Accidental Man Whore

by Katherine Stevens

  I might need a napkin swan for my sweat here in a second. “Oh, perfect.” That comes out so sing-song-y. She can’t see my smile, but it’s the fakest one ever.

  “And David was telling me some of the details you’ve added to the wedding.”

  “Even better!” I shoot a glare at Ben and he shrugs.

  “You didn’t tell me you were riding in on a horse.”

  I raise my eyebrows at Ben. He shakes his head and shrugs again.

  “Well… we’re still exploring options.” I don’t know what to say.

  Bubbie squeezes my hand. “And I’m really surprised you want all those peacocks walking around your reception. You hate birds so much.”

  I mouth peacocks at Ben. He tosses his hands up in the air.

  “I…” I need to tell her I’m a big fat liar and a disappointment to everyone.

  Ben stands up and puts his arm around me. “Miryam is the sweetest and most generous person. She knows how much I love birds, so she’s letting me have this. Thank you, sweetie.” He kisses me on the top of my head.

  I’m not sure if I hate myself or Ben more in this exact moment. It’s a real tossup.

  Bubbie smiles. “Oh, to be young and in love again. You two need to stop wasting time with this old lady. You need to be on the dance floor.”

  I know a good excuse for an exit when I see one. “Yes, let’s go dance… dear.”

  Keeping his arm around me, Ben walks us the few steps to the dance floor. It’s a slow song. He takes my right hand and puts his left on my waist, pulling me closer. I wonder if they teach dance in hooker school.

  “So, did your grandmother used to work for like a CIA prison, or something? She asks a lot of questions really fast. It’s confusing.”

  I nod. “She has her moments.”

  “I just started spitting out answers like that word association game. I have no idea what I told her. Most of it didn’t even make sense.”

  I nod again. “This will be fun to clean up.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s my fault for getting us into this.”

  “I’m still sorry.”

  Ben’s actually a really good dancer. I relax and let him float me around the floor. My left hand rests on his right arm. Now that Sheba’s put it into my head, I have to admit he does have solid arms. So solid.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone named Miryam,” he says. “What does it mean?”

  I keep my face straight and my voice even. “Obstinacy.”

  He keeps his face straight as well. “Really? That doesn’t seem like you at all.”

  He’s an asshole. “Is that sarcasm? It’s not a good look for you.”

  He smiles at me and I laugh despite myself. He’s no comparison to David, but my mind can’t help going there. David is brilliant and a successful attorney. This jock is a male prostitute by choice. He can dance, though. David never took me dancing that I can remember.

  “Where did you learn how to dance?” I ask. He makes this look effortless.

  “In high school,” he answers. “My football coach made us all take lessons to keep us light on our feet.”

  I picture Ben in tights, which is something I’ll come back to later. When I’m alone. “Did you play in college?”

  He turns us so we don’t get whacked by two people flailing to my left. “I didn’t go to college.”

  Figures.

  “I went to culinary school. Cooking is my passion, but it’s not as much fun when it becomes a job. I burned out fast.”

  He was a chef? Not what I expected. He dances and cooks. He’s damn near a Renaissance man.

  “What do you like to do in your spare time?” He brushes the hair off my left shoulder, letting his fingertips linger on the exposed skin of my wide neckline.

  My mouth goes dry. “I… What was the question again?”

  He presses his face closer so I can feel his breath on my ear. “Do you have any hobbies?”

  I close my eyes so I can focus. “I sometimes play canasta with my grandmother.”

  He throws his head back and laughs louder than I’ve heard him yet. “Your hobby is playing cards with a blind woman?”

  I wish I could laugh like that. “She still wins most of the time.”

  He dips me low like in an old black and white movie. I loved watching those with Bubbie when I was little. His nose runs the length of my neck up to my ear. “You’re full of surprises, Miryam.”

  Fuck if his voice doesn’t sound like pure sex. Sheet twisting, headboard grabbing sex. My brain is at war with my body on what they want.

