by EM BROWN
"I'm so sorry," I say quietly.
He blinks away the pain in his eyes and fixes the intensity of his stare upon me. “Did you say your parents were black?”
I nod. “Lila and Mo adopted me when I was three and a half. I don’t remember much of my early years, but I remember hanging on to Lila’s leg a lot. Mo said I didn’t give her much of a choice but to adopt me.”
“Was that unusual?”
“You know, it wasn’t to black folk. At Lila’s church, which was mostly black, I never felt out of place. It was more white folk who thought it strange. Actually, they usually assumed Lila was my nanny. But I remember when I was eight years old, and we were driving home from a restaurant, Mo got pulled over by a cop. He said Mo didn’t come to a complete stop at the stop sign, but I was sure he had. He and Uncle Ray often talked about how they have to drive extra careful because they could get pulled over anytime for a DWB.”
“What is a DWB?”
“Driving While Black. The cop kept asking me if my parents knew where I was. I was so confused and scared. He told me he was going to call my parents for me. He didn’t believe me when I said Lila and Mo were my parents. We had to go down to the police station, and I was placed with Child Protective Services. I thought they were going to take me permanently away from Lila and Mo. It was the scariest moment of my life, next to finding out that Mo had lung cancer and the time Andre got a concussion.”
“Andre’s your brother?”
“My parents adopted him when he was ten. He bounced around the foster system a lot. I want to go into social work because Lila made such a huge difference in my life and Andre’s life.”
“And she approves of your career preferences?”
“I think Lila would support me in just about anything—within reason. She probably wouldn’t be too happy if I went into something like modeling—not that I would ever qualify to be a model—but even then she probably wouldn’t strictly forbid it.”
Prostitution on the other hand...
“Would she forbid selling your virginity?”
If Tony were polite, he wouldn’t have addressed the elephant I let in the room, but it didn’t surprise me that he went there. Like I said, he didn’t strike me as a “good boy.”
“Well, there’s nothing she can do about it now,” I retort. “She would be mortified, and, yes, there was no way she would have let me do it. She’d work extra hours, all while suffering from arthritis and GERD, so that me and Andre could have the life we want. And I just—I don’t want her to have to do that.”
The bowls of steaming hot noodles arrive then, and I’m glad for the distraction. I’m not sure why I’m so chatty. Maybe sex makes me loquacious.
“I’m not sure how the French eat,” I say as I prepare to dig in, “but I’m totally fine with slurping. My friend James Fan, who introduced me to pho says it’s a must because you want to eat the noodles and soup when it’s nice and hot, but you have to draw in air so you don’t burn yourself.”
“This James tell you anything else about pho?”
“Just that the sauces are a must, too.”
We focus on eating, and after a few mouthfuls, I realize I’m not that hungry, having eaten earlier in the hotel.
“So how’s the pho?” I ask.
“Good,” he acknowledges as he adds more hot sauce into his bowl.
“Do you eat mostly French, Chinese or Vietnamese cuisine?”
“Depends where I am.”
“Do you prefer one over the other?”
“Good food is good food.”
“That’s what Lila would say. My roommates and I went to this food truck festival last year, and it was amazing the different kinds of food there were. I tried a bite of Talia’s Burmese fermented tea leaf salad. I wasn’t crazy about it, but it was cool because I had never had Burmese food before.”
“You’re an adventurous eater.”
“I don’t know if I’m adventurous. Mostly curious. I’d love to visit the places the foods come from some day.”
“How are you going to do that on a social worker’s income?”
“I’m not sure. I could slum it, stay in hostels—”
Tony wrinkles his nose.
“I think it could be great. After all, it’s the sights, the people, the food that I would be interested in. One doesn’t travel around the world to stay in luxurious places.”
“You say that because you haven’t stayed in a truly luxurious place. Trust me, you’re better able to enjoy the sights when you have a nice room waiting for you at the end of the day.”
“I work in a luxury hotel,” I remind him.
He leans closer. “The Montclair is nothing compared to the resorts we have in Vietnam, Thailand, and Bali.”
“I can’t imagine a place nicer than The Montclair.” I shake my head and swirl my spoon in the soup. “But maybe that’s a good thing. I can appreciate the less than finer things in life.”
I give him a small smile, which he returns.
“So you’re saying I’m spoiled,” he says.
I think for a moment. “Possibly. That’s the potential disadvantage of having experienced the best and most expensive things in life: everything else can seem disappointing by comparison.”
“I’ll take that disadvantage.”
The lunch is over sooner than I’d like. The waitress leaves the bill, and I reach for my purse.
“Put it away,” he commands.
“I can get this. It’s the least I can do since you’re paying for the hotel room and room service unless...”
“Are you serious? You were desperate enough for money that you were willing to sell your virginity—”
“For which I’m getting twenty thousand dollars,” I say cheerfully. “Plenty to cover the pho.”
“You don’t have the money yet.”
I decide not to argue with him. It’s true I don’t need to run up more debt on my credit card, even if it’s only twenty bucks.
