“Busy night,” he remarks, sipping his beer without taking his eyes off the TV. “Any good tips?”
“Some. How long are you home for this time?”
“A couple of weeks, give or take some.”
We fall into silence, the only sounds coming from the TV and the silverware clinking together as I roll them into napkins. Lance and I didn’t always have an easy friendship, if you can even call it that. We met at a frat party between school semesters, had a one-night stand which later turned into a friends-with-benefits relationship. That is, until I found out he was working with my dad as an undercover narc who would eventually deracinate everyone’s lives.
It wasn’t Lance’s fault. I was, and am, very well aware that my dad is a piece of shit. Finding out my dad was a drug smuggler who had inadvertently hired Lilly, not realizing Kip was her brother to unknowingly transport drugs for him was a shocker, to say the least. All the money I grew up with, the fancy dinner parties, private planes, luxury vacation homes, was all dirty.
In essence, people went to prison—my father and Kip included—and Lilly and I lost everything we knew. Add in the fact we found out Lance and Justin were partners working for the DEA to take down my father’s drug ring, I think it’s safe to say it’s not a surprise we went our separate ways. At the time, I think it was too much for us to deal with on top of everything.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lance says, not unkindly.
I laugh. “That’s a loaded question,” I say.
“You’re oddly quiet.”
“So?”
“So…talking and breathing are synonymous with you.”
I sigh. “Justin gave me a ticket to Lilly’s graduation.”
He finally looks away from his game, giving me his full attention. “And you don’t want to go?”
“Yeah?”
He cocks his head, confused.
“No? I don’t know. If she wanted me there, she would have invited me herself…right?”
He takes a sip of his beer and sets it down. “Who knows Lilly better than anyone?”
At one point in our lives, I would have said me.
“Justin,” Lance answers for me. “Would Justin invite you, knowing Lilly didn’t want you there?”
I roll my eyes, hating how right he is. “No.”
Picking up his beer again, he smiles. “Right. So stop being a pussy and go.”
There’s only one problem.
Peter.
KALEY HAS BEEN WAITING thirty minutes for Peter’s arrival. It’s been almost a month since she’s received any kind of payment other than her measly tips from the restaurant, and money is tight. She’s starting to feel desperate—itchy.
There’s a man down the bar Kaley knows she’s slept with before. He spins a coaster on the bar, smiling devilishly in her direction. For the life of her, Kaley can’t remember his name, and Mondo is busy taking another patron’s order. Nicknames usually help, but she can’t remember if it’s Spit-talker Fernando or Ear-sucker Tucker. Both equally unpleasant.
She twirls the stem of the glass and decides to give Peter a few more minutes. When the seat next to her fills, she assumes it’s the man at the end of the bar, but is surprised to find someone much more enjoyable.
“Julia,” Kaley greets her.
Mondo catches a break between customers, holding up a bottle of wine in response to Julia’s arrival.
“Jesus, yes,” Julia answers.
Kaley smiles, amused by Julia and all her ways. “It’s been a while.”
Mondo pours Julia’s drink, resting both palms against the bar when he slides it over to her. “What’s been happening?”
They wait to hear Julia’s explanation as to why she’s been absent lately.
Julia hums around her fresh glass of red wine. “I was living with a trust fund baby in L.A. for a few months.”
“And you’re not anymore because…?”
Mondo may need to ask, but Kaley doesn’t. Julia comes from money, a trust fund baby herself. She doesn’t have sex for money because she needs it, or because she wants to piss off her daddy. No, Julia does it out of sheer boredom.
“There’s only so much money can buy,” she tells Mondo.
Julia and Kaley share a knowing smile.
Mondo gives them an incredulous look. “Pft. Do you think I’d work here if I could find another way to solve my problems?”
“Different problems,” Julia puts simply.
Kaley remembers those days, when the day’s main objective was finding something to do just to stop thinking. First came boys. They were easy and fun. Then they, too, lost a smidgeon of luster. Alcohol, followed with some recreational drug usage, and then she slowly went back to boys once she realized drugs do their own special form of damage. Boys are safe, easy, fast creatures. There was once a time Kaley enjoyed her nights at Hudson’s, thrilled by the idea of someone new and exciting. The adrenaline and desire and love of keeping men on their toes.
