4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Jacob
It’s nearing ten pm when I finally get home from my date with Veronica, who booked me to break up with her at her sister’s graduation party. Purely because she wanted to get the attention of her next door neighbor who she is apparently in love with.
I have to say, I’ve done a lot of gigs over the past four years, but I’ve never been hired to break up with someone before, so that was a first. I played my part though, and I think I played it pretty well.
Stomping off and telling her I never wanted to see her again might have been a little on the nose, but it was kind of fun.
And when I turned around to see the neighbor guy she told me she’s in love with, comforting her, I actually smiled.
That’s why I love my job. Because what I do does help people, regardless of what others might think.
I notice the gift bag on my welcome mat, my name written in fancy cursive.
Bella’s handwriting. I sigh as I pick up the bag, pulling out the tissue paper to see a copy of the latest Elle Henry book I’ve been meaning to grab along with some packages of peach rings and a bottle of Prosecco with a card.
Our expenses are covered by our dates during the actual date itself, but gifts aren’t usually part of the deal.
Sometimes you get a client who wants to buy you stuff, and they count it as part of the date.
Sometimes clients will tip with a gift instead of cash.
I had one client who tipped me with a $100 gift card to Barnes & Noble because I told them I like to read.
But aside from a date expense or a tip, gifts aren’t usually something that are allowed.
However, like off-the clock fucking, as long as Foxy doesn’t know about it, it’s not an issue.
I pull out the card, which says in bubble letters Thank You and I can’t help but smile.
Sometimes it’s nice to be appreciated, even if it is a client who’s doing the appreciating.
I can’t help but frown though, because as usual, this just solidifies the reality that I don’t have anyone in my life to appreciate me except my brother and Bella.
And I’m not sure she really counts because she pays for my company.
Okay, maybe she counts a little, but how sad is it that I don’t have a person of my own to appreciate me?
I stuff the card back in the bag and unlock my door. The apartment is silent like it always is. Unless Noah’s here, or I’ve got Taylor Swift blaring, the place is always pretty quiet.
Between Noah’s dating calendar and up until recently—his dating life—our monthly twin dates are the only time I see him.
I get it. I still miss him, though, and now I’m feeling like shit for bailing on him the other night when he asked me to the club.
Clubs really aren’t my scene, to be honest. I studied dance in college, and started dancing and stripping to make money while I went to school, which is what I did until Noah got me into Foxy’s.
I miss it sometimes—the dancing. I always thought I’d be on a cruise ship somewhere, or dancing with a troupe, traveling and putting on shows and seeing the world, but I guess life is unexpected sometimes and doesn’t always work out the way you plan.
Still, I miss Noah showing up unannounced on my off days and playing video games for hours and ordering pizzas. I miss my brother and my best friend.
I lock my door and head to the living room, queuing up my Spotify to play some music while I relax. I settle on Evermore , since it’s one of my favorite Taylor Swift albums and I can usually play it in the background while I’m reading or unwinding and not have to focus too much.
The beginning notes of Willow start up as I head to the kitchen with my bag of prizes and pop the Prosecco in the fridge.
Thankfully, Veronica and I didn’t break up until after the cake had been cut, so I was able to snack and get something to eat before we pulled out our Oscar-worthy performance.
So, I don’t need to eat. But judging by the empty shelves, I do need to go to the store sometime this week.
I guess I could head out tomorrow since I’ll likely be getting everything set up for the evening, which reminds me I need to message my date to set up a meeting to go over everything.
I pull out my phone and bring up my new contact, Aaron Smith.
Me: Good Evening. This is Jacob Riley. I know it’s late, but I spoke with your cousin, Chris earlier today about our date at Astrid Marina tomorrow and I wanted to text to confirm the date and set up a meeting prior to go over the details. Whatever time works best for you.
I set the phone down as I pull out my book and snacks, and a moment later, the phone chimes with his response.
Aaron Smith: Hey, it’s fine. I don’t even know what time it is.
Aaron Smith: Or what day if, I’m being honest.
Me: What, are you a time traveler?
Aaron Smith: Worse. I’m a businessman. I’m all fucked up from the time change and jet lag.
I smirk, shaking my head. Businessman. Interesting. I wonder what kind of business he’s in.
Me: Well, it’s ten pm, Thursday night. So that should help.
