Tramp (Hush Book 1)

by Mary Elizabeth

  By the way dread stops me in my tracks and fills me up like an over poured glass, I know it’s Inez. No doubt she’s heard about what happened at the art gallery and is here for my head. She’s in charge of a lot of girls, but she doesn’t bear embarrassment without consequence and I can’t think of a time when one of her charges puked on a client. I’m surprised it’s taken her this long to arrive.

  “You look like shit,” she says as soon as I open the door.

  Taking a step back, I motion for her to come inside. I’d rather my neighbors not witness the berating I’m certain to face from a hot-tempered Italian. She may be small, but her anger is mighty. And loud.

  “Are you sick?” Inez asks as she passes. To my surprise, there’s room for understanding in her tone. “I’ll admit, I’m not happy Gary Brooker called me before you did. I don’t like to be caught off guard. These things are easier to handle when I know what to expect.”

  I kick the door closed with my foot before making myself comfortable on the hardest couch ever made. The worst of this hangover is behind me, but the emptiness in my stomach is unnerving and fatigue has yet to settle. Falling back to sleep would be a breeze if Inez weren’t in my living room, yet again, ready to pounce.

  “Lucky for us, I’m a good actress and Gary doesn’t know that my favorite girl didn’t confide in me first.” Inez places the palm of her hand against my forehead and then my cheek affectionately, motherly. “You’re not warm. Is it a stomach bug? Should I phone a doctor?”

  Her cool hand soothes my tepid skin, and I press into it for a moment longer before saying, “I went out last night and had too much to drink.”

  She snatches her hand back and crosses her arms over her chest like a disappointed parent. “For fuck’s sake, Lydia. That’s not like you.”

  I close my eyes and rub the throbbing at my temples and say. “Trust me, I know. It won’t happen again. I’ll call Gary in the morning and do what I can to right this wrong. If he doesn’t want to see me again, you can refer him to someone else.”

  Inez takes a seat beside me and pats my thigh. She chuckles. “He made it clear he’s considering moving to a whole new building. That man is dramatic.”

  “You’re not upset?” I ask. Sympathy isn’t something I seek out, but Inez is the only person in my life able to give it to me. After the emotional hurricane I’ve experienced today, there’s not much more I want than for her to tell me it’s going to be okay.

  Except for Talent to tell me it’s going to be okay himself.

  But that’s out of the question.

  “You’re so perfect, I often forget you’re human.” Inez softens at my side and sighs, dropping her shoulders like she’s unloading the weight of the world. “The other girls are needy and problematic. I oftentimes feel more like a babysitter than a boss. I’m not mad at you, but I find it necessary to say that communication is important.”

  “I understand,” I say.

  Dog leaps onto the couch at my other side. Our time together has been short, but he’s learning that he’s better tolerated from a distance and I need space if this arrangement is going to work out. If only Inez and Talent would catch on as quickly as Dog has, I may not be drowning in suppressed drama.

  “Are you aware there’s an animal in your apartment?” Inez asks. She curls her lip and scrunches her nose, leaning away like she might die if Dog comes any closer. “Get rid of it.”

  “I tried,” I answer honestly, side-eyeing the dog. Not since the afternoon Dog Mom brought him back has he left my sight. Our deep trust issues are a two-way street.

  Inez sweeps the arms of her sports coat with her hand, complaining about dog hair and allergies. “Do I have reason to be worried about you, Lydia? I can’t get you to have dinner with me during the week, but then I see you like this. Who’s this person you’re going out and drinking too much with?”

  Switching my sideways glare from Dog to Inez, I point out, “I never said I went out with anyone.”

  “You don’t have to. I was once twenty-six years old and liked to drink until the sun came up with good-looking men and women. These are activities a person your age should experience.” She lifts her eyebrows, but Inez’s gaze falls to the ground and she shrugs before adding, “But to prevent a situation like this from happening again, please take better care to make sure our lines of communication stay wide open. I’m here to protect you, and that’s a challenge when I don’t know what’s happening.”

