Chapter Nine

It’s been one week since I sat across from a guy in a Chinese restaurant and thought for one moment that there was a possibility, a chance, I’d found someone who liked me in the same way I liked him … romantically. I mean, what’s not to like about Arlie? He’s handsome, incredibly chilled, and socially adept. He seemed a little one-footed when asking for my number, but he asked, and as soon as the words left his mouth, I accepted his request as fast as lightning could obliviate the healthiest of trees. And maybe that is where I went wrong. Too eager and too desperate. I’ve not heard a peep from Arlie. There have been no texts, no phone calls—nada. Seven long days and nights have passed, and he hasn’t bothered to reach out in any way. I thought we had a connection, but maybe he was only being a gentleman, like I thought, and offering sympathy after an already botched blind date.

Chris and I’ve searched social media for the last week trying to find anyone who resembles the man who’s now plaguing my mind. At first, I didn’t think it would be hard to locate someone with such a name, but to my surprise, there are many Arlies out there in the big wide world. The only account which could be his is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. A profile picture of a dog, a dachshund, made me believe it must be his. The picture could have been of Miscuit, but then again, what does Miscuit even look like? Why didn’t I ask more questions? Like his last name, where he lives, where he hangs out, or who his friends are? Why didn’t I go super stalkerish and ask for his tax file number, bank account details, and credit card information? What gym do you own, Arlie? The gym thing should’ve been up there on the list of shit to discuss.

Blight, Arlie Blight, is the owner of the super-secure social media account. Could it be him?

What I should be asking myself now is how long does it take until you let someone go after you’ve enjoyed a lovely meal together and gotten your hopes up?

Ring, ring, ring.

“Welcome to Kit on High, you’re speaking with Mindy. How can I be of service?”

“Morning! Matthew Muller here. How are you, sweetie?”

I’m confused is what I want to say. “Very well, Mr Muller. Another booking?”

“Please! Oh, Mindy, I can’t get enough of your voice. Do you know how very sexy you sound?”

“Mr Muller, you’re always so sweet to me.” I pause. “Now, your booking, how can I help?” I need to steer this conversation back to business so I can go back to beating myself up.

“I’d like to see if I can book you. Are you interested?”

My head jerks back so far I almost lose the headset tucked behind my ears.

“Mindy. Are you there?”

“Um … yes, I am.”

“Well, how about a date? All expenses paid.”

“I’m sorry, but—” I stop speaking. Maybe I should consider a night as an escort with a successful and wealthy businessman who thinks my voice is super sexy. Sure, he hires escorts. It’s not the best quality to have, and I’m pretty sure no woman has such a quality listed on their picture-perfect man list, but Matthew Muller is a man who knows what he wants, and he goes after it. There’ll be no pussyfooting around with a man like him. Today, he wants me.

Live a little, Mindy. Walk on the wild side.

“Mindy, hello, can you hear me?”

Oh lord, what am I thinking? No, Mindy, you can’t accept his invitation of a date.

“Hello?” he says.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He hung up. The sound of a disconnected call beats through my head.

Slowly, I remove the headset. I throw it on the desk, leaning as far back into the chair as I can.

“Melinda, what happened?” Indie’s dark chocolate eyes zoom towards my face.

“You know what? Life. Life happened.”

“Yeah, life’s a bitch, and then you kick the bucket. We’ve all been there. What happened with the call?”

“Matthew Muller happened.”

“Lordy, have you seen that guy?”

I shake my head.

“Talk about a tall, dark, and handsome brew of deliciousness.” Indie sucks back pretend drool, then moans.

“You’ve seen him?”

“I have. You can easily look him up online, you know.” Indie pauses. “I would screw Matthew all day and night, and every day and every night for the rest of my life if given a chance.”

“Settle down there, horn dog.”

“Hang on. Let me show you. I have a picture of him in the flesh. There was a night about two months ago where Alice asked me to come out for drinks,” Indie says, sitting back at her desk. “We ran into Callie and Matthew at the casino. I about fell off my chair when I realised who he was.” She tugs her tote bag up on her lap before hanging her head between its handles, digging through her possessions. “Got it.” She waves her mobile phone in the air. “I tell you, trying to find my phone in this thing is hard, but I love that it can carry everything I like to keep on my person at all times, including my kitchen sink.” She giggles.

Indie’s bag falls to the floor. She holds her phone in both hands right in front of her face. “Oh,” she moans. “Matthew’s so smoking hot.” She’s practically drooling again when she holds her mobile out for me to take. “Panty-soaking hot. I almost need to rub one out just looking at his picture again.”

