Callboys

by SororityProblem

  “That’s my mom- play it cool,” Marissa whispers, and Nate squints.

  “Why?”

  “Because she makes Kanye West look humble and unassuming.”

  Nate flashes another radiant, golden smile, and Marissa makes the unsettling realization that she would do almost anything to see that smile again.

  “Mother,” she says as her mom arrives in front of them. Ugh- this was her first date with Nate, if she could even call it that, and he was already having to deal with her mother’s disapproving gaze.

  “Hello, I’m Elizabeth Richmond, Marissa’s mother,” she says to Nate, ignoring Marissa’s greeting. “And who might you be?”

  Nate shakes her hand, and for some reason she looks pleased with what she sees. “Nate Henry. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Richmond.”

  “All mine,” she smiles. “You certainly look very dapper this evening.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She turns to Marissa. “And darling, you look so…youthful.”

  “Thank you, Mother. And you look so…well-rested.”

  “Thank you, sugar puff.” She turns to Nate again. “Nate, are you of the Henrys who live in that big colonial house on the historical register in Brookhaven?”

  As Nate blushes, Marissa cringes. Why does Mother have to be such a snobby little bitch all the time?

  “No, ma’am,” Nate smiles. “I actually come from the Henrys of the two-bedroom townhouse at the end of the cul-de-sac in the fine city of Stone Mountain, Georgia, also known as one of the crime capitals of the south.”

  “A sense of humor,” Elizabeth laughs as she pats Nate on the shoulder with a little too much familiarity. “I like that. So where did you two lovebirds meet?”

  Marissa’s stomach falls out of her but, but Nate just smiles again, his eyes sparkling.

  “It’s a funny thing, getting into a fender bender,” he says. “Even if there’s no damage, you still have to exchange information with the other drive in case anything comes up in the future. But I guess I have to admit that what I really wanted to ‘come up’ was a date.”

  Elizabeth, her smile wider than the Grand Canyon, looks from Nate back to Marissa. “Marissa, you didn’t tell me about any wrecks, or any hot boys involved in any wrecks.”

  Marissa opens her mouth to tell her to shut up, but Nate speaks up before she can make a move.

  “Oh, well, like I said, it wasn’t bad,” he says. “On the contrary, it was my lucky day. There I was, pulling out of some gas station onto Peachtree too fast like an idiot, and Marissa- you know how she is, always distracted- bumps right into my rear fender. She said she was playing with her radio, but I think we all know she was probably texting. I’m fine with it, though, because if she hadn’t been so scatterbrained I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to meet her.”

  “That is like Marissa,” Elizabeth laughs. “I can’t get her to put that damn thing down for two seconds at home. I must say, though, I’m relieved you two didn’t meet on one of those creepy dating apps or something. You never know who you’re going to meet on those things, that’s what I always say.”

  “I completely agree,” Nate says as he nudges Marissa in the leg, who can barely contain her horror. Elizabeth turns her gaze to her daughter.

  “Anyway, are you having fun celebrating the inheritance tonight?”

  Marissa flashes an oh-come-on look. “Mom, I’m not really spreading around the news that I got that, um, bracelet from Dad’s will,” she says, not wanting to brag and sound like some spoiled brat. “And nobody else will be talking about my bracelet, either, please.”

  Elizabeth throws Nate a crestfallen frown. “Fine, fine, I just thought you’d want to…never mind. Have fun, kids.”

  “Mrs. Richmond,” Nate says as Marissa signals for him to follow her, “it was wonderful meeting you, and I hope to see you around.”

  “Me too,” she says. “You have no idea how much I wish to see you around, actually.”

  Marissa finally leads Nate away, wondering silently if there was any jury on Earth that would convict her for what she wanted to do to her mother. They stop by the bar to refresh their drinks once more, and Marissa immediately launches into something between an apology and a tirade.

