by Hadley Knox
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“I just got a mental image of you being a pimp,” Betsy finally managed. “How funny would that be to see you getting calls from desperate women and then booking his sex appointments? Oh my god, I would pay a hundred dollars just for a picture of that.”
“I know, right,” Pearl agreed. “I’ll put my last two hundred dollars on that one.”
“Why is that so funny?” I asked. “It’s just a business.”
Betsy stopped laughing and stared at her a moment. “Wait a minute. You said yes.”
Pearl slapped the table. “You did say yes. I can see it in your eyes. You want to defend this whole notion of you being this ho’s pimp.”
“He is not a ho.”
“See, there you go. You’re already defending what he’s doing,” Betsy said.
“Is there a problem with that?”
“No,” Pearl said. “It’s just funny to watch you squirm like that.”
“Would you two please get serious for a minute,” I pleaded.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Betsy said. “Now tell me how this could possibly have happened.”
“I haven’t told either of you about my financial issues,” I explained. “Frank left me with every cent we owned, but unfortunately his job paid much better than mine, and it was his job that allowed us to live in the house that we do. I don’t make enough by myself to afford it. I’ve been pulling from the savings just to make the mortgage payment.”
“Then let’s sell it,” Betsy said. “It’s a beautiful house and you’ve maintained it immaculately. I could have it sold in days.”
The waiter walked up and asked if we were ready to order. The other girls were ready, but I hadn’t a chance to look at the menu. Since I had eaten here before, I could mentally scan the few dishes that I had eaten, so I just ordered a pasta dish that I remembered enjoying.
“I can’t sell. The only way for my kids to stay in their school is to stay in this house. I really want them to graduate from that high school as that will help them get into the best college.”
“Why don’t you ask your dad for money?” Pearl asked.
“Absolutely not,” I said. “I would rather sell the house and get an apartment before I borrowed money from them. They let you have money and then they dip their hands into your life.”
“Maybe you can find another job,” Betsy offered. “The editing gig isn’t panning out, but maybe you can find something else that will bring in more money.”
“I’m not qualified for the job that it would take to get the house and bills covered,” I said. “I just have to make it until Mallory turns eighteen and graduates and then I can sell the house, and I’m in the clear.”
“So your answer to this is pimping?” Pearl said. “You are going to expose your kids to this?”
“No, definitely not. I pledged that I’m going to keep this away from my children. If Greg comes over, it is just as a friend. In fact, I’ve set them up for that already and told them that I had a new friend.”
“So you’re serious about this?” Betsy asked.
“Dead serious. I went out today and got a new cell phone and Greg has updated his ads and cards with the new number. I’ve got a program on my computer that can manage the schedule of a dozen men.”
“A dozen men?” Pearl asked. “You’re going to be a pimp for more men that just Greg?”
“I don’t like the word pimp. Can you just refer to me as a madam?”
“I can’t believe this,” Betsy said. “You’re going to become a part of the seedy side of society and you are promoting prostitution. You are not that kind of person.”
“What do you mean ‘that’ kind of person? And who says that there’s anything wrong with making lonely people feel like they are desired. Even if I had hired Greg last night, what would have been the problem? I’m sad and depressed because my husband left two years ago without any explanation. So what is wrong with the idea that I could pay a man a little bit of money and be happy for just a few hours in my life. You act like male escorts are serial killers.”
“I don’t really see a problem with this,” Pearl said. “I agree with Betsy that this doesn’t seem to fit you, but I don’t see the moral dilemma.”
“I can’t believe you’re supporting her in this,” Betsy said.
“Again, I don’t really see the problem. I don’t want anyone judging me, so why would I turn around and try to judge her. I work in insurance. I’ve had these old people whose only form of income is their meager social security checks, and I’ve denied their claims. I wouldn’t want Lana to sit there and tell me what a bad person I am, so I certainly won’t tell her what a bad person she is.”
Betsy smiled. “I was testing you to make sure that you really knew what you were doing.”
“You’re a jerk,” I said. I wanted to throw something at her face. “I want to hear what you two have to say, even if it’s not necessarily supportive,” I said.
“But you’ve already made your decision,” Betsy pointed out.
“I have. From crunching the numbers, I think this will be the difference in keeping the house or not. If I can get just a few more guys working under me, this will work.”
“My cousin Ray has always said he wanted to be a gigolo,” Pearl said.
“Wait, your cousin Ray wants to be a gigolo?” Betsy asked. “Isn’t he five feet four and two hundred and fifty pounds?”
“That’s him,” Pearl smirked.
“And isn’t he in his late forties?”
“Yes, he is.”
All three of us burst into laughter at one time.
Betsy spoke first, “I don’t think there’s a market for fat men in the sex industry.”
We laughed again.
“Wait a minute,” Pearl managed between bouts of laughter. “He’s my cousin.”
