Sticks & Stones

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Sticks & Stones Page 3

by Rachael Brownell


  “So,” I begin, closing my laptop. I’m running out of time now. If I don’t leave in the next few minutes, I won’t have time to stop and pick up food before my showing. “Did you finally get what you wanted from Paul after all this time?”

  “No! We didn’t do that. There was some flirting and stuff, I let him kiss me, but that’s it. I swear. You know I’m not the kind of girl to give it up on the first date. That would make me a slut, and I am not a slut. Never have been.”

  “What do you call a girl who goes on two dates in one day and sleeps with the guy after the second date?”

  That was going a little too far. Before I can apologize, Ireland flips me off. Thankfully, there’s still a smile on her face when she does it. We’ve both become completely different people over the years. Better versions of who we use to be in a way. I shouldn’t be throwing her past in her face. She would never do that to me.

  “Bitch,” she finally replies. “You know that only happened once.”

  “I’d love to stay and chat about Paul, but I have a showing. Call me later?” I suggest, reaching for my bag.

  “You know it. We have a few things to talk about. Mainly your meeting in a few days.” Her voice trails off as if she’s going to say more, but she doesn’t.

  “Yeah, about that. I thought you said I would get info on this guy. All I got was a contract I need to sign and return and the meeting info.”

  “I’ll explain why later. Go, or you’re going to be late.”

  To my surprise, the ever-indecisive wife is ready to put in an offer the second they walked in the door. After talking numbers for an hour, they come to a decision. By the time everything is locked up and I’m on my way home for the night, I’m famished. Traffic was a mess on my way over, almost making me late. I couldn’t stop for food, and now I’m stuck eating later than I like to.

  Making a pit stop at the deli around the corner from my place, I pick up a bottle of red wine and a salad. It’s going to have to be dinner tonight. The salad, not the wine. Well, the wine will be my appetizer and dessert.

  Me: I’m home.

  Ireland: Did you sign the contract yet?

  Me: No. I just walked in the door. Can I eat dinner first?

  Ireland: You never eat this late.

  Me: Traffic was a bitch. I didn’t have time to stop.

  Ireland: Eat and then text me once you’ve signed and SENT it.

  Me: Why? What’s the catch?

  As I expect, she doesn’t reply. Ireland is great at ending a conversation on her terms. She always gets the last word, whether in person, on the phone, or via text message. It’s irritating as hell. It’s also one of the things I love most about her, when I’m not on the receiving end, of course.

  Rushing through my salad, I pour myself a second glass of wine and open up the contract. As I read through it, I wait for the rug to be pulled out from under me. There has to be something she expected me to be opposed to. Why else would she demand that I sign it as soon as possible?

  After a second scan, I sign and send the contract back to Paul. Nothing stood out to me. In fact, as far as contracts go, that was one of the most well-written one’s I’ve signed. Everything was clear cut and to the point. There was a space for the escort to sign as well, so I know he’ll be agreeing to the same things I just did.

  Oh God! What have I gotten myself into?

  Me: Signed and sent.

  Ireland: Good. You can’t back out now.

  Me: Is that why you were being so pushy?

  Ireland: Yes and no. Paul may have shown me a pic of the guy he’s setting you up with.

  Me: That bad? Thanks a lot, bitch.

  Ireland: That good. YOU’RE WELCOME ,BITCH!

  Really? That good? I’ve seen some attractive men in this city, but none that have really hit the mark for me. Sure, tall, dark, and handsome is fantastic. Blue eyes are a plus. For me, it’s not about how attractive they are. It’s more about how attractive they think they are. If he’s full of himself, my attraction will die on the spot and this will never work.

  Me: So when do I get the info on this guy?

  Ireland: Paul should be sending it to you soon. Keep an eye on your email.

  Me: Will you at least tell me his name?

  Ireland: I’m not sure. I know he’s friends with Paul and that this is all new to him. Paul trusts him.

