June (Calendar Girl #6) Page 8

I closed my eyes. “Gin, babe, it’s been how long now?”

  “Three months, two weeks and two days.” She rattled off the numbers as if she’d really been focused on every single day of being smoke free, the same way an alcoholic does of their sobriety.

  “And you’re doing so well. Don’t do it. You’ve been so happy not smoking and remember that peanut butter cup you texted me about? The one that you ate and felt like you tasted for the very first time now that your taste buds weren’t destroyed from the cancer stick?”

  A heavy sigh filled the receiver. “Yeah, that was really tasty. I still can’t believe how good it was. I mean, who isn’t a fan of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups? They’re like the most perfect food in the entire world…”

  “True.”

  “...and it was as if I’d never tasted anything so good. Smoking kills your taste buds,” she said matter of fact.

  “And remember, hot guys do not want to fuck chicks that smoke.” That was my ace in the hole. Gin had hot-guy-itis and wouldn’t dare risk messing up her chance with sexy men.

  A long, drawn out groan hit my eardrums. Then I heard the sound of gravel crunching off in the distance.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “That was me destroying that ciggy. I can’t believe I almost fucked up hot guy kisses. You really are my best friend.”

  I tipped my head to the side and smiled. “Hey, someone has to protect you and ensure you’re still gettin’ it from the sexier sex.”

  “I guess I’m just missing you, missing Maddy.”

  Concern slipped through my tone. “What’s going on?”

  “Now that Maddy’s got Matt she doesn’t want to hang out. You’re gone, and the girls in the show are just catty bitches. I don’t know…” Her voice sounded really sad and downtrodden. “It was like I had the best time in Hawaii with the two of you. Then you went off to DC to hang out with an old dude, Maddy went back to her guy, and I’m stuck with the dicks who drool over the show.”

  “You’re lonely?”

  After a long pause she relented. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s been a long year. When you left to go to Cali, I thought I could handle it because I planned on coming out eventually, but I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever leave Vegas.”

  “You will, babe, if you want to. How about this? When I finish this year, no matter where I go, I’ll scoop you up and take you with me.”

  “Even if you choose to be with a guy?”

  I laughed out loud. “Yes, even then. We don’t have to live in the same house do we?”

  “I don’t want to share a bathroom with your filthy ass. You’re a goddamned slob. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to live with you.”

  That’s why the man I’m with will need a housekeeper. Gail will handle that problem.

  “Fuck…” I swore realizing where my thoughts went.

  “What?” This time her tone was concerned.

  I closed my eyes, deciding if I wanted to admit what had been running through my mind. Shit. Ginelle was my best friend. She was the only one I could tell and would set me straight. “When you said that about the bathroom thing…”

  “Not sorry. That shit is totally true.”

  “I know it is. When you said that, I thought about how Wes has Gail and she cleans the house so I wouldn’t have to worry about a clean bathroom.”

  Her gasp was loud. “No you didn’t just go there. How the fuck are you going to get through the rest of the year if you’re thinking like that?”

  I groaned and ran my hand through my hair. “I know and it’s worse.”

  “Whaaaaat?” she said, long and drawn out. “Lay it out there. Come on.”

  “We sexted last week and then I had a crazy sex dream about him.” I said this really fast as though if I said it fast it couldn’t burn me.

  “Really? Sexting? Huh. Can you send me the thread?”

  Seriously? I’m bearing my soul here, and she wants to see the texts? “Are you fucking kidding me? Hello…BFF, be one!”

  “Oh yeah, okay okay. Sorry, I got sidetracked. That’s hot shit. Anyway, for realz this time. Did you like doing it?”

  “Yeah but that’s not the point.”

  “No, but was it fun?” she continued.

  “Yeah, I think we both had a good time.”

  “And was the dream fun?”

  I laughed and answered honestly. “Yeah.” Of course it was, until I woke up. I wasn’t about to tell Gin that part though. She’d lose her mind, overcharge her credit card to come here and kick some politician ass.

  “Do you feel like you owe him something? Like your loyalty?” I thought about that until she added, “Is he going to stop seeing the actress?”

