“I don’t know if she intentionally tried to hit me with the car,” I clarify, popping a sliced strawberry into my mouth. “Her name is Naomi. She started with Hush before I did, but she was fired a couple of months ago. We exchanged heated words, but I haven’t heard from her since. As far as I was concerned, I never had to see her again.”
To rationalize her exit from Hush as workplace termination is a gross understatement and a wild stretch of the imagination. It’s not like she was let go from a nine-to-five for insubordination and can find a new job or collect unemployment. Hush girls are welcome to go if they leave on good terms, but Naomi was blacklisted. She won’t find sex work in the state of California again unless she works truck stops or dive bars.
“Talent, she’s the reason why you and I are about to share this French toast,” I say, dipping my pinky finger into the powdered sugar. “She and your friend Phillip Vogel made the arrangement to put a hooker in your office, planning for it to be her, but Inez sent me instead. Our lives would be vastly different had you fucked Naomi instead.”
Talent rolls his eyes and takes our plates to the dining room table and pulls out a chair for me. “I’ll make a few calls and see what I can find out about her.”
“What about Phillip?” I ask, drizzling syrup over my breakfast. “Are you still friends?”
Talent’s eyes dart away, and he scratches the back of his neck. “No.”
“Is that why he wasn’t at the gala?” I cut into my French toast. “Because when I met you at the coffee shop, you told me he meant well. Now Hush is in trouble, Naomi tried to run me over, and Phillip seems to have disappeared.”
“Why do you think they’re connected?” he asks indifferently, as if the idea is ludicrous.
“I didn’t say they were.” I push my plate away and bring my knees to my chest, turning to watch the ocean fourteen stories down. “Inez won’t talk to me, you’re being cryptic as fuck, and I feel like my life is spinning out of control.”
“Lydia, look at me.” Talent reaches over and rests his hand on top of mine. “Inez is trying to protect you from something, and I think you should let her. When I go into the office tonight, I’ll ask about Naomi and see what I come up with. If she’s trying to hurt you, I’ll make sure she’s stopped. And Phillip Vogel is not a problem. Our friendship went bad and it has nothing to do with me, you, or Hush. He’s been a fuck-up for a long time.”
I search his eyes for signs of mistrust, but I don’t find anything and take his word for it.
“Take this time to figure out what you want to do with your future,” Talent continues. He slides my plate of food back in front of me. “You’re not an escort anymore, Lydia. Now’s your chance to be anything you want. Go to school. Don’t go to school. Build a fucking empire or destroy one. You have my full support.”
“It’s not that easy, Talent.”
“Lydia, there’s going to be a lot about our relationship that isn’t easy, but never selling your body again isn’t one of them. No one is ever going to touch you again.”
“You sound sure of yourself.”
He sits back in his seat and smirks. “I’ve never been so fucking sure of anything in my life.”
A life full of possibilities isn’t one I ever dreamed of, and it’s hard to accept good fortune with grace because good fortune has never given a fuck about me. I’m overlooked by chance and disregarded by destiny. Struggle and misfortune are my longtime companions, so why would they suddenly abandon me now?
Because Talent Ridge is incredibly easy to love?
Because I haven’t heard from Inez in two weeks?
Because for the first time in ten years, my body belongs entirely to myself?
I feel like I’ve spent the last fourteen days walking across a frozen lake, and it’s only a matter of time before the ice breaks and I drown. I’m not on solid ground despite what Talent believes.
Talent and I spend as much time together as we can, which involves me working around his schedule because he’s a big-time businessman and I’m a high-end escort on furlough. Talent disagrees, but until I can meet Inez face-to-face, I’m still one of her whores.
“I didn’t realize lawyers worked so many nights,” I say to him one afternoon while we have lunch in his office. We spend most nights together, either at my place or his, but twice in the last week Talent’s been at the office well after normal business hours.
“We have a client who requires unique accommodations,” he says without further explanation.
Camilla has gone on more dates without incident, and she doesn’t need advice from me beyond what outfit to wear. Without my clients, guiding Camilla, and while Talent’s at work, I find myself reaching farther and farther outside my comfort zone without committing to anything too life-altering, like going back to school.
I start small.
Instead of running on the treadmill, Dog and I run around the neighborhood every morning and even try Dog Mom’s coffee. Yael drives me to the shopping district one afternoon, and I buy clothes a slut wouldn’t be caught dead in. And on an evening Talent isn’t stuck in the office with his brother and dad, he teaches me how to drive.
“Put the car into drive and take your foot off the brake and slowly press on the accelerator,” he encourages patiently. “It’s an automatic transmission, so the car will practically drive itself.”
With both of my hands on the steering wheel, one foot on the brake and one on the gas, the car does not drive itself. We lurch forward so quickly, I panic and forget which pedal is the brake and which is the accelerator and press both simultaneously. Talent’s BMW groans like it’s in pain and comes to an abrupt stop, but the tires spin until the smell of melted rubber scares me and I take both feet off the pedals.
Talent is half-laughing, half-shouting, “Lydia, steer the fucking car.”
We’re not moving very quickly, but we’re headed straight for a light pole.
“Which one is the gas again?” I ask, turning the steering wheel to swerve away from a collision.
“Baby, the one on the right.” He laughs, holding on to the roof handle.
The smell of burned rubber never goes away, but an hour later, I know the difference between the accelerator and the brake, I drive with my right foot only, and I don’t go near another light pole.
“Oh, my God,” I say, driving the BMW from one end of the parking lot to the other. “I’m driving a car. I know how to drive a fucking car.”
Talent rolls the windows down to trade the smell of heated rubber for the salty ocean breeze. Brisk summer night air cools my heated skin and fills my lungs, sweeping my hair off my shoulders. I’m filled to the top with gratitude and slow the car to a stop to wrap my arms around Talent’s neck, crushing my mouth against his.
“I want to hear it,” he says pleadingly.
Talent tells me he loves me when we’re together and when we’re not. He says it in weightless seconds before we fall asleep and in groggy eternity before we wake up. He calls me from the office in the middle of the day to remind me of his devotion, and he confesses his commitment on the card when he sends flowers.
Lydia, you are loved.