Chapter 2
Ajax
Did I want to go to this breakfast deal?
Nope.
I was suffering from a serious case of writer’s block and hadn’t put anything out in over a year and a half and I needed inspiration, and fast. But every time I tried to write, tried to put something down, I hated it.
I was forcing it, I knew that, but I was also about to lose my contract if something didn’t happen soon.
So, why did I sign up to talk with other authors?
Hell, if I knew.
Maybe I was hoping to find something that would help trigger it.
Normally I went to a thriller or mystery type story, and a whole bunch of people getting blown up at conventions of sorts, especially as writers, would be a good foundation for a mystery.
I laughed at myself as I sipped my water, my eyes scanning the waves of people here. Most I knew but really didn’t want to talk to. Sadly, most of these people bored me, if I was being honest.
Not that I needed fancy or some shit to keep me entertained. But when you’re a male writer, you tend to know just about all the other writers. Especially in a small field like what I wrote.
“Ajax, didn’t know you were coming,” Carter said, holding his hand out to me.
“Last minute acceptance.”
“Still stuck in the writer’s block mode?”
“Yeah.” I hated that question, though everyone around here probably had been at some point. Just not nearly as long as I had been. I glanced down, noticing the two glasses. “Did you bring someone?”
“Kind of. She's over there.”
He pointed in her direction and my heart stopped. Because that naturally black and wavy hair and that prominent dimple on her left cheek were things I had been dreaming about since I was a kid.
“How do you know her?” I asked, but he just shrugged.
“I can’t give away all my secrets. Want to meet her?”
“I don’t need to.” But I followed him to her, a smirk on my lips as she turned to accept the water.
“Ajax,” she said, lifting a brow.
“Spy, it’s been a long time.”
“Wait, you two know each other? Like really?” Carter said, waving his hand at us.
“We go way back,” I offered.
“Are you part of The Network too?”
This time, it was my turn to lift a brow at him, not sure what that was.
“No,” she said for me. “He was my neighbor growing up. If you excuse me, I need to run to the restroom. Ajax, I hope you have fun. Maybe we’ll talk later.”
“Yeah,” was all I said, watching her walk away. “Carter, what’s The Network?”
“It’s an escort service. I wanted someone I could talk to that wasn’t a writer, so I requested Goddess.”
“That’s her name?”
“That's her name for the service. I don't know her real name. And I don’t need to.”
“Is there anything sexual?” I asked, though it wasn’t any of my business. What she did on her time was that. But I’d hate to see her sell herself like that.
“Oh, no. It’s clean. I guess if a date goes well, maybe? But you can’t request it. Really, it’s just more for company than anything else. It’s also very elite and big on discretion.
“The owner is also very protective over his clients and his ladies. There’s an extensive background check too. Do you want to look into it?”
Did I?
There would only be one woman I would request and why would I need to request her? I mean, other than to talk to her and something tells me she wouldn't go for that.
I was about to decline when my phone pinged, and I looked down at the message from my agent. He had booked another event for me in two days. A dressed-up dinner party.
“Yes,” I told Carter, thinking that if I had her on my arm for that night, I might actually be able to handle the people.
“I’ll send you the information,” he told me, clapping me on my back. “Now, I’m grabbing my date and going to mingle. Talk to you soon, Ajax.”
“Sure thing,” I told him, letting him go grab her.
That was really the last thing I was expecting, but I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. She still looked as gorgeous as ever. Still gave me ideas I shouldn’t have.
When we parted ways halfway through college, I thought we’d still remain friends, but life happened and we drifted apart. But that didn’t ever change the fact that she was the one woman in this world who knew me better than anyone else. She had always been more than my best friend.
I caught her eye again, before we left for breakfast and I raised my glass in toast. All she gave me though was a raised brow and a smirk, and I couldn't help but laugh. Because that look told me everything I needed to know about this woman.
She grew up, got more beautiful, but she didn’t change.
“Game on,” I muttered, moving to sit at my table.
Hours later, I was in my office, staring at the screen for The Network. I had filled out all the paperwork, talked to whoever I needed to, and now I was just waiting for my approval, which I was assured wouldn’t take long.
Carter wasn’t lying when he said there was a lot they checked and it made me feel good that they did.
I mean, the questions were intense, but I could really see how he protected everyone involved and that it wasn’t some sleazy service.
No, The Network was very high end, which I had no doubt when I saw the owner of the company.
Anyone who was anyone knew that name. He was far too important in the tech world not to be known.
I leaned back in my seat, stretching my arms before opening my Word document.
This morning I was struck by a grand idea, one that was played out, sure, but one I had every intention of changing. I had always vowed that Spy gave me the best ideas and she never believed me. But she did. Because this whole new story was centered on her.
Okay, not her personally, but on an image like her. It was a mystery, probably going into a thriller.
And thirty minutes later, when I typed up the plot, the summary, and the rough outline and sent it to both my agent and my editor, I was pleased with myself.
Hopefully she was the key to unlocking this writer’s block because I needed it.
My email dinged, letting me know that I was accepted with The Network and gave me the link for the app. I downloaded it and went through the tutorial of how to navigate it and how to request for a service.
I had an idea as to why my bank account needed to be connected but as I looked through it, I could understand even more. The money was instant and as I was told, I could request, but it was up to the escort to accept or decline.
I understood this wasn’t a fifty-dollar date.
With a deep breath, I got the information from my text and then submitted a request, hoping she’d accept it.