  “No, he’s not. Not that I know of anyway.” Just hearing Gin mention her felt like a stake in my heart. A bout of anger prickled along my hairline, forcing my blood to heat.

  “But end of story is, you had a good time with him?”

  “Yeah.” I admitted not sure where she was going with this.

  “Then why does it have to be anything other than that? Just a bit of fun. Didn’t you tell me you learned that in Hawaii with Tai?”

  My bestie had a point. A really excellent one. Even Wes said to let it be what it was. Enjoy what we had. Remember how good it was. And boy, had it been good.

  “No, you’re onto something. I’m just having trouble keeping it all separate. It’s like when I’m with a guy, I’m one hundred percent with him, and when I’m not, I’m not. But with Wes, it’s just…there’s always something there, haunting me.”

  “You love him,” Ginelle said simply stating what she saw as fact.

  Instantly, panic sheared through my body and my subconscious. Even the air around me felt charged with a nervous fear. Not being able to respond, I took the coward’s way out. “Gin, babe, I gotta go. The boss is calling for me. I love you, skank. I’ll call soon. Bye!”

  My fingers shook as I pressed the “End” button.

  Chapter 8

  I thought long and hard about what Ginelle had said on the phone today. Did I love Wes? Of course, I had very strong feelings for him. More so than I’d ever admit to him, but I was leery to call it love. With Alec, Mason, Tony, Hector, and even Tai, those three words, ‘I love you’, slipped so easily out of my mouth but not with Wes. Why? What was holding me back? I think somewhere deep down, I knew that if I said the words, the feelings of hope and loyalty would build. I wouldn’t be able to move on to new experiences, finish off the year with a new guy every month, and pay off Pops’ debt.

  Even though there was something there between Wes and me, there was no way in hell I’d confirm it. Putting words to what we had would destroy us, or at the other end of the spectrum, it could very well bring us closer. Either way, my fate would be sealed and with six more months of earning the money to pay the debt, I didn’t have the liberty of making that type of decision unless I wanted Wes to bail me out.

  No matter how much Wes wanted to pay off my father’s debt, I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life. I’d be beholden to him. And what if we didn’t work out? Then he’d have paid a million dollars—well, five hundred thousand now—for me and my family to be free, and I just walked? I’d owe him with no way possible to pay that kind of money back. Aunt Millie gave me this opportunity to fix the wrongs that my father made and the guilt I had over ever introducing Pops to Blaine. I had to take this opportunity for what it was and recommit to my decision.

  Mia Saunders was an escort. I’d be an escort for another six months, I’d pay off my father’s debt to the prick of an ex, make sure my baby sister was still happy with Mathew, and then I’d decide what there was left for me.

  Resolve firmly in place, I went over to my closet and scanned the contents. A slinky gold number caught my eye. It would be perfect for the huge charity event tonight. Warren had us flying into New York and staying over for a few days so he could meet with some big wigs and talk shop about his project. Shipley, Inc. also
had a base in NYC, making the trip even easier. I’d been to New York with Mason on business but still, I was pretty stoked. I only had a little over a week left with the Shipleys and I was off to my next location. Which reminded me that I hadn’t heard from Aunt Millie.

  Instead of waiting for her call, I decided I’d give her a ring this time. I punched in her number while pulling clothes from the closet and setting them on the bed. Kathleen told me to lay out the items I’d planned to take and she’d make sure everything was handled. The way she spoke, it sounded as though she wouldn’t be taking the trip with us. Not sure why that was. I’d have to ask Warren about it. He’d been opening up to me a bit more since we had our drunken celebratory evening when we landed the Benoit assistance in Canada.

  “Exquisite Escorts, Ms. Milan’s office, Stephanie speaking. How may I help you?” a perky voice answered. I rolled my eyes. Every time I heard my Aunt’s fake name it gave credence to how very fake the entire business was. Don’t get me wrong. I was very thankful for the opportunity to make the cash I’d made and pay off Pop’s debt, but it’s not something I would have chosen if we weren’t in dire need of making a lot of money in a small amount of time.

