YOURS TRULY

by Bella Grant

  I glanced through the peephole and opened the door with a sigh. “Hello, Mr. Jacobson. How are you?”

  “Fine,” he mumbled, as he always did when he spoke. “Want me to look at your water heater?”

  I stared at him, frowning. “It’s kind of late. I just got home.” I was grateful I hadn’t stripped out of my scrubs and wandered around naked, my usual pattern.

  “You’re home, and I have time,” he shrugged, his voice low. “You said you didn’t want me to come when you weren’t home.”

  “That’s correct,” I grumbled unhappily. I stepped back and let him in, leaving the door open because I didn’t want to be alone with him. I reached down and scooped up Snickers so he wouldn’t take off out the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  He lifted a hand as he shuffled down the hall to the bathroom. From there, he called, “The water’s on.”

  I rolled my eyes and joined him after putting Snickers in my bedroom and shutting the door. “You can turn it off or whatever. I was about to take a shower.”

  “How long has it been on?”

  After a glance at my watch, I said, “I don’t know, two or three minutes. Like I said, I have to leave it on for several minutes before it’s hot.”

  He nodded. “I won’t be long.”

  He opened the door of the closet that held the water heater and began tinkering. I watched him for a few seconds, wondering if he would go through my things if I left him alone. Probably not, but I didn’t like the idea of leaving him so close to my bedroom. I hurried back to the kitchen and grabbed my water, then walked to my room so I could hear him messing around. Snickers jumped up on the bed and insisted I pet him as I unlocked my phone and started playing solitaire, wasting time while Mr. Jacobson finished. As long as I had a hand on Snickers, tickling his fur, he didn’t try to leave the bedroom, so I left the door open.

  The man made me uncomfortable, so I couldn’t concentrate on the game and made stupid mistakes. In the ten minutes I played while waiting for him, I’d only won three times. I was too busy listening for drawers being opened or footsteps headed my way. A thought struck me. If he wandered down the short hall in this direction, I’d be trapped in my bedroom with him between me and the front door. Panic trickled through my brain, and I jumped up from the bed, afraid if he found me on it, he’d hurt me.

  I grabbed the closest thing I had to a weapon, a heavy, metal flashlight that could be used as a blunt object should I need one. As I walked by the water heater closet, I got a good look at his butt crack, something I could have lived my whole life without. But the sight eased my fear, for which I was grateful. A panic attack over the super in my apartment building was a stupid waste of energy.

  “Almost done?” I asked, hearing my voice shake and pissed about it.

  He banged his head, startled, and cursed. “Damn! Um, yeah, a couple more minutes.”

  “Sorry.” I hurried back to the kitchen—where the knives were stored—just in case. I rolled my eyes at myself, at my useless fear, and forced myself to sit at the table and wait. My leg bounced under the table, and my fingers tapped on the table hard enough to jiggle the salt and pepper shakers. I needed him to leave. Fuck the hot water. I couldn’t calm down, couldn’t beat away the irrational fear. I rose and began pacing in the tiny kitchen, my hands drumming my thighs in nervousness. I stopped at the fridge and stared at the old pictures of my parents I’d managed to hang onto and felt calmer.

  When I turned to the door, he stood near the wall, watching me. He realized I had turned and jerked his eyes up to mine. “I finished. You should have hot water quicker now.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I responded. He stood there, staring at me, until I gestured to the open front door. “I appreciate your time.” My voice showed my fear, and I’d bet a million dollars I had paled.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  He headed for the front door and left without another word, and I rushed to lock it behind him, turning the bolt and setting the chain. I didn’t want him to come back.

  I walked to the bathroom and was reaching for the shower to turn it on when my phone dinged in the bedroom. With a sigh, I wondered if I should maybe forego the shower tonight since the interruptions seemed endless. I grabbed my phone and checked the number, but I didn’t have it saved in my phone nor did I recognize it. Frowning, I unlocked my phone to read the message.