“He’s a nice guy,” I conceded. “I just don’t think that customers would be too pleased if he showed up at their hotel rooms.”
Betsy reached up, grabbed the wine bottle, and topped off their glasses. I picked mine up and took a drink.
“So you’re really, really going to do this?” Betsy said after she swallowed her wine.
“Yes. It’s strange, because I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. As horrible as this whole prospect might seem, I can’t escape the feeling that this is the course my life has to take. My children are my absolute main priority, and it’s all up to me. I would never forgive myself if my children aren’t successful and there had been something I could have done to help them.”
“You know I’ll support you,” Betsy said. “I might not fully agree with it, but you’ll have my support as a friend. Also, do you offer a friend’s discounts?”
“I heard that,” Pearl said under her breath. To me, she said, “Girl, you know I got your back.”
She lifted her wine glass in the air, and then Betsy and I both lifted ours to meet her. The glasses echoed off each other, and even in the loud restaurant, I could still hear the soft clink of their collision.
Chapter Thirteen
The following evening, I felt rushed to get ready for my date with Jeremy Towers. The outfit was the most important part of the preparation, and I tried on each of my new outfits to see which suited me the best for the occasion. I wanted to toe the fine line between slutty and sophisticated. I had pantsuits, dresses, skirts, and everything under the sun, but nothing felt quite right for the world famous author.
Finally, I settled on a dark green dress, which had a rather low neckline, but not too low to make me look like a runway model. The real challenge came in finding a bra that would work with the outfit. After going through each and every one that I owned, I realized that the dress was meant to be worn without one. I sighed and gave up the search.
In the bottom of my closet, I found two-inch black heels that worked perfectly with the ensemble and a small clutch that matched the dress.
Finally, I was ready and I had tw
o minutes until Jeremy was schedule to arrive. When I walked out into the living room, I was not surprised to find both of my children there waiting for me.
Jake spoke first. “Wow, Mom, you look great.”
Mallory’s eyes were big as she stared me up and down. “Damn, Mom, you look hot.”
“Watch you language, young lady,” I snapped, and then added, “thank you.”
“Are you nervous?” Jake asked.
“A little, but I’ll be okay.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Jake said.
“Are you going to let him kiss you?” Mallory asked.
I smiled. “I don’t owe him anything. Even if a man pays for dinner, you don’t owe him anything, Mallory. If I kiss him, it will be because I have had a good time and feel as if a kiss is appropriate.”
“I don’t need a lecture, Mom,” she said.
“I just want to set a good example for you.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled and then went back to texting.
The doorbell rang and I knew that it was go time. I had already prepared my children for his arrival and asked them to stay in the living room. I planned to greet Jeremy at the door, but not admit him inside. If I were going to date someone, then I wanted to make sure that it was serious before he met my children.
When I opened the door, I was surprised to find a man in a suit waiting for me. I stepped back when I saw him, wondering who in the hell had shown up on my doorstep. Instantly, I thought of the husky voice that had threatened me for money.
“Ms. Ford,” the man said. “Mr. Towers waits.”
The big man stepped back and motioned with his left arm towards the black sedan waiting at my curb just behind my mailbox.
I pushed past the goon and walked towards the car. If I were forced to rate the first five seconds of the date, it wouldn’t have been very well. How could he possibly think that sending his hired help to the door to get me would make a positive impression?
When I approached the vehicle, the back window rolled down.
“Hello, Lana,” Jeremy said from the back seat. “Won’t you join me?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, holding my clutch tighter to my body.
“Is something wrong?”
“Are you too damn lazy to get out of your car and come up to my door to get me?”
“Please get in the car and I can explain.”
“Reverse the clauses of your sentence.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “I know that you have children, and I did not want to present an uncomfortable situation where I might inadvertently meet them. I respect a single mother’s prerogative to choose the time and place in which a potential suitor might meet her offspring.”
“Oh,” I said. That was actually a very sound and considerate reason for sending his man up to the door to get me. Suddenly, I felt bad for causing such a scene and had to ask myself how he would rate the first part of our date.
“I’m very sorry,” he said. “I should have prepared you for that.”
“No, it’s my fault for jumping to conclusions,” I said.
He reached over and opened the door. I looked down and met his eyes, trying to figure out if I should run back inside out of embarrassment or actually get in the car. He patted the seat next to him.
Ducking my head, I slipped into the vehicle. Before I had gotten comfortable, his goon closed the door behind me.
“I’m sorry again for all of that,” I said. “I promise I’m not like that all the time.”
“It’s no problem. Think nothing of it.”
We made small talk on the short trip to dinner. He had chosen one of the classiest and most expensive restaurants in town; one of those places that I would never go to if I were picking up the tab. The prices were triple a normal place, and the portions looked like an appetizer for an appetizer.
