Auctioned to Him 7: The Contract

by Charlotte Byrd

  9

  Grant

  I wasn’t expecting a limo or anything to pick me up, but I found it comical to see April pull around in an old Dodge Neon. It was black and the perfect car for someone like her. You could tell she adored that thing by the way it had seat covers and a steering wheel cover too. She fidgeted a lot, fixing her make up in the mirror. She scraped the smudged parts away, the ones that were too microscopic for my eyes. I could see heavy bags under her eyes. It was clear to me she didn’t get much sleep the night before. April was probably worried the whole time. This would either be a great weekend for both of us or it would be a horrible one.

  I feel like the polar opposite of this girl. While I am organized and well groomed, she cares a lot more about her parents’ approval than I ever pretended to. With the way she picked at her nails I could tell she was anxious to see them. Or maybe she was anxious to see Tom. I bet this whole weekend was going to make her go from crazy to a basket case. She hummed along with the radio and told me to put my luggage in the back with hers. All her suitcases were miss matched, and each seemed to be from a different era. I wasn’t sure how long we were staying there, but with the amount she had packed it looked like an eternity. This wasn’t uncommon for women. This really wasn’t uncommon for women who were trying to say “fuck you” to someone.

  “So are we moving to Santa Barbra after the wedding?” I joked.

  She looked confused, gazing back and forth between me and her luggage.

  “What do you mean?” She asked, cautiously.

  “You just have a lot packed.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I know. Sorry. I never know what to wear to weddings.” Maybe that is why she assumed I didn’t know what to bring. I snickered to myself and she seemed a bit uncomfortable.

  “You’re fine. I’ve had clients who have brought more for less.”

  “This is a weird request. Could you stop bringing up your old clients as of now? It makes me feel weird.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t going to do it in front of your family or anything.”

  “No, it’s for me too. I don’t want to be part of the type that is referred to as a client.”

  “Suit yourself.” She pulled out onto the highway and we were off. The car was a stick shift, and as I saw her changing gears I noticed that she was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. She really didn’t know what to wear to these events, but I never thought she was the laid back type.

  “You’re dressed pretty casually.” I said. She took note of my suit and remarked back. She was one of the few women I knew that still wore make up when wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt. I wasn’t complaining. She looked comfortable, and I was a little envious. I was also too professional to wear those clothes to attend to a client. Everything I wore was business professional. I took myself very seriously, even if my parents didn’t. It was about pride more than about image. I needed people to know that I did this job as a way to make myself happy, not as a way to make money. This woman had me feeling a little funny, though. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, it just made me feel strange and nervous like most clients don’t. I guess that probably was an age thing, as well. I didn’t have much experience with serious dating, and having to act like I did this weekend was going to be a bit of a difference for me. Shouldn’t be too hard to handle, though.

  “And you seem a bit over dressed.”

  “I always dress to impress. If you don’t want to be seen with me, I have to make it so there is nothing to complain about.” That wasn’t true. I normally dressed nice for clients, but I wasn’t going to say that again. When I said that I could tell she was more embarrassed than annoyed. I felt bad. Normally people took my snide remarks as jokes. I saw she was internalizing it. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I’ve just had a rough day.”

  “Yeah. Airports will do that to you.” At least she was understanding. “So what is our story? What should we tell my parents? Last I spoke with my mom, I kind of told her how I was pretty single, so we should come up with a good excuse.”

  “How about you just didn’t think I was ready to meet the family yet. After all, it is awkward to bring a new boyfriend around your ex-fiancé’s wedding.”

  “That’s a good point. Okay, so we aren’t that official yet. We have been dating for six months.”

  “Make it two. Six months is verging into serious territory.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Okay yes. We have been dating for two months.” As we drove, I couldn’t help but stare out the window on her side. She noticed and looked back at me. “What? Why are you staring?”

  “Just looking at the ocean.” I wasn’t. I was admiring the warm afternoon sun on her face. I saw how it reflected and danced on her eyes.

  “Yeah, it’s lovely out today. I can’t wait to swim.”

  “I thought you couldn’t touch salt water?”

  “I can’t. I meant at the pool.” She flipped the station to the CD and started singing along with one of the songs. “So how did we meet?”

  “I saw you at the bar. I thought you were the most beautiful person to walk into the room. I ordered you a glass of wine, and you sat with me. We talked until the bar closed and they had to kick us out. Apparently you knew my friend Alex who was dating your roommate Travis.”

  “Dating is a big word. They are more friends with benefits territory.”

  “Okay, where did you go to school?”

  “I attended USC. Valedictorian.”

  “Excellent, my mom will love that.”

  “And where did you go to school?”

  “University of San Diego.”

  “That’s a good school.” She struck me as bright. “And your major there was?”

  “English, and I’m a failure at it. I haven’t gotten a single job.”

  “In time you’ll find something.”

