19. Kate
KATE
That night, I set an overabundance of alarms.
My phone. My old clock radio. And Lily.
She was an early bird, so I called to ask for help. “Hi. Any chance you can give me a good old-fashioned wake-up call tomorrow morning, so I don’t miss my meeting with the potential client?”
“Like my parents asked me to do when they were in Hawaii a few weeks ago?”
“They did?” I trudged into my bedroom, making sure I had my outfit for tomorrow’s pitch laid out and ready. But I was missing a belt, so I headed for my bureau.
“Yes, they said the hotel had forgotten their wake-up call for a sunrise boat trip with the dolphins, and they missed that, and they didn’t want to miss their flight home, so they asked me to call them.”
“And you did?”
“Yes, but I also used it as an opportunity to lovingly guide them into the twenty-first century with a reminder that no one uses hotel wake-up calls anymore, since we all have cell phones.”
“Oh,” I said half-heartedly as I found the belt I wanted to wear.
“Hello! Earth to Kate?”
“What?” I looked up from the accessory in the sock drawer.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes. Your parents are old, and you think I am too.”
“Kate,” she said softly. “That’s not my point.
It’s this—you’re not yourself. Of course I’m happy to give you a wake-up call, though it is the twenty-first century and your phone alert will work.
But you’re so listless right now. And that’s so not you.
Last time we talked, you were cheery and sassy and heading out to meet Jake.
Now you’re like . . . well, you’re like someone who missed a sunrise boat trip with dolphins. ”
I forced out a laugh and tried to give myself a pep talk. “I’m good. I swear. I just need to focus on this meeting tomorrow. It’s so important. If I don’t win this client, it might take a few more months to get out of debt. I promise I’ll be more chipper tomorrow.”
We exchanged a few more niceties, then said goodbye. After I hung up, I headed into the bathroom. “Get your act together,” I told my reflection.
Then I started giving myself orders.
Stop thinking about Jake.
Kick unholy ass tomorrow at work.
And don’t get distracted again.
It worked.
I didn’t think of Jake for a whole minute.
When I got into bed, I buried my face in the pillow, stupidly wishing he were next to me.
But what would be the point of that?
He wasn’t into feelings.
He wasn’t into possibilities.
And I wasn’t supposed to be either.
The next day I woke early, before the alarms, and hit the gym. Logging four miles on the treadmill before seven a.m., I felt energized. I was full of endorphins and ready to tackle the pitch.
As I left, I took a long swig from my water bottle and nearly bumped into Nina. Adam followed behind her.
“Hey, you!” she said with a smile.
“Hey,” I said, making my best attempt at an early morning grin.
“How was your weekend?” she asked with a wiggle of her brows.
“Yeah, how was your weekend?” Adam chimed in. “Did Jake finally ask you out? Because he won’t tell me, and I’ve been telling him to do it for months.”
Nina elbowed him with a“ Shush .”
I frowned and turned to Adam, curious. “You’ve been telling him to ask me out? Care to elaborate?”
“Yeah. We know he’s into you. We told him to do something about it already.”
Nina snapped her gaze to her fiancé, shaking her head. “Who are you? You can’t just ambush a woman with something like that.”
Adam shrugged. “Just trying to move things along.”
I gave them both my best smile. It wouldn’t serve me to get waylaid by the Jake thought train again. “Thank you, but I’m pretty sure neither Jake nor I need anyone to move things along. We’re both good with where we’re at.”
Nina stared daggers at her fiancé, then turned to me. “Forgive Adam. He hasn’t had coffee yet. Anyway, are you ready for your pitch? You’re going to do great. I’m rooting for you. Girls’ night out marketing for the win,” she said.
“I’m ready,” I said, then glanced at my phone. “And I should go.”
Nina tugged me in for a quick hug, whispering, “Don’t read anything into it.”
“I wasn’t going to. I meant everything I said. Jake and I are on the same page. It’s all good,” I said with my best I’ve got it together smile.
Then I said goodbye, doing my damnedest to believe my own lies.
There were times when you had to set all the foolish emotions in your heart aside and get down to business.
This was one of them.
As Trish and I strode into the conference room she’d booked for the Sin City Escorts pitch, I held my chin high, shoved this weekend into a lockbox, then threw away the key.
Trish introduced me to Daisy DoLittle, a petite redhead with a constellation of freckles across her nose. She didn’t look like a woman who owned an escort company. She looked like she ran a ranch of abandoned hound dogs looking for a second chance.
But looks weren’t everything.
I said hello, then began the presentation, all business as I made the pitch.
I zeroed in on my taglines, I shared how we could use them, and I showcased my plans to make this service a must-have gift for women to give their friends. Daisy kept an impassive face throughout, but her green eyes flickered when I shared the anecdote about the bride and her maid of honor.
“‘You deserve this,’ the bride told her friend,” I recounted.
“And that got me to thinking—honestly, don’t we all deserve pleasure?
Don’t we all deserve to feel amazing? Don’t we all deserve to explore our fantasies?
That’s what Sin City Escorts can do. That’s what role-playing makes possible.
We all become adventurers exploring the delicious land of fantasies. ”
A grin seemed to tug at Daisy’s lips then, telling me I’d hit the right note.
When I was through, she peppered me with questions, and I answered them all.
“And what do you propose we call this new offering?” She folded her hands, waiting for my final answer.
A reel of this past weekend flickered before my eyes.
Feelings, sensations rushed over me. A tingle raced down my spine, and I recalled how Jake had made me feel.
I’d been reluctant to voice it with Trish yesterday.
And perhaps I’d been reluctant to admit it to myself, but I knew .
“I’d call it the Decadent Gift. Because that’s what it is.”
Daisy’s lips curved into a satisfied grin.
A few minutes later, she declared we’d won the account.
In the back of Trish’s limo, my boss recounted every second of the meeting in a play-by-play recap.
“And when you brought out that name—perfection. This is a most decadent gift.”
“It is,” I said.
I wished I felt half as good as I made the service sound.
But the truth was ugly.
I didn’t feel decadent anymore.
I didn’t feel pleased.
And I definitely wasn’t happy.
All I felt was a crushing wave of relief when Trish issued me my bonus check in advance and I deposited it in the bank, then made the final payment on my debt.
But I wished that I felt something else entirely.