“How’s the shrimp look?” Ryan asked.
“Shrimp! Where’s the shrimp?” George called. A rumbling of voices flowed through the phone. “Ah, here they are. They’re beautiful and plump.”
“We’ll do coconut shrimp instead of bacon-wrapped scallops today. Get as much as we need,” Ryan directed.
“Got it, Boss. See you in a few.”
Ryan dropped his phone on the desk. The scallop crisis was one of at least fifty split second decisions he was sure would come his way that day. He understood why some owners couldn’t handle it, but for Ryan the pressure fueled his fire.
He opened his laptop and made the change to the specials before sending the daily menu to Gretchen, Vine’s general manager, for printing.
Ryan rose from his chair to brew a pot of coffee in the kitchen when his phone sounded again. He peered at the caller’s name on the screen and dreaded taking the call almost as much as Camille’s. He swiped his finger over the screen and tapped the speaker button. “Hey, Joe.”
“Hey, Ryan. Look, I’m sorry about steamrolling over you this morning. That was shitty of me.”
“It’s all right, man. I’ll have the money for you next week.”
“Thanks. But I don’t want you to do it at a cost to yourself, if you know what I mean. If you feel like you can’t do it, don’t go against your principles for me.”
“I don’t know what my principles are anymore,” Ryan muttered.
“What was that?” Joe asked as a motor revved in the background.
“Nothing. Sounds like you’re on a job site. I forgot to ask you how things are going with the business.” Ryan almost hated to ask. He’d injected Cortez Construction with a large capital investment. Joe promised to turn the business into a profitable venture or sell it and find employment elsewhere.
“Well, I’ll start with the good news. The new crew you helped me hire is doing great. I’m even pulling in some referral work. Business is picking up slowly.”
“I told you it’d pick up if you stayed on course.” Ryan said, softening his words. Not too long ago he’d put his brother-in-law up against a wall and told him he’d kick his ass if he didn’t stop drinking and started paying attention to his construction business, which was bleeding red ink. He’d made Joe a deal. Ryan would pay his way out of debt if Joe sobered up. Ryan had made good on his word, and he hoped Joe continued his end of the bargain.
“I am. I swear. But after paying the crew there’s not much left over to live on. I’m having a hard time keeping the lights on at home, and Maya insists on hosting every family party. Something’s got to give.”
“Have you told her that?”
“Seriously? You know Maya. She’d overreact. Anyway, it’s just temporary. Construction is on the rise. I’m sure I’ll be making bank in the next year or two. I couldn’t do it without your help, and I appreciate you not saying anything to Maya about the money. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. Everything. With interest.”
“No problem. I can do it. I’ll send a case of wine over for the party and will see you Sunday,” Ryan said and headed to the kitchen to prepare for his staff’s arrival.
****
Well?
The one-word text was his only message when Ryan checked his phone after the lunch rush. He ran his hand through his hair. “Gretch, keep an eye on things. I have to make a call.”
“No problem,” she called to him from the bar.
Ryan closed the door to his office, flipped open his laptop and clicked the unopened message from Camille.
Here you go. I’m counting on you…
Jane Keegan, 39
Divorced
In town on business
Preferences: 35-45, dark hair, tall, medium build.
Photo attached
Ryan wasn’t an exact fit within Ms. Keegan’s parameters. Thanks to his Spanish-German genes, he’d inherited a shock of thick, almost black hair from his mother and his over six-foot stature from his dad. To his sisters’ horror, Ryan was the only Zeigler sibling to inherit their father’s blue eyes. He’d argue that his build was on the higher side of “medium”, thanks to muscle built through years of working construction. His age tipped below her range, having just celebrated his thirty-second birthday a few months before.
He clicked the .jpg file attached to Camille’s e-mail and stared idly at the screen as the picture loaded.