  “Hello, Stephanie. It’s Mia, Millie’s niece. Is she there?”

  “Millie? Who’s that?”

  I sighed and smacked my head up against the palm of my hand. “I apologize, Millie is a nickname I use for my Auntie, Ms. Milan.” I lied.

  “Oh! Okay, how fun. Let me ring her.” Her chirpy voice grated on my overtired nerves. If I could, I’d rip that singsong birdie from her throat and set that sucker free. “Ms. Milan will speak to you.” She said when she came back on the line.

  I wanted to say, “Duh, I’m her family,” but instead held back my snark ending with, “Thank you, Stephanie.”

  “No problem at all!” she giggled, and the line buzzed before the sultry voice of my auntie came online.

  “Mia doll-face, how’s my favorite niece and escort?”

  My eyebrows rose on their own accord. “Now I’m your favorite client?”

  “Yes, darling. Of course you are. We are making a mint off your little month-long jaunts. Makes me wish we’d planned them for two week intervals and charged seventy-five a pop.”

  I’m going to bet that my eyes popped out of my head the way those wacky stress balls do. You squeeze the body and the eyes darted out garishly. “Really?”

  “Yep. Not only are you booked for the rest of the year, I now have a waiting list with a backlog of six gentleman that would like to take any of your months if we receive a cancellation.”

  It took a few slow blinks and a moment for my brain to catch up with what she’d shared. “That’s crazy. I can’t imagine one wanting my company for a hundred K let alone six on a waiting list. Wild.”

  “Hmm. Just proves that good company is hard to find. Especially with the special ability to not only help business, but know their place and look exceptional doing it. How is our nation’s capital treating you?”

  I sat down next to the clothes I’d gathered and fingered a few of the threads. They really were quite extraordinary, made with the finest quality fabrics and tailored to fit me perfectly. Each piece looked incredible and gave me a feeling of confidence that I didn’t feel while duded up in sweats and a t-shirt. There was something to be said about dressing for the job you want not the job you had.

  “Fine. Warren is happy, I think.”

  “Oh, he is. Very much so. Received your fee a week in advance with an extra twenty-five thousand. Is there something I should know about?”

  “What the fuck?” That baffled me. There was no reason he should have sent an extra twenty-five thousand. “We didn’t sleep together. I have no idea why he sent it. Maybe it was a mistake?”

  A bunch of clacking noises could be heard in the background as I gripped the cellphone so hard in my hand it ached where the side dug into my palm. “Nope. Ah here we go. It’s a bonus.”

  “A bonus? I don’t get it.”

  “The fine print does state that if the client is exceptionally happy and wants to send additional monies by way of a bonus for services rendered they may.” She laughed. “Usually that’s how we track the money you receive when you have relations with them but he clearly states in his email that the extra is to be given to you because of some account you single-handedly secured.”

  “The Benoits,” I whispered.

  “What’s that, dear?”

  “Oh, I...um...hit it off with one of the young wives. The woman got her husband to agree to the use of something that my client really needed in order for his project to be successful. I didn’t know it was so important that he’d send me a twenty-five thousand dollar bonus.”

  Immediately, I knew exactly what a huge chunk of that money was going toward. My baby sister’s wedding to her dream man. I’d save at least ten or fifteen of it and make sure she’d get the wedding of a lifetime, paid for by her own family, not his. The Rains were amazing people and obviously loved the idea of adding my sister to their growing family, but she was my sister. My responsibility until that ring was on her finger. I couldn’t wait to tell her!

  “Anyway, doll-face you’re going to get a kick out of your next client.”

  I crossed my fingers. “Please tell me he’s a hottie and somewhere warm?”

  “Oh honey, only a picture is going to do justice. Emailing now.” I heard the sound of her nails hitting the keys again. “His name is Anton Santiago but get this…he goes by Latin Lov-ah.” She snickered and must have tried to cover her mouth because the noise turned muffled.

  “Latin Lov-ah? Why the hell would he go by that name?”

  “Did you pull up the image?”