  Great! This isn’t his normal day job. What if he screws this up for me? Do I get my money back? Worse. What if he screws this up in front of the assholes I’m trying to confront? No amount of money will be able to rectify that. He better be good. He better be on his game. I couldn’t care less how attractive he is as long as he can get the job done.

  Just as I’m about to close my laptop for the night, I get an alert that a new email has come through. I contemplate waiting until morning, but I know I’ll never sleep if I don’t. As I expected, it’s from Paul.

  Client: Reese Kennedy; Escort: Hunter Drake

  Pre-meeting 1: Thursday 9/30/2015 3:00 pm @ Java House Cafe

  Pre-meeting 2: Sunday 10/4/2015 time/location TBD by client

  Pre-meeting 3: Tuesday 10/6/2015 time/location TBD by client

  Services are scheduled for October 8, 2015-October 11, 2015, in Indianapolis, Indiana. Client is responsible for all travel arrangements, hotel accommodations, and meals. Escort is responsible for any additional expenses.

  Service costs will range between $3,000 and $7,000 for the information stated above. Exact amount will be decided upon by the client and escort at their first meeting. D.U.C.S. will receive ten percent of the agreed upon service cost. Payment will be due to D.U.C.S. prior to October 8, 2015. The remaining balance will be paid to the escort after the service has been completed.

  That’s as cut and dry and it’s gonna get. Paul seems like a straight up guy. I’m starting to see why Ireland’s attracted to him. She’s a straight shooter, too.

  And she has great taste in men.

  It says he’s just over six-foot-tall. Dark brown hair. Hazel blue eyes. The picture I have is from the waist up, but from what I can tell, his body is toned. He takes care of himself.

  Hunter Drake is yummy. I’m not morally opposed to being on his arm all night. In fact, I’ll be sad if I don’t run into Tiffanie now. He’ll be fun to rub in her face a little. Too bad it’s a masquerade party. She won’t be able to see his sexy dimple.

  Chapter Four

  Hunter

  I wait in Paul’s office for him to arrive the next morning. He doesn’t look surprised to see me when he finally shows up. In fact, he ignores me for the first few minutes. It’s not until I get irritated with him and throw a paper clip in his direction that he acknowledges my presence.

  “What are you doing here so early?” he asks, shuffling papers around on his desk.

  “I wanted to talk about this special assignment you asked me do take.” I make sure to put the emphasis on special. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “What do you mean?” He honestly sounds confused as if he’s never been asked this question before.

  “There has to be something wrong with her. She’s gorgeous and successful. Why in the world would she need to hire me to take her to her high school reunion?”

  “I don’t ask those kinds of questions. We provide a service–one you will get paid handsomely for. You shouldn’t ask those kinds of questions either. It’ll make her uncomfortable, and the last thing you want is for her to decide she doesn’t need you.”

  He has a valid point. If I’m going to do this, I can’t screw it up. I don’t get paid until the end of the weekend.

  “I get it, Paul. I’ll go along with whatever she needs. I was just wondering what you knew about her.”

  “I don’t. I know Ireland seems to think this is the best thing for her boss. I’m just helping out a friend.” Pausing, he looks down at his watch. “Speaking of Ireland, I’m late for a meeting with her. I’m looking at that property over on Hillside today. If all goes well,
I might be able to open a second office. One I’ll need someone I can trust to run. Someone who may not be suited to be an escort but who has a great mind for business.”

  If he’s hinting at what I think he is, I don’t know whether to be excited or scared of what lies ahead. I may not be cut out to be an escort, but I wouldn’t have a problem running the office for him. That, I could do. That’s more what I’m cut out to do.

  “Does this mean you’re agreeing to be her escort?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I huff out.

  “Don’t make me feel like I’m twisting your arm or forcing you to do something you don’t want to do. I offered it to you first because of the price tag. You can say no.”

  “No, I need to take the job. Thanks for offering it to me.” I do the best I can to sound appreciative, and I am, because I know he’s looking out for me. Judging by the look on his face, he’s not buying it.

