- Lily -
e must’ve known I wanted him to kiss me.
So what stopped him?
Had I said something wrong? Did he not trust me anymore? He shouldn’t, obviously. I mean, a person couldn’t betray another’s trust any more severely than I’d betrayed his.
Well, there was one way, but my father had nothing to do with this.
I shook my head to strike his horrid memory from my mind and stepped off the elevator.
Was it really the lack of a goodnight kiss I was upset about? Or was it the fact that I’d forgotten what it was like to genuinely want someone? Who knows?
All I knew was that he was attracted to me. His eyes gave him away more than once. So what was holding him back?
I unlocked my door and kicked my shoes off immediately. No matter how sexy I felt in heels, I still found them torturous and often missed the days when I insisted on wearing my Converse All-Stars everywhere. Even to school dances and church, much to my mother’s dismay.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called, wandering into the kitchen. I entered just as Vivian was doing a line off the countertop.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, swiping her nose. “I’m just getting rid of it.”
“And that’s the only way?” I glanced at the clock. “It’s midnight on a Sunday.”
“I can hear the judgement in your voice, and I don’t appreciate it.” She dragged her finger across the powder she’d missed and rubbed it on her gums.
“Since when do you even do that shit?”
“Since Primetime started giving it to me for free.”
Primetime. The newscaster she’d met six months ago. Unbelievable. “Seriously? He’s, like, the most clean-cut-looking guy I’ve ever seen.”
“Probably ’cause he likes to get all coked up and groom himself.”
I laid my purse on the kitchen counter and watched her wipe the invisible granules away. “Do you remember what you told me when you coached me before my first job?”
She groaned.
“Do you?”
“There’s an exception to every rule.”
I cocked my head. “You said the difference between us and prostitutes is that we’re high-class professionals. Then you made me promise I’d never do drugs or have unprotected sex because the whole point of this gig—and please correct me if I’m misquoting you—is to make our lives better, not destroy them.”
She rolled her eyes. “Teachers are always more strict the first week of school.”
I squinted at her. “Should I be worried about this? I don’t mean to be a miserable square, but I don’t want that shit here. And even more, I don’t really want you hanging out with people who encourage you to get fucked up before they fuck you.”
“Chill, Lily. It was one line. It’s not like I bought it.”
I scoffed.
“What?”
“Just be careful, Viv. Coke makes people greedy.”
She swung her dark red hair behind her shoulders. “People are greedy anyway.”
“Maybe, but in our business, greedy clients are dangerous clients and greedy escorts are unemployed escorts.”
“Is this lecture over yet?”
I nodded.
“Thank God. Where were you tonight?” she asked, eyeing the white dress I’d borrowed. “You can keep that, by the way. It looks way better on you.”
“I met an old friend for drinks.”
“An old friend with a penis?”
“Last I checked.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“He was sort of my high school sweetheart, as cheesy as that sounds.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Did you have a good time?”
I opened my mouth to speak but sighed instead.
“That good, huh?”
“I’m afraid to admit what a good time I had.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a trader.”
“Shame he doesn’t know what you do,” she said. “He’d probably be an eligible client.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Why? Because you’d let him have you for free?”
“It’s not like that. And what makes you think he doesn’t know what I do?”
“Because you’re blushing at the thought of him, which means you like him. Which means you’ve probably been lying to him all night.”
I swallowed.
“I’m glad you had fun, though. That’s really…pedestrian of you.”
I tore my eyes from her and went to get a glass of water. Was she actually trying to make me feel guilty for the first thing I didn’t feel guilty about in years? Or was she just jealous that she didn’t even remember what it was like to not fake it with somebody, to not spend time with them simply because of the cash at the end of the tunnel?
“I have a job for you Friday,” she said, hoisting herself onto the counter and crossing her ankles.
The juxtaposition between her Sesame Street T-shirt and the coke in her nose was mind-boggling.
“A friend of Primetime’s needs a date to a fundraiser for kid’s cancer or something. Apparently he’s a really nice guy. Sort of a missionary type. Primetime said he doesn’t have a kinky bone in his body. Anyway, I doubled your rate, and he still agreed to take it so—”
“I have plans Friday.”
“Yeah, plans to make six thousand dollars for a good cause.”
I shook my head. “You’ll have to find someone else.”
“He likes Italian girls.”
“I’m not Italian.”
She waved my objection away. “You know what I mean. Besides, I already agreed.”
“Not my problem. You should’ve asked me first.”
“You’re seriously going to turn down six thousand dollars when all you have to do for it is have a bit of missionary for charity?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” I took a sip of my water, reveling in how good it felt to pretend for just one minute that my company wasn’t for sale.
“What the hell are these other plans?”
“I’m going out with my friend again,” I said, wishing I could refer to him as more. But again, there was no kiss so… “On a real date.”
“A real date, as in all you’re going to get out of it is a free meal?”
“Actually, it’s my treat since he bought tonight.”
She looked confused. “Why would you do that to yourself?”
“What?”
“Why would you even pretend to entertain the idea of having an actual relationship?”
Because I’m worth it, I thought, wondering whether I believed it as much as L’Oréal.
“They’re so messy.”
“So is life,” I said. “And I intend to experience it, okay?”
“Even if it’s only for a few hours?”
“It might turn into something more.”
“Do you really believe that?” she asked. “Do you really think any self-respecting man wants a woman who’s done the kind of things you’ve done for money?”
“No,” I said, my heart sinking. “I don’t.”
“So what’s the point of stringing him along?”
I leaned against the opposite counter and folded my arms. “I guess I feel like I owe it to him.”
“What?”
“He’s the only reason I know what love is actually supposed to feel like.”
“Love is for people with no ambition,” she said. “There’s so much more to life.”
“I disagree.”
“How can you say that?” She spread her palms through the air. “Look at everything you have because you haven’t let yourself be distracted by that Hollywood bull.”
“You seem to forget that I took this job for love, Vivian. I took it for Paige. So she could have a quality of life high enough that I could sleep at night.”
“Sounds like a selfish motive to me.”
“Maybe, but I also took it so I could finish my degree.”
“That may be why you took the first job,” she said. “But you’ve stayed for the lifestyle. For the freedom it affords.”
“I’d trade it all for love,” I said, scared of the tightening in my chest. “In a heartbeat. I’d walk away.”