His goon pulled up to the front where the valet driver was waiting to take the vehicle keys. Jeremy announced our arrival to the maître d’ and he led us to our table. As I sat down, I was shocked to see the goon sitting just two tables over.
I leaned over and asked. “What’s he doing?”
“He’s my bodyguard,” Jeremy said. “I actually have two of them, but I feared that if I brought them both, it would just call more attention to me.”
“Why do you need bodyguards?”
“Well, I don’t want to brag, but I have sold millions of copies of my books, most of which pertain to controversial material. I’ve had more death threats than weeks on the New York Times Best Seller’s List.”
“I didn’t know that. How strange does that feel?”
“Oh, actually it makes me feel quite good. I think the mark of a good writer is that some people hate you and what better way to express that hate than a death threat.”
“I’m sorry if I’m acting a little off. I’m a little nervous to be having dinner with you.”
“Why would you be nervous?”
“Because of who we are. I’m just a normal woman, a single mom, and an editor at a small press.”
“Whoa,” he said with a smile. “Watch what you say about my publishing company.”
“I’m being serious.”
“No, I know you’re being serious, but you must get those things out of your head. I think that you undersell who you are and what you have to offer.”
“Just what do I have to offer?”
“For one, you have your stunning beauty. I am privileged to have you with me tonight if just for the simple fact that all of the men in this establishment stared you down on the way in.”
“Whatever.”
“And,” he interrupted me. “You are a charming personality to have around. There is magnetism to you that I can’t quite describe.”
“Can we talk about something else?” I asked. I was having a hard time hiding my smile.
“Sure,” he said. “There is the inevitable conversation about exes. Tell me about your ex-husband.”
“Are you kidding me? You want to talk about exes on the first date?”
“Doesn’t everyone talk about them early on in a relationship? Once we get serious, I don’t want to talk about your ex for fear of getting jealous.”
“I can’t believe this,” I muttered so low, hoping that he couldn’t hear. “There’s not really much to say. He up and left me two years ago.”
“No explanation?”
“None at all.”
“Were there any signs that he was preparing to leave? Did he act any differently?”
“Not really,” I said. “I didn’t notice that he was spending a lot of time traveling for work, and I never could find an answer from his secretary if he was really on work trips or something else. We were growing more distant over time, but that was a gradual process so it’s tough to pinpoint one specific moment where we just stopped talking.”
“I’m working on a project right now on gambling addiction,” Jeremy announced. “One of the cases that I’ve researched is a husband who had an addiction so great that he hid it from his family. His wife was completely oblivious to the fact that her husband was spending days and thousands of dollars at a time at casinos all over the country.”
“Oh dear,” I said. “I bet she was pissed when she found out.”
“As far as I know, she still doesn’t know.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “It’s really none of my business.”
“So you think Frank could have been hiding something like that?”
“I’m only saying that you can’t ever assume anything. If he were the type of guy that kept to himself, anything is possible.”
“I don’t think Frank was the type to gamble.”
“Maybe one day he’ll return and you can get your answers.”
“I don’t really need answers anymore,” I said. “Sure, it’d be nice to find out just for the sake of the children, but for me, I’ve written him off for good. Even if he showed back up today, I w
ouldn’t resume our previous relationship.”
“Do you ever worry about him?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Of course. My apologies if the topic of conversation got too personal.”
“It’s no problem,” I said. “It’s just that I would rather not spend the first date I’ve had in a long time talking about my ex. I’ve spent enough time and energy on him to last a lifetime.”
“Maybe we should order then,” Jeremy said.
“Okay,” I replied, picking up my menu. I began looking over it to figure out what exactly I would like to eat. I had never eaten there before, and the food seemed odd. The only thing I understood on it was the various meats that were in the dish, but most of the other ingredients and combinations were foreign to me.
When the waiter walked up to our table, Jeremy ordered his own dish first, and then when I thought it was my turn to order, Jeremy continued. It took me a moment to realize that he was ordering for me as well.
I wasn’t sure how to take this. My first instinct was to get upset and rail him for thinking he could just order for me like I were some dumb woman from the medieval period that couldn’t think for herself.
However, the sensible side of me relished in the fact that a man was taking control for just once. For the past two years, I had to maintain complete control of my life, but for just a fleeting moment, I relinquished it to a capable, handsome man.
Apparently, I was going to have some sort of roasted chicken sautéed in a puddle of orange peels, cilantro, and onions, or at least that’s what I thought I heard. As he spoke out my dish, I couldn’t take my eyes off of his face. Silent, he was easy on the eyes, but when he talked, he was mesmerizing, especially with the candlelight in between us.
When he finished, he grabbed the menus from the table and handed them to the waiter. Then he turned back and stared at me from across the table.
“I’m very glad we are having this dinner,” he said.
“Me too,” I said.
“So we’ve talked about your past,” he said. “Now let’s talk about your future.”
“My future?”