Seduction

by Velvet

  Five minutes later, and Rico still wasn’t there. He probably had a tough time getting a taxi, Mason thought, knowing what a nightmare it was finding a cab in New York in the rain.

  Another two minutes went by, and Mason’s cell phone rang. He thought it was Rico calling to say that he was running late, but he looked at the caller ID, and it was Terra. “Hey, sweetheart, how are you?” he asked, after flipping open the phone.

  “I’m fantastic! What are you doing? Can you come over? I have some great news to tell you,” she said quickly, nearly running her words together.

  “Uh, I’m getting ready to go into a meeting, but I can come by later. What’s the great news?” Mason wanted to know. He was so wound up that he needed to hear something uplifting as a momentary distraction.

  “I’ll tell you when you get here,” she said, and gave him her address. “Okay, sweetie, I’ll see you later.”

  Hearing the happiness in Terra’s voice, Mason began to feel guilty for getting her involved in this mess—even though she knew nothing about the scheme—and would be relieved once the blackmail issue was settled. He took Missy’s card out of his pocket and dialed her cell number, but after four rings, the call went to voice mail, and he hung up without leaving a message. He checked his watched again; it was a quarter after eight. He was surprised that Rico wasn’t there yet, because he knew how anxious the greedy bastard was to get his hands on the money.

  Maybe he’s upstairs, Mason thought, and walked up the wrought-iron steps to the lobby bar. The dim lounge area was full of people sipping cocktails and chatting. He squinted his eyes to adjust to the lighting and scanned the plush sofas, but Rico wasn’t there. He then walked into the bar area to the left, but he wasn’t there either. Mason peeked his head in the restaurant, but still no Rico.

  Mason went back downstairs and waited for another thirty minutes. It was nearly nine o’clock, and Rico still hadn’t shown his face. All types of thoughts were running through Mason’s mind. Suppose he decided to go straight to Terra and extort the money from her directly? he thought. But he quickly dismissed that theory, because if that were the case, Terra would’ve been irate instead of bubbling over with joy when she called. Maybe he was meeting with a tabloid reporter at this very moment and is showing them the pictures. But again that didn’t make any sense either, since Rico would only be getting a nominal fee for the pictures instead of the million dollars. Mason went through dozens of other scenarios, but none of them made any sense, especially since he told Rico that he had the cash, and there was no way that Rico could have known that Mason didn’t have the full amount.

  At nine-thirty he decided to leave, because clearly Rico had no intention of showing up. It had stopped raining, and there was a fleet of taxis in front of the hotel. He hopped into one and gave the driver Terra’s address. Mason sat in the backseat, freaking out, and didn’t know what to do. Rico had changed the rules midgame; now Mason had no clue how to proceed. He took out his phone and redialed Rico’s number, but again the call went to voice mail after a few rings. He’s probably looking at the caller ID and purposely ignoring my call. He wanted to go over to Rico’s apartment and confront him, but he didn’t know where he lived. The only information on Rico’s card was his new name and cell number.

  As the taxi cruised up the West Side Highway, Mason carefully weighed his options. On the one hand, he could come clean and tell Terra about his unsavory past and the blackmail scheme, or he could wait until Rico crawled out of the woodwork with the evidence and gave Terra a private viewing of the pornographic videos. Either way, the truth would come out, and Mason knew no matter how hard telling Terra about his homosexual experience would be, she should hear the truth from him. Rico couldn’t be trusted and would more than likely spin the facts and paint him to be bisexual, which he wasn’t since that was his first and last encounter with a man. As hard as telling her was going to be, Mason knew that he had no other choice.

  He wanted to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible, and could have cruised around Manhattan all night, but the driver had pulled in front of her building and was waiting impatiently to get paid. Mason gave him a twenty, told him to keep the change, and got out.

  “Mason Anthony to see Ms. Benson,” he said to the doorman.