Ryan sucked in a breath and held it for a few moments when the image finally appeared on the screen. He blinked a few times before pushing the air from his lungs slowly through his teeth. Glossy golden brown hair tumbled in controlled waves over her shoulder as she shot a staged smile at what looked to be a selfie picture with the second woman cropped out of the shot. As attractive as she was, her grin never quite reached her eyes. The green-flecked hazel eyes were etched with a sadness she’d tried to hide. He wasn’t a stranger to that look. Faces like hers stared at him from the other side of the bar on a daily basis.
Baggage. He could tell Jane Keegan had lots of it. He had hoped the new client was a lonely corporate executive looking to blow off steam for the weekend, possibly topping it off with a sizzling night between the sheets. The woman staring back at him was in search of much more. Closure. Acceptance. He wasn’t sure exactly what motivated her to shell out big bucks for a weekend with a stranger, but after five years of working as an escort, he’d learned how to read people. Contrary to what other people thought of the profession, an escort was more than wining, dining, and seducing. He’d played the roles of shrink, best friend, confidant, daddy, lover, and bodyguard, among others.
Ryan shook his head, realizing he’d been staring at the picture while thinking of all the troubled women he’d serviced over the years, and, most importantly, why he quit the business. “I hope I can help you find what you’re searching for, Querida.”
Click. Her picture disappeared from the screen, and he tapped a text message to Camille.
I’ll do it for you as long as my picture is taken off the website. I’m no longer a Cowboy.
Camille responded immediately.
Consider it done.
Chapter Three
Ryan made his rounds, greeting the hungry and thirsty Friday night patrons with an extra bounce in his step. From the moment he woke, Jane Keegan’s intriguing eyes hadn’t been far from his thoughts. Maybe because he knew it was his last assignment, but he couldn’t remember a time when he looked forward to meeting a new client as much as he had that day. He’d checked The Cowboys website, and surprisingly, Camille had made good on her promise. His pictures and bio were gone. Jane would be his last client.
“What are you so jazzed about today?” Gretchen asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Jazzed?”
“Yeah, jazzed. You’re bouncing around like a kid before Christmas. And you’re smiling. You never smile. You feeling okay?” she asked narrowing her eyes.
“Never better. Remember, I’m heading out early tonight. You’re okay to close up?”
She snapped her fingers. “Ah, that’s it. You have a hot date. Anyone I know? Is she a customer?”
Ryan stifled a chuckle. If she’d only known what type of “customer” he was scheduled to meet. “Sorry, Gretch, no hot date. Just meeting a friend of a friend who’s in town on business.” It was an easy alibi he’d used over the years when he had to explain his whereabouts.
She eyed him suspiciously. “Uh-huh. Well, try to have a little fun. You’ve been stressed out lately.”
Ryan resisted a retort in the interest of showing up on time. He double-checked the text message from Camille, even though he’d memorized the details: Nine o’clock at the Omni Hotel’s second-floor lounge.
Ryan stepped outside and headed toward the Omni, leaving Vine in Gretchen’s care. Convention season had just begun, and the River Walk was crawling with tourists. As he passed the countless rowdy themed restaurants and bars that dotted the sidewalks, he appreciated the subdued elegance of his own esta
blishment.
Finally, he turned toward the entrance and pushed open Omni’s heavy glass door. As he did, an unexpected slew of memories flooded his mind. He couldn’t begin to count the number of women he’d escorted through those doors over the years.
Bypassing the bank of elevators, he turned toward the stairs instead, jogging up them two at a time leading to the lounge on the second floor.
