by L. Duarte
A week later, and many failed attempts at finding a job, I inquired what he did for a living. I had my suspicions but didn’t want to pass judgment. He told me point blank that he was a male escort.
He gave me the run down but refused to help me. “C’mon, man. You’re a minor,” he said.
“So were you when you started.”
He scratched the blond scruff on his face. “True. You need to pass Adriana’s screening. And by screening I mean you have to fuck her to the moon and back. Convince her that you have what it takes. If you catch my drift.”
“Fuck a girl. Got it. Is she hot?”
“Forget about the physical perception of a woman, dude. To have a chance in this field, you have to see the beauty within. But yeah, Adriana is a hot Brazilian chick.” He smiled wide.
“Just one question,” I asked, my voice shaking, and I hated the sign of weakness. “I don’t. I can’t. I can’t fuck or let a man fuck me.”
“Adriana runs a high-end agency that caters exclusively to female customers. No gay-for-pay. No need to sweat it.”
Less than a month later, I was the newest male escort of Tailored Companionship. Adriana, along with Zach, helped me to invent a new persona. With her connections, Adriana got me a new identity. I became Seth Phoenix. Eventually becoming the most sought-out escort in the nation.
Lottie
WITH A SATISFIED NOD, I deem myself ready for tonight’s date.
My hair is in a ponytail. I wear a pair of faded but comfortable jeans, flats, and a plain white T-shirt that says, “Not all who wander are lost.”
I wonder if I should put my contacts back on and ditch the glasses. I reject the idea. This is the real me. The sooner Seth realized, the better.
Since I can remember, I’ve lived in the pages of the books. Avoided reality. Now, it finally feels like I’m living something exciting. It scares the hell out of me and thrills me at the same time. Seth is solely responsible for it. However, I won’t deceive him into thinking I’m this cool and trendy girl. Later today, when we meet again, he’ll face the real me. Not last night’s pimped-out version.
I’m not bigger than life, like Anne of Green Gables, or have a poetic name like Isabella Swan. No, I didn’t volunteer to replace my sister as tribute (I don’t even have a sister). I don’t have the sassy mouth of Kristen Ashley’s heroines or the bravery of a Divergent.
No, I’m just plain old me. Ordinary. Boring. Unattractive, even.
I study my reflection in the mirror. I can’t deny the change the events of last night brought out in me. Somehow, I look different. There’s a glow on my skin, a soft curve on my lips, a twinkle in my eyes and a shimmering aura surrounding me.
I raise my hand and study the gigantic rock gleaming on my finger.
Everything is too overwhelming to think about, so I finish packing my overnight bag.
Earlier, Seth texted me suggesting I pack to sleep over. When I got the text from him, my coiled muscles went slack. In honesty, I had doubted that I would hear from him again. Except to serve me with divorce papers.
Once I’m ready, I text him a new message.
Me: text me when you’re here. I’ll go down, so u don’t need to park.
An immediate response popped on the screen.
Seth: Be there in twenty
Me: k
I say goodbye to Chloe, reassuring her I will be okay. She insisted I request Seth’s address and phone number. “Just in case,” she had said disapprovingly.
For the entire afternoon, we talked about my new marital status and my relationship with Seth. I was able to convince her that I had to go along with the plan, not only for my family’s sake but also to discover if what happened between Seth and me should be something we explore further. She finally understood. We both came to the same conclusion: Lust dazzled Seth and me. However, there might be an undercurrent energy pulling us together.
And to think I was so judgmental of instant love in the romance novels I’ve read.
“Karma is a bitch!” Chloe eloquently said during our conversation.
I was silent at her comment. She had a point. However, I haven’t fallen in love with Seth. Not yet, anyhow. I had most certainly fallen in lust. And what a lust it was. My body shivered and a rush of warmth rushed to my loins at the mere thought of his hands caressing me.
I have to figure this out.
But first things first. With both hands gripping the handle of my Louis Vuitton duffel, I stand in front of Constellation, my back straight as a board.
