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So I watched her carefully as I separated four twenties from the lump and held them out her way. “Keep the change.”
“Well…” She stared at my dirty money as if it were a contagious disease. But then she cleared her throat and straightened her back. “When you put it that way… Thanks.”
She snagged the cash and started to pull her hand back only to wrinkle her nose and sniff the air before holding the money to her nose. When she caught me watching, she flushed and pulled the cash away. “Sorry. I just… They smell like… Is that…Chanel No. 5?”
God. Is that what the name of the perfume was? Now I knew what to stay away from forever. Most of my clients wore that very same scent, which was basically the only reason I despised it. It brought on too many bad memories and added another reason to why I liked Reese’s fresher, happier, more innocent scent.
“I wouldn’t know,” I said as stoically as I could manage. “I don’t ask.”
Confession #9: I lied a lot. But that night, with Reese, I didn’t.
My answer shocked her.
Hell, it shocked me. I knew I had wanted to scare her off and somehow nip this…whatever it was…in the bud. But I never actually came right out and admitted what I was to people. That was like jail time just waiting to happen.
What the hell was it about this girl that made all my actions and thoughts the very opposite of what they usually were? It was freaking bizarre.
She shook her head as if confused. “What do you ask, then?”
Okay, weird. Was she really going to just roll with the fact that I’d pretty much admitted what I was? Alright then.
I shrugged, watching her with a slight squint. I had thought she’d be more horrified and disgusted. But she merely seemed curious.
“Not much,” I heard myself answer. “My clients aren’t exactly the shy type. They tell me what they want and typically don’t leave a lot of room for questions.”
Her lips gaped apart. “Oh, wow. So you’re actually admitting you’re a…a…”
Wait. Hadn’t we just established that? Oh, damn. I thought I’d already admitted it. But I guess I really was now.
“What?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably, trying to downplay the awkwardness by acting as if it were no big deal. “Haven’t you heard the rumors? As tight as you appeared to be with Eva Mercer on campus the other day, I would’ve assumed she’d told you every dirty detail about me by now.”
A blush bloomed across her cheeks as if she felt guilty. “I…Yeah… I mean, she told me some crazy gossip, but I’m not sure if I believed any of it.”
She sounded almost apologetic, maybe because she’d just admitted to talking about me. I don’t know. But Reese was definitely the complete reverse of everything I was used to.
“Does your mom know?” she asked in a somewhat hushed voice, almost as if she were excited about getting all the juicy details to a huge state secret.
But thinking about the answer to her question caused me to glance away. I didn’t want to make my mom look bad and let anyone know she willfully allowed her son to fuck women in order to get her bills paid. But I kind of dug this honesty thing I’d started. I always had to lie and cover shit up. It was a little relieving to just be open and honest. So I went with, “I have a feeling she suspects.”
Reese’s eyes bugged, and she shook her head. “This is just… Yeah.” She turned an almost accusative stare on me. “Doesn’t it bother you that she knows?”
Guilt flooded my veins and almost suffocated me. I’d been so worried about trying to protect my mom’s image that I’d made myself look like…well, like a filthy gigolo who probably broke his mother’s heart on the daily with his dirty, notorious deeds. Ashamed that she knew me for exactly what I was, all the regret came out defensively.
“No,” I muttered. “It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Jesus. How do you think I feel about her knowing?”
Reese pulled back, obviously startled by my response, and shit… Here came more remorse. Unable to deal with my own guilt, I held up a hand. “No. No more. The question and answer portion of this evening is over. You have your babