Chapter Three
Quinn
ASHLEY RAN THE scissors through my hair, trimming it down to a manageable length.
“So, how are the classes going?”
“Doctoral work doesn’t really have classes, but everything is going well,” I answered. “I have an idea for my thesis, but I have to do more research before I present it.”
“What is it?”
“Fraud in the system and how it affects micro- and macro-economic systems.”
“Wow, that sounds boring.”
“I love it.”
“You’re a nerd.” She turned the chair and kept going on the cut. “And the job?”
I blinked. “It’s actually not bad. I enjoy it, most of the time.”
“Most?”
“There’s always someone who wants to overstep the boundaries in the contract.” Three of them, to be exact.
Neither she nor my sister needed to know I had to lay out all three of those clients.
Though I had the feeling Tara might learn eventually.
While I was really glad, I had started taking judo, I hadn’t expected to use my white belt lessons so soon.
They had been handily dealt with by Foxy and Taryn as well. It was nice to know they had my back.
“So, is this hair cut…?”
“Don’t read into, Ashley dear. Sometimes a haircut is just a haircut.”
“That’s a yes.”
“It’s a yes.”
“How many hours?”
“Eight,” I answered.
Her eyebrows went up. “Well. That’s a fat sum.”
“That’s enough to go toward food, rent, utilities and my school loan,” I answered. “I have two more short appointments this week, and then a formal next Saturday. That one is a twelve hour, which will kill out the remainder of the one credit card that’s been haunting me.”
“Have you slept with any of them?”
“No, not allowed.”
She cocked her head and stared at me through the mirror. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I answered. “One, I don’t want that level of interaction, honestly. Two, Foxy laid that rule down first. Absolutely no sleeping with the clients on the clock. We’re a rent a date company, not a rent a fuck.”
“Ssh,” Ashley snapped. She glanced around to see if there were any people who would be offended by my choice of words. “But you haven’t? Off the clock?”
A deep sigh escaped me. “Ash, I have been absolutely gutted to the bone by two relationships in a row. I’m perfectly happy to go to a party or a restaurant or just out on the town with someone.
I do not see me dating seriously or even having sex with anyone aside from Mary Palm and her five sisters at any point in the near future.
I’m exhausted and I won’t be used again. ”
She gave me a firm nod. “Alright. I like that answer. You should still think about getting laid, but I’m not one to lecture you.”
“I’ll get there when I get there.”
The scissors flowed through my hair, and I listened while she told me all about her newest interest. This one was a guy named Rae, and he was the bassist in a ska band.
I had even forgotten ska was a thing until she mentioned it.
Her grin was getting bigger and bigger as she chatted, and I could tell that she really liked this guy.
Versus the other three bastards she’d only just slept with, and all turned out to be crap humans.
“Does Rae do anything besides bass in a ska band?”
“He’s a music teacher, for kindergarten through sixth at a local school.”
Now that surprised me. “For real?”
“Yes.” Her grin was about to split her face. “He’s so good with them. They just love coming to his class—”
“Ashley, you found a keeper!”
The blush spread across her cheeks and nose. “Yeah. I think I might have. He’s just so cute, and sweet, and nice and he brought me flowers.”
“Aw! Good job, Rae. Can I meet him?”
“How about a brunch date on Sunday? Bring Tara and we can all hang out and stuff ourselves with pancakes and bacon and mimosas.”
“Done.”
“So this haircut is not just a haircut.”
“Ashley.” I warned her.
“Please. Like I don’t know your secrets.”
I gave her a deadpan stare. “Trust me, you don’t. But the haircut was at the request of the twelve-hour client next week. There’s also a tuxedo involved, a limo and a fancy dinner.”
“Wow, okay yeah. Haircut is not just a haircut.”
“Haircut is gateway to potentially paying off all of the credit card I had to use to keep Tara safe and healthy.”
“You are such a good brother.” She pushed my shoulder playfully.
I sighed. I did try. It was hard, but Tara needed it. Tara deserved it.
Tara and Ashley got along so well, and I was happy for the utterly ridiculous way life had brought her to us. And at breakfast, I was one hundred percent positive Ashley had found her perfect match in Rae. He treated her like a princess.
In the course of two hours—which was insanely long for breakfast—we learned he was kind, caring, intelligent, empathetic, realistic, a romantic at heart and just absolutely head over heels for Ashley.