In a lot of ways, Kaley envies Julia. She wishes Julia’s enthusiasm still found her on nights like tonight. Over time, being an escort became one of the most boring professions in the world. Same men, same game, different night. She’s ninety-nine percent certain medical filing would be more riveting.
Julia runs her fingers through her perfectly tousled waves, tilting her head in Kaley’s direction. “I’m glad you’re here tonight. I need to ask you something.”
Kaley’s defenses shoot up. Her relationship with Julia is friendly, but strictly limited to Hudson’s. “Yes?”
“What’s your business with Senator Landry?”
Kaley concentrates on keeping her face neutral as she replies, “I’m sure I’ve slept with him. Why do you ask?”
Julia smirks, not at all swayed by Kaley’s aloofness. “Lousy lay.”
Kaley nods her head in agreement, a small smile playing on her lips.
“Is there a reason he would pay me to out you to Peter?”
“He did what?” Kaley nearly shouts.
Julia makes a hand motion to lower her voice, glancing over her shoulder to double-check no one is listening. “He offered me money to tell Peter about you sleeping with other men at Hudson’s.”
Tension roles down Kaley’s back as she struggles to keep her posture relaxed. As if Julia and her having a hushed conversation isn’t already a dead giveaway.
Kaley shakes her head. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would he need you? Why wouldn’t he just do it himself?”
“He offered a lot of money, Kaley,” Julia emphasizes. “Maybe he thought it would be enticing enough for me to go through with it.”
“Little does he know, you don’t do this for the money.”
Julia returns Kaley’s smile. “Exactly. But someone else might be a little more desperate than I am.”
Kaley glances around the bar. At this very moment, there’s roughly fifty men in the bar, outnumbering the women five to one, and nine out of ten women are escorts. Most of them work for an escort company and use Hudson’s as a discreet meeting place. The good side of working under an escort company is the money. Married or successful men are willing to pay more for an NDA agreement. The bad side is an escort doesn’t get to choose who they get paired with. It can literally be anyone.
“Thank you,” Kaley says, putting as much sincerity behind it as she can.
Julia cocks an eyebrow, mid-swig of her wine, and Kaley knows it’s her way of saying welcome.
A man sidles up next to Julia, leaning his hip against the edge of the bar. “Julia, Julia, Julia,” he says, a predatory gleam. Julia winks at Kaley, turning her attention to the man. They stand, and Kaley follows their departure with her eyes, accidentally making eye contact with Senator Landry in the process.
He’s in a booth with a pretty brunette sitting on his thigh, whispering something into her ear. He doesn’t break eye contact with Kaley as he takes a sip of his drink, rubbing a hand up and down the girl’s arm. He doesn’t come in every night, but
he’s been making a regular appearance.
He wanted her to know, Kaley surmises. It’s the only explanation she can come up with. He wants her to be paranoid, afraid of his power. And damn it, he’s succeeded.
Giving in to the fact Peter isn’t going to show, she’s poised to make her approach to the man yet to be named, when Mondo snaps his fingers to get her attention in the middle of pouring a martini. She follows Mondo’s gaze to the man walking towards her. He swoops his right hand around Kaley’s waist as he leans in for a kiss on her cheek.
“Kaley,” Peter greets her, his tone a little harsher than usual. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Peter,” she breathes his name, smiling through her surprise. “It’s okay. I was about to call it a night.”
Peter’s eyes flicker to the man down the bar, now typing away on his phone, all but forgotten about Kaley’s interest. Kaley’s a good liar, but Peter is better. He makes a living lying as a defense attorney. She tries not to give away the fear he almost caught her mere seconds away from advancing on another man. Kaley doesn’t try to talk through her nerves, knowing he would see right through it. Slowly, he lets his hand slide from the nape of her neck, caressing her arm on the way down. It’s then she knows she’s off the hook.