  “Let’s hope. And it better not come with an apron or spatula.” I laughed at her joke. She was taken back. I was really surprised she didn’t know how funny she was. She smiled over at me, warming up I hoped. “So when they ask what your career is, what do you say?”

  “I will tell them that I flip burgers with you.”

  She laughed and then told me no a thousand times. “Okay, what will you actually say?”

  “I will say I’m in finance.”

  “Ooh, that’s good. Then they will think you have money. That could be my motivating factor for dating you.”

  I knew that it was just internal dialogue, that she was trying to make our story, but this still was able to sting a little.

  “Maybe they will stop harassing me about getting a job and will just keep sending me cash so they don’t think I’m using you. Maybe I can tell them that too. That we had a fight because you thought I was taking advantage of you. Yes, okay good.” She was mostly babbling to herself now and I was still looking back between her and the ocean. “Okay, what kind of finance do you do?”

  “I run a small hedge fund.”

  “Eh, that’s good, but it isn’t super believable.”

  “It’s what I actually do.” I fished in my wallet for a business card and handed it over to her.

  “What?” She looked between the road and my card. We pulled into the hotel and was thrown back. “Really?”

  “Yes. I didn’t have those made just for this weekend.”

  “Wait, I can’t tell if you are serious or not.”

  “Call the number if you don’t believe me.” I got out and started to unload both of our things. Travis told me that Tom was really nice, but he didn’t seem like the best guy if he broke up with a girlfriend of six years after a car accident. It also seemed so recent to April that I didn’t really understand why Tom would already be engaged. Maybe April really was crazy. I’m sure this weekend would give me a better feel for her personality, whether I wanted it or not.

  I almost had that list she gave me memorized. I knew what to do and what not to do. I could tell that she was the type to be easily agitated, but I have worked with thi
s type before. It seemed so strange coming from someone so young who supposedly had their life in shambles.

  I had actually been to this hotel before on business. It was very nice, and I could tell that not only did she come from money but she was expected to marry into money. The poor woman’s life must have been very foreign and scary for her. I could understand that, even if I never experienced it. I gave her the benefit of the doubt because I thought she was adorable. She was a little curvy and spoke her mind without thinking twice of stepping on someone’s toes. I made a mental list of her quirks. So far I had nail biting and picking at it as well as excessive list making. And inability to dress for an occasion would have to be added also.

  April was an enigma. A lovely type A-anal enigma.

  I’m sure I could win her over. She won me over without trying.

  10

  April

  I could feel adrenaline pumping through me as we pulled in. I wasn’t used to lying to my parents, especially not about something this big. I knew they would expect more details. I wished we had had more time in the car to go over things. Grant was being fairly nice, but I wasn’t ready to spend time with him just yet.

  I put the business card he gave me in my wallet. Maybe later I would check it out, see if it went to his voice message, but for now I had other things to worry about. I worried about my parents. I worried about the hotel. I worried about money. I worried about carrying my luggage up. Before I knew it Grant had tipped the valet and took our suitcases out.

  That was baffling. He had given the boy a seemingly large tip and I wasn’t expecting to see him spend a cent. I guess that is part of the money I gave him. It might as well be going to something good. Grant pushed our luggage inside. I felt like this was over kill but I didn’t mind. If I was going to pay that much for him I was going to make him work for it.

  I could tell he was a little on edge too. I’m sure that even though he posed as a boyfriend for several people, he probably never had to go to a wedding. I don’t think that that was part of his values. Actually, I’m sure that is the exact opposite of his moral values. He didn’t strike me as a hooker at all. That’s probably why he used the word escort. I’m sure it wasn’t all fun, after all he was already hot but still had to order only a salad. He didn’t even get a dressing. I was having a hard enough time and it had only been a few days. I didn’t want to live life in his shoes.

  He opened the door for me as I walked in. I couldn’t tell if he was just a gentleman or if he was laying it on too thick. I decided not to mind it too much. If Tom saw this he would know that this is how I should have been treated. I should have been shown nice things and I should have had chivalry thrown at me like a fish at a farmer’s market.

  This hotel was ritzy and gorgeous, just like I would have expected my wedding’s hotel to be. I could tell now why Grant was dressed nice. I was embarrassed again but tried not to let it eat at me like it used to. I had already noticed a few people looking at me funny and decided that sunglasses were a good idea.

  “Room for April Somerset.” I said. As the front desk person turned around, they greeted Grant with a firm handshake, ignoring me.

  “So nice to have you with us again, Mr. Taylor!”

  “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Grant?” Grant’s smile could light up the whole room. He was incredibly charming, and was apparently nice to all workers, not just people in charge of handling a car.

  “Let us take your luggage up to your room.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” They handed Grant the cards and told him to give the manager of the bar a certain card for free drinks. Grant leaned over and asked me if there was an open bar at the ceremony.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “We might need this after all, then.” He tucked it in his shirt pocket. I felt like a fool in my clothes, but at least I was seen with a high roller. As long as they associated me with him and didn’t compare us, I felt like I would be doing fine.