  Shame festers inside of my chest, not mixing well with the humiliation that still reddens my skin. There’s never been anything in my life I felt the need to keep from Inez. Maintaining a private life is one thing, but to purposely omit information about Talent crosses the line between white and bald-faced lies. What I don’t understand is why I want to keep Talent to myself. Is it because Inez was enthralled with him on a business level? If she finds out he’s in contact with me, will she take it upon herself to set him up with another girl who’s less messy than I’ve become?

  I’ve made the decision not to indulge myself with him, but the idea of Talent with another girl from Hush enrages me.

  “Now that we have that out of the way, have you had a chance to think about Camilla?” Inez exclaims with forced enthusiasm that automatically ignites my suspicion. She takes a hint from the expression on my face and continues, “Can she stay with you until we can find her a place of her own?”

  “No,” I reply right away.

  “Lydia, do you always have to be so—”

  “Why can’t she stay with you?” I fall to my side of the couch, pushing Dog off.

  “I don’t let my girls stay with me. It complicates boundaries and creates a confusing work environment. How does it look if I send them out to sleep with clients, only for them to come home and hear me bitch about their dishes in the sink?”

  “You let me live with you,” I remind her.

  “That was different. How many times do I have to say this?” She rolls her eyes.

  “There has to be another girl she can stay with, Inez. Is there not a vacant apartment in this entire damn city?”

  “No,” Inez answers in a clipped tone. “There’s not. While you’re out drinking too much, the tech industry is booming in the area and there’s a housing shortage. I can go on and on about the cost of rent and what it’s doing to up-and-coming entrepreneurs like Camilla. It’s covered on the news every day.”

  I smile at Inez’s insistence to call us by anything than what we are, like we’re just a bunch of small business owners slinging pussy. Hush is building an empire one orgasm at a time, innocently enough.

  Hiding my face into the concrete-like cushion, I mumble, “I don’t watch the news.”

  She scoffs. “You binge drink and have an animal. You’re on your way to living an average life, Lydia. In no time, you’ll want to keep up on current events and then you will know these things.”

  There’s a sudden rapping on the door, and I shoot upright and quiet Inez. The walls are thin, and I don’t want the trespasser to hear our muffled voices and take it as an invitation to knock harder. Inez is my only regular visitor, and since she’s actively invading my space, I have to assume it’s a solicitor or Dog Mom. I don’t have the energy to tolerate either.

  I reach for Inez and use her like a human shield, planning to do what I always do when someone knocks on the door: pretend no one’s home. But the insistent Italian is quicker than me, and she’s outraged someone would bother me at this hour.

  Until she swings open the door to find Talent Ridge on the other side.

  What is it about a man in a hoodie that’s so irresistibly sexy?

  Talent looks as exhausted as I feel, pale-faced and heavy-lidded. It pleases me to know he’s as affected by our night with whisky as I am. Despite how delicious he looks dressed down, it’s the bag of Chinese takeout in his hand that makes my mouth water.

  Handsome man. Greasy food.

  This would be an ideal situation if Inez were not stan
ding between us.

  His hair is wet like it was just washed, and he rakes his hand through it like a nervous boy about to be scolded for being spotted somewhere he’s not allowed.

  “Well, hello you,” Inez says in a cooing tone. She looks over her shoulder at me. I sink into the cushions to hide.

  “Hey,” Talent replies, equally confused and too sick to care about proper greetings. “Is Lydia here?”

  Inez steps back, opening the door completely. Talent’s posture straightens when he sees me, and he holds the bag of food up as a sacrifice before entering my apartment. As horrified as I feel right now, my stomach growls once the scent of fried rice hits my nose. A small smile curves Talent’s lips.

  “They were out of that soup you wanted,” he says. Talent strolls past Inez to the kitchen, where he lays out five or six different boxes of food. “But I got a little of everything.”

  Inez gives herself whiplash, looking back and forth between Talent and me.