Peter is a hot commodity at Hudson’s. The girls know he pays well and they’ll do about anything to sink their claws into him. But Peter doesn’t pay to be with a woman; he could be with a lot of women for free. He pays for routine. He knows what he likes and he’ll pay nearly double for it, asking for monogamy in return. Normally, that isn’t a problem for Kaley. But Peter’s been more MIA than ever lately, and the money doesn’t stretch that far.
Mondo finds his way to their side of the bar, setting down Peter’s usual with a napkin folded under the glass just how he likes it. Peter doesn’t speak, not even a nod of acknowledgment as he drops a fifty on the bar. It’s the same tip he gives for the same drinks he always orders: one glass of sauvignon blanc and one glass of vodka on the rocks.
Kaley hates this habit of his. He thinks his money is generous enough it doesn’t require him to actually speak to anyone. And he doesn’t. His fingers lace with hers as they leave the bar, into the lobby, and to the elevator. Kaley automatically pushes the button for the thirty-fourth floor.
“I’ve missed you,” he says, finally feeling free to show her affection away from wandering eyes.
“You needed a vacation,” she says in turn.
He hums. “If only I could have spent it holed up with you.”
Their reflection shows the girl in his arms smiling, but only Kaley can feel her bitterness. “I’m sure the kids enjoyed you away from work.”
His lips leave her skin as the doors open. “Yes, but work still reaches me when I’m a thousand miles away.”
He struggles to retrieve the key from his pocket, so Kaley takes the glass from him, freeing up his hand. He smiles once he finally gets the door open. When they’re alone, Kaley takes a sip of his drink, and Peter’s eyes hold a hint of examination.
“Thirsty?”
She smiles around the glass. “That glass of wine made me sleepy. I need a pick-me-up.”
He slides off his jacket, popping open the buttons of his white shirt in follow. “I thought our first night together in weeks would be enough to keep you on your toes.”
There’s a tinge of anger in his words. “Peter,” she says, holding the glass up to his lips. “Of course I’m happy to see you.”
He opens his mouth as Kaley tips the glass forward, letting her cater to him. Pulling away, he takes the glass from her, setting it on the nearby table. Kaley runs her hands up each side of his neck, angling his head down to hers. His kisses are the same as they’ve been for the past four years: demanding, straight to the point, a means to an end. There are no false pretenses with his body language, never have been, even when hiding ulterior motives.
Releasing her, he turns her body away, pulling the straps of her dress down her arms. It’s when his hand threads through Kaley’s hair, pulling it tight at the roots, she realizes the extent of his anger. “You know this isn’t an open-ended deal.”
“Why would you say that?”
“There’s been rumors.”
“Rumors?” She turns around to face him, trying to judge the amount of animosity in his voice.
“That there’s a brunette escort who meets Peter Baranski every Tuesday and Thursday at Hudson’s.”
Kaley smirks. “That’s not a rumor, that’s true,” she says, pushing her hands inside his shirt, trying to rid him of his insecurities.
“No, the rumor is that the same brunette escort has been seen leaving with other men.”
Her hands still.
“Regularly,” he tacks on.
“Peter,” she says, trying to leak amusement into her tone. “You know better than that.” Trailing her fingertips over his shoulders, she places a soft kiss to his chin.
It takes a moment, but eventually the stinging pull of her hair withdraws, and his lips lose the tightness in them, a smile taking its place. “I know.”
Kaley smiles, happy to have placated him, even though renewed fear has settled deeper into her bones. Peter’s been more sporadic lately, canceling last minute, leaving for vacation on the drop of a dime. She’ll have to be more discreet. The Hudson may be secretive, but not immune to gossip.
Peter moves her back toward the bed, pulling her dress down along the way. He’s never been gentle with her, and she knows it’ll be the same routine tonight. He removes his wedding band, placing it on the end table, as if there’s a loophole that comes to marriage and rings. If you’re not wearing it when you actively put your dick in someone, it doesn’t count, right?