  “Make sure no one finds out about your little job.”

  “Everyone knows I run a hedge fund.” Grant eyed me as if to keep me from screwing myself over. Maybe he had more experience doing this than I gave him credit for. I was starting to get excited, apart from seeing Tom and his walking stick fiancée. If I could pull this off I could have a nice dirty little secret to take with me home as a souvenir. I had a whole new level of secrecy to swear people to.

  He seemed much smarter than I gave him credit for, and he was incredibly friendly. I was trying to pick at him and find some flaws. It was getting harder and harder. I kept noticing my gaze focusing on his shirt, trying to find the outline of his abs. I can’t get carried away. I can’t sleep with him. This is just business. It isn’t worth the extra cash or the complication. I straightened my shirt out as we rode up the elevator, all our bags in a cart.

  We got to our room on the 8th floor. I was a bit upset as we stepped inside. I forgot to call ahead and ask for a double. There was only one bed in this room, and I didn’t feel comfortable enough to share. I didn’t think that over. That must have been the one detail I over looked. I hoped it was the one detail I overlooked. What else could I be missing? I sat at the edge of the bed and picked at my finger nails.

  “So I made a mistake.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This room.”

  Grant looked around the room and tried to understand what was wrong. “What’s missing from this room?”

  “A second bed. I forgot to call ahead. I’m sorry. We can get a second room. I’m sure I could find a way to charge it to my parents or something.”

  “I don’t think that works with our story. Not unless you have stingy parents.”

  “Oh.”

  “So do you have stingy parents?”

  “No, not really.”

  “So don’t worry about it.”

  He wheeled our clothes in and put my suitcases on the floor. His followed and he began unpacking. I decided that as long as I’m here, I’m going to try to enjoy it. At least this room has a balcony. I could get some peace and quiet there. If things got bad enough, I could even jump. Was eight stories enough to kill a person?

  “Aren’t you going to unpack?”

  “What?” I turned back from the balcony to see all his clothes moving from his suitcase on the bed to the top drawer of the dresser. “Oh, no. I don’t unpack at hotels.”

  “Why not?”

  “It just means more packing up. It’s not like I wear everything I pack.”

  He looked at my three suitcases and nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense to me.” He was chuckling as he finished unpacking.

  I don’t know why it was so strange to this man. I’m sure he frequently stayed at hotel rooms with women where no clothes were touched other than the ones that they threw off onto the floor. I didn’t understand him. He didn’t seem like he was judging me, or at least it felt like he didn’t have the grounds to. I hadn’t done any wrong to him. Well, except for lie about a skin condition, but that was it. I turned back to look at the ocean. It did look inviting. Maybe I would come clean, just so I could take a dip in it. It had felt good to be bad, though. I liked the thought of having a naughty weekend. I liked thinking that I was doing something that my parents hated without them knowing. I liked not having the consequences of an escort with all the advantage of a boyfriend. I was going to make this weekend my turning point. This is where I would start living life for me and by my own rules. I would please my parent this last time, and then after this I would give up caring what they thought. I was going to be the April of my internal desires and fantasies who didn’t take no for an answer and stopped letting people walk all over her.

  “So what’s on the agenda? Just stay snug in this hotel room?”

  “No, there will be an informal cocktail tonight. It will be on the terrace, so it should be a great view of the ocean. It’s for all the guests who are flying in tonight.”

  “You mean your parents are
purposefully putting you through another day of misery than they need to?”

  “No one ever accused them of being nice.”

  “Yeah, that’s unfortunate.” He changed ties and looked back at me, eyeing my outfit.

  “What are you going to be wearing tonight?”

  “Oh shit. I’m not sure.”

  “Well, we have to match a little. I have some other ties if this one doesn’t match. What dresses do you have?”

  All of them. Travis and I had gone shopping yesterday. I hadn’t lost much weight, but I was starting to get a tighter waist. To celebrate he took me on a bit of a spree, and we bought everything except for the store they were in. I could feel myself beginning to panic. I went back to gnawing on my finger nails. “I don’t know. I don’t know. What colors do you have? What do I wear?”

  “Calm down.” He walk towards me and put his hands on my shoulders. I hate to admit it, but it did help me feel better. “How about you just show me what you’ve brought. That way we can decide together. Maybe it will help your confidence.”

  “Okay, yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

  “You don’t have a rash or anything do you?”

  What a weird question. I was going to rebut but then I remembered the supposed skin condition of mine. “No. I don’t have a rash.”

  “Okay, good. So there shouldn’t be a problem with what you wear.”

  We were able to take out a lot of the dresses and limit it to three. One of them was a nude and black striped dress that had an empire waist and mock neck. It was floor length and probably the one I felt the most comfortable in. Dresses this size were like portable blankets.