  “God, I’m so sorry you had to meet her. My mom is so annoying, and pushy, and demanding, and-”

  Nate reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of Marissa’s face. “Marissa, it’s fine. She was fine. Really. And even if she wasn’t, I’m still on your side.”

  On my side, she thinks as she closes her eyes and melts against the bar. I have someone on my side.

  All at once Marissa is hit by the realization that this was dangerous. Really dangerous. Like, raging-fire-in-a-nursing-home dangerous. Not only because her mom was going to call first thing in the morning and ask for a plethora of details about the male prostitute Marissa was supposed to be dating, but because he was perfect. Too perfect. More perfect than any guy she had ever been with, or even could get with, had money not been involved. She’d been so wrapped up in the guilt of downloading ManCard that she had never even stopped to think about what would happen when she actually went through with it. Was she going to latch on? Was she going to fall for this funny, charming, sexy creature in front of her, and be dumped on her ass just like last time? She knew that feeling all too well, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to survive it again. It could kill her.

  But still, she didn’t want him to leave just yet. Because Marissa hadn’t been living before. She had been existing; everything grey and muted and familiar. But around Nate, she felt vibrant and alive and whole, like she had someone on her team- even if he was being paid to be there.

  She takes a swig of champagne and decides she doesn’t care. She would cross each bridge as it came. But right now she had one very important thing to do. She was going to dive headfirst into this and sort out the messy details later.

  The DJ on the pathetic dance floor populated by a bunch of white women Marissa’s mom’s age trying to pick up young waiters and bartenders with their sad dance moves starts playing Drunk in Love, and Beyoncé’s sultry voice rides the thumping beat like a cobra slithering up a sand dune. “Surfbort,” she says, and Nate looks over at Marissa with smoky eyes.

  “Your ears are pink,” he suddenly says as he stares at her, looking somewhere between aroused and angry.

  “Okay?” she says. “It happens when I drink. Is that bad?”

  His eyes flash, and it’s like he becomes a different person in an instant. The perfectly mannered prep school boy who had just charmed her mother was now a snarling bad boy, and the change confuses Marissa as much as it dazzles her. He leans into her ear, his voice a low growl.

  “Yes, because I wanted to be the thing to make your skin turn pink tonight, and I’m jealous.”

  Whoa. She grabs the top of a nearby chair to keep from falling over as she nearly convulses, officially drunk in love- or at least drunk in lust. A ball of something hot and thrilling forms deep in her core, transforming bravado into bravery.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” she says, pulling Nate to her side, giving his wrist a little squeeze. For all anyone knew, they were two kindred souls out for a night of fun, not two criminals exchanging sex for money.

  “Why now?” he asks. “The dinner’s starting soon.”

  Marissa flashes a devious smile, and her hands meet Nate’s crotch for a moment before skipping away.

  “Because I’m not hungry, and more importantly, I’ve got some Beyoncé-inspired sex terms to figure out.”

  XIII

  Skin and Flames

  They stumble to the elevators, being as touchy-feely and giggly as any normal couple. When the elevator comes they fall into it, laughing and groping, Marissa breathing in Nate’s clean, crisp scent all the while. She still couldn’t believe she had actually used ManCard. The sublime sinfulness of it just made it all even hotter, to be honest, and made her feel things in her lower abdomen that she had liter
ally never felt before.

  God, she thinks as she looks over at Nate, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. I’m turning into some kind of sex freak. Calm down.

  She takes her hands off him, takes a breath, and tries to chill. But there was a problem: she had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. She was completely confused by how good he was at being both good and bad. A violent embrace had become chilly, polite silence ten seconds later. Just what was going on inside this boy’s head?

  ~

  Nate had never been anywhere like this. The sights, smells, and tastes were all alien to him. It was all golden and shimmering and sparkling, with the jewelry and the champagne and the gilded walls, and instead of drinking PBR in a dingy bar he was shipping champagne with CEOs and stockbrokers. He tried to act natural but mostly he had just spent all his time wondering if he was walking correctly, talking correctly, holding Marissa’s arm the right way. Sure, he’d get swamped by an overwhelming wave of sadness whenever he thought about Addie, but he’d told himself to ignore it and focus on the situation at hand. And there was something else he couldn’t push down…

  The sickly feeling he got whenever he reminded himself of why he was there in the first place.