Ryan slowed his pace as he entered the bar, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lights. He scanned the bar, looking for a dark head of shoulder-length hair, and spotted her instantly at the end. He’d already figured, from her picture and the scant information listed on her bio, that she wasn’t the “look at me” type. He’d expected someone like Jane Keegan to find a seat off to the side, where she wouldn’t be the center of attention. Her unassuming ensemble of jeans, sandals, and black blouse confirmed his assumption. There were things about Jane that hadn’t been evident from her bio and picture, like how even the dim lighting of the lounge picked up the brilliant highlights in her hair as she twirled a lock around her finger and let it spring back. Or the way she nervously kept her hands busy by circling a fingertip around the rim of her wine glass. Or the way her blouse hugged the curve of her waist. One look confirmed his initial impression of Jane Keegan. The difference between Jane and the majority of his escort clients over the years was like the difference between a multi-layered Napa Merlot and a bargain bottle at Wine Depot. He was convinced there was much more to Jane Keegan than her profile and picture.
He stopped just inches away, close enough to inhale the clean citrus scent of her perfume. “Jane?”
As she swiveled her seat, he knew he had the right woman. Her eyes were just as sad as they had seemed in her picture, although she tried to mask them with a friendly smile.
“I’m Ryan,” he said, and offered his hand.
She took it in her own, the warmth of her flesh capturing his as she squeezed lightly.
“Hi,” she said, locking gazes with him for a moment before a laugh bubbled up to her lips. At the sound of it, her palm shot up to cover her eyes. “That was brilliant, wasn’t it? I’m not good at stuff like this.”
Ryan chuckled, enjoying the pink rising in her cheeks. “Believe it or not, neither am I,” he said. Gesturing to the stool next to hers, he took a seat.
“I don’t believe that for a moment,” she said, and picked up her wine glass.
“No really. I suck at the introduction phase.”
“Well then, we can suck together,” she said, then slapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I just said that. Please order a drink or something, and put me out of my misery.”
Ryan ordered a beer before he met her stare. “Something wrong?”
“At first I wasn’t sure if you were the same guy I saw on the website, but you’re definitely him. I can tell by the scar on your cheek.” She pointed to the left side of his face.
“Football injury. You should see the other guy.” He shot her a crooked smile.
“Bad?”
“Not a scratch on him.” They both laughed, lightening the mood.
“I tried to find your picture again so I’d recognize you and it wasn’t on the website, so I figured you wouldn’t be the one showing up. I thought it was some kind of bait and switch thing.”
“Not much of a trusting type, are you? You must be from New York.”
“No fair. You knew that.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and laughed.
“I can’t get anything by you.” He winked. “So, what brings you to San Antonio?” he asked, avoiding the subject of the disappearance of his image from The Cowboys website. “Okay, now who sounds like a dork? The ‘what brings you here’ pick-up line must be the oldest in the book.”
She smiled and glanced down. Her dark eyelashes fanned over her cheeks that were pink with a growing blush. “Here’s the thing. You don’t need to use a pick-up line on me.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Apparently I’m a paying customer.”
Ryan chuckled. Most of his escort dates stuck with the premise of a real date. Jane’s candor was refreshing.
She smiled again, and this time her eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that enhanced her natural beauty. “I’m here on business. But you probably already know that, along with my height, my weight, what I had for breakfast this morning, and whatever else Charlotte added to my bio.”
“Charlotte?”
“My meddling but lovable friend. This was all her idea. She’s the one who signed me up for this,” Jane admitted, and laughed. “It seemed like a bad idea then, and an even worse idea now.”
Ryan feigned a look of shock. “Am I that bad?”
“No, not at all. Really. It’s not you, it’s me.”
He smiled. “Ah. The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure you can tell that I’ve never done anything like this before.” She took a sip of her wine, then another, seemingly relying on it to pump her with courage. She pointed at the glass. “I shouldn’t be drinking this. Wine is the reason I’m here. I believe I drank a whole bottle before confirming the weekend date with the service. This whole thing is just not me. I’m not sure how women do this.”
Ryan tilted his head. “Wine makes a great scapegoat. I’m curious. What do you think this is?” he asked, genuinely interested in her answer.
She shifted in her seat. “Well, for starters, women pay you to treat them like they’re beautiful and desirable. I suppose I understand the appeal of it, but I’m too much of a realist. In the back of my mind, I don’t think I could get past the fact that it’s just pretend. The fantasy would be lost on me.”