  “I’m sorry, but are you staying?” Talent asks Inez. “I only grabbed two sets of chopsticks, but you can have mine if you want. I’ll use a fork. Or my hands.”

  Opening up every drawer in my small kitchen until he finds a fork, he hits the jackpot and holds one up in victory. Talent doesn’t bother with a plate, twisting noodles on his fork directly from the box and slurping them between his lips.

  “Fuck, these are hot,” he says, covering his mouth, as not to speak with food in it.

  Why is he so adorable?

  And why is he eating lo mein in my kitchen like this is normal and we’ve done this before?

  It takes Inez a minute to process the scene, but she comes alive with a bright smile and twinkle in her eye. It’s hard not to be dazzled by Talent, even with a mouthful of oily food, but especially because of the black hoodie. Gorgeous in the tailored suits he’s normally seen in, Talent’s a dream toned down and as regular as the rest of us.

  “We haven’t had the opportunity to meet in person,” Inez says. She steps forward with her hand extended. “Inez Ricci. We spoke on the phone.”

  Talent’s gray eyes slide past Inez to me on the couch, where Dog and I watch the scene unfold like a pivotal act in a primetime melodrama. But this is my real life.

  Dropping the fork, Talent cleans his hands on a napkin before reciprocating Inez’s shake and whispering, “Nice to meet you.”

  Now he can put a face to the woman in charge of who I fuck for money.

  In case he still has a hard time remembering what I do for a living, I speak up and say, “Inez is here because I puked on a client today and he isn’t happy with me. It’s kind of like I’m being written up for bad behavior.”

  Inez laughs, shooing me away. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lydia. You didn’t throw up on him. You threw up on his marble floor.”

  Chewing slowly, Talent nods and swallows his bite of food. He says, “We drank way too fucking much last night.”

  Not the reaction I was going for. I was hoping he’d run for the door and never return. Leaving the Chinese food behind, of course. Talent’s relentlessness frustrates me, but it invigorates Inez.

  “Oh, so you’re the one who kept my girl out too late on a work night,” she acknowledges.

  Bachelor of the Year finally catches on and has the decency to look puzzled. His posture changes from hungover boyfriend-type to million-dollar CEO in the blink of an eye, and it’s for the best. He’s eating straight from the container in a small apartment among Grand Haven’s most powerful slut and her ringleader—he needs to act like it.

  What more is there to say? Talent wises up and shuts up, aware of the compromising position we’re in. It’s all fun and games until the reality that you’ve been chasing after an escort smacks you in the face.

  “Inez was just leaving.” I stand from the couch. Dog stays in place for the show. “Thanks for checking on me. I’ll call you sometime tomorrow to work out how we’ll handle today’s mishap.”

  She doesn’t look away from Talent, and a little color returns to his complexion. Inez allows me to guide her toward the door, but she doesn’t leave without trapping me in a corner first.

  “Before I go.” She lifts a finger in the air. A conniving grin spreads across her face, and she says, “We need to finish our conversation about Camilla. It’s a situation in dire need of our attention and it can’t wait. I’m sure Talent won’t mind if we sit down and work this out before I leave.”

  I could strangle her, but instead I clench my teeth and insist everything can wait.

  “No, I don’t think it can.” Inez digs her feet into the carpet. “The poor girl is all alone, Lydia. She needs our help.”

  “Fine,” I say in a clipped tone. At this point, I’d agree to anything to get her to leave and hope I can talk her out of it in the morning.

  Inez steps outside, and as the door closes in her face, she says, “I’ll bring her by sometime tomorrow.”

  Barefoot and only dressed in the oversized shirt I sleep in, I can’t help but wonder how this picture must look to Inez. He shows up with food and I don’t have pants on. Will she think Talent and I are in a relationship? She’s never known me to have friends, let alone a date—not that this is a date, but looks are deceiving.

  Or will her assumptions be graver? Will she think I’ve made some sort of side deal with Talent? Surely, a man as esteemed as he wouldn’t show up to a slut’s apartment without motive. She claims to trust me, but trust is fickle in our world.