  “Go on up, she’s expecting you,” he said, and gave Mason her apartment number.

  “Sweetheart, there’s something important I have to tell you,” he mumbled in the elevator, trying to rehearse his lines. But no matter what words he used, the truth would sound ugly and disgusting. His only hope was that she could find it in her heart to forgive him. The elevator doors opened, and he slowly stepped off and made his way to her apartment. Doom washed over Mason, as if he were going to face a firing squad, and in a sense he was, because he knew that Terra’s eyes would shoot holes through his character the moment she heard the truth. When he reached her door, it was ajar, and he called out her name.

  “Come on in, honey, and make a left. I’m in the den!” she yelled.

  Mason followed her voice and found her perched on a white leather sofa in an exquisitely decorated room mixed with antiques and sleek Scandinavian furniture. She was watching a plasma television mounted to the wall like a piece of art. “Hey there,” he said.

  Terra looked over at him and blew him a kiss. “Hey, sweetie.” She noticed the backpack swinging off of his left shoulder, smiled, and said, “I see you brought a change of clothes. Now how did you know I was planning a sleepover?” she teased.

  “It’s not a change of clothes.” Mason sat down next to her. “I have something important to tell you.”

  “So do I. Guess who’s going to be starring in a major motion picture? ME!” she blurted out before he had a chance to answer.

  “Wow, that’s great. When did this happen?” Mason could clearly see that Terra was flying high, and he hated to be the one to let the helium out of her balloon, but it had to be done.

  “My friend Sage bought a movie studio and has signed me to a two-picture deal, but I’ll tell you all about it in a minute. I want to watch the commercials so I can see who got that Dove commercial that I auditioned for,” she said, turning her attention back toward the television.

  Mason sat back and waited. After the break was over, the ten o’clock news came back on, and he knew that it was now or never. “Terra, there’s something important I have to tell you,” he said, moving closer to her.

  She looked at Mason and noticed the serious expression on his face. Her heart began to race. She didn’t know what he had to say, but whatever it was, it was no laughing matter. In the time that she had known him, she’d never seen him look so somber. “Mason, you’re scaring me. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s a long story, so I’ll start at the beginning.” He took a deep breath. “Back in college—”

  “Earlier this evening, in midtown, a bus struck and killed a pedestrian. Witnesses say a woman, later identified as Missy Walker, ran in front of a moving bus and was pronounced dead at St. Vincent’s Hospital. The fatal accident caused a major pileup in midtown and tied up traffic for hours,” the newscaster said in the background.

  The second Mason heard the name Missy Walker, he stopped talking and stared at the screen. The camera crew had obviously arrived after she was taken to the hospital, because there was only a shot of the bus, a ripped tote bag, and debris littering the ground. Mason looked closer at the scene and could see what appeared to be a mangled videotape. Fortunately for him, Missy didn’t survive the accident and neither did the evidence. What wasn’t destroyed by the rain was crushed underneath the gigantic wheels of the bus. The words “I don’t believe it” slipped from his mouth unconsciously.

  “Did you know her?” Terra asked, watching the stunned expression on his face.

  “No,” Mason said, still staring at the screen in disbelief. Now he knew why Rico didn’t show up at the hotel. He had been killed by a bus. Mason silently gave homage to whoever or whatever was responsibl
e for ridding the world of Rico. Now there was no need for a full confession, and he wouldn’t have to worry about him blackmailing Terra any longer. One crisis was over, but there was still another issue for Mason to deal with. At that moment he decided to wipe the slate clean and tell Terra about his involvement in the Black Door. Which now was the only lie between them, and from this point on, he wanted nothing more to do with half-truths. He took her hand in his. “Sweetheart, remember when we met and I told you I was into real estate?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Well, I’m not. I lied.” He waited for her reaction, and when she didn’t say anything, he continued. “I manage the downtown location of the Black Door,” he said softly, almost in a whisper.

  She snatched her hand away from his. “You WHAT!?” she screamed.

