CHAPTER SIX
ALEJANDRA
THIS IS BAD. VERY, VERY BAD.
Worse than ordering the wrong pipe.
Worse than being bitten by a snake at a construction site in the middle of a nowhere.
Worse than two weeks’ worth of rain fucking up our schedule and making us go over budget.
Bad, bad, very bad.
But, that’s nothing compared to Abuelita’s wrath. Dios me ayude, God help me…she’s going to be livid, not to mention, disappointed—the last thing I want to happen.
Then, there’s the guys. Carajo—fuck, because this calls for cursing in more than one language—they’ll never let me live this down. I’ll hear about this until we’re old and gray because those cousins of mine are like dogs with a juicy bone, relentless.
“You okay?” Sal—that’s what he told me to call him—takes one of my hands in between his and brings it up to his lips for a light kiss.
Sitting on the only hideous yellow and red bench in the middle of the park, that kiss, so soft and gentle, pushes away the worrisome thoughts. For this moment, all I feel are his smooth lips on my sun-tanned skin. My insides feel gooey and something flutters in my stomach. My eyes close, as I take a deep breath.
Going home is out of the question. At least, until I decide what to do about this meat fiasco. That makes my eyes pop open. Damn, those worrisome thoughts are back.
He must feel me tense because he scoots closer until our thighs touch.
“Relax.” He places another kiss on my hand. My eyes close in delight, and my heart sighs, as if I were the young, giddy school girl he makes me feel like. If it were remotely possible, I’d melt on the spot.
He’s so handsome, sweet, and thoughtful. A doctor and an escort, but a sweet and thoughtful escort at that.
“I can’t help it.” With a small smile gracing my face, my eyes flutter open. I squeeze his hand, reassuring him I’m okay; he is trying so hard, after all. “What am I going to tell my grandmother? She was specific as to what I was to order, where to order it from, and when to pick it up. I messed up, Sal, and now, my grandfather won’t have one of his favorite foods for his birthday.” My smile falters as his face blurs, and I blink rapidly to keep the tears from falling. “It may seem an insignificant worry to you, but my grandparents mean the world to me. I owe them everything.”
“How’s your hand?” he asks completely off topic.
I blink once, twice, before I answer, “Better, it’s gotten smaller, almost disappeared. Probably in fear of all the applesauce Abuelita has been force-feeding me.”
“Applesauce?” He chuckles.
“Yes,” I draw out without shame. “That stuff is awful.” My face scrunches in disgust, and I shudder at the thought of it.
“Applesauce is good for you.” His face and tone are serious, with the medical training breaking through.
“Don’t you start on me, or I’ll tell Abuelita you love applesauce and have been dying to try her homemade recipe. You’ll be eating that stuff for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—” I stop. What in the world am I saying?
“Good.” He smiles. “I’m glad it’s through your head I’ll be coming along with you to whatever this thing is you have going on.”
“Wait.” I snatch my hand out of his grip and hold both of my index fingers up to stop whatever crazy thought he has going on. “I never said you were coming with me.”
“Then, why the hell are we here?”
“I’m thinking about what I’m going to tell my grandmother. Nothing more. W…why would I take you home with me?” Leaning back, I put some space between us. “Really, Sal, or whatever your name is, you’re an escort.” I point out the obvious.
His eyebrows furrow in a scowl, and he scoots back, putting even more space between us, the earlier intimacy forgotten.
Ignoring the charged atmosphere surrounding him, I continue, “How can I take you into my grandparents’ home and present you, for Heaven’s sake?”
“Easily,” he growls.
My eyebrows shoot up in question because I don’t understand why he doesn’t see what I do. I feel terrible for my words, but I don’t take them back because I’m being realistic here. The family I come from will never accept this thing he has going on. Not even my grandmother, who’s been trying to marry me off since I finished my first year of work, will receive the likes of him. Does he really expect me to—
“You take me in front of your grandparents, tell them my name, and that I’m your date. There’s nothing complicated by that. Then, we see where things go.”
“You’re an escort, Sal,” I repeat slowly and clearly, as if speaking to a person hard of hearing. “An escort. You,” I poke his chest, “sell yourself to whatever woman pays the price.”
“The fuck I do!” His fingers wrap around my lone one still touching his chest.
His scowl turns fiercer, his nostrils flare, and I can practically see smoke coming out of his ears. Yet, I’m not afraid of him. Something tells me he’ll never hurt me, no matter how much I push him. H…he’s different.