After leaving the restaurant, we head back to the hotel. I spend half the walk asking about his family, his travels, what he thinks of San Francisco, and the other half wondering how I’m going to convince him to let me stay with him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I don’t suppose we could stay the night?” I ask when Tony hands the ticket to the valet at the hotel to get his car. “Seems a waste to pay for a room and not actually use it.”
“We used it, or don’t you remember?” he returns.
“You really want to take me back?”
He looks at me as we wait outside the hotel. “I’m taking you home.”
“So the, um—it wasn’t good enough?” I venture to ask, then kick myself because the question makes me sound needy. “I know I’m not very experienced, but I’m a quick learner. And adventurous.”
He emits a low groan. “I have made a decision.”
“Don’t you want the full value of your purchase?” I play with one of the buttons on my sweater. “Aren’t there things you want to...do to me?”
He glares at me. “Yes, but they’re not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t understand.”
“What do I have to understand? Tell me.”
His eyes darken in a way that makes my breath stall. I want to look away but he’s searching my eyes. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I want to convey more confidence than I feel, so I keep his gaze.
The valet returns with the car, and I don’t get my question answered.
“Where do you live?” Tony asks after we get in the car.
I give him my address out in the western side of the city, which he punches into the car’s built-in GPS. We pull away from the hotel, and I begin to resign myself that my time with Tony is coming to an end.
As we drive down Highway 280, I realize City College wouldn’t be too bad of a detour.
“Could we make a quick stop to get my textbook?” I ask. “I left it in one of my classes. Th
e college is right off Ocean Avenue”
I point southwest, and he exits the freeway. Once we get to campus, I have him pull up to Batmale Hall at a red curb.
“I’ll be quick,” I say as I open the door. “There’s a parking lot—”
“If I get a ticket, I get a ticket,” Tony says.
I nod. Must be nice not having to worry about things like parking tickets. Just before I make it into my classroom, I bump into Tracy.
She narrows her eyes at me. “I thought you were out sick?”
“I’m feeling better today,” I respond. It’s a true statement.
“Mrs. Ruiz wasn’t too happy that you missed work yesterday.”
I can’t tell if Tracy is saying that just to antagonize me or of it’s true.
“I’ll be back at work,” I say even though it’s really none of Tracy’s business, but I just want to get my textbook and get back to Tony.
Stepping past her, I enter my classroom.
“Didn’t see you in class this morning,” Mr. Parker says as I gratefully accept my textbook from him. He tells his students we can call him Jeff, but I still think of him as Mr. Parker. Guess I’m old fashioned that way.
“I, um, had a work commitment that was hard to get out of,” I reply.
“I uploaded the class notes. You can catch up that way, and I’ll be doing extra office hours tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mr. Parker.”
I hurry out the classroom and consider that the upside of Tony not wanting to finish out the week with me is that I get to focus on studying, which is what I’m supposed to be doing all along.
Even though Tony said he wasn’t worried about a parking ticket, I worry for him, remembering how upset Mo once got at having to shell out an extra twenty-five dollars when all he needed was another quarter to prevent his meter from running out. And tickets in the San Francisco Bay Area are higher than twenty-five dollars. But a few yards from where Tony is parked, I run into James.
“Hey, Virginia,” James calls. “You want to study for the econ test this weekend?”
I perk up at this offer. James sets the curve in class.
“Sure! But I don’t think I’d bring much to the table since you know the material better than anyone else.”
“Actually, you’d be helping me out a lot. It helps solidify things in my brain when I get to explain it to someone else.”
I want to clap my hands and jump up and down. “I’d love to then.”
“How about Saturday morning? At i-heart-boba?”
Boba is another Asian food item that James got me to try. It’s amazing how many Asian tea places there are in the city. At the pace they’re proliferating, they’ll be reaching Starbucks density.
“I might be able to make that work.”
“I’ll text you.”
“Thanks!”
I can’t resist giving him a hug before heading over to Tony, who’s leaning against the car waiting for me. Damn, but he seems to get hotter by the minute. I try not to dwell on that. At least I’ll have some pretty good memories. I imagine how Talia will respond when I tell her I did it, I lost my virginity.
“Who was that?” he asks with a slight edge in his tone.
I open the door and climb into the car. “Oh, that’s James.”
“Your pho guy?”
“Yeah. We take econ together.”
“You do anything else together besides econ and pho?” Tony asks as he buckles.
I look at him in bemusement. Could he possibly be jealous?
“No,” I answer. “I mean, I guess we do boba together, but he’s just a friend.”
For some reason, Tony doesn’t look like he believes me. I’ve never thought of James in a romantic way, but that’s probably because I know he’s gay. If he weren’t...well, maybe. I could tell Tony that James is gay, but mischief prevents me. I kind of like the feeling that Tony might be a little jealous over little ole me.
“Your GPS isn’t back on,” I tell him even though I don’t want to be taken home. I have about ten minutes to either change his mind or wrap up our arrangement.
“Don’t need it,” he replies.
