8. Jenny
JENNY
“Jenny, I need you to come in ASAP.” Elena cleared her throat. “I have a top assignment for you.”
“Please don’t say it’s Loopsy again. He got so drunk last night that he almost fell down.” I wish he’d fallen, but I hadn’t been that lucky.
“It’s not.” The madam paused for a beat. “It’s one of James Preston’s friends. He’s a billionaire, too. Apparently, James gave him our number. He asked for you specifically—he wants an escort of his own for the next two weeks. He’s willing to pay top-tier. This is your big break, Jenny. This is life-changing money.”
“Ho my frickin’ God!” I jumped up, rattling the sidewalk table at Dunkin’, where I was drinking a coffee. The other customers stared. “My own billionaire ?”
“Jenny,pleasekeep your voice down. Are you in public?”
“Um, maybe.” I hitched up my tube top and ignored the women at the next table, who were gaping at me.
“Just come to the office. I need to get your outfits planned. And we need to talk about etiquette—these are very exclusive parties you’ll be attending.”
“Yes, Elena.” I nodded vigorously, even though she couldn’t see me. I had no idea what she meant by “exclusive,” but I was going to figure it out and quick.
A billionaire of my own. I could figure out how to walk on my hands and speak French for a billionaire of my own! Well, maybe I could figure out how to walk on my hands. French seemed kind of tough.
“Jenny!” Elena sounded exasperated. “Isaid, can you come in straight away? Don’t even go home. He wants you for an event tonight. We need to get you fitted and packed.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m coming in now.” I grabbed my iced coffee and hustled down the street, my boobs jiggling in my tube top, zero fucks to give about all the stares I was getting. A billionaire all my own. Life-changing money.
Maybe God really was listening.
If there was one thing I loved about my job, it was the back office. There were racks and racks of designer clothes, shoes, high-end bags, and other accessories. We all picked clothes for our assignments from there. Elena kept everything we needed—whether the John liked his escort to look like a flight attendant, a Playboy bunny, or a dominatrix, we had it all.
Expensive clothes from stores I would never dare to enter in real life lined the racks. I didn’t care about labels—high fashion was a luxury I couldn’t even afford to think about. But I loved playing dress-up. A fancy outfit and a pair of heels made me feel like a new woman, someone with a closet filled with such things and plenty of places to wear them.
Elena had already started pulling “looks,” as she called them. Dress after dress in soft pastel colors with high necklines. I scowled at the gowns. “Elena… ew ! Who are these looks for? The billionaire’s grandmother?”
Elena straightened herself and stared at me. Her hair was spiky with mousse, and her maroon lipstick was applied flawlessly, as usual. She was six feet tall but always wore heels, which made her even more imposing. Elena was attractive but not pretty if that made sense. As for what had gotten her into the escort business in the first place, no one knew.
“First of all, hi Jenny. Second of all, no, these looks are not for Mr. Bryson’s grandmother. They’re for you.”
I pointed at the offensive pastel dresses. “I am not wearing that crap. He wants an escort, not a Sunday school teacher!”
“Jenny…” She put her hand on her hip, gearing up for a fight.
I whipped out my phone. “What’s his name?”
“Cole Bryson. What’re you doing?”
“Seeing what he likes. Ah, here we go.” You had to love the internet. All I did was google “Cole Bryson” and “Boston,” and a dozen images popped up. Cole was tall, dark, and exceedingly handsome. Every picture showed the billionaire at events with various beautiful women on his arm.
“Ho my frickin’ God, he’s gorgeous ! And he doesn’t like librarians. He likes hot chicks!” I shoved the phone at Elena and charged toward the racks.
“Hmm.” Elena scrolled through the pictures as I tore through the dresses. “I see what you mean. Isn’t that one of the Victoria’s Secret models?”
“Probably!” My nerves were flaring. Cole Bryson was hot . As in smoking, panty-liquifying hot. As in, touch him, and you burst into flames hot. He was tall and muscular, his big shoulders straining beneath his suit coats, with an actor’s chiseled features and a shock of dark hair hanging over his brow.
And he was a billionaire .
Ho my frickin’ God, indeed.
I pulled out a black dress with a lower neckline. It was pretty but not perfect. “How much am I getting paid?”
“Same as Audrey. Once he told me that James Preston had referred him, I knew we’d get top dollar.” Elena cleared her throat. “If you complete the two-week assignment, your cut is sixty-five thousand dollars.”
“What?”
“Sixty-five thousand.” Elena sounded dead-serious. “Not including tip.”
I clapped a hand over my heart. “Are you fucking with me, Elena?”
“No, Jenny, I am not. And can you please stop using the ‘f’ word so much? The Prestons are a very proper family?—”
“Do you actually mean it?” I burst into tears. “Sixty-five thousand ?”
“Of course I mean it.” Elena clicked over to a side table and grabbed some tissues. “Here, dry your eyes. You don’t want to be blotchy for the client.”
“I k-know, I j-just can’t believe it.” I obediently wiped away my tears, careful not to get mascara all over my face. “I never thought I’d earn that much money in my life!”
After paying bills, the most leftover cash I’d ever had in my checking account was two hundred and nineteen dollars. Sixty-five thousand might as well have been ten million—it was an impossible sum of money, something I would never even dare to dream about.
“Well, you’re going to make that much now.” An emotion that might’ve been pity passed over the madam’s face, but it was gone before I could be sure. “And this is going to be quite the assignment. Over the next week, you’ll have drinks and dinners at multiple hotspots in Boston. And then there’s the rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself—it’s going to be the society event of the year. And then the client mentioned that you’ll be joining the Prestons on a family-style honeymoon in the Caribbean. But don’t say anything to Audrey about that yet, okay? I’m not sure it’s public knowledge, and I don’t want to start a rumor.”