  UNKNOWN: Hi, Randi. I know this is terribly forward, but I would really like to take you out to dinner.

  I frowned at the message. I didn’t know who it was and debated deleting it without answering. I didn’t date and hadn’t dated since high school. Being alone with men made me uncomfortable, which was so ironic considering my job. But I was never alone with men while at work, even during a lap dance. People were always around us. On a date, I would have to be alone with a man at some point throughout the evening. The idea made me tremble.

  I read the harmless message two more times. I had to stop this ridiculous behavior. Nothing would happen to me if I was careful about who I chose to go on dates with. I forced myself to reply, my fingers shaking as I did.

  RANDI: Who is this? I don’t have your number in my phone.

  I released the breath I’d been holding and waited for the reply. While I waited, I began undressing, tossing my clothes in the hamper as I did so. My phone dinged before I had completed my stripping.

  UNKNOWN: Eliot Messer. We met at Burlesque last week.

  My eyes widened. The lap dance guy who had left suddenly—and who had been on my mind off and on all weekend, though today I’d managed to forget about him. His kiss had been unexpected and surprisingly memorable. However, the fact that he had my number bothered me. I saved his number and replied.

  RANDI: How did you get my number?

  ELIOT: May I call you?

  He wanted to actually speak to me. I felt my face tighten at the idea. The man could be a member of the club. He’d come as Art’s guest, but he may have decided to become a member. But that didn’t matter yet. First, I had to decide if I wanted to talk to him. My curiosity won over the stress, and I texted that he could call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Randi,” Eliot said, and his voice shot sparks down my spine.

  “Hi, Eliot. How did you get my number?” However he got it, he had invaded my privacy, and I wanted to know where he got it.

  “I have my sources,” he said playfully.

  “You invaded my privacy,” I informed him.

  A silence. “I guess I did,” he admitted, “but I did it so I could thank you. And, hopefully, treat you to dinner.”

  “Thank me?” I asked, baffled.

  “Yes. This is going to sound insane, but you distracted my brain long enough for it to calculate the formula I needed to complete my work. I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said. Then he chuckled. “Well, I could have, just not as quickly.”

  “Um, okay,” I replied, confused. “You’re welcome, I guess.”

  “So how about that dinner?”

  I didn’t know how to respond. I knew nothing about him, had spent a grand total of ten minutes with him, and I’d been half naked the whole time. Many men who patronized the club asked me on dates or offered me money for favors. I always said no because those men were interested in nothing but my body. This man seemed different, had seemed different even when I’d been in nothing but a G-string. Sure, he’d looked at my body, but he’d also looked at my eyes when we chatted.

  “Are you a member at Burlesque?” I asked hesitantly.

  “No. I was with Art, remember?” he answered.

  I could hear the smile in his voice, and I wanted to see it again. “I remember, I just wasn’t sure. Are you going to become a member of the club?”

  “No.”

  I sighed and explained. “Okay. We aren’t allowed to date members.”

  “That makes sense,” Eliot replied. “So, since I’m not a member, how about dinner?”

  I smiled. “You’re kinda pushy
.”

  He chuckled, and a warm sensation filled my body. “I can be. I’d like to have a real conversation with you.”

  “While I’m dressed?”

  “Yes, while you’re dressed.” He cleared his throat. “You’re kinda suspicious.”

  For the first time during the conversation, I relaxed and let out a little laugh. “Yes, I guess I am. You know how men can be.”

  “Scamps, all of us.”

  “Accurate,” I said with a smile.

  “You’re smiling,” he announced. “I can hear it in your voice.”

  My smile brightened. I liked him, and I wanted to see him and listen to his voice. “I am smiling. You’re very charming. As well as a scamp.”

  “I call it being versatile,” he told me.

  “Nice.”

  “What night can I take you to dinner?” he pushed.

  “Um, I’m free tomorrow or Wednesday,” I told him, mentally clicking through the days of the week. I’d answered without much thought—quickly, as if my brain wasn’t completely in control of my decision-making.

