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As I was climbing the stairs, Candace came running up behind me, take-out coffee in hand from the shop down the street.
“So, you’re going to go to the dinner?” she asked, her face bright.
I shook my head sadly. “I can’t.”
“Why the hell not? He’s like one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire country. He's also write-home-to-momma gorgeous. Armani Catwalk gorgeous.”
“He is gorgeous. Why he’s in need of a date I’ll never know. He said he'd quadruple my usual fee.”
“That’s strange that he’s so desperate to use you,” she said and followed me into the living room after locking the door behind her. “You sure it was him? He was almost married last year but they called it off the week before. I wouldn’t think someone like him would have to resort to an escort service.”
I nodded. “He had a red umbrella with him. It’s not raining today.”
I handed her my cell and she read over his texts. “Aww,” she said and shook her head. “That’s sad. I kinda feel bad for him.” Then she looked at me. “You should go anyway. If you don't, I will. Honestly, Alexa. You should go.”
I frowned, unsurprised that she’d suggest it. Taking risks was how she rolled.
“You’re seriously nuts and I'm even nuttier to listen to you,” I said as I plopped down on the sofa. “What if he decides he wants some dessert?”
She sat beside me on the armrest. “What if you decide you want a few bites? He’s a total babe. I’d do him. If you feel guilty, do it as an act of charity. The guy is clearly desperate.”
“I couldn’t,” I said, although a jolt of adrenaline went through me as I considered going with him anyway. He was so gorgeous.
“He’s filthy rich, Lexa. Have you ever been with a man who's filthy rich?"
I shook my head. "Nope."
"See? You'll get to check it off your bucket list." She grinned at me. "He has no credit card limit. It’ll be a dinner. You’ll wear something classy, and engage in small talk with rich people. He wants someone brainy. You’re a brain. Talk to them about international treaties or the balance of power in the Middle East. Do it!”
I bit my bottom lip in doubt, but a smile came over my face. “Should I?”
“Yes!” she said and squeezed my shoulder in a hug. “Think of the story you can tell everyone when we meet for brunch on Sunday…”
I let out a huge sigh. “I don’t have anything really classy to wear.”
“Call Suzanne,” she said. “She’s got really nice clothes from when she worked for that designer. She must have something you could wear.”
“What do you wear to an evening with family at Cipriani Wall Street?”
She shrugged. “A little black number with heels. A tiny silver purse. Your hair and makeup done. A red lace pushup bra and matching thong…” She wagged her eyebrows.
“I can’t believe I’m actually considering it,” I said with a laugh, considering it seriously. “I could always confess to him that I’m not really an escort, and tell him the whole truth.”
“Of course you could,” she said. “This
is an opportunity of a lifetime. To help out a fellow human being, even if he is a dickhead rich boy. He's a hella good looking dickhead rich boy. You'll get to go to a classy dinner, drink champagne with the rich and opulent. Practice your acting skills.”
“You’re first rate crazy,” I said and made a face. “And I must be to even consider it.”
“I am first rate crazy. You love me anyway,” she said with a mischievous grin.
“I do.”
I took out my cell and decided to text him back, still torn but determined to follow through despite my reluctance. I didn’t have to accept any money. It would be just me doing it so he had a date. A simple act of paying it forward.
A good deed.
“Come over here,” Candace said, sitting at her computer. “Let’s check him out.”
