Chapter 8: Seven

Confession #6: I hated having sex with strangers.

Some old guy was having a birthday party in the Country Club’s banquet hall when I arrived at work, so I was swamped with parking cars from the moment I clocked in until way past time for my first break.

Just as the rush started to abate, a black Maserati with shaded windows zipped into the valet station and screeched to a halt. The driver’s side door flew open and Alec Worthington slid out.

Like Ethan Riker, he’d been a year younger than me in school. But unlike Riker, he had an easygoing personality and no problem shooting the shit with lower lifeforms. Like me. Not that he and I were friends in any universe. Worthington was a rich kid to the extreme: pampered, entitled, selfish. If he didn’t get his way, he’d lie, cheat, or stab you in the back until he did. I wouldn’t trust the douche with my least favorite pair of shoes, but he tipped well when he was in the mood, so I stepped forward eagerly to take his keys.

Maybe if I raked in enough tip money, I wouldn’t have to accept any clients from my ~other~ line of work for another couple weeks.

A guy could always hope.

“Lowe!” Alec greeted with a wide, friendly grin as he spread his arms wide in welcome as if he might hug me. But then he came in to slap a bill into my palm and shake with me instead. “My man. How’s it hanging? Bang anyone hot lately?”

I chuckled at his question, masking my disappointment when I realized he’d only handed me a single crumpled dollar bill. Feeling spiteful, I teased back, “Just your girlfriend.”

Though he laughed as I knew he would, on the other side of his car, the passenger door slammed shut, cluing me into the fact he had a passenger with him.

“Oh, really?” a cold, condescending voice asked. “When was this? I don’t recall being banged by you.”

Trying not to swallow my tongue for getting caught talking smack, I peered over the low roof of the Maserati and immediately winced. Eva Mercer folded her arms over her chest and glared back.

“Ah, hell,” I muttered, flashing Alec a cringe. “You’re dating ~that~ now? My condolences, man.”

Instead of defending his girlfriend’s honor, Alec merely laughed and slapped the back of my shoulder as if congratulating me for my zinger. “I take it my granddad’s birthday party has already started?”

I nodded. “Only about an hour and a half ago.”

“Perfect.” Grinning, Alec nodded his approval and slipped off his sunglasses to hang them from the front of his shirt. “Come on, muffin.” He held his hand back behind him, waiting for Eva to prance around in front of the headlights to his side of the car in her stiletto heels to take his hand. “Let’s give the old man a heart attack with that dress you’re wearing.”

The short, tight red contraption that was wrapped around Eva made each step come slowly, so it felt as if we had to wait forever for her to reach us.

“Prick,” she said coolly to me as she passed by and took Alec’s hand.

I smirked back, greeting her with, “Muffin.”

Jerking her attention to me, she narrowed her eyes and hissed. For some reason, the pure blueness of her eyes reminded me of her friend.

Reese.

Dammit, I hated knowing that name. I hated being reminded of her. I’d been halfway successful about ignoring the fact most of the evening that she was currently in my house, watching my little sister. But looking at her friend brought it all back.

A wave of strange heat passed over my body. To mask its effects, I turned bluntly away from Eva and slid into the driver’s side of her boyfriend’s ride. By the time I returned from parking it, she and Alec were gone, but thoughts of Reese remained.

I was tempted to call and check in, make sure Sarah was doing okay. She’d looked freaked out of her mind when I had left. I didn’t think Reese could do anything ~too~ damaging in one night—Sarah would probably be okay by herself for a few hours if Reese abandoned her—but that didn’t account for any mental harm Glowing Girl could wreak on my sister if she were cruel.

Then again, everything I knew about her so far led me to believe she wasn’t the bullying type. She had defended me from Eva, she apologized to things she ran into, whether they were human or not, and she laughed all too freely to be the snide, bitter, hurt-others-to-make-herself-feel-bigger type.

But thinking positive things about her made my skin crackle with awareness.

“Hey, man. You taken a break yet?” Tex, one of my coworkers, asked, drawing me from my zone.

I shook my head as I hung up the keys to the Maserati. “No. Not yet.”

“I didn’t think so. Why don’t you go snag one? Everyone else has already had theirs, and it’s pretty slow right now.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

I grabbed a drink and mini bag of chips I’d stashed in the valet podium and headed to the break room, where I played a game on my phone and polished off my snack. I wasn’t even gone fifteen minutes, but Eva and Alec had already returned when I strolled up, turning in their ticket to Tex to retrieve their car.

As my coworker took off, leaving the couple standing there, waiting on him, I paused and remained hidden from view, not wanting to engage with Eva again.

“Well, that was some kind of record,” Mercer announced after a long sigh. “Definitely the fastest your mother’s ever kicked me out of one of your family functions before.”