He was also the kind of guy I would hang out with for no other reason than I knew we would spend the whole time laughing and just having good old-fashioned fun.
He seemed to be a ‘nurse the beer’ kinda guy, and I could respect that.
“You haven’t said much about yourself, Quinn,” Rae said. “What do you do?”
“Odd jobs,” I answered while Ashley tried not to laugh. “I’m actually at the University of Washington for economics.”
“Well, that sounds boring,” he laughed.
“I’m actually working on the impact of fraud on the middle class and the overall affect it has on both micro- and macroeconomic systems.”
I was intimately acquainted with its results on microeconomic levels. Hence why I was a rent-a-date over three thousand miles away from where I was born.
“That didn’t help,” Ashley said.
“It’s a doctoral degree.”
“Oh, shit, you’re smart smart.” Rae shook his head, clearly teasing.
“Yeah, not that smart. But don’t forget, I just heard you talk about music theory like it was Duplo set and I’m not sure I understood more than the words music and theory. ”
“What? You don’t immediately understand atonal and major thirds?”
Ashley laughed. “Alright, finish your juice. We have some shopping to do for my mom’s party tomorrow night.”
“Yes darling,” he grinned.
They were delightful and I was hoping that our budding friendships didn’t go wrong like so many others I’d had and lost.
The money from the three dates rolled in and I was able to kill out a few more small bills that had been dogging me. The fourth date, the long one, required a tuxedo.
I pulled out the one I had in my closet. It had been a few years since I’d worn it, but I had been smart when I bought it—it was a classic cut, nothing overly trendy, and all it needed was a dry cleaning and a pressing.
Looking at it made me irrationally sad. I’d bought it just a few weeks after my first million-dollar bonus. I had been invited to a private black-tie party at one of the partners’ penthouse. I felt like I had finally made it, at just twenty-four years old.
And yet here I stood, thirty-two and so badly broke that I was an employee at Foxy’s. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with the job… I had just been so sure of myself that I would never have to work by the hour again.
I was never going to trust a high in life again. And I was never going to give anyone access to my finances again, either.
Three fortunes. Not just one, not just two. Three.
I shook my head and donned the tuxedo. It felt good to be able to wear it again. I had gone to Neiman Marcus for the hell of it and gotten a Stefano Ricci tux and threw in a Burberry scarf for the hell of it. The scarf was going to be too much, and it really wasn’t the time of year to wear it.
I chuckled again, missing my personal stylist at Neiman, but also glad he’d taught me so much.
…more than just style, too.
Coughing, I shoved those memories out. This was no time to start thinking about those trysts. And the irony that I would have been better off dating Frankie than either of the other two assholes.
I’d have to text him; he was probably wondering what happened to me. Not for any sex reasons, but I had been his customer for nearly eight years.
Tara walked by the door, stopped and walked back. “What the hell is that?”
I looked around. “What do you mean?”
“You’re wearing a tux, Quinn. What the hell? When did you get a tux?”
“I’ve had one for years, Tara. Did you seriously never see me wear this? Not once?”
“Never,” she said. “Damn. You spent money-money on that.”
Pulling in a deep breath, I nodded. “Tara, sister, darling, I was a millionaire in finance. Of course I had a tux.”
“You didn’t have that in the suitcase on the way here.”
“No, I did not. I had a storage bin in New York City. I paid a moving company to pack it up and ship it out here. Didn’t you notice that we suddenly had nightstands and art in here?”
“I did,” she nodded. “What else you got?”
“A really nice pair of recliners and a big screen, as well as most of my clothes. There might be some more stuff that I forgot about it. I’ve had it forever.”
“Where is it all now?”
“A storage bin?”
“Ugh, jerk. Fine. Keep your secrets. When is the date?”
Straightening the bowtie, I glanced at the clock. “The uber should be here in about ten minutes. I’ll be gone potentially until four in the morning. That’s the twelve-hour mark. From the front door to the front door. So don’t worry if I’m dead asleep in the morning.”
“Do they ever give you a profile of the person you’re escorting?”
“Yes, usually. Though this time, I was told where I would meet him and what he would be wearing. A dark blue tux with a light blue bowtie, and he has short dirty blond hair.”
“That’s it?”
“I won’t need much,” I said. “He’ll probably approach me, first. They get a brief description of what I look like.” Glancing in the mirror again, I checked my hair this time. Ashley was a godsend; she controlled the mop precisely.