  “The Black Door, the club that you went to in the Meat-Packing District,” he said.

  “I know what club you’re talking about.” She stood up. “Are you telling me that you’re the manager of that sleazy sex club?” she said with her hands on her hips.

  “It’s not sleazy,” he said in defense.

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Will you please sit down and listen to me?”

  Instead of sitting next to him on the sofa, Terra crossed the room and sat in a chair. She folded her arms in front of her chest and said, “I’m listening.”

  Mason told her about his plan of becoming a doctor and working part-time as an escort to help pay for school. He explained that when his funds dried up, he was offered the job of manager at the new club and couldn’t say no. With the hefty salary that came with the position, he would be able to save enough money to return to school. He expected Terra to be sympathetic, but she just sat there with her arms crossed, looking pissed. “Come on, Sweetheart, say something,” he said, hoping for her forgiveness.

  “I’m going to need some time to digest this.” Terra couldn’t help but think of the press. Starring in a major motion picture would shoot her right to the top of the list of aspiring actresses, and her private life would be dissected more closely now than ever. If the tabloids got wind of her boyfriend operating an erotica club, it would be spread all over the headlines, and her career would be overshadowed by the scandal. She loved Mason, but wasn’t ready to sacrifice a lifelong dream that had just come to fruition. “Mason, I think it’s best if we cool it for a while.”

  He was devastated. He didn’t think that Terra would end their relationship over his job. It wasn’t like the Black Door was illegal, but on the other hand he realized that a woman of her stature couldn’t be associated with a profession that could easily be vilified in the press. As he stood up to leave, it occurred to him that if she was putting the breaks on their relationship over his involvement in the Black Door, she would have probably cursed him and ended their relationship flat out if he had told her about Rico. He was grateful that he didn’t have to tell her about the blackmail scheme. Maybe in due time he’d have a chance to salvage their relationship. “I understand.”

  He ambled toward the doorway with his head hung low, but before he left, he turned around, raised his head, and said, “Terra, just know that I love you, and a love this strong doesn’t come along every day.” With that said, Mason walked out of her apartment, but prayed to the heavens above that he wasn’t walking out of her life for good.

  28

  “HEY, STRANGER,” Lexi said into the phone. She hadn’t talked to her friend in nearly a week. “Life on ‘Lovers Lane’ must be exhausting, with all the good loving that Mason’s been laying on you.”

  “It’s not like that at all,” Terra said sadly.

  “Oh, so you’re saying that he ain’t rocking your world? Now don’t hold back on my account. I’ve gotten over my fit of jealousy,” she confessed. “And I’m ready to hear all of the scandalous details. Since I’m not involved with anyone at the moment, I have to live vicariously through you, so come on and don’t leave anything out.”

  “We’re not seeing each other anymore.” Terra went on to tell Lexi about how Mason lied, and that he wasn’t in the real estate business but worked at the Black Door.

  “You mean to tell me that he’s one of those fine-ass servers behind those half masks who wear G-strings and fuck all night for a living. Damn!” she exclaimed. “I know without a fact that he’s got some serious skills, because those servers are well hung and can lick the hell out of a pussy,” she said, blowing a breath of hot air into the receiver.

  “No,” Terra nearly screamed, “he’s not a server. He’s the manager.” She didn’t want to picture her man parading around in a tiny piece of loincloth, showcasing his dick for a bunch of horny women.

  “Well, if he’s not one of the hired studs, then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that he’s associated with the club, and if word got out that I was dating the manager of a sex club, all hell would break loose. First of all, the tabloids would have a field day, and secondly my parents would die of embarrassment, not to mention what a negative effect it would have on my career.”

  “Not to be mean, but what career? You’re still auditioning for commercials.”

  Terra had been so distraught over breaking up with Mason that she hadn’t told Lexi about catching Sage in a compromising position, and the movie contract he gave her to keep her mouth shut. “So, you see, I’ve got a lot to lose,” she said, after filling Lexi in on the story.

