Arlo #5
Now the introductions had been dealt with, Aaron and Eleanor proved to be good dinner companions.
She was full of life and fire, while he was mellow and dignified.
He occasionally had to dial her back, but she took it with good grace.
I was also struck by the feeling that he seemed to feed off her energy as he talked more.
Ward was good at keeping them engaged, never missing a beat in the conversation, allowing me to take in the sight and sound of everything, while still feeling comfortable enough to engage in the conversation.
Dessert was a fruit tart with the freshest berries I had tasted in a while, with a creamy, almost decadent custard, and crisp crust on the bottom.
The drizzle of rich chocolate sauce on the top accented everything and made it shine.
Ward watched me carefully as I worked through the food, and he seemed pleased by what he saw.
I was glad, because it was a little difficult not to focus entirely on the food rather than the conversation, but thankfully, not impossible.
“Is there some sort of ceremony?” I wondered when the plates were taken.
“My mother will give a speech at the end, thanking everyone for coming and for their generosity. Said generosity being that they played a ridiculous amount of money to eat the food, drink the drinks, and feel better about themselves,” Ward said with a shrug.
“Meanwhile, most of the money will disappear into various pockets on the way to the people we’re supposedly helping.
Ultimately, the children will be lucky to see ten percent after the administrators and go-betweens dip their fingers into the pie. ”
I eyed him, smiling a little. “And people say I can be morbid.”
“You are a ray of sunshine compared to half the things I don’t say,” he said, his hand sliding under the table to my thigh.
“Speaking of things that shouldn’t have to be said,” Eleanor said, turning to her husband. “I believe this is where you ask the lady if she wants to dance.”
“Now if only there was a lady nearby to ask,” Aaron said, holding out his hand for her as he stood up. “But I suppose you will do.”
“Ah, romance isn’t dead after all,” she said with a chuckle.
“Are you trying to grope me while we’re at a charity event?” I asked Ward, taking another sip of my drink, this one two fingers full.
“Should I stop?” he asked as his hand slid around my thigh and then up, bumping against my crotch.
“Now, I never said that,” I said with a low chuckle. “Though it would be difficult for me to tuck myself in full view of everyone, wouldn’t it?”
“Mmm, good point, and my drink is looking mighty empty, my bladder mighty full, and not a server in sight,” he said, pulling his hand back but not before running his fingers over my crotch and setting his hand back on the table. “Have you been thinking about what I wanted you to think about?”
“I have,” I said, because it was difficult not to.
There were moments when the conversation pulled my attention to the present, but there were just as many where I lost the thread.
Like when he’d fished the small pickle from his drink, his tongue poking out before he caught it with his teeth and dragged it to his mouth.
Or when he had gotten up to use the restroom and had to tie his shoe, and all I could see from the corner of my eye while Eleanor politely asked me about my job, was his ass hugged by his pants and sorely tempting me to forget where I was.
“And considering you felt the need to cop a feel, you’ve been doing your own thinking. ”
“I have,” he said with a slow smile. “And I think...we made our appearance, ate the food, even socialized a little, although it was with one of the only people I can stand at these functions. It might ruffle her feathers, but it won’t send my mother into a fury if we leave a little earlier than most people. ”
“Are you trying to convince me to take you home with me?”
“That depends, are you going to give me a goodbye kiss...or something else?”
“I suppose that depends on how well you behave.”
“Hopefully you’re looking for misbehavior, because being on my good behavior is not on my mind tonight.”
“Oh, good. Now you should probably go get that drink and use the restroom before you get yourself riled up enough that you won’t be able to stand up without making a scene.”
“Yes, and as much as I love a good scene, it does seem a poor place for it.”
Giving me another meaningful look, he stood up from the table, tugging at his pants’ waistband to straighten them.
With his jacket and the lighting in the room, someone would have to be up close to see that his groping and talking were already affecting him.
However, I was close enough and felt the pleasure of anticipation shoot through me as I downed the rest of my drink.
There would be no need for any more. I was happy to do whatever he had in mind when we got back to either his place or mine without the aid of alcohol.