Worthington chuckled and began to play with a piece of her light hair. “You do have a talent for pissing her off. Reason number one why I keep you around.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, turning her face away from him as if checking on Tex’s progress.

Meanwhile, I tried to meld into the shadows against the side of the building so they wouldn’t notice me.

“Why didn’t you invite your little cousin along?” Alec asked after a moment of silence. “I told you you should.”

Mercer lifted her face to look at him before she narrowed her eyes. “What? You think she’s pretty or something?”

Worthington’s grin was slow. Then he shrugged. “She’s not bad. I wouldn’t turn down a threesome, if you two offered.”

“Pig,” Eve muttered, jabbing him in the stomach with her long fingernail. Then she pointed it at his face. “That’s a hard no, by the way. She’s off-limits.”

Worthington just laughed and lifted his hands. “What? Hey, you know I’m just teasing. I wouldn’t touch your cousin. I mean, not as long as you give me another one of your amazing blowjobs on the way home, anyway.”

I pulled my face into a grimace. God, why was I stuck here listening to this shit?

Expecting Eva to call him to task for such a sentiment, I was surprised when she merely turned her face away from him again and stared up at the few stars that could be seen in the sky from here. I swear, something almost sad crossed her expression. I didn’t want to feel any kind of sympathy for her, so I looked away as well, wishing Tex would hurry his ass up so they could go already.

“Where’d she come from, anyway?” Alec asked. “How long’s she going to be staying with you guys?”

At first, Eva was quiet. I didn’t think she was going to answer, until she said, “Illinois. She’s from a place called Ellamore, Illinois.”

“No shit?” Alec answered, pulling back, his face full of surprise. “My dad’s family is from Ellamore.”

Eva turned to him, blinking as if confused. “What? ~Really~?”

“Yeah. My dad’s two sisters, Cynthia and Marilyn, still live there, plus three of my cousins. Max is okay, I guess, but the other two are worthless. They left home a couple years back, and who knows what happened to them. Garrett turned out gay, probably has some STD, and Felicity got caught fucking some lowlife who ended up in jail for rape. I bet she’s a crack whore and living on the streets by now, if she hasn’t already overdosed.”

Ignoring his disrespectful estimations, Eva shook her head slowly. “You really have relatives living in Ellamore? Ellamore, ~Illinois~?”

He laughed. “Yeah. Strange, huh?” He bumped his shoulder playfully into hers. “And you say we have nothing in common.”

She turned away again and sounded almost wistful when she said, “We don’t.”

Again, I thought I saw a flicker of something different from Eva. Something more. It was almost as if she’d just let her guard down, but then my phone beeped from my pocket with an incoming message and she jolted, her attention veering straight to where I was waiting in the shadows.

“Eww, are you ~spying~ on us?” she charged with a repulsed grimace as she stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders defensively. “God, you sicko. Can you ~get~ any creepier?”

I opened my mouth to tell her this was where I was supposed to be, where I ~worked~.

But her boyfriend merely burst out laughing, thinking it was funny. “Wow, Lowe,” he teased, cracking a grin. “If I knew you liked to watch, I would’ve put on a better show.” He reached for the backside of Eva’s little red dress and grabbed a handful of her ass.

She gave him no response whatsoever, except to step away from him, moving toward his car when Tex pulled it under the overhang.

A good employee would’ve hurried out there to open her passenger side door for her. I remained leaning against the brick wall of the club and pulled my phone from my pocket. After Eva let herself into the car, we shared a glare through the front windshield of the Maserati before I lowered my attention to the message I’d just received.

Unknown: 318 Willowbrook Terrace. 11:30. NW Back Entrance.

My stomach instantly burned with dread. But goddammit. A new client request. I wanted to ignore the message. Hell, I wanted to decline it in the nastiest way possible.

~You want to be fucked? Well, go fuck yourself~.

But I’d made shit for tips tonight, and with school started, we would need extra lunch money for Sarah, and then more cash for the new evening sitter—~for Reese~—plus Sarah’s medicine had to be refilled in the next week or so. And I refused to dip into the stash I had tucked away unless absolutely necessary. I called that my fantasy escape money, because one day in my dream world, I was going to grab my mom and sister and escape this life with that money. Turning down easy cash would just be plain stupid.

Swallowing the acid that rose up my throat, I typed my reply.

Mason: Code?

Despite how desperate I was, I’d cracked down a lot on security lately and accepted new clients on a referral basis only, meaning they needed to know the secret password to get an audience with me.

When the reply came back, I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath.

Unknown: Firecracker.