  “I can’t believe Sage is a switch-hitter, but I should’ve known. He’s just too fine and too fashionable to be straight. Why is it that most of the educated, good-looking, well-dressed men are gay?”

  “I don’t think Sage is gay-gay. It wasn’t too long ago that he was trying to get into my panties. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. So, you think it’s just a passing fad?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. But there’s one thing I do know for sure, and that is he’d do anything to keep his father from finding out about his sexual experimentation.”

  “I’m sure he would. Mr. Hirschfield is so old school that he’d probably disown Sage if he knew his only son liked a little dick on the side. So what type of film are you going to do?” Lexi asked, switching topics. “When are you going to start shooting? This is exciting, I can’t wait to come on set and see what goes on behind the scenes. Who knows? Maybe I’ll meet a cute cameraman like Julia Roberts did, get married, and have twins.” She chuckled.

  Terra shook her head, even though Lexi couldn’t see the gesture. “I swear, you are one man-hungry chick.”

  “It worked for Pretty Woman. Why can’t it work for me?”

  “Whatever,” Terra said, dismissing Lexi’s comment. “Anyway, the studio is still under construction, but in the meantime, we’re deciding on the type of film we’re going to make. Sage has been sending me all types of scripts so that we can narrow down the genre. I don’t know if it should be a romantic comedy, a drama, or a suspense thriller.”

  “Wow, sounds like he’s letting you in on some major decisions.”

  “You wouldn’t believe how accommodating he’s been. Before, it was like trying to pry information out of his mouth with a crowbar. Now he’s so forthcoming, I really feel like we’re partners.”

  “You’re partners all right, partners in this hush-hush conspiracy to keep his father in the dark,” Lexi said, setting the record straight.

  “Frankly, I don’t care what type of partnership it is, as long as Sage honors my contract and I star in his next two pictures.” Just then, the doorman buzzed up on the house phone. “Lexi, I’ve got to run. The doorman is ringing, I’m sure there’s another script waiting for me downstairs. I’ll call you later in the week, and maybe we can get together for a drink.”

  “Sounds good. Talk to you later,” Lexi said, and hung up.

  Terra went to the lobby and picked up the package from her doorman. Upstairs, she opened the oversized envelope, but it wasn’t a script. Inside was a one-hundred-dollar gif
t card from Borders, matches, a magnetic keycard, a menu, a postcard from a local artist, a transcript, and a letter. She spread the contents out on her cocktail table, looked at each one carefully again, and then read the letter.

  Terra,

  I know, I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but you’re in my system, and I can’t stop thinking about you. Though our time together was brief, it was memorable nonetheless, and I’ve gathered some mementos for you. The gift card from Borders is for your daily Chai fix (smile), and reminds me of the first time I laid eyes on your lovely face. The matches are from Pravda. The hotel key card is from our romantic night at the Gansevoort (when we made passionate love. REMEMBER??). The postcard is from the same artist who painted the picture that I bought you, and the menu is from our delicious lunch at Barolo. I’ve also included a copy of my transcript from med school, just in case you thought I was lying about that too.

  Terra, please give us another chance. I LOVE you with everything I am and everything I have!

  Mason

  P.S. I’ll wait for your call, and if I don’t hear from you…I’ll understand.

  Terra read the letter over and over, until she had memorized every line. No one had ever written her a love letter before and she was deeply touched by the sentiment. The wording was perfect, even his handwriting was faultless, and she adored the fact that he had collected something from everywhere that they’d been together. And when she looked over his transcript, she realized that at least that part of his life was the truth, which made her feel a little better about the situation.

  Maybe I’ll call just to say thanks. I mean he did go through all of this trouble, she thought to herself.

  Terra picked up the phone to call him, but someone was already on the other end of the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Terra. It’s Sage. How are you today?” he asked, full of energy.