  “I—I think I need to go home.” My brain wins.

  He looks confused. “Oh. It’s still early.”

  I take my hand off his arm of steel and take a step back. “I have a long day tomorrow, so I should hit the sack early.”

  He puts his hands in his pockets. “I understand. Then we should say our good-byes to everyone.”

  I walk back to our table and find it empty. I see Sheba and Bubbie on the other side of the room talking to Aunt Abagail. I pick up my clutch. “No one will miss us. Sheba will make sure Bubbie gets home safe.”

  Being near Ben is confounding and I’m ready for it to be over. I miss my normal, safe life.

  The valet pulls up my car. Ben follows me to the driver’s side. “My car is waiting just around the corner here, so you don’t have to drive me.”

  “Oh. I guess this is it then.” My lips are so dry.

  “I guess so.”

  He bends down slowly until his face is level with mine. I swear I can hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears. He reaches up and cradles my chin with his hand. I close my eyes. I feel the pad of his thumb sweep under my right eye. The warmth coming off his skin is gone an instant later. I open my eyes and see his thumb extended in front of him.

  “You had an eyelash. You should blow it and make a wish.”

  I blow the lash off his thumb and make a wish. He turns his hand to the side and reaches forward for a handshake.

  “Thank you for a lovely day, Miryam.”

  I shake his hand and tell myself I’m being an idiot for the things I’m feeling. I barely know him. And I’m paying him to be nice to me. I’m such a dupe. I watch him walk around the corner until I can’t see him anymore.

  I can’t believe that asshole didn’t kiss me.

  Even though I didn’t want him to.

  I think.

  CHAPTER 11

  THE YELLOW ONE

  BEN

  I never thought a neck could be sexual, but hers is pornographic. I wanted to spend hours touching that soft stretch of skin. The first time I saw her, she had on a top that only left her nipple color to the imagination. Last night, she was covered up in a dress that only showed a little collarbone and some calf. But I’ll be damned if she didn’t look like a goddamn angel. She looked like she would bake me an apple pie one minute and let me fuck her senseless the next. I’m all about that life. Shit, I’ve got a semi again just thinking about it.

  That night at the bar was some bullshit. I don’t think I’ve ever been punched by a stranger before. When Stephanie told me to meet a new client at Starbucks to discuss a unique event this week, the last thing I expected was to see her. I didn’t even recognize her. She looked terrible. I thought she was sick. I didn’t tell her, but she had a piece of food stuck in her hair. I recognized her bitchiness, though. The thought of spending the day with her toxic personality sounded as fun as having a toilet bowl brush shoved up my ass. She was paying a hell of a lot of money, but some things just aren’t worth it. Then she started crying. Not cute little lady crying either. How am I supposed to tell her to get bent when she’s legit sobbing? I have to do something about this weakness to crying women. It’s going to be the death of me.

  I agreed to be her stupid fiancé, even though she wouldn’t tell me anything other than his first name. I can’t believe I agreed to help her lie to her elderly grandma. But, I guess I
’ll do anything when I see tears. I’m a sucker. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Dad had his first chemo treatment two days before. He was still pretty sick. I stayed up with him all night and Jacob stayed with him all day. I know I was trying to make money for his bills, but I felt like a dick being on a fake date instead of taking care of my dad.

  I spent the last three nights at Dad’s because Jacob needed to get some sleep. I slept on my old twin bed because Mom kept our rooms like a shrine after we moved out. My football trophies sit on a shelf above my head. High school seems like way more than eight years ago.

  I hear Dad banging around in the kitchen, so I think that’s my signal to get up. He’s going to try to fry up two pounds of bacon, but his doctors want him to eat the opposite of everything he likes. I should’ve thrown out the bacon, but it’s bacon. You can’t throw that out. It’s bad luck.

  “Morning, Dad,” I yawn. “Whatcha making?” I could sleep for a few more days.

  “Coffee and bacon. Want some?” He looks like he could sleep for a few more days, too.