“Thank you for the lunch—and the pho,” I start. I can’t remember having to have a more awkward conversation. I take a breath. “And for the...sex.”
He doesn’t say anything.
Not liking the silence, I continue, “I feel like I kind of badgered you into it, but I had a good time and...I hope it wasn’t all bad for you.”
Still nothing. I want to tell him that I’m glad my first time was with him, but I don’t want to come across too attached. I bet he has enough women smothering him, and I don’t know if he’s the type of guy who suffocates easily from a woman’s attention, the kind of guy that freaks out if he senses a woman wants something ‘more.’
It’s weird, but it almost feels like I should be paying him. I was the one who wanted to lose my virginity. He wasn’t chomping at the bit to take it.
“About the money...I just want to be clear that you don’t have to pay it.”
God Almighty, I’m crazy. I did this whole thing for the money. And it’s not like twenty thousand dollars is going to break his bank. Far from it. But it’s still not right. His wealth shouldn’t devalue twenty thousand. It’s still a lot of money, and he could do better things with that amount than give it to some scrawny chick he banged.
He glances over at me as if I’m two bricks short of a load, which I’m sure I am.
I hug my textbook to my chest. “It’s just—it’s an awful lot of money, and you’ve been really nice about it all.”
He turns his gaze back to the road.
“I just don’t feel like I did much to earn that kind of money,” I say and decide I’ve probably said enough on the matter.
After several quiet beats, he finally says something. “Your virginity is not worth twenty thousand US dollars?”
“It’s kind of silly to put a price on something like virginity. I guess if there’s a market for it, then there’s a role for price. Still, not everything can be boiled down to dollars and cents. Maybe I’ll have a different perspective if I end up majoring in economics.”
“So what would make you feel you had comfortably earned twenty thousand dollars?”
“I’m not sure. It’s faster if you stay on Ocean Avenue,” I tell him.
But he doesn’t.
“Not for where we’re going,” he says with his gaze still straight ahead.
“Where are we going?”
“The Lair.”
“What’s that?”
“A place you can earn your twenty thousand.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
I try to tamp down my excitement at the possibility he's changed his mind about taking me home. As he heads north, he speaks in Chinese to his phone. It dials a number.
A woman picks up the call. "So nice to have your call, Mr. Lee,"
She knows his name? He must be a frequent or important visitor of this place.
"Is Cell Three available?" Tony asks.
"When do you need it?"
"In twenty minutes."
"It's all yours. For the rest of the day, if you'd like. We’ll see you shortly."
Tony hangs up.
"What's The Lair?" I ask. I'm pretty sure it's not a restaurant or another hotel. What kind of place would have something called a ‘Cell Three?’
"You're familiar with the Red Room from that book you're reading. The Lair is the Red Room times ten."
Maybe I shouldn't have asked.
"You go there a lot?"
"Only when I'm in town."
So his name pops up on their caller ID. It doesn't mean anything. I'm not even sure what goes on at this place. Some manner of BDSM.
Holy shit. It's one thing to read about it in a novel, another thing to be facing it for real. I look over and study Tony. I recall the different things he’s said.
Fifty Shades...child’s play.
You have no idea w
hat I want to do to you.
I'd ruin you.
I'm nervous now. How much is he into BDSM? Does he know what he's doing? Is this something I'm willing to do?
The car pulls up before a three-story building. A woman in tight leather pants and 5 inch heels greets us. She opens my door and I step out tentatively, still clutching my textbook. I scan the building, as if I can find telltale signs of what happens inside. Tony hands her the car keys and, taking me by the elbow, guides me through the doors. We walk into a reception area with wainscoting, nicely appointed furnishings and potted plants. There’s a set of stairs and curtains, but nothing indicates any nefarious activities.
Another beautiful woman greets us from behind a counter. "Mr. Lee, Cell Three is ready and waiting for you. Are you sure you don't want a room in The Upper Balcony instead?"
"That's where my cousin likes to play. I prefer the dungeon."
Did he just say ‘dungeon?’
She flashes him a smile. "Me, too. I just need you to sign your guest in. Would she like a mask?"
Tony answers for me. "Yes."
The woman brings out a tray of masks.
"What are these for?" I ask.
"You don't have to have one, dear," the woman says. "We pride ourselves on our discretion. Nonetheless, some people feel more comfortable with an added layer of protection for their identity.”
I look over the selection and choose a simple mask of red silk and black lace. I realize I've brought my textbook with me, so the woman offers to help me put my mask on.
“We also request, for privacy reasons, that you leave all cameras and cellphones with me,” the woman says.
I give her my purse, and Tony gives her his cellphone. Taking me by the elbow again, he leads me toward a set of stairs. I realize the building sits on a hill between two streets, so the downstairs is actually the floor level on the backside of the building. I wonder that Tony hasn’t selected a mask for himself, but maybe it’s not a big deal for him since he doesn’t live in the country.
He stops at the top of the stairs and turns to me. “I can take you home and still pay you. The money is not an issue for me. The truth is I don’t care if you take it or not. If you are foolish enough to refuse it, it’s not my concern.”