  “She seems … nice,” Talent says before biting into an eggroll. He’s a polite eater, chewing with his mouth closed and swallowing before adding, “Do you want me to make you a plate?”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. They’re the only words I can find and piece together from my jumbled brain. There are plenty of other things I’d like to say, such as, how do you know Chinese food is my favorite? What happened last night? And did you wear that hoodie to seduce me on purpose?

  Talent has the decency to look confused. Lines form between his eyebrows as he opens my fridge and grabs a bottle of water like he’s done it before. “You invited me.”

  “Liar.”

  “Lydia, I wouldn’t show up to your apartment with your favorite food if you hadn’t asked me to.” He takes a drink of water, glaring at me darkly over the bottle. “I messaged you earlier to see if you wanted to cancel, but you didn’t text me back, so I assumed we were cool. You should have told me your fucking keeper was going to be here.”

  I think back to the text I deleted without reading but dismiss my own responsibility in this as hot anger rises inside of me. There’s not a chance in hell I’d invite him over. No one besides Inez has ever been inside my apartment, and now Talent fucking Ridge knows his way around my kitchen.

  He drops his fork and laughs. “Are you serious right now?”

  “Dead serious,” I answer.

  The muscles in his jaw clench, and he shakes his head. “I know you were drunk last night, but I didn’t think it was like that.”

  The truth is, I don’t remember much after Talent and I returned to our table after we had sex in the alleyway. There’s a vague recollection of sitting on his lap until the band wrapped up their set, we ordered food, and we kissed until the bar thinned out and it was time to go. Then it’s dark. My next coherent thought was when I woke up in my bed this morning.

  Talent’s face relaxes with my silence, and he says, “I didn’t want you taking a taxi alone at three in the morning, so you agreed to share one with me. You fell asleep as soon as we got in the cab. The driver needed your address, and when I asked for it, you tossed your purse on my lap and said to look at your driver’s license.”

  Closing my eyes as tears threaten to spill, I hold my breath to keep from screaming. If he knows my address, then he knows my last name, too.

  He comes around the kitchen counter and stands six feet in front of me to explain, “When we got here, I offered to help you to the door, and you agreed.”

  As
he says this, I remember dropping my keys twice trying to unlock the door. We laughed at my clumsiness.

  “You need to leave,” I manage to say. The last thing I want is for Talent to see me cry, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep this frustration bottled up.

  “Don’t make me,” he whispers.

  The softness in his tone is enough to flip my frustration to fury.

  Tilting my head and narrowing my eyes, I ask, “What’s your deal, Talent? If you want to fuck me, then fuck me. I’m a prostitute—there’s no need to wine and dine me to get between my legs. Pay up and we’re good.”

  Scratching the back of his neck, he chuckles and says, “I have fucked you. Twice. And I didn’t pay a cent.”

  “Get out.”

  How the tables have turned. Our first encounter ended by him throwing me out of his office, and now our last ends with me kicking him out of my apartment. He knows my real name and where I live, and I know he had sex with a hooker. With both of our necks on the line, I’d say we’re even and free to live our lives now.

  “No,” he insists.

  Hearing damage. An alternate universe. Madness. Whatever the explanation, Talent Ridge is wild, and I’ve reached the threshold of my patience. Surely, he didn’t just refuse to leave my apartment and expect me to accept it. I don’t feel safe anywhere, but my apartment is my only sanctuary, and no one’s allowed to threaten what little peace I’m afforded.

  Talent stares back with a sharp glare, hacking the wall I’ve put in between us to protect myself from more bullshit. He’s steadfast in his attempt to cut through my resolve, gripping the edge of the counter and squaring his shoulders for a long fight. He shows no hint of leaving without dragging this out first, but he’s never met someone like me. I’m made out of the fight, and I’ve lived with disappointment my entire life. The anger and anguish brewing beneath my skin are constant companions.

  “If you have a hero complex, I’m not your damsel in distress. I don’t need saving or pity. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”