  I click off the coffee maker before it can start brewing. “Those aren’t on your food list. How about some Greek yogurt and a banana?”

  He shakes his head. “Why do you want to hurt me, Son?”

  I turn the bacon off so it can cool. I’m going to pack that up and finish cooking it at home. He doesn’t need to know. “Go sit down and I’ll bring you food.”

  He shuffles to his chair in the living room. Once he sits, he turns his head and yells back at me. “You know what you should be bringing me? Some of that designer marijuana. It’s supposed to help with the side-effects of chemo. A good son would do that.”

  I glare at him while chopping the banana. I better not cut off a finger. “Jesus Christ, Dad, I don’t sell drugs.”

  “Well, you’re selling something you’re not supposed to be selling. I know that much. Your brother would cut me in to his deal. That’s why I’ve always liked him better.” He turns around and flips on the TV.

  Jacob will be back in a few hours and he can take over. I need to spend some time with plants to recharge. Today is my smallest building, so maybe I can sneak in a nap after.

  ***

  I open the door and don’t hear any pattering of tiny paws. That can only mean one thing. Steed’s here. I set down my duffle bag and look at the two assholes sleeping on my couch. There’s a bag of chips wedged between Steed and the back cushions. Mr. T is snoozing on his neck wearing his “Try Me” shirt. All I want to try is getting some sleep. Dad seems like he’s feeling a lot better, so I’m sleeping in my adult bed tonight. Plus, he told me not to come back when he saw me sneaking out the bacon.

  I don’t know what time it is or what year it is when the phone rings. I take my phone off the nightstand without opening my eyes and answer it. The ringing doesn’t stop and no one’s on my phone. At least not that phone. I forgot to drop my burner phone at Stephanie’s again, so I’m about to get an earful.

  I find Stephanie’s phone. I’m barely awake enough to realize the number on the Caller ID isn’t hers.

  “Hello?” I sound like a lifelong chain smoker.

  “Ben? Stephanie gave me your number. She said I could call you directly.”

  “Who is this?” Literally only one person has this number.

  “It’s Miryam.”

  The fuck? “Why are you calling in the middle of the night?”

  “It’s 8:00 p.m.”

  I rub my hands over my face and look at the phone. She’s right. It feels so much later. I was sleeping so hard I thought I woke up in the future.

  “I knew that. What do you need?”

  “I wanted to see if… we could… team up again. At the end of this week.”

  My mind goes to a different type of teaming up. “Do what?”

  “My grandmother has become obsessed with having a big Shabbat. She wants y—David there, too.”

  I wonder if I would be more or less confused if I were all the way awake. “Can you tell me what a big Shabbat is because I know what I think it is and that’s probably wrong?”

  She sighs into the phone extra loud. “It’s a meal. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “My mind likes the gutter.” I don’t have anything planned this week and if Stephanie gave out this number, the money must be really good. “Is this another family thing? Do I have to pretend to be that douche again?”

  “He’s not a douche.” She huffs. “Okay, he’s a douche, but you can’t call him that. Only I can call him that.”

  She’s straight up insane. “When is this thing?”

  “Friday at sundown. But we’ll need to meet earlier than that so we can park a few blocks away and pretend to walk over.”

  Insane. “Is there anything you don’t lie to your grandmother about?”

  “This is all temporary. I just need to find the right time to tell her. Are you in or not?”

  I’m too far in to back out now. Plus, I need the money. “I’m in.”

  ***

  Friday is here before I know it. Juliana scheduled another mid-week “private party.” I know it’s only been twice, but I can’t keep getting tied to beds. She has Olympic stamina and my leg cramped up like a bitch before she was done.

  I didn’t have time to eat lunch today, so I hope Miryam’s grandma is cooking up some kick ass food. Javier drops me off at an apartment complex right on time. I find the apartment number I’ve been given and knock.