  “How about tomorrow at eight?”

  “Can we do seven? I have an early class on Wednesday,” I explained.

  “Class? For what?”

  “I’m in nursing school. Can’t be a stripper forever.” I laughed.

  “A nurse. That’s hotter than a stripper,” he complimented.

  “Wow, scamp, you’re good with the compliments.”

  “Wait ‘til I get going,” he promised. “What school do you go to?”

  “Emory University.”

  “Great school,” he said. “I’ve lectured there a time or two.”

  “Oh really? What about?”

  He hesitated. “How about we save our conversation for tomorrow? I really want to get to know you, but not over the phone.”

  “I like that idea, Eliot.”

  “Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at precisely seven.”

  “Precisely?”

  “I’m a scientist. Everything is always precise in my world.”

  “I’ll have to teach you how to relax,” I told him. The smile had not left my face.

  “I could use a lesson,” he replied, a sexy note in his voice. “I’m excited to see you, Randi.”

  The way he said my name was incredibly arousing, which shocked the hell out of me. “Me too.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  He ended the call, and I let myself fall back on the bed where I had sat while talking to him. My stomach was jittery, and the date was almost twenty-four hours away. I put my hand over my belly to calm it and realized my cheeks hurt from smiling. I jumped up and squealed, scaring Snickers in the process.

  “Sorry, Snickers. I’m just excited.” He forgave me by allowing me to scratch his ears. I sighed and walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

  “Good morning, Randi,” my instructor called in her high-pitched voice as I walked into class the next day.

  “Good morning, Dr. Chandler,” I said with a brighter than normal smile. “I’m ready for that test. Let’s do this.”

  She chuckled at my deadpan tone and fake smile. “I can tell you’re excited.”

  “So excited I was up two hours early to get ready.” She laughed again and shooed me to my seat. I was so grateful that my professors were easy-going and fun people who could take teasing rather than stoic, dusty old men who cared only for academics, not real life. I plopped down in my seat and pulled out my laptop for a few minutes of last-minute studying. Lost in the fascinating world of nutrition, I didn’t hear Dr. Chandler say my name until my neighbor bumped me with her elbow and gestured to the front.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said quickly, rising and walking to the front.

  She smiled at me and handed me a note. “Apparently, you have a delivery in the office downstairs.”

  “A delivery?” I took the note and read it, frowning. The note was written in a lovely script and asked that I stop by after class.

  Dr. Chandler picked up a stack of papers, one of the few tests we had to take in class rather than online. “I’d bet it’s flowers from your boyfriend.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I told her, my frown deepening.

  She giggled like a schoolgirl, which was so out of place for a woman in her early sixties. “Someone has a secret admirer. How romantic.”

  I laughed uncomfortably and returned to my seat as she announced for us to leave our laptops open so we could submit our answers online. I reached into my bag to make sure I’d turned the sound off on my phone and saw a text from Eliot. I nodded as realization sank in. The flowers were from him.

  ELIOT: Good morning. Can’t wait for tonight.

  RANDI: Good morning. Same here.

  I chose not to thank him for the flowers yet since I hadn’t seen them. His text made me smile, though, and I really couldn’t wait to see him. I had to put him aside for a bit so I could concentrate on my test, but my mind kept wandering as I worked on my open-ended questions about nutrition. I had to delete answers more than once, grumbled at myself internally, and forced myself to focus on the task at hand before I blew my 4.0 GPA over a man I barely knew.

  After submitting what I hoped was an A but was probably a B, I hurried to the office before my next class to gather my delivery. The woman at the front office gestured to a small box that couldn’t possibly contain flowers. My curiosity intrigued, I asked for a pair of scissors so I could open it. I pulled the tape off and opened the box. Sitting inside was a toy airplane and a menu for a restaurant in Miami. I turned the menu over, looking for a note, but found nothing.