I clapped my hand over my heart again. “Are you freakingkiddingme, Elena? I’m going to the Caribbean ?” I had a passport because the agency required it, but I’d never left the country. I’d only ever dreamed of going to an island. “With, like, white sand beaches? And palm trees? And turquoise water?”
“Yes, Jenny.” Elena smiled at me. “There’s turquoise water.”
“No fucking way !” I grabbed the madam’s hands and jumped up and down. “I’ve never been to the Caribbean! I can’t believe it! My very own billionaire and a Caribbeanvacation! Holy fucking shit!”
“Jenny.” Elena didn’t join me in jumping up and down, but she at least held my hands. “The swearing has got to stop,please. For the love of all things holy, no more F-bombs!”
“I’ll try, I’ll try! I’m just so freaking excited! I can’t believe it!” I’d always dreamed about taking a vacation to an island with gorgeous water, sunsets, and tropical drinks. And hopefully iguanas—I’d always wanted to see an iguana!
“Let’s get you ready, okay?” Elena asked. “I want Mr. Bryson to be one hundred thousand percent satisfied with our services.”
“Oh, he will be.” I sniffled but squared my shoulders. “He might’ve been with a Victoria’s Secret model, but he’s never been with a woman like me . I’m going to make this the best two weeks of his life!” I tossed my curls over my shoulder and started going through the racks again, nervous, excited, and utterly determined.
Cole Bryson was smoking hot, but so was I. I was going to be his absolute dream come true, earning every penny of my fee. My future depended on it.
There was no way I was messing this job up.
We spent the afternoon organizing my looks, which were much sexier than the pale-colored potato sacks Elena had initially picked out. I periodically reminded her that although Audrey needed to be prim and proper for all the events, I was twice removed arm candy. I didn’t have to deal with parents and in-laws and all that other crap: I just had to be Cole Bryson’s smoke-show of a date.
“Where should I say I met him?” I asked.
“The gym,” she suggested. “How about that fancy one over on Franklin Street?”
I had never worked out a day in my life, but I nodded. “Sounds good. One of my clients belongs there—he said it was real expensive.” Something like three hundred dollars a month, which was nuts!
“And what should I say I do for work—the usual?” When she sent me out with a high-end client, she usually had me say I worked in Human Resources.
“Cole’s family is deep into Boston business, and they own several companies. Let’s steer away from anything corporate.” Elena looked thoughtful. “I think this time we should say you work with underprivileged kids—just keep it simple.”
“I like that. Makes me sound real respectable.” I nodded. “Now, is it okay for someone who works with underprivileged kids to pack a thong bikini for a Caribbean vacation? Because I never been to an island before, Elena. And I want my ass to see it. All of it. And I want everyone to see all of my ass!”
Elena sighed. She looked defeated. “Pack it, but maybe save it until dark?” she suggested.
I winked at her. “Dark is forskinny dipping, Elena. Thongs are for tanning your ass.” I grabbed several strings masquerading as bikinis and some sexy coverups. If the madam didn’t want us wearing this stuff, she shouldn’t keep it stocked!
She checked her watch. “We need to get out to the lobby. He’ll be here in a minute.”
“Hoo, all right.” Suddenly nervous again, I fanned myself. “You sure I look okay?” I’d changed into a simple black sundress that showed off my curves, black sandals, and some simple gold jewelry. My hair hung in loose waves over my shoulders, and I wore what Elena referred to as “tasteful” makeup—neutral eyeshadow, mascara, a little blush, and lip gloss.
“Jenny, you’re a ten. You couldn’t look bad if you tried.” She straightened her shoulders. “Please call me if the client isn’t appropriate, okay? It’s a lot of money, but that doesn’t mean he can treat you poorly.”
I nodded, but we both knew Cole Bryson could pretty much treat me however he wanted. It’s not like there was a union I could complain to, let alone an HR department. But that was okay. I never complained. I never ratted out Loopsy, Fat Vinnie, or any of the other Johns who were less than gentlemanly—which was pretty much all of them.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me. I can handle myself, and I can look out for Audrey, too.” There were so many great things about this assignment. Still, I was thrilled I would be reunited with my friend. Audrey seemed like too good of a girl for this business; if I was nearby, I could watch over her.
I followed Elena out to the lobby, my insides still twisting with nerves.
Sixty-five thousand dollars.
A Caribbean vacation.
A billionaire all my own.
The door rang, and Elena buzzed the client in. I held my breath, waiting, as his commanding footsteps echoed down the hall. Then Cole Bryson came into view, all six-foot-whatever of him, in a suit coat that strained against his big shoulders and powerful chest. He was gorgeous, drop-dead gorgeous, with chiseled features, sparkling eyes, and thick, black hair.
He broke out into a smile when he saw us. His teeth were dazzling white, almost too good to be true, just like the rest of him.
“I’m Cole Bryson. You must be Elena.” He came forward and shook her hand, then turned to me. “And you must be Jenny.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded. A funny feeling passed through me, a shiver, and time seemed to slow down. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. My head hurt. There was something about this guy… It was this weird, physical feeling, sort of like déjà vu.
I didn’t understand it. For a moment, I felt afraid.
Elena glanced at me. When I didn’t say anything, she leaned closer. “Jenny…?” She sounded like I was an actor who’d missed their prompt, which was pretty much true.
Sixty-five thousand dollars. A billionaire all my own.
Do not fuck this up, girl!
I came back to earth with a thud.
“Of course I’m Jenny!” I smiled at Cole Bryson and stuck my chest out like my life depended on it, which it basically did. “And ho my frickin’ God, we are going to have so much fun!”