“You’re here now, aren’t you?” My voice is loud, almost a shout, though I’m unsure why I’m so angry.
“This is different.” He squeezes my finger.
“How?” I try to pull away, but he refuses to let go.
“Because it is.”
“You’re lying. Nothing about this is different. You’ve probably done this countless of times. This”—I use my other hand to point to the two of us on the bench—”making women feel special, cared for, like they matter.”
“This is different, Alejandra,” he insists, his voice soft.
My chuckle is humorless and mixed with a snort. “You’re a pig, you know that. A pig.”
He whispers something under his breath, so soft, I can’t hear.
“What?” Again, I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. “Let me go! I’m done here.”
“You’re my first,” he whispers, each word louder as he speaks. “My first. Okay?”
“Wait—” Did he just say what I thought he said? My struggles cease. “What?”
“You’re my first, Alejandra. My first assignment. Despite what you think, you do matter.” His eyes implore me to believe him, but it’s so hard.
His words turn over in my mind, but no matter how much he makes me go soft and gooey inside, or how much I want his hands and mouth on me, I can’t let go of the fact that he’s a paid escort—a man paid to take women around and even sleep with them.
“I may be your first, but if I had been anyone else, would you have gone?” Holding my breath, hoping he’ll say no, I await his answer, though I already know that won’t be the case. He couldn’t have known it was me who mistakenly placed the order, yet he showed.
His eyes search mine. For what, I don’t know. Maybe understanding, but he won’t find any. To me, he’s doing something wrong for money.
After a moment, he whispers reluctantly, “Yes.”
My heart cracks, my breath releasing in a whoosh.
“I would have gone on the date, Alejandra. I can’t lie to you and say I wouldn’t. I—”
“And that’s what I can never understand.” He loosens his grip. I pull my hand away and stand. “I’m here with you due to a misunderstanding. I never meant to order an escort, but you,” my smile is small, forced, and full of hurt, “you’re here for the money. Any woman is as good as the other, and I can’t accept or understand that.”
An emotion flickers over his face before it goes slack, blank, emotionless. “Sometimes, there comes a point in your life where you have to make choices, difficult choices. Some you’ll like, and other you’ll hate, but necessity wins out.”
“Never.” I shake my head, unable to see his reason.
His eyes, no longer warm and inviting, meet mine. A corner of his lips rises in a dry, humorless grin. Slowly, he shakes his head and stands. With the back of his right hand, he caresses my cheek, then tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ears.
“Then,” he swallows, “you’re not the woman I thought you were, Alejandra. And that, my sweetheart, that is sad.”
With those words, he leaves me standing alone, by the bench where I experienced one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
ANTONIO
My chest hurts.
No matter how much I rub it, the ache won’t go away.
I throw back my head against my raggedy couch and stare up at the ceiling. Why the fuck did I have to go and fall for her? Why the hell did she have to be my first client? I was resigned to my decision, almost embracing it, then she happened.
The way she looked at me…now, I feel tainted and ashamed. If this is how I feel with her, imagine how I would feel if my mother discovered my secret.
Without further thought, I grab my phone and text Jason.
Me: I’m done. Out. Thanks for the chance, but I can’t do it anymore.
Jason: Your money?
He replies, surprisingly, not asking anymore questions.
Me: Keep it or give it to charity. I can’t take her money. She hates me.
Jason: I’m sorry, man. So, off the menu?
Me: Yes.
I respond, knowing my only chance at making decent cash, and still being able to sleep, is out of the window.
Jason: Off, then. If you’re low on cash, I’ll front you.
His offer is surprisingly sweet, not that you would say that to the butcher.
Me: No, thanks, man. Thank you for offering.
Jason: Alright. I have to go, I’m swimming in women.
With that text, our chat ends.
The picture he paints makes me laugh because I’ve seen the numerous women who frequent The Meat Market, both for actual meat and for the special menu.
With that thought in mind, I stand and head to the fridge. I rummage through and find several long forgotten dark beers Jax brought over on his last visit. The cap pops off with ease, and I lift it to my lips and throw back. In large, gulping swallows, I let the cold, thick, earthly, and yeasty concoction bubble down my throat.
After the shitty few months, especially today, I need a beer or two, better yet, the whole fucking lot Jax left. By the time I drink all of them, I’ll be so goddamn drunk, I’ll forget everything, at least for those moments of inebriation. Because I’m back to square, fucking, one.