“I think that’s where you have it wrong. Yes, women are paying for companionship, but the arrangement is very real. I couldn’t be with a client I didn’t find attractive. That’s why the client and escort meet before the session ever begins, like we’re doing now, to make sure it’s a good match for both parties.”
“So why do women choose to hire an escort?”
Ryan took a sip of his drink before answering. “Lots of reasons. Some do it just for the good time. It’s a chance to have a little fun, with no strings attached. Some use it as a stress reliever. They just want to blow off some steam. Others are coming off a bad relationship and need a session with an escort to get back in the saddle, so to speak.” He’d experienced them all.
Jane narrowed her eyes. “I think my friend Charlotte used that same expression.”
“Is it safe to say you’re in the last category, then?”
She nodded. “I’ve been separated for almost a year, but my divorce became final recently. Charlotte thought this would help me jump back into dating. I’m just not sure this is the right way to do it.” Jane’s gaze moved to her drink. “I’m a real downer, aren’t I?”
“Not at all. Your life is in a state of upheaval. What you’re feeling is completely normal. Maybe you’re not saddle-ready yet,” Ryan said, sensing she was about to give him the boot. It had only happened a couple of times in his career.
She smiled. “Actually, I think I am, but not like this. I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re a hot commodity and women throw themselves at you, but like I said—”
“It’s not for you,” he said with a smile.
“Exactly.” She tilted her head. “I deserve to be with someone who wants to be with me, not who’s getting paid to be with me. I’m going to hold out for that person.” Jane pulled the strap of her purse, which hung on the back of the chair, and fumbled with the clasp. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Have you eaten yet?” Ryan asked, even though he was sure she’d drunk the glass of wine on an empty stomach by the way she wobbled on the heels of her sandal as she stepped from the stool.
“Um, no. I just got into town a few hours ago. I’ll just grab something.”
“Have you ventured down to the River Walk yet?”
“Out there?” She pointed to the bank of win
dows. “My room overlooks that area. It seems a little crazy.”
“It can be, but it also boasts the best places to eat in town. Care to join me for dinner?”
“You do understand that I just canceled the date, right?”
“Officially, yes. That doesn’t stop me from asking a hungry out-of-towner to dinner and because I want to, not because I’m being paid,” he said, purposely using her words.
He enjoyed watching her shift from foot to foot considering his invitation. “You don’t have anything better to do on a Friday night than hang out with a stranger?”
“Frankly, I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do.” Ryan hooked the strap of her purse under his thumb, slid it over her shoulder and tossed a few bills on the bar.
“Shall we?” Ryan offered her the crook of his elbow. After a moment of hesitation, she accepted, sliding her small palm around his arm.
Chapter Four
Ryan led Jane to the bustling walkway, and he studied her face as she scanned the crowd.
“You’d never know how loud it is out here from inside the hotel.” Jane shouted.
Ryan bent his head to get closer to her ear. Her hair caressed his cheek as a faint scent of citrus tickled his nose. “You’re lucky you’re staying at the Omni. The nicer hotels do a great job of shielding their visitors from the frenzy down here. This section of the River Walk gets to be overwhelming, especially in tourist season, or when the big conferences are in town.”
“This section? Is there more?”
Ryan pointed as they continued walking. “It extends for twenty-one miles that way. The original plan was a big sewer project to control flooding of the river, but the city’s conservation society decided it should be a beautification venture and the River Walk was born. Most of the stretch isn’t like this, but when out-of-towners hear ‘The River Walk’, this is what they expect.”
“There’s certainly a lot going on,” Jane said as they passed a group of people circling around a lively mariachi band.
“Something for everyone. You can get Mexican, German, Italian, Irish, Spanish, Greek, or plain old American food here. If you want to dance, sing, yell, wear your napkin on your head or take a boat ride, there’s a spot for you. Anything and everything goes here.”
Fire and Midnight Page 2