I missed her approach until she sat down in her son’s chair, a martini in hand and a curious look on her face. I blinked at her in surprise. “Governor Reddington. I’m sorry, but Ward just went to use the restroom and get another drink, I believe.”
“That suits me just fine, and you can call me Amelia,” she said. The offer would have been friendly, but it sounded like an order coming from her mouth. “I wanted a chance to speak to you anyway.”
“By all means,” I said politely, feeling the first prickle of unease. She wanted something.
“So, tell me...Arlo, what agency did he hire you from?” she asked, looking me over.
“I...what?” I asked, blinking in confusion.
She met my eyes. “You’re handsome enough, I suppose.
You’re not going to draw the attention of everyone in the room, but up close, it’s easy to see the appeal.
So, points to Warden for having some subtlety.
You’re intelligent and well spoken, and you have good training in social graces. So clearly, you did not come cheap.”
Of course, Ward had prophesied what would come to pass without realizing what he was doing.
“You misunderstand,” I said gently. “My name is Arlo, and I am not an escort. I’m a Funeral Director. I’m sure it doesn’t pay quite as well as an escort. This isn’t a business transaction between us, but a first date.”
“And I’m sure a thorough check on you wouldn’t pull up any truths that shred any lies? Or should I just hand you money to walk away and save everyone the discomfort?”
“By all means, feel free to dig through my past. You may find things that are uncomfortable to read if you go far enough back to my childhood, but I won’t go into detail on that.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. That’s my story to tell. If you want to know, you can dig for it or have someone else do it.
However, you’ll find I’ve lived in Cresson Point since I was ten, have a family that runs a local hotel, went to college here, and worked at the same funeral home for several years.
You’ll also find a small house under my name, and if the people you put to work are thorough enough, you’ll find I am the owner of two ragdoll cats, and my car is almost ten years old. ”
Her eyes, so much like her son’s, except they lacked his hidden warmth and the playful glint, searched my face, tightening.
“Let’s hope so. If I find you’ve lied to me, you can make sure that Warden knows he will suffer for bringing a high-class whore here when he knew better, and you will pay for not taking my patient and generous offer. ”
“A concern that none of us should have because I have not lied,” I said, deciding to do my best to avoid the woman in the future.
No matter how immune Ward thought I was to other people, there was something too sharp and hard about her.
She gave me the feeling that the moment she found a vulnerability, she would dig her claws in and shred me until I was left weak and gasping for air, completely at her mercy.
“We’ll see. Enjoy the rest of your night,” she said with the flash of a smile, and then she got up from the table and walked away. She brushed past Ward, who gave her a sharp look before walking back to the table.
I looked him over and blinked when I saw barely contained rage seething in him.
It was almost as uncomfortable as sitting next to her while she poked and prodded.
Except this was hot and sparking, like the air around me would be consumed in flames and smoke at any moment, rather than the brittle icy chill she exuded.
“What did she say?” he asked in a cold voice.
“You were right about two things,” I said with a little smile. “Someone did think you’d bring an escort, and it is perhaps a good time for us to leave.”
“That—”
“Ward.”
“What?”
“Ward,” I repeated, setting my hand over his and squeezing it. His jaw released its grip the barest fraction, and I took that as a good sign. “I am not upset. I’m not hurt. I’m not angry. And I’m not going to have you drop me off so I can go inside and pretend that tonight or you never existed.”
He glanced back at me, and he let out a low breath. “What did you say?”
I told him how the conversation went, seeing no point in lying. I saw his jaw give a tick of anger when I told him a few things she’d said, but at the end, he gave a harsh snort.
“That makes me feel a lot better,” he said, chuckling. “That explains why she had nothing to say to me when she passed.”
“What, did I convince her?”
“No, she doesn’t trust me, and she still thinks you’re a well-paid, well-behaved escort. Or in her mind, whore. The uglier she thinks about someone, the more content she is. No, Arlo, you managed to piss her off by being completely and absolutely yourself.”
“Not my intention.”