  The worst thing was, he liked Marissa. She looked so much like Courtney that he’d been completely taken aback when she’d first opened the hotel room door. And that wasn’t the only thing making him act so forward with her. She was funny and beautiful and unique and elegant and just a little bit nerdy, just like him. She was the first girl to meet the impossibly high standards he’d subconsciously set for himself to keep people at a distance after Courtney had walked away, and it scared him how much more he could like her down the road, if he let himself. Because Marissa already felt like home. After years of wading in quicksand, all at once it felt like he was standing on terra firma. She was the answer he’d been wanting to the question he’d been too afraid to ask.

  He wanted to know if Marissa noticed it or not; the way every little thing she did affected him. He found himself analyzing her every movement, wondering why she’d done this, or what had made her move her arm like that. Surely if she knew of the hold she had on him already, she’d think he was some kind of psycho. So he said nothing. And besides, he knew his place. He was here to perform a service, and that was it. No matter what he felt about her, he had one job to do.

  And he was going to do it well.

  The elevator deposits them onto the penthouse floor and Marissa follows Nate down the hall to the room, the air tingling with electric anticipation all the while. After she fumbles with the key and opens the door, their arms brush together, sending another bolt up her already-charged skin.

  “Listen, I know you think this is weird,” she says as they sink back down onto the living room couch again, safe and alone in their suite. Before they moved forward she wanted to explain a few things, and she figured now was as good as any time.

  “What’s weird?” he asks.

  “The fact that I had to…resort to this. You must think I have something wrong with me or something, since I can’t find a guy and all.”

  “No I don’t.”

  “You don’t? Why not?”

  “We all have things that make us keep ourselves away from other people,” he says as he gazes off at nothing. “We all have reasons we close ourselves off. Trust me, I know all about that.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” Marissa suddenly blurts out of nowhere.

  “If I did,” he laughs, “I certainly wouldn’t be here.”

  “How are you single, then?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means exactly how it sounds. How are you single?”

  “Nobody’s ever asked me that. How are you?”

  “Well, I…I mean, I…”

  “Exactly,” he says. “I guess I’ve just been in survival mode for a long time. Putting one foot in front of the other. Girls and dating and all that stuff just haven’t even been on my radar.”

  He laughs at something.

  “What’s funny?” Marissa asks.

  “Nothing, it’s just…if you count this as a date, then this is the first ‘date’ I’ve been on since last year.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she says. “It’s December.”

  “Dead serious. Trust me, I wish I wasn’t.”

  “Then how are you so…skilled, like the app described you as?”

  “Oh,” he says darkly. “Let’s just say that dates and sex don’t always have to keep the same company. There are a lot of things in my life I can’t control, things that depend on other people who are sort of…unreliable. But when I’m…doing that, in that zone, I am in complete control of the situation, and I like that.”

  She turns away. “Hmm. I think I get it now.”

  “And I guess it’s also deeper than that,” he continues. “You know how some painters say they can paint for hours at a time, but it only seems like five minutes to them because they were so deep in the zone? Or how some dancers get this look on their face while they’re performing like nothing else in the world exists and it’s only them and the floor? That’s what happens to me during sex. It’s like an art, this holy sacrament or something, and I can’t get enough, as weird as that sounds.”

  “So that’s what made you start doing this for work, then?”

  He blushes, but his eyes look sad. “No. I don’t know. Like I said before, it was family stuff, mostly. It’s nothing for you to worry about. What about you? What’s your story?”

  “I don’t know. Nobody’s ever asked me that.”

  “Well what made you pick me?”

  She takes a sip of her champagne. “Your picture.”