  After signing the contract, Paul hands me my own copy. Our first meeting is in two days. I feel like I should get prepared, but what can I really do? Pick out my clothes? Brush up on real estate knowledge?

  After popping home to snag my laptop, I head to the coffee house we’re supposed to meet at. If nothing else, I can get a feel for the place and do a little research on my client. Since my cable was shut off, which includes my Internet service, the coffee shop will serve a dual purpose. If Paul doesn’t have any info for me, I’ll find it myself.

  Reese Kennedy

  Graduate of UC Denver six years ago.

  Founder of Kennedy Realty, servicing the greater Denver area and surrounding communities, specializing in commercial real estate.

  There’s a plethora of information on her company but not much on her personally. Aside from where she went to college, my search didn’t turn up much that I hadn’t already pieced together. I know she’s from Indianapolis since we’re headed there for her reunion. It’s my hometown, too. It’s her ten-year reunion, so she’s about a year older than I am. I wish I knew which high school she graduated from. We were probably rivals.

  Browsing through pictures, I can’t find what I’m looking for. Every picture available is just of her, never with anyone else. No boyfriends. No girlfriends. Nothing. Not even a picture of her and Ireland. How can she be a big name here in Denver, but no one knows anything about her? It’s almost like she didn’t exist until recently. In fact, all of the photos are recent, posted within the past few years.

  That makes me wonder what she was up to before then. Maybe I’ll ask. Maybe I should heed Paul’s advice and focus on the assignment, not on actually getting to know her. I have a feeling that I’ll have to play it by ear. If I plan things to go one way, they tend to go the opposite.

  After searching for almost an hour, I pay a couple bills and head back to my place. Knowing that the cable won’t be back on for a few days, I pick up a movie from Redbox on the way. It’s going to be a long few days, wondering what this woman is like. She’s already consuming my every thought and I haven’t even met her yet.

  It’s almost time. I’m sitting in the parking lot of the cafe, waiting for the minutes to tick by. I’ve already been here for almost ten minutes, and our meeting isn’t for another ten minutes. I don’t know why I showed up so early. I mean, it’s not like I had anything better to do, but still. I could have spent an extra five minutes in the bathroom and shaved. Or folded the three loads of laundry I did yesterday that are still sitting in the basket, getting wrinkled.

  Looking back at the clock I see that it’s time to make my appearance. She should be inside waiting for me. If I’ve learned anything about her over the last few days, she’s all business. Being early should be her strong suit.

  Scanning the room as I walk in, I don’t see her, so I decide to order us two coffees and grab a table. I’m starting to get impatient when the clock strikes quarter after and she’s still not here. Reaching in my pocket, I pull out my phone to call her. I programmed her number yesterday just in case.

  To my surprise, there’s a text from her waiting for me.

  Reese: This is Reese Kennedy. I’m terribly sorry, but I’m running about thirty minutes behind. I was stuck in a meeting that didn’t want to end. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

  Me: Drive safe. I’ll see you when I get here - H

  Why did I sign my name? She’s going to know it’s from me. I’m such a tool sometimes.

  Reese: Thank you. Be there soon.

  At least she’s polite. Maybe she’s not the bitch I’ve been assuming she might be. I’m still convinced there’s something wrong with her. She can’t be nice and beautiful and successful but not involved with someone. It’s not possible. Plus, most people with as much success as she has had tend to be assholes. They act like they’re better than the rest of us. At least, that’s how my boss treated most of us.

  That led to the challenge of sleeping with his daughter. In the back of my mind, I think I knew we would get caught. Maybe I even welcomed the idea. He treated me like shit, and it was my way of getting back at him–breaking his number one rule.

  Sipping my coffee, I keep my eyes trained on the door. I spot her the moment she walks in and steals my breath. She’s even more beautiful in person. I wave my hand over my head, and when she spots me, she points to the line of people waiting for coffee. I nod and pretend to look away, but I can’t. I’m entranced.