As I wait for Seth, I recall how Chloe appeared guilty and worried about the recent developments in my life.
I reassured her that I was a big girl. Therefore, she wasn’t to blame herself. But there was no use. She repeatedly hammered how gullible I had been, and how stupid of her to have encouraged me to be reckless.
A slick coal black BMW pulls over in front of the hotel. Before I see the driver, I know who it is. I feel a jolt of energy in the air. It’s Seth.
He lowers the tinted window and looks directly at me. My bones liquefy under his heated gaze. His lips curve into a slow, dazzling smile.
Before he gets out, I sprint to the car, flick the door open and slide inside the vehicle.
“Hi,” I offer, praying he can’t hear the thumping of my heart.
“Hi,” he says, grinning. He leans in, and his lips touch mine. It’s a gentle kiss. My body doesn’t interpret it that way, though. It goes haywire.
“Ready?” he asks and brushes his lips against mine again.
I nod.
He plucks the duffel bag from my clutched fingers, puts it on the backseat and takes off.
Paying attention to the busy strip, I inhale a calming breath. The classical music floating in the interior slowly relaxes me, dissipating the tension in my distraught body.
“Nice ride.” Can’t I ever just find something a little smarter to say?
“Thanks.” After he merges into the flow of the traffic, he reaches for my hand. “How was the rest of your day?” He brings my hand to his mouth and his lips stroke my knuckles sending a wave of warmth through my bloodstream. He settles our entwined fingers over his jean-clad thigh.
His blond hair is still damp from a shower. He smells of soap, shaving cream, and his woodsy scent. He wears a well-fitted light green shirt that makes his turquoise eyes appear almost a shade of green.
He glances at me with inquisitive eyes, reminding me to answer. “I, uh, err, it went well. After Chloe’s third degree, I took a nap. I feel well rested. Thank you. How about yourself?”
“I had some business to take care of,” he says evasively. “But I had time for a shower and to cook you a meal.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered.”
“It wasn’t a bother,” he says, looking down at me in an intense way. Like his words meant more than what he was saying.
“Here we are.” He signals and enters a sophisticated building. He parks his car next to a Harley, swiftly hops out of the car, and opens my door.
He retrieves my overnight bag from the backseat, plants a hand on the small of my back, and guides me to the elevator.
I blame the elevator ascendance for the flock of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. There are so many of them that it feels as though my body could almost levitate.
“This is us,” he says, guiding me out the elevator and to a heavy oak door. The only door on the level. As if listening to my thoughts he says, “One apartment per floor.”
He unlocks the door and I step into the apartment. I don’t know what to expect. It’s not like I know my husband.
Luxurious is an inadequate word to describe the interior. I come from money, so fancy doesn’t impress me. But I identify a beauty and elegance in the place that has me in awe. It’s far from what I imagined his bachelor pad to be.
Seth tosses his key on a wooden plate. It lands with a muted thump. He turns to me and says, “This is home.”
I follow him down two steps le
ading to an ample open-spaced living room. The black wood floor glints under the light flooding from the ceiling.
The room is painted in soothing shades of gray and blue. Behind an L-shaped couch, a black grand piano adds a glamor that reminds me of the older movies I like to watch so much.
A small area dedicated to eating is adjacent the living room. A distressed wood table surrounded by a dozen chairs takes the entire space. A vase of wildflowers in a plethora of colors—purple, orange, red, blue, and white—adorns the table which is already set for two.
“Kitchen.” Seth nods to the right. Behind an island, the small room displays rich mahogany cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and black granite counter tops. Everything is clean and organized to a fault. No one could accuse this bachelor of being a pig.
“Something smells good,” I say and on cue, my stomach rumbles.
“Dinner is ready. I just need to reheat. Let me show you to our bedroom so we can stow your bag,” he says, holding my hand so I can follow him to a small hallway leading to several doors.
“Guest room,” he says pointing to the first door. “Bathroom.” He continues. “Zach’s room. He is my roommate and best friend.”