  He scoots closer. “You liked it that much, huh?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then you’d like it if I did…this?”

  Marissa’s breath hitches in her throat as Nate places a large hand on her thigh and starts creeping up her leg, tracing circles on her silky skin.

  “Mhmm,” she nods.

  “Or this?”

  He grabs her upper thigh hard, wraps his other arm around her neck, and pulls her in for a kiss. But not any kiss- it’s the single best kiss she’s ever had. It’s like their tongues were made for each other.

  “Let’s slow down,” he says just as Marissa starts to fall over the edge.

  “Um, we don’t have to!” she cries as she falls back against the couch.

  “We have all night. I’m in no rush, are you?”

  She glances at his hulking biceps. “I mean, kind of…never mind. God, I’m so bad at this.”

  “At what?”

  She motions at the empty space between them. “This.”

  “What do you mean? You seem fine talking to me right now.”

  “The alcohol helps, to be honest. And I’m also not that great looking, so that’s not exactly an asset.”

  “Then I was wrong about you,” he says, shaking his head.

  “About me being pretty?”

  “No, about you being smart.”

  He scowls, and she looks away.

  “But really,” he says, softer, “you don’t have to do this. You could be out picking up any guy you wanted.”

  “No, you don’t get it,” she says. “I’ve always been so busy that I told myself ‘don’t worry, this isn’t your time to date right now, the right guy will come along.’ But he didn’t, and now I’m beginning to think it’s too late.”

  “It’s not too late. Get yourself out there. Find someone who treats you right.”

  “I wish it was that easy,” she laughs.

  “Can I help you, then?” Nate asks. He could see that she was genuinely bothered by her perceived awkwardness, and he felt for her and wanted to fix it.

  “Help me what?”

  “Learn how to talk to guys so you won’t have to use any apps anymore. Getting some perspective straight from the source can’t hurt, right?”

  “Um, sure.”

>   “Okay,” he breathes with an endearing nervousness. “The next time you see a guy you like, tell him you like his shirt.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. It’s not too forward, but it’s still a little aggressive. Girls say weird stuff to me all the time and it just turns me off. And other girls just stare, and I can tell they want to talk, but they’re afraid. But ‘I like your shirt’ is perfect. It opens up the opportunity for a conversation, but the conversation doesn’t have to be weird- it can go either way. Now practice.”

  “Um, hey,” she says awkwardly. “I like your shirt.”

  “Thanks,” he smiles. “Got it on sale. Your dress isn’t too bad, either.”

  “Thanks,” she says.

  “What color would you describe it as, anyway? I’m gonna say eggplant.”

  “Hmm, I’d say more of a merlot, but that’s just me.”

  “See?” he laughs. “You’re set for the night. Since you started the conversation, you have all the power, and you’re free to end it and walk away whenever you want. But if you like the dude, you can order another drink and keep going.”

  “What would I talk about?”

  “Whatever,” he shrugs. “The weather. Your favorite football team, if you have one. But actually, there a few things not to talk about. Care to hear?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, first of all, never mention an ex-boyfriend. The last thing I want to do is get roped into some two-hour speech about how your ex is the biggest asshole in the world. To be honest, nobody cares. And stay away from talking about your problems with your girlfriends, too. Chicks have a tendency to go on and on about their latest fight with their friend over clothes or boys or whatnot, and that’s a great way to bore the guy to death and make him slip away the first chance he gets.”

  Marissa sits taller and smiles. “Well, Nate, I like your shirt, and I like the Falcons, and I am definitely not having any boy troubles and/or girlfriend drama.” She blinks. “How did I do?”

  Nate smiles wickedly. “And you claimed you couldn’t make a guy want you,” he says as he leans in and kisses her on the forehead, his minty breath making goose bumps erupt all over her body. Was that a real kiss, or was he still playing the part of the random guy in the bar? Or was it a ManCard kiss, something written into his contract that he had to do?