Contractual

by Alice Montalvo-Tribue

  “Something like that. I’d like for you to accompany me, Sage.”

  “Jackson, I don’t know,” I say pushing my plate away. “I don’t think that’s allowed.”

  “You’re an escort, Sage, and that’s precisely what you’ll be doing.”

  Just like that, all the warm gushy feelings I had moments ago have left the building. I hate when he says shit like that, when he finds little ways to remind me of exactly what I am and what my place in his life is. He’ll never see me as more than this, and that’s a sobering fact. This is not a loving relationship, he is not my boyfriend, and I am nothing more than a great lay for him. One that he has to pay for because he doesn’t want to deal with the pressures and responsibilities that come with being in a real relationship. When will you let this sink in, Sage? I ask myself. But I shouldn’t complain. Even this, knowing what we’ll never be, knowing what he thinks when he looks at me, what he sees or more so will never see…even this is better than what I’ve had in the past.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll go with you.”

  “Good.” He smiles, looking pleased with himself. “I’ll have someone here tomorrow afternoon to get your wardrobe settled.”

  “What?”

  “A dress, Sage. You need an evening gown.”

  “I know but—”

  “But what?” he interrupts. “This is a very important event, and I appreciate you coming along with me. It’s only fair that I cover your expenses.”

  I sigh, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. “Is there even a point in arguing with you about this?”

  “Is there ever a point in arguing with me about anything?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll have someone here tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” I give in. He places a hand on my forehead and frowns.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that your fever was back?”

  “Because I didn’t know,” I answer honestly. “I just started feeling sluggish again.”

  “All right. Have you had enough to eat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let’s get some medicine in you and get you back up to bed. And if you argue with me, I swear to God, Sage, you’ll be sorry.”

  “I’m not going to argue,” I tell him, letting the warmth fill me again. I’ll never learn, not where Jackson is concerned. The dreamer in me won’t allow me to let go of the glimmer of hope that maybe he’ll forget how we started and let us transition into something real. That would be hoping for a fairytale, though. That would be me hoping for him to save me, when really I know that isn’t possible.

  Jackson-

  She’s everywhere now. I can’t pinpoint exactly when or how it happened, but Sage has infiltrated my life. She went back home three days ago, and I haven’t seen her since. I told myself that I was too busy to schedule an appointment with her, but I think I was just trying to prove to myself that I didn’t need to. I was trying to reassure myself that I didn’t need to see her and I succeeded. Only thing is that it didn’t help anything because I may not need to see her, but fuck me, I want to. What’s worse is that I’ve actually missed her these last few days. It wasn’t just about the sex—it’s the way she argues with me, how responsive she is, how at times I catch her looking at me like I hung the moon. She was jealous when Cecily stopped by and again when she saw my mother’s name pop on the screen of my phone. I can’t blame her; I didn’t exactly have a rational reaction when I found her and Charlie having a conversation. Whatever lingers in the air between us is mutual, but that still doesn’t make it possible.

  Mac pulls the car up to Sage’s building, having to double park because there’s not one free spot anywhere.

  “I may have to circle the block a few times if the police give me a hard time, sir,” Mac tells me as I’m exiting the car. I make my way to her building, pressing the buzzer to alert her that I’m here. I’d give anything to go upstairs and lose myself in her for hours instead of going to this benefit tonight. These gatherings are always the same—full of the elite, mingling amongst each other, faking smiles and writing huge checks with a ton of insincerity. I suppose it shouldn’t matter; it’s all for a good cause, but it’s honestly not my cup of tea.

  “Come on up,” she calls through the loudspeaker. She didn’t even ask who it was, just buzzed opened the goddamn door as if she was living in suburbia instead of New York. I make a mental note to have a talk with her about this later. When I reach her floor, I notice that her front door sits ajar. It seems I’m going to have to have this conversation with her sooner rather than later.

  I push open the door, letting myself in. Sage is nowhere to be found.

  “I’ll be out in one minute,” she calls from what sounds like the direction of the bathroom.

  “Why was your door wide open?”

  “It wasn’t wide open; I left it unlocked for you.”

  “It was cracked open, Sage. Anyone could have gotten in, and you didn’t even ask who was at the front entrance before buzzing me in.”

  “I knew it was you, Jackson.”

  “This is New York, Sage. You can’t be too careful here.” She doesn’t respond, and I begin to get agitated. “Sage, I’m seri…” The words get stuck in my throat when the bathroom door opens up and out walks a goddess. Jesus, she looks stunning in a strapless floor-length light yellow gown. Her hair pulls back into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, with curls that cascade off to the side, making me want to run my hand through it. Her make-up is flawless, simple yet dramatic, perfect for tonight, and she accents it all with simple gold earrings and a bracelet. She grasps a gold clutch that seems to match the strappy high heels on her feet like a lifeline. I can sense her anxiety, but she has no reason to feel nervous; no one can hold a candle to her tonight, no one can even compare.

  She breaks the spell of the moment by making a lighthearted assessment. “I feel out of place in my own apartment.”

