“You called me Lydia,” I state. “Did you call me Lydia Montgomery? Or just Lydia?”
“Have I ever answered your telephone calls with Lydia Montgomery? You’re Lydia. You’re the only one who’s ever called me from one of Lydia’s numbers.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I close my eyes and wish this away. Please, please let this be a bad dream.
Alas, when I open up, Inez is still sitting on my uncomfortable sofa, and Talent Ridge knows my real name.
Wishes don’t typically come true for me.
I take the seat next to Inez and let her hold my hand. Settling back into the cushions, I stare at the ceiling and say, “I can’t be the only person named Lydia in this godforsaken city.”
“Doubtful. Lydia is a name so beautiful, plenty of people share it with you,” Inez agrees.
Turning my gaze toward her, I ask, “What did he say?”
Inez sits straight and lifts her eyebrows in excitement. Her eyes light up, and she squeezes my hand. “I took the opportunity to apologize for the miscommunication that resulted in this disaster. He was upset, of course, and he now knows it was Phillip Vogel and a woman who no longer works with us who set him up on a date he never asked for.”
“Naomi won’t be back?”
“Letting girls go can be tricky, but she’ll never work for me or anyone I know again. I’ve had a bad feeling about her for a long time,” Inez says, diverting her eyes away from me. “He took our account into consideration and seemed to understand. Talent Ridge has a bit of a temper, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Talent’s temperament remains at the forefront of my mind, but how angry he was when I told him his time with me was purchased wasn’t what chased me out of his office.
Embarrassment isn’t an emotion I’m used to experiencing, but I became immersed in it after his rejection. Something inside of me changed when I stepped foot in his presence, and I let it carry me away like a ship on the sea. For the short time we were together, it didn’t feel like a transaction. I stupidly succumbed to wishful thinking, as if he’d ever be interested in me like the other rich girls he dates. His anger makes sense now that I know the truth. We were both blindsided, but that doesn’t make the humiliation hurt any less.
“He wants to see you again.”
My heart simultaneously swells and stops beating. I laugh, surprised by how foreign it sounds in this space. The muscles in my face aren’t used to flexing in such a way, and I cover my mouth with my free hand to touch what it feels like. My lips stretch into a curve, dotted by shallow dimples and creases. Laughter’s warm and soothing, lowering my stress level from excruciating to less than excruciating.
Inez rolls her eyes, but the grimace on her lips isn’t genuine. She squeezes my hand gently, rubbing her thumb back and forth over my fingers until the unfamiliar melody slows. My laugh is more hysterical than joyous, but it feels okay. I don’t hate it.
“Why would he want to see me again, Inez? Does he want another go at crushing me?”
“Maybe he wants to apologize.”
“He doesn’t owe me anything.”
Inez clenches my hand once more before standing. “Or maybe we didn’t blow Ridge & Sons like we thought we had. I sent you for a reason. You’re the best, and you always deliver.”
“That’s me. Employee of the month.”
She scoffs, waving me away as she makes her way toward the door to leave. It’s her way of saying, you mean more to me than that and you know it. “I’d like you to see him again, Lydia, if only to correct Naomi’s mistake. Hush doesn’t need this stain on our reputation. Clean up this mess so we can move on or move forward. I’ll figure out another way.”
Figure out another way for what? I ask myself.
She doesn’t leave room for argument, so I don’t bother with theatrics and internalize my protest—the most me thing I’ve done in days. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see Talent again, anyway. Confrontation is better left avoided, but a face-to-face conversation might be what it takes to get him out of my head.
Boy trouble—if a psychotic one-sided fascination is considered boy trouble—is something I’ve never experienced. How did a quick fuck amount to this? I don’t know, but I want my damn life back.
I was taken by surprise when Inez sent the address to the location where I’m to meet Talent. Nearly a week has passed since she showed up at my apartment unannounced with the news that he wants to see me again. I started to believe it wouldn’t happen and this distracted version of myself is my new normal, until yesterday when she asked if I was free to meet Talent this evening. The only plans I had were the half marathon I now run each night before bed.
My legs have never been stronger.
Judging by Talent’s reaction when I told him I was a paid escort, the idea of meeting him in public for our talk seemed out of the question. Dramatic scenarios of abandoned parking garages and pat downs for listening devices crossed my mind. What I definitely didn’t expect was a coffee shop in the middle of town. The concept is bizarre. I’ve never had coffee with a man in my entire life. I’ve never sat across a table from a man in this capacity—just to talk.
I pause in front of the shop, inhaling the rich chocolaty scent of fresh brewed coffee. Ten or twelve people gather inside, some waiting in line to give their order, others at tables and on couches in conversation or buried in their laptops. The evening sky is the color of sherbet, deepening the warm light coming from inside through the large windows. The scene is utterly average, straight out of a movie or book, and entirely brand new to me.
My public outings are limited to my weekly visits with my clients, Hush, and the grocery store. I’ve pulled my hair up, with a natural palette of makeup on my face, and left the heels at home not to stand out should I run into someone who pays me for sex. Which has never happened before because I don’t leave my apartment.
“Welcome,” the young girl behind the register says when I enter.
A few customers look up upon my arrival. Their eyes hang on for a moment before returning to their discussions and work. Little do they know the highest paid escort in the city just arrived.
I’m twenty minutes early and Talent isn’t here yet, so I stand in line and scope the menu. Growing up on fast food and vending machine snacks, coffee, unless charred at the bottom of a pot that had been on all day, is another thing I don’t have much experience in. Everything looks amazing and smells even better, like cinnamon, vanilla, and warm bread.
“What can I get you, hun?” the same girl who greeted me asks.
“Something with caramel drizzle,” I say.
She smiles and says, “You got it.”
Releasing my bottom lip from between my teeth, I add, “And one of those cake pops.”
My drink tastes like a dream topped in a mountain of whipped cream and river of salted caramel. It’s cold, velvety, and unlike any coffee drink I’ve had before. I feel like a kid in a candy shop, and it takes real effort to use the straw instead of gulping the entire thing down. Looking to make sure no one’s watching, I swipe the whipped cream with the tip of my finger and lick it off. Then I behave.
I contemplate devouring the cake pop when the chime above the entrance door rings and my heartbeat wavers. I know it’s Talent without looking. It’s in the way the coffee shop shushes for a split second, and by the way my skin hums as it remembers his nearness. The entire place does not stand and applaud his arrival like I imagined—baddest lawyer in town, everyone. If you want to purchase a billion-dollar company for half its worth, Talent Ridge is your man.