve.

  Grayson handed her a glass of wine and a plate. ‘Help yourself,’ he said, gesturing at the food spread out on the blanket.

  It all looked so tempting – doubly so because just about everything here was on Mark’s forbidden list. But she felt too tense to eat. She took a small piece of cheese and nibbled at it, struggling to swallow past the lump in her throat. She felt Grayson’s eyes on her and looked up to find him frowning at her in concern.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Is this making you uncomfortable?

  ‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘It’s lovely. It was just ... unexpected.’

  ‘Don’t you like the food?’

  ‘Yes, it all looks wonderful. I just ... I guess I’m not very hungry.’

  He looked down, thoughtfully watching his thumb as it played with the stem of his glass. She almost felt him steeling himself to say something. ‘Would this be easier for you if I treated you like a whore?’ he asked finally, looking up at her.

  Christ, he was so intuitive! It was as if he could read her mind. She tried to gauge his expression, considering how she should answer. His gaze was tinged with sadness, but open and direct, and she could tell he really wanted to know.

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I think it would.’

  His eyes flickered away, and now he was the one to look uncomfortable. Then he nodded, as if to himself and put down his glass. ‘Okay, we can–‘

  ‘But I’m really glad you don’t,’ she interrupted hastily, and she was rewarded with a gentle, relieved smile.

  She suddenly knew she didn’t want that from him. However difficult this was for her, she didn’t want him to compromise himself for her sake. He was courteous and kind, and he shouldn’t be punished for being a good person. She knew he would hate himself if he were to treat her badly.

  ‘I’m sorry, you just took me by surprise, that’s all,’ she smiled, eager to reassure him, and to show her appreciation for his thoughtfulness. ‘This all looks wonderful.’ She helped herself to a mini quiche with salmon and asparagus. She felt her tension seep away as Grayson smiled at her, his body relaxing. She took a big bite, all thoughts of Mark and calorie counting forgotten as she focused on making up to Grayson for her earlier ingratitude. The pastry burst on her tongue in rich, buttery flakes, and it tasted divine.

  ‘Oh, my God, this is amazing!’ she said when she had swallowed.

  Grayson gave her a huge grin, and she was relieved that he appeared totally relaxed again. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman enjoy food as much as you,’ he said. ‘I wish I knew where you put it all.’

  He wasn’t to know that eating with such abandonment was a rarity for her. She hadn’t indulged her appetite like this in years. The thought made her sad. Her grandmother had always considered a hearty appetite a very good thing. She had loved cooking for Lisa and her grandfather, and their enthusiastic enjoyment of her food had given her great satisfaction. She’d hate it if she knew how Lisa restricted herself now. It would make her very happy to see Grayson providing all this delicious food for her. Lisa could hear her pronouncing him a ‘mensch’ – her highest compliment.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Grayson broke into her thoughts. He was watching her curiously, his head tilted to one side.

  ‘Nothing.’ She shook her head. ‘I was just thinking my grandmother would have approved of you.’

  Grayson raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  ‘Oh, not the whole paying me for sex thing, obviously,’ Lisa said, blushing. ‘But she’d like you for feeding me like this.’ She took a sip of her wine to cover her embarrassment.

  Grayson smiled gently at her.

  ‘This wine is lovely,’ she said, raising her glass. Then she remembered the first night they had met, and laughed. ‘If Mark could hear me, he’d be appalled,’ she said. ‘It’s probably some fine vintage, and I should be swirling it around my glass and saying something clever about its bouquet.’

  ‘Well, it is rather good,’ Grayson said with a smile. ‘But don’t worry, there won’t be a test. All that matters is that you enjoy it.’

  After that, the atmosphere changed and they were completely relaxed with each other, chatting easily as they ate. Lisa decided to let go and enjoy indulging in the rare treats of rich, tasty food and the luxury of being spoilt. She found herself opening up to Grayson as he drew her out about her upbringing with her grandparents, her art, and her college years. He listened attentively as she talked, and in turn he told her stories about his family. He spoke of them with such affection; it was obvious they were close.

  ‘You’re so lucky to have sisters,’ Lisa said wistfully. ‘I’d love to have had a sister – or even a brother,’ she conceded teasingly.

  ‘I know. I do appreciate it. It must be hard not having any family.’

  ‘Yeah, it can be pretty lonely. I miss my grandparents so much. I miss having that closeness, you know – the acceptance, the unconditional love. You only really get that with family. And sometimes I think the loneliness led me to make some bad ch
oices.’ Oh God, she shouldn’t have said that. She was revealing too much. The wine had loosened her tongue, and Grayson’s gentle coaxing had broken through her defences. The trouble was he made her feel safe, and then she lowered her guard and said things she shouldn’t.

  Grayson was looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say more.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, shaking her head as if to clear it. ‘I’m talking too much.’

  ‘No, you’re not. I like listening to you talk.’

  ‘Well, I like listening to you. Tell me more about yourself. Have you ever been married?’

  He was silent for a long time, just looking at her carefully, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to let her switch the focus to him. Finally he answered. ‘No.’

  ‘Ever come close?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I’ve had a couple of long-term relationships, but no one I’ve felt I wanted to make a lifetime commitment to.’ He was silent for a moment. Then he said ‘What about you? Will you marry Mark?’

  ‘He hasn’t asked me,’ she said, glancing away, aware that she wasn’t answering his question. She thought about what she had said earlier. Her grandmother wouldn’t have approved of Mark – not one bit. She couldn’t help thinking she would have seen through him from the start. How different things might have been then ...

  ‘Tell me more about your family,’ she said, anxious to shake off her dark thoughts.

  He seemed to pick up on her discomfort because he quickly obliged, making her laugh with stories about his three older sisters, who he complained bossed him around terribly, but who he clearly adored. She relaxed again as she listened, warmed by the heat of the fire, and drunk on the sensual pleasures of good food and wine, and the attention of the beautiful man opposite her.