Aaron Smith: Right. Tomorrow’s Friday.
Aaron: You are confirming our date, right?
I don’t miss the sense of nervousness in his text. Taylor echoes her words about calling someone babe for the weekend, and I feel the melancholy lyrics and melody like a comforting hug.
Me: Yes. This is your confirmation.
Aaron Smith: Thank fuck.
Aaron Smith: Sorry, didn’t mean to curse. Totally not professional.
Yeah, he definitely seems nervous, but I’m used to that.
Most of the guys who hire me are nervous, not knowing how to act or what to say.
Women struggle too, sometimes, depending on the situation, but they at least know what they’re supposed to do.
The guys renting me are usually uncomfortable for one reason or another, and it takes awhile for them to warm up, which is why I usually require a meeting ahead of the event to get everyone on the same page with what the expectations are for both of us.
So we can get our roles solid and build that level of comfortability with one another before we have to play pretend.
And it also helps too, in terms of PDA. Some dates get nervous about the kissing and touching and I find if we do it a couple times before the event, things run smoother and it’s more believable.
Me: Totally fine, I promise. This isn’t a business transaction, I’m your boyfriend, remember? I send him a winking emoji.
Aaron Smith: Right. Totally forgot lol
I smirk at his added lol . He must be a millennial or something. I’m pretty sure no one under the age of forty uses lol anymore.
Aaron Smith: Thanks for taking this on such short notice, baby.
Aaron: I know you’ve been soooo busy.
I laugh at his winking emoji. I tap out another response quickly.
Me: So busy. You’re definitely going to owe me.
I send an emoji with a tongue sticking out and add a lol for good measure.
Aaron Smith: I’ll make it worth your while. Promise.
I can’t help the blush forming in my cheeks at his words. I know he’s being cheeky, flirty even, and I appreciate the banter. It helps me get to know him a little, but for some reason, the words make me feel like he’s being more than cheeky.
It’s an insinuation, and it’s one I need to address.
Even though I wish I didn’t have to. Because I need him to understand I’m not that kind of date.
I don’t know what he’s expecting, and he’s paying me a lot of money, so I feel like I need to be clear and it’ll be easier to do it this way, over text. At least that’s what I tell myself.
Me: When are you free to meet up tomorrow beforehand? So we can go over all the details and roles?
I watch the screen, waiting for his response, but nothing comes. Maybe he fell asleep.
Just as I set the phone down and open a package of peach rings, the phone rings.
Aaron Smith calling.
I blink, but slide the button to answer the phone.
“Hello?”
All I hear for a moment is heavy breathing, and I start to wonder if he is indeed drunk or something.
“So that’s what you sound like,” he says, and his voice is smooth. Deep. Like silk.
Fuck, that’s an audiobook voice if I’ve ever heard one.
I have to clear my own throat and remember how to speak because I wasn’t expecting that. Especially given the tone of his flirty, somewhat awkward texts.
“What exactly do I sound like?” I ask, pushing off of my counter.
Aaron’s heavy breath returns. “Like Prince Charming.”
I chuckle at that. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone’s called me that, but hearing his voice say it, it feels sexier than it should be.
“Is that who you want me to be, Aaron? Prince Charming?”
Aaron sighs. “I want you to be perfect. So perfect my fucking family won’t have a reason to deny me what’s rightfully mine.”
There’s an edge in his voice, but then again Bella said Chris mentioned this guy’s parents were pushy and this event is a family thing, so I guess whatever it is, it’s important to him, otherwise he wouldn’t be so intent on hiring me so urgently. And paying extra.
But beneath the bitterness of his voice, there’s also a deep rasp, and then I hear the clink of a glass.
And I just know. Call it a hunch. I’ve done this too many times to count. I can identify the sound of a glass a mile away.
“Are you drunk?”
Aaron mutters his response. “Not yet. But I will be before the night is over if I can help it.”
I don't hear any noise outside of his glass, which tells me he’s probably alone. In his hotel or something, and something about that pulls on my heart. Drinking alone sucks.
I nod, even though he can’t see me. I wanted to go over the rules with him, but if he gets too drunk to remember this conversation, I may have to repeat myself tomorrow.
I should probably hang up and call him back in the morning, but something in the bitterness of his voice calls to me, and I don’t hang up.