Damn. Someone had given her the right code. I was dealing with a legit customer. After replying with a thumbs-up emoji, letting the client know I’d be at the back door of 318 Willowbrook Terrace tonight at 11:30 p.m., I shoved the phone into my pocket.

I was so not in the mindset to play adventurous pool boy, or pizza delivery guy, or whatever the fuck this woman wanted from me. But it was barely nine now. I had two hours left at the Country Club, then half an hour to prepare and get to Willowbrook Terrace. I’d have to figure out a way to get my head in the game by then.

For some reason, my mind strayed to Reese. I wondered what she and Sarah were doing. If all the stars aligned perfectly, they’d be curled up on the sofa, watching ~Hawaii Five-0~ together and eating popcorn right about now. A longing ache tore through my chest, wishing I could be there with them, instead of preparing to meet a complete stranger for sex.

* * *

At 11:25 p.m., I killed the engine to my Jeep at the curb of the five-hundred block of Willowbrook Terrace. The streetlamps were the typical, fancy neighborhood style that provided more decoration than actual illumination, so it really felt like I was slinking through the dark for my illegal rendezvous with whoever might live at three-eighteen.

No one else was out and about, and I could only imagine what anyone in the neighborhood would think if they glanced through their windows and saw me walking by on the sidewalk at almost midnight. So far, I’d never had the cops called on me for loitering where I obviously didn’t belong. But maybe I looked clean-cut enough in my valet uniform that I didn’t arouse suspicion.

I knew I tempted fate every time I responded to a call. But my family owed no debt, so I’d probably keep on doing this until my good luck ran out. Because I still wasn’t convinced I’d ever reach a point where I’d feel safe enough to stop completely.

Reaching the yard of 318 Willowbrook Terrace at almost exactly 11:30, I took in the immaculately trimmed yard with roses growing in the front flower bed and I did a quick compass calculation in my head before moving stealthily along a fence line to get to the northwest corner of the house. There didn’t seem to be any guard dogs or booby traps about, so I made it to my destination without any issues. But I still paused when I reached the door I’d been told to go to.

Did I really want to do this? Fuck, no. But was I going to, anyway? Yeah, I guess I was.

Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath. ~You got this, Lowe. You fucking got this. You’ve done it a hundred times before. You can do it again.~

I don’t know why I always had to give myself that same mental pep talk, but this shit never got any easier. My heart pounded as I slowly reached out a fisted hand and knocked quietly.

I had no idea who would answer. Had the police discovered my activities and set up a sting operation to trap me? Had the client’s spouse figured out I was coming and was actually the one waiting on the other side of the door with a loaded gun? Or would the person who’d sought my services be just another Patricia? I honestly didn’t know which one of those scenarios would be the most horrific to live through.

But then the door began to open, and I held my breath, my anxiety nearly smothering me as light spilled out onto the dark yard.

When no one appeared to invite me inside and the door remained open, I exhaled steadily through my nose and stepped forward, ignoring the slight trembling in my extremities.

Inside, a single woman stood in the center of a mudroom—a sterile, white clean laundry room with a washer, dryer and not a single speck of dust anywhere—wearing a rose-colored silky nightgown that fell to her knees. She seemed to be in her mid to late forties with dark hair she had combed down to her shoulders and probably dyed so no gray showed. She didn’t have a bra on under the V-necked gown and her nipples poked through the silk as if she were freezing cold in this Florida August heat, or maybe she was just that happy to see me.

What surprised me the most was how beautiful she was. But I’m not sure why that still managed to shock me. Most of the people who employed me were attractive, at the height of fashion, and kept themselves bright, and shiny, and polished.

When I had begun this job, I had stupidly thought I’d get more clients who weren’t so visually appealing, that had a harder time attracting someone to their bed; they were just so desperate they had to pay for it. And honestly, I think I would’ve respected them more and been more willing to do business with them if that ~had~ been the case. But more often than not, my customers took care of their appearance. They were tidy, rich, and stylish. There was no way they had any trouble getting sex for free and no godly reason they’d ever have to pay for it.

Made me think sex had nothing to do with this; it was more of an ego trip for them. Buy a few hours with the young, handsome toy to play with and control, then go brag to your equally rich and vain cohorts about what you’d done. Companionship and filling a physical void played no part into the equation. I swear I was just a notch to punch into their social-status Prada belts.

When the woman sent me a calculating smile, I knew this stranger was just like the majority of my clientele, and I instantly resented her.

“You must be Mason,” she said, drawing in a deep, appreciative breath as she took me in from head to toe.

Showtime.

I quirked her a glance that I’d practiced a lot, a glance that made it appear as if I were equally as interested in her as she seemed to be in me: a lie to put food on my mom’s table.

In the huskiest voice I could manage, I said, “If I wasn’t before, then I definitely will be now.”