  “You look absolutely beautiful, Sage.”

  “Thank you. Are those for me?” she asks pointing to the small bouquet of yellow roses that I had bought for her because she told me that it as her favorite color. At the time, I hadn’t realized that her dress was yellow, but it seems only fitting that it would be.

  “Yes, of course.” I hand her the bouquet and wait while she puts them in water. Her nerves have yet to subside by the time she comes back to me.

  “This is for you, too.” I reach into my jacket pocket pulling out the small square box. She takes it from me and hesitantly opens it up, the look on her face assures me that I made the right call acquiring these for her.

  “How did you? When did you get these?” She pulls out the small diamond earrings and matching bracelet then looks up at me, clearly fighting back tears. I take the bracelet out of her hands and help her fasten it on her wrist, removing the one given to her by the stylist.

  “After you told me that you sold your jewelry, I decided to track it down for you. I believe I have all of it for you back at my place.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I think that you’ve already lost enough, and I just wanted to give you something back.”

  She leans in and places a kiss on my cheek allowing one stray tear to let loose. I want to reach out and wipe it away but I don’t. “This is unbelievable. I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”

  “No thanks necessary.” She smiles and quickly swaps the earrings she had on for the ones I’ve just given her. I take a step back, allowing her one final look in the small mirror that hangs on her wall.

  “Are you ready?

  “Yes. No. Are you sure you want me to go with you?”

  “Why would you ask me that? I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to come with me.”

  “I won’t fit in.”

  “You’ll fit in just fine,” I say, done with the distance between us. I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her to me as I circle my arms around her waist. “I won’t leave you alone. You’re with me, ok
ay, and I will not let anything happen to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Trust me?” I ask her, not sure why I do. I want her to say yes. I want her to trust me, even though I know I have nothing to offer her. And yet in the time I’ve spent with her, she’s gotten more of me than anyone else ever has.

  “I do,” she answers so easily, as if trusting me comes like second nature to her. I lean down and place a kiss on her full lips, loving how pliant they are beneath mine.

  “Let’s go.” I pull back, giving her enough space to grab her shawl and pull it over her shoulders. She grabs hold of my outstretched hand and together we walk out to the car. When I look down at our hands linked together, I think about how she fits me perfectly, and it’s a thought that I find overwhelming. She’s different—not after my money, not looking to gain status, not like all the other women who have walked in and out of my life—and I’m at a loss for what to do with that information.

  Sage-

  My nerves are on edge when we bypass the red carpet and walk into the benefit arm in arm. There’s a sea of black and white tuxes and dresses, with a few gowns of different colors interspersed throughout. I wish now that I’d have worn black so that I wouldn’t stand out as much as I do. The stylist that Jackson sent to dress me for this event had at least twenty dresses with her, all of them elegant, all of them beautiful, but none had made me feel as beautiful as this one. She assured me that it would be appropriate for an event of this magnitude. Most women would want the added attention that being different brought to them, but I’m not like most women. Any added attention just makes me feel nervous and uncomfortable. Then again, being here with Jackson automatically makes me more noticeable. I get the feeling that he’s one of the more important people here by the way heads turn when he walks by.

  The live band’s soft music, along with a squeeze of my hand by Jackson, begins to soothe my unease. I begin to take in my surroundings and the beauty of it is breathtaking. Jackson does his part, mingling with colleagues and acquaintances during the cocktail hour. He introduces me as his date but gives no further information and steers the conversation so that very few questions are fielded my way.

  I sip on champagne and start to relax a little more, thinking that this isn’t so bad. I’m actually having a good time and watching Jackson in his element is exciting. I can see why he’s so successful; he commands attention with the way he moves, the way he speaks, and the way he exudes confidence. I feel the heat from the stares of envy that come my way, women who would gladly sell their souls to trade places with me right now. If they only knew the truth about our relationship, they wouldn’t be so eager. I push that thought from my mind and enjoy the themed exhibition, which features movie memorabilia—artwork, costumes, and more items apparently donated by celebrities—all things that will be auctioned off throughout the night for charity.

  “What charity is the benefit for?” I question, eyeing a beautiful ball gown worn by a popular actress at an awards ceremony.

  “Funding for the arts in inner-city schools. When budgets get cut, the art and music programs are usually the first things to go.”

  “It’s pretty cool of you to support this.”

  He smiles down at me, an almost boyish smile. “It is pretty cool. I played the drums in school; it was my act of rebellion, my mother hated it.”

  “Do you still play?”

  “No. I haven’t played in years, but I loved it at the time.”

  “Are you getting anything?” I ask looking back at the array of items up for grabs.

  “I wasn’t planning on it, no. I’m handing over a big check. I think it should suffice.”

  “Right.”

  “Is there anything you’d like me to get for you?”

  “No.” I’m dumbfounded that he would even ask. The things in this exhibit are selling for astronomical amounts of money. “What exactly would I do with a gown worn at the Oscars or a signed movie poster in my little apartment in Brooklyn?”

  “I don’t know. Frame it?”