  I thanked the receptionist, who had watched me open it and wanted to ask what it was, but she said ‘you’re welcome’ and nothing else. Her imagination would run wild the rest of the day, just like mine as I put my bag on the stoop outside the building and fished my phone out. I called Eliot’s number and waited for him to answer.

  “So you got my gift?” he asked without a greeting, his voice welcome in my ears.

  “I did, and I’m very confused. What is this?”

  “It’s a hint about our date tonight. Guess where we’re going.”

  I frowned, and my eyes widened a second later. “Are we flying to Miami to eat at this restaurant?”

  He laughed quietly. “You’re a good guesser.”

  “Well, your hint was a little too obvious.” He chuckled again, and I continued. “I have class in the morning.”

  “I’ll have you back at a reasonable hour, I promise.”

  Slowly, I said, “Okay. I’ll see you at seven.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  I ended the call and looked around to make sure no one was watching me. I performed a little happy dance, my hands clasped in front of me like a teenage girl, and my nerves from the night before were forgotten. The man was going to fly us to Miami for dinner! Just for dinner. Shock reverberated through me, the kind of shock you wanted to feel before going on a date with a guy.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jerked around. Two of my classmates, Bridget and Audrey, were watching me, barely containing their laughter at my expense. “Um, a happy dance?” I grabbed my bag and headed inside with the two of them directly behind me.

  “A happy dance?” Bridget asked, interested. She grabbed my arm and wiggled her eyebrows. “What—or who—has caused the happy dance?”

  “Ugh, you are such a pain in my ass,” I insulted playfully to buy time. Bridget and Audrey were in my study group, but we weren’t close. No one at school knew what I did for a living, and my private life was private. I listened to their gossip but rarely added anything and secretly hoped I wasn’t a regular topic.

  “Oh, come on, Miss Secret. I’m beginning to think you’re a spy or something,” Audrey teased as we wandered down the hallway together.

  “I’ve got a date tonight,” I stated as if it were no big deal.

  “A date?” Bridget squealed as we sat at a table
and began unpacking for the class.

  “Yes, a date,” I repeated nonchalantly.

  “And you’re so excited! That’s so sweet! Where did you meet him?”

  “At work.” I regretted the answer as soon as I said it in case they asked about that, but they were too excited about my date to care about something as dull as my employer.

  “You’ll tell us everything tomorrow, right?” Audrey was nearly leaping out of her seat, and I remembered that at twenty-four, I was older than both of them by at least four years. I hadn’t started college right out of high school like they had. Her enthusiasm was a little over the top, but I smiled and nodded as the professor walked to the front to begin class.

  I rushed home to take a shower, my second of the day. I had no idea what to wear to the restaurant he was taking me to, so I looked it up on the internet. Not too fancy, but the standard little black dress would be perfectly acceptable. Flats rather than heels would also work for the restaurant he’d chosen. Not too fancy.

  I called Rita while I dressed and did my makeup, putting her on speaker phone. “You won’t believe what I’m doing right now,” I said by way of greeting when she answered.

  “Am I supposed to guess?” she asked. After I affirmed, she said, “Hmmm, well, you’re not having sex. Too quiet.”

  I guffawed loudly, scaring Snickers off the counter in the bathroom. He was a skittish cat, annoyingly so. “No, I’m not having sex. Guess again.”

  “I don’t want to. Just tell me,” Rita insisted. I could hear the music behind her. She worked on her choreography on Tuesdays at the club. I usually worked on mine on Wednesdays since the club was only open Thursday through Sunday.

  “I’m getting ready for a date!”

  “You’re lying.” I could hear Rita’s smirk.

  “Nope. He’ll be here at seven,” I informed her gleefully.

  “Is this a real date or a study date with another nurse?” Rita asked suspiciously.

  “Whatever. It’s a real date,” I grumbled at her. “Remember the guy Art brought last week Thursday? He asked me out.”

  “The nerdy-looking guy?” she asked with a giggle. “Long hair, glasses?”