  Looking at the display, I hit speaker. “Okay, you’re on speaker; let me check my email.” I clicked a few buttons and brought up my Gmail account and clicked on her message. A picture filled the screen. You know how people say that a picture is worth a thousand words? Right then, no truer words had ever been spoken. “Oh my, lickable Latino. That’s my client? Isn’t he…”

  “A famous hip-hop artist, yes,” she said bluntly, but it really didn’t resonate. I was too busy mentally licking my cellphone screen.

  The image was a svelte man wearing sagging black jeans that showed a solid inch wide bit of fabric that was obviously his underwear. The stark red band with black writing that said “M&S” which I now knew was Mark & Spencer fashion out of the UK. Hector, my BFF—Boy Friend Forever as he claimed it meant—taught me enough about the designers to get by. The lovely cotton hugged Anton’s enticingly trim waistline. I traveled up the stairway of one helluva cut abdomen that was slick with sweat up to the pair of square outlines that boasted seriously tight pecs. His neck was corded as he leaned up against what seemed to be a push-up bar. His wrists were wrapped in that white tape that boxers used to protect their wrists as he gripped the bar.

  All of this was absolutely delicious, but nothing prepared me for the face. Angels could have wept at a face like that. Mocha-colored skin with fierce black hair and pale hazel eyes stared back at me. The eye color was a cross between green and brown but light enough against that dark skin to stand out as uniquely as my own. And I wasn’t being conceited. I’d heard my eyes were incredible since birth. If I’m out and about, I’m told every day by random strangers how amazing, or cool, or neat they thought the pale green color was. This guy, my next client, Mr. Latin Lov-ah himself, had eyes that dazzled.

  I took in the pic in its entirety. A gold, bulky necklace hung around his neck with a chunky heart layered with diamonds covering its surface sat at his sternum. On anyone else it would have been gaudy or tacky. On him, it added character and fit the persona of the heartthrob Latin lover he claimed to be. A pair of pouty, cherub-like lips formed a sexy smirk, and I knew just from this one picture that I intended to get me some of that.

  “Day-um,” I said in my best Latina accent.

  Millie cackled. “Figured you’d like that. Am I for
given for the oldie but goodie?” she asked referring to Warren, my sixty-five year old client.

  “Oh yeah, big time.”

  “Good, I’ll send the details and make the arrangements. You’ll be headed to Miami, Florida for this gig.” Miami? I held back the woot woot. “Was there anything else?” Millie asked.

  “Oh yeah, one more thing. Why is he hiring me?”

  The line went very quiet. I let myself fall back onto the bed. “Auntie…”

  “He wants you to be the lead in his new video. Some single he’s releasing later this year.”

  “A video? As in a music video? Like where I’ll have to dance and act?” The acting part wasn’t so bad. At least it was closer to what I had originally planned on doing with my life.

  “Yes, darling. You’ll do whatever they want. I don’t know. Look hot, pretend to love Mr. Love-ah, dance, you know, whatever the youngsters like seeing nowadays.”

  A noise like a cat dying escaped my lungs. “Auntie, I don’t dance.”

  She smacked her lips. “Well, I guess they’ll teach you, won’t they. He wants you. Saw your art from the Love on Canvas campaign, apparently bought one of the pieces. When he saw the Hawaiian campaign come out and the pics of you with Weston Channing and Mason Murphy in the smut mags he said you were his ideal flame for the shoot. Whatever that meant.”

  I shook my head and blew a loud breath, the force expanding my cheeks with the effort. “Okay, I guess I’ll just see what happens. Miami sounds fun though.”

  “Glad you think so, doll-face. I need to go, I have a client waiting.”

  “Okay, but oh crap! One more thing: Maddy’s engaged.”

  “Excuse me? I just sent the girl a present for her twentieth birthday. A gift card to Starbucks that should keep her in coffee for the year. What do you mean, she’s engaged?” He tone was a tad hostile and I understood why. Aunt Millie did not believe in the sanctity of marriage. Hell, I wasn’t sure I believed in it after what my parents and Aunt Millie had gone through.

  “Says she’s in love with the guy. Just moved in with him, too. I’ve met the guy and the family. They’re really nice…uh, normal even. Very much a perfect TV family.”