  I giggle at his comment. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but no. Thank you.”

  He nods his understanding. “Come on, the doors are opening for dinner. You’ve had two glasses of champagne, and you didn’t touch any hors d'oeuvres. I don’t want you to get sick on me.”

  He takes my hand, leading me through the crowd, most of which are headed into the dining room.

  “Jackson,” I hear called from behind. I recognize her voice, and my body instantly tenses. I hadn’t realized that Cecily would be here, and without fail, the jealousy starts to creep up. He stops, turning us so that we can face her and seeing her makes my newfound confidence plummet. She’s stunning, beautiful blond hair cascading down her back in loose curls with a skintight black gown that flares just a bit past the knee with a hint of a train.

  “Cecily,” he greets, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek all the while remaining connected to me.

  “It’s so lovely to see you again, Sage.”

  “It’s nice to see you, too, Cecily.”

  “You look great,” she comments with a saccharine sweet smile. “That color becomes you. You’ll be sure to turn heads.” I know it’s a jab, though I try not to let it affect me.

  “Thank you. You look good, too,” I respond wishing that I were quick enough with a snappy comeback.

  “We’re going to take our seats now, Cecily. We’ll see you later.” Jackson tugs my hand, pulling me as he walks us away from her. “Do not let her bring you down, Sage. You do look beautiful, and you absolutely do turn heads. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  I don’t respond, though I revel in the small triumph that he’s walking away from her. I didn’t need a comeback; his dismissal of her was enough of a blow to her ego. She feeds off his attention, and when she doesn’t get it from him, it pisses her off. Her face, as we walked away, was priceless. I wish I had a camera to capture the expression.

  Jackson leads me inside the dining room where beautiful chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Huge floral centerpieces don each tabletop, giving the room pops of color. A new band plays on a stage while people talk and look for their seat. We reach our table, and I falter a little when I see Victoria sitting there. Jackson gives me a gentle tug, forcing me to come unstuck as Victoria stands to greet us.

  “Jackson, it’s so good to see you,” she beams giving him a quick hug. She gives me a smile when she pulls away, not looking at all surprised to see me here.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Victoria. You remember Sage.”

  I can see the surprise on her face at his use of my real name. I want to kick him but really what was he supposed to do. He’s introduced me all night as Sage. I just pray that Victoria doesn’t fire me for breaking one of her rules.

  “Sage, of course. You look beautiful this evening. This is my friend, Collin,” she says of the gentleman standing next to her.

  “It’s nice to see you both,” I say, trying to keep my composure. I’m relieved when Jackson pulls out the chair farthest away from Victoria for me. I don’t think I can sit next to her all night. He takes his seat and quickly takes hold of my hand underneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  “Just relax,” he says for my ears only, but how can I possibly relax now?

  “Why didn’t you tell me that she’d be here?” I question through a forced smile as more people inhabit our table. He greets them before bringing his attention back to me.

  “I’m sorry, Sage. It honestly slipped my mind.”

  “Jackson, you’re not supposed to know my real name. She could fire me.”

  “She won’t. Victoria is a good friend of mine. She wouldn’t do that.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me that she was your friend?”

  “Because I didn’t think it was important.”

  “I work for her. Of course, it’s important.”

  He looks around careful about who’s watching, not wanting to draw any unwanted attenti
on to us. His hand slides to the nape of my neck, his forehead drops to mine, and he gives me a gentle squeeze.

  “Calm, baby,” he murmurs.

  “But…”

  “Calm. I would not do anything to hurt you. It’s all fine.”

  A relieved breath escapes from my mouth. My eyes close when his lips kiss the place his forehead has just vacated before releasing me. My eyes flutter open, and I find everyone engaged in their own conversations, not a second glance given to us. But out of the corner of my eye, I can see Victoria’s eyes on me. I don’t turn to her, not wanting to read the expression on her face. I’d rather not know. Instead, I focus on the salad placed in front of me. Jackson won’t let anything hurt me. He won’t let me lose this job. I can trust him; I know I can.

  Conversation flows freely around the table over dinner. Jackson controls most of it, steering questions away from me but engaging me in the topics of discussion just enough so that I don’t seem introverted and aloof. He has an easy presence around Victoria as though they’re very familiar; a level of comfort that tells me that they have a history. What that history is, I don’t know and I’m not sure if I’m entitled to know.

  “Would you like to dance?” Jackson holds out his hand for me sometime after dinner, sending the butterflies up in flight in my stomach.

  “I’d love to.” My hand tingles when his fingers clasp around it, pulling me out of my chair, and leading me onto the dance floor. He slides a hand around my back, pulling me into him. He places our conjoined hands between us, resting against his chest. We begin to move slowly to the music, Jackson guiding me, never loosening his hold on me. I relish the moment, letting myself pretend that this is a real date—that Jackson and I are just two lovers out for a night of dinner and dancing together. I let the daydream sweep me away, all the while knowing that it will only ever be a dream.

  “Are you having a good time?” His words break into my thoughts, bringing me back to reality.

  “Yes, it’s been really nice.”