  She’s wearing a deep red blazer with a skirt that grazes the top of her knees. A white blouse is flowing as she moves. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly as if she ran here instead of drove. I would believe that if her hair wasn’t perfectly in place, pulled up in some kind of twist on her head.

  When she reaches the counter, she’s immediately handed a coffee and waved off without paying. She must frequent this place. Smiling and waving at the guy behind the counter, she finally makes her way over to me, and I avert my eyes. If she didn’t feel my gaze on her, I don’t want to make it obvious that I was staring.

  “Hey,” she says, pulling the chair across from me out and taking a seat. Looking up, I see that she’s extended her hand to me. I take it in my own. Her skin is soft and she smells of vanilla and lavender. “Reese Kennedy.”

  “Hunter Drake,” I reply, my words almost getting stuck in my throat.

  “Nice to meet you,” she says. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she finally speaks up. “Are you as nervous as I am?”

  “Yeah,” I confess to put her at ease. I’m not nervous about meeting her, but she’s making me nervous because she’s so beautiful. Don’t get me wrong, Charity was easy on the eyes, but this woman has stolen my breath. It’s hard to look anywhere but at her.

  “Good. I’m glad it’s not just me,” she laughs. Even her laugh is perfect. It suits her, too. Light but heartfelt. “So, what are we supposed to talk about at this meeting?”

  That’s a very good question. One that I’m not sure how to answer without sounding like a prick.

  “Why don’t we get all the business stuff out of the way, and then we can get to know each other a little better. I’ve read your application, but I would like to know more about where we’re headed and why you want company to go with you.”

  She tenses up when I mention the reunion. It’s slight, but I notice. I knew there was more to her story. I’m hoping she’ll share with me. It’ll make my job easier, and once she lets it out, maybe it’ll make this a more comfortable situation for her.

  Or, maybe Paul was right and I should leave it alone.

  Chapter Five

  Reese

  He’s hot. No, that’s not right. He’s stunning, handsome, gorgeous. I can’t even think of a word that encompasses how attractive he is. Normally, he wouldn’t be my type based on looks alone. His hair is a very dark shade of brown. He’s sitting down but seems like he’s average height, maybe a little under six feet tall. It’s his eyes that get me. They look like dark chocolate from here, but I can’t really tell. His profile said he was taller and his eyes looked ha
zel or blue in the picture I was sent. Maybe I’m over thinking things. Who really cares how tall he is?

  He’s staring at me. I can feel his eyes as they graze my body. Taking a few deep breaths, I try to maintain my composure. When I see Gus standing behind the counter with my coffee in hand, I’m grateful for the familiar face.

  “Here ya go Ms. Kennedy. On the house today,” he says.

  “Are you sure?”

  “You’re our most loyal customer. I can buy you a cup from time to time. It’s my place after all.”

  “Yes, I know. You picked a great piece of real estate.”

  “That’s because I had an amazing agent,” he banters back.

  “She wasn’t amazing back then.” I’m not seeking compliments from him, but I realize it sounds that way after the words leave my mouth. The truth is, I was a newbie and not as accomplished as I am today. I’ve come a long way thanks to people like Gus taking a chance on me.

  “You’ve always been amazing. I’m still proud to have been your first client.”

  My focus shifts in an instant. His eyes are still on me, I can feel them. Client. Today that’s me. I’m on the opposite side of the table. He’ll be running the show. I’m paying for his service. Oh God! I’m not sure I can do this.

  “Who’s the gentleman?” Gus asks, shattering my thoughts into a million pieces.

  “An old friend,” I reply, waving as I walk toward Hunter.

  As I settle in the chair across from him, we get introductions out of the way. An uncomfortable silence lingers between us, so I do the best I can to strike up the conversation.

  “Ready to talk business?”

  “So,” he begins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a piece of paper, “it looks like we are going to be leaving town on Thursday night, and return on Sunday afternoon.”

 

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