Pointing to another door, he adds, “A mutual office.” He stops in front of the last door. “And what is now our bedroom.”
He flings the door open, and I step in. The interior of the bedroom is just as breathtaking as the rest of the place. Hues of blue and seashell make it soothing and elegant.
He puts my bag on the king-size bed. “That’s the bathroom if you need to freshen up.” He nods to a door.
“Thank you. I’m good.”
“So, this is it.” He waves his hand in a vulnerable way that is at odds with his usual self-poised posture.
“It’s a great place,” I offer.
A movement by the patio’s door catches my eyes. A cat lies on a fluffy feline bed. From my vantage point, I can see its profile. The cat sits on his haunches and languidly stretches its front limbs.
“That’s Dona Bella. We call her Dona. She thinks she owns the place.”
From her peripheral, she disdainfully casts a glance at me, making it clear she’s unhappy we disturbed her slumber. Her deep blue eyes are big and round, contrasting against her pure white fur. She is the most beautiful cat I have ever seen.
She lets out a bewildered meow and turns to face me. I stifle a gasp. The right side of her face is completely disfigured. An eye and an ear absent.
Her eye moves over my body. She is examining me, just as I am she. With an indescribable elegance, she prowls my way. I see in her one eye, the perusal. And although as silly as it sounds, I hold my breath in expectation for her approval.
She stands in front of me. Her head tilts to the side. A softer meow escapes her lips, which are also slightly scarred on the right side. She proceeds to make loops in between my legs, settling in front of me.
I smile and sit on my heels. “Hey there, beauty.” I pet her soft fur. She lets out a satisfied purr, and her slender body rumbles under my fingers. “She is so sweet,” I say glancing up at Seth.
He looks at us with a bemused expression. “Yep, that’s Dona.”
“What happened to her face?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I found her like that. She had a nasty infection in a wound that covered half her face. The vet recommended euthanasia. I couldn’t let him do it. It took a while to nurse her back to health.”
“Wow, I guess she’s lucky you found her.”
“I like to think I’m the lucky one. She found me.”
There is so much hidden meaning behind the sentence. Most importantly, it reveals a great deal about his character. My head does a little swoosh before I respond. “I guess that makes both of you lucky.”
“That’s a way to put it.” He approaches me and grasps my hand. “You hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Hope you like fish,” he says with a smile.
“Um, fish, yes! It’s fine. I mean I do like fish. I love fish.” My head bobs frantically to emphasize my answer. What a lie. I hate fish.
HE TUGS ME back to the hall. His roommate’s door swings open at the same time. And Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Adonis number two materializes in front of me. The man is almost as handsome as Seth is.
“Perfect timing,” Seth says. “Lottie this is my best friend, Zach.”
“And so, we meet, Mrs. Phoenix,” Zach says with a huge smile revealing his pearly whites.
To my mortification, I blush. Way to make an impression on my husband’s best friend. “Nice to meet you,” I say, offering my hand.
“Oh, trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” He holds my hand and pulls me into a warm embrace. “I’m still in shock that someone managed to whisk this man away. Some spell you must weave with you.”
“Zach,” Seth interrupts promptly. “Let’s not scare her away. We’re newlyweds. She can still file for an annulment.”
“Chill, Romeo, I wasn’t going to send her running to the hills.” He turns to me. “I was just saying she must be a powerful sorceress, yes.”
I smile fondly and genuinely at Zach. I immediately know I like him. Better yet, the sentiment appears mutual. And for the life of me, the realization floods me with satisfaction and relief. It’s like I had just passed two inspections. Dona Bella’s and Zach’s.
“Well, I’m on my way out. I’ll leave you two love birds alone.” He points a finger at Seth. “You better dazzle her, yes?”
“Will do my best,” Seth responds with a smile, displaying the brotherly love and bond between the two. Wow, they must have been friends for a while.
“I’ll spend the night at Mason’s, so don’t wait up for me.” He winks maliciously. “I’ll text before coming back.”