“He can’t be that good looking.” I take the phone from her grip and glue my eyes to the screen. “Holy fuck!” I squeal like a piglet whose tail got stomped on. “Jesus, God, and the Mother Mary.”

“See? Told you.”

“And he hires escorts? Why? Why the hell does he do such a thing?”

“No. Matthew hires Callie and only Callie. He’s never hired any other escort, ever.”

“Really?”

“Alice tells me he has very particular tastes when it comes to what he likes in the bedroom.” Indie stands, dragging her chair close to mine. “We don’t want Kitty to overhear us.” She leans into me. “I’m not exactly sure what his bedroom needs are, but Alice told me if she could get one night with him under the covers she would die from the number of orgasms he’d be able to deliver her.”

I gulp at the same time as I squeeze my thighs together.

Indie laughs. “I saw that. Seriously, though, your bud is pulsating, isn’t it?”

I stifle an embarrassed giggle, cupping my hand to my mouth.

“Look at him. He’s a god. And his voice when you take his calls? Deep, smooth like melted milk chocolate.”

“And his voice matches his skin colour.” I never pictured him to have dark skin or to be so young.

“Right? And the manscaped five o’clock stubble on his chin gets the juices flowing even more.”

My eyes are bugging out of my head as I enlarge the photo of Callie and Matthew and shift the screen so half of Callie gets cut off, and Matthew becomes my only focus.

“Mouthwatering, clit-pulsing perfection,” Indie growls.

“Who has such skin, such dark hair, and such bright blue sparkling eyes? Is it even genetically possible?”

“Matthew Muller does. It appears it is.” Indie sighs. “I think I need to use the restroom,” she says, shifting uncomfortably in her chair before rising. I reach out my arm, grab her hand, and pull her back into a seated position.

“He asked me out,” I blurt out.

“Who?”

“Matthew. On the phone just now. The call I took.”

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here.” She pronounces each word singularly and with purpose.

“He did. I swear he did.”

“Why?” Indie dips her eyebrows, causing my heart to grow heavy.

I’m not pretty enough. Skinny enough. Good enough for a guy like Matthew Muller. Go on, say it. I turn away and focus my attention back on the computer monitor. “Don’t worry about it.”

Indie leaps upright and throws her arm around my throat, hugging me from behind. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. It wasn’t meant to come out like ... I didn’t mean to say it in such a way.”

“What did you mean?”

“As far as I know, and don’t quote me on this, but apart from Callie, Matthew Muller does not see any other woman. You know Callie sees him off the books too. A lot. The only reason he books her in the first place is to keep her business going, and Kathleen’s pockets full. Matthew and Kathleen are good friends.”

“Does he love Callie?”

Indie’s lips are so close to the tip of my ear it makes me feel uncomfortable. “Alice says he doesn’t. Alice says he’s never been in love. Never.”

Matthew has never been in love. I’ve never been in love, but then again, I’ve never dated either.

“Indiana, shouldn’t you have left?” Kathleen's voice booms from behind me.

Indie plucks her phone from my hand, and after she does, my neck and shoulders become absent of her weight. “Yes, ma’am. I was catching up on some files I fell behind on.” She takes a shaky breath. “On my own time, of course.”

“It doesn’t look like you were doing much filing—more so gossiping. I don’t like such chatter in this office. I only need one of you working in here at a time.”

“Understood. I’ll go. See you tonight.”

“I won’t be in. I’m going to be away for a few days. Callie will run the place in my absence.” Kathleen looks wrecked and not her usual put-together self.

“Are you okay, Kitty?” I ask softly.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” she snaps.

“No reason.” I turn back to face my computer before Indie and I look at each other at the same time. Without a word spoken between us, I know we’re subconsciously sending a message to each other. A message saying Kitty’s never taken a day off. What the hell is going on here? Why does she look so worn down?

“Have a great break.” Indie slings her tote bag over her shoulder. She pulls her long, deep purple locks across her lips. “I’ll message you,” she mouths from behind the strands of hair.

I nod.

As Indie walks around the opposite side of her desk, she glances at Kathleen and says, “I’ll see you when you get back.” She then offers me a subtle wave, and she’s out the door.

Great! Now I’m left to deal with the Kitty monster and my Matthew Muller situation on my own.

Ring, ring, ring.

I stare at the headset and freeze.

Ring, ring, ring.

“Answer the phone, Melinda,” Kitty snips.

I pick up the headset and put it in place.

“What has gotten into you lately?” Kathleen tuts before I hear her stomp away.

“Welcome to Kit on High, you’re speaking with Mindy. How can I be of service?”

“You could go on a date with me. What do you say?”

My heart stops beating. My palms become clammy. Matthew Muller. Oh, dear God. He called back.