  Miryam answers. She’s wearing a colorful top tucked into long skirt and flat shoes. She’s more covered up than before and she’s still better looking than any of the women in bikinis on the beach. Not that I would say no to seeing her in a bikini.

  Her smile is huge. “Oh, good. You didn’t bail.” She moves out of the way so I can step in.

  “Do people bail on you a lot?”

  I was only trying to make conversation, but her smile switches to a stone-cold stare. I realize too late what I’ve done.

  “Lately, yes.”

  I’m an ass. I look around for anything to change the subject.

  “Did you just move?” The apartment is totally empty, except for a few boxes.

  She walks into what has to be the bedroom and shuts off the light. “I sold my house. The furniture is coming from storage tomorrow.”

  “Why did you put your stuff in storage instead of moving it straight in here?”

  She stands up straighter and everything about her is tense. “Because I moved in with the love of my life for about two seconds before he decided he didn’t want me anymore. Do you have any more questions?”

  Fuck. I should’ve guessed that she moved out of her ex’s. I’m on a roll. “Oh. Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

  She cuts me off. “It is what it is. We need to go so we’re not late for Shabbat.”

  I grab her arm when she walks past me to the door. “Hey, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She doesn’t pull away, but the look on her face says I better not touch her if I want this hand back. I slowly drop my arm.

  “It’s fine. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  Is this one of those women things they always say men can’t understand? “What does that mean?”

  She opens the door. “You get paid to have fictitious relationships. I don’t expect you to understand love.”

  Wow. I can’t believe she went there. If that’s not the pot calling the kettle out, or whatever the fucking saying is. “You don’t know anything about what I understand. Maybe he kicked you out for being a judgmental bitch.”

  That was too far. I know it the second it comes out of my mouth.

  She stares at me for at least twenty seconds. For the first time ever, I’m scared for my life.

  She points outside the door. “I guess we’ll never know. Get in the car. We’re going to be late.”

  I’ll never admit it to anyone, but I fucking hesitate. I don’t want to get in a locked car with
her right now. She’s in mega bitch mode. She’ll have my balls hanging from her rearview mirror like an air freshener.

  “Ben. Car.” She’s still pointing and I’m still hesitating.

  I don’t know what kind of attorney she is, but I hope it’s not the kind that knows all the tricks to get away with murder. I remember Stephanie and Javier know where I am. I’ll remind her of that, too, if she starts murdering me.

  I go downstairs and get in her car when she unlocks it. This is going to be a long night.

  About fifteen minutes later, she parks her car on a residential street.

  “Bubbie’s house is a few blocks away.” It’s the first she’s spoken since her apartment.

  The sidewalks are narrow, so I follow behind her. I wish that ass weren’t attached to the same body as that mouth. She could be the perfect woman with a personality transplant.

  She stops at a small, older one-story house. She uses a key to open the front door. “It’s just me, Bubbie,” she calls.

  Her grandmother walks around the corner less than a second later. She walks so fast for someone who’s recently gone blind. Like she has no fear. Unlike me who’s scared of a woman half my size. I seem to be scared of a lot of women lately. Maybe I need to see someone about that.

  “Miri! David!” She hugs both of us twice. “Come into the dining room. We just started.”

  We follow her, which has to be the height of irony. The blind leading the… us. The lights are off in the room, but it’s bright as hell. Candles are everywhere. Are blind people even allowed to have candles? I don’t know.

  I never had time to Google whatever Miryam said this thing was, but it looks like we’re having a seance. I did not sign up to talk to the dead. I don’t care what they have to say, unless it’s winning lottery numbers.

  A bunch of people I recognize from the last thing are here. I think it’s her aunts and their families. A small folding table is set up in the corner for the kids. Her grandmother sits down. The only two seats left are right next to her. Miryam takes the chair directly next to her grandmother and I sit next to Miryam. The aunt sitting on my right winks at both of us. I don’t know what it means, but it doesn’t feel good.

  “David, why don’t you say Kiddush?” her grandmother asks.