Kaley turns over, onto her hands and knees, listening to the sound of Peter’s movements as he unbuckles his belt. Her eyes stay locked on the gold band. For some reason its presence bothers her more than usual. She’s met Peter’s wife, Lydia. Not a spectacular lady. Not in the slightest. Lydia and Peter both have the tendency to look down at people, and Lydia is especially good at looking down at Kaley. She’s always theorized that Lydia knows who she is, but never cared enough to address the issue with her.
But tonight, as Peter enters her…
…touches her…
…she works extra hard to stay focused on the movements. She ensures that she’s engaging, her usual sounds of pleasure, same push and pull. But for some reason, she can’t think about anything other than that ring. Even after he’s finished and he’s pulled her body close to his, spooning in their regular position for the obligatory fifteen minutes or so, she still can’t tear her eyes away from the shiny metal.
After he catches his breath, Peter pulls away to get dressed. Kaley watches as he slides the gold band back onto his left ring finger, replacing it with folded envelope that she knows holds a stack of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills inside.
He leans over her, placing a kiss on her lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He says it as if there’s no better compliment he could ever bestow upon her. Kaley covers herself as she watches Peter get dressed, scooting to the edge of the bed. It’s now or never. She knows she needs to speak now or forever hold her peace.
“So, uh, I have a friend that’s graduating Thursday.”
The drone of silence echoes in her ears as she berates herself for stumbling, forcing herself to meet Peter’s gaze. She rehearsed her words, perfected them, determined for them to be straight and to the point. It’s easier said than done when faced with the look of Peter’s indignation.
“I didn’t think you had any friends.”
It’s true—she doesn’t—but it’s the way he says it that irks her.
“She’s an old friend from college.”
He trails his finger over her chin, eyes jumping back and forth between hers. “Thursdays are our days. You know that.”
“I know…but I would really like to go.”
She mentally shakes hersel
f. This isn’t a question. She isn’t asking permission. She’s telling.
“We can always meet on Friday or maybe even a day later this weekend.”
There. A compromise.
Peter doesn’t say anything. Why would he? He doesn’t need to. He lets his money do it.
Reaching behind her, he picks up the envelope and shoves it back into his pocket, leaving without a second glance in her direction.
The sound of the hotel door slamming shut ricochets throughout the room, and Kaley closes her eyes, willing the tears to reside. Walking away empty-handed twice in one week is devastating. Not only to her bank account, but it finally makes he feel like maybe she’s not doing something right.
Standing, she peels off the dress they hadn’t bothered to completely remove, preparing to wash away the night. This time it’s not Peter’s smell or touch that she’s trying to rid herself of, but the way he made her feel; like her own wishes aren’t anywhere equivalent to his, and how incredibly selfish it was of her to ask.
HOLY FUCK. I’M LATE. My taxi driver speaks all of three words in English. Yes, no, and thank you. Okay, fine, it’s technically four, but that’s irrelevant. Anytime I make a comment about how big of a hurry I’m in, he nods, smiles, and maintains his breakneck speed of two miles per hour. Maybe three—it’s hard to tell because we were going that slow.
I hurry through admittance and the security guard gives me a curious glance. It doesn’t stop me from bouncing on the balls of my feet from impatience as he checks my purse. When I’m through, I sprint down the hall and into the amphitheater. The ceremony has already commenced and the stadium is packed.
They’re still announcing students with last names starting early in the alphabet and I finally breathe a sigh of relief. My eyes jump around the audience, but I don’t spot Justin or Kip anywhere. I get a few snarky looks from parents with cameras held high, but I act like I don’t notice. As the names start to dwindle down the alphabet, I pinpoint Lilly’s spot in the procession of graduates. I smile when I notice her Chucks peeking out from underneath her gown.
Finally, she’s called, and I’m cheering before the announcer even finishes saying her name. Justin and Kip, who I can finally spot a few rows over, are doing the same. They make eye contact with me when they hear my cheers, and their faces split into smiles. It makes me feel more confident about coming.
Forfeiting Decency Page 3