He turns to me and pulls me into an intimate hug. “Have a good time, gorgeous.” In my ear he whispers, “Seth went all out to impress you with dinner.”
I reciprocate Zach smile. It’s been five minutes, but I feel like we’ve known each other for decades. Zach possesses the same allure and magnetic power as Seth does. It seems charm is a common denominator in this house.
“Great to meet you, Zach.”
Zach leaves whistling a tune that though familiar, I can’t name it.
Seth guides me to a barstool by the kitchen island. “Let me get you something to drink. Is wine good?”
“Yes,” I say. My hands are damp, so I press them on my jeans. Jeez, I’m way out of my league here. Not only is Seth gorgeous, but apparently he’s surrounded by drop-dead gorgeous friends too. The word overwhelmed doesn’t even cover it. What did Seth see in me?
Maybe I should just ask: “Oh, by the way, what is a guy like you doing with a girl like me?”
I have a healthy self-esteem. I’m not one of those girls who thinks less of herself just because she doesn’t wear size zero. No, I love myself, thank you very much. However, I’m practical and intelligent. Seth and I together don’t add up. Guys like him do not get attracted to girls like me. It defies logic that a man like Seth would hit on me in a night club. And I’m not even talking about the marriage. No! That’s an entirely new level of craziness that my practical intellect fails to encompass.
Seth hands me a glass of white wine.
His dexterous fingers fiddle with the buttons on a panel on the kitchen wall. The raspy and unmistakeable voice of Louis Armstrong rumbles through hidden speakers.
He raises a brow, and I know he is inquiring about the choice of music.
I smile. “Jazz is fine. Can I help you with something?” I ask.
“No, tonight you’re my guest. I got it covered.”
Seth busies himself with the final touches of dinner. He sips his wine and moves through the kitchen. His movements are fluid and confident. Like he knows his place on this earth. Like he knows he is greatly blessed in the looks department. Like he knows my eyes are feasting on the view.
“Tell me a bit about you,” he asks as he pulls a tray of fis
h from the oven and strolls to the table. I pick up the salad dish and follow him.
“Not much to tell. I’m an everyday girl, who lives an ordinary life.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You’re far from ordinary,” he says, lighting the candles. Then he turns to me and adds, “You are the most fascinating woman I have ever met.” His voice is slow. Each word enunciated fiercely.
I repeatedly blink and I’m at a loss for words.
In silence, we bring the rest of the food and the wine to the table. Seth pulls out a chair. I sit and murmur a “thank you.” I kind of like this pampering. The few dates I had were with college guys who had two ideas of fun: a keg of beer and to get laid at the end of the night. Hence my scarce dating curriculum.
“Where do you go to school?” Seth serves me the salad.
“Yale,” I say and take a bite of my salad.
“Impressive. Ivy League. What’s your major?”
“I just graduated this past May, from the Juris Doctors Degree Program. It has all the courses necessary to enter the Graduate Law School.” A sweet taste, with a bite of tart, spread on my tongue. “This is heavenly.”
“Thank you. Homemade dressing. A bit too young to graduate, huh?” he asks, cocking his head.
The candles cast a soft golden light on him. Under the hue, the already gorgeous planes of his face are multiplied tenfold.
“I skipped a grade in middle school. Did tons of summer credits at local Universities while in high school.” Needless to say, my social life has been pretty much nonexistent. I take a sip from the wine. A woodsy taste emanates over my tongue.
“Family?”
“My parents live in Maine. My brother and his family live in Palo Alto, California. He’s a photographer. His wife is a vet. They have a four-year-old son and a baby girl on the way.”
“Are you close with your parents?”
“Yes and no. I adore my parents, but I want to be on my own, you know? My dad can be a bit overbearing.” Understatement of the year.
“Why law?”
I pause. I want to tell him that my dad dictated I would go to Law School. Which he did. But it’s also what I always wanted. “I really like law. I guess it’s ingrained in my genes or something. I knew I wanted to be an attorney before I could spell the word.” Every generation of my family, dating back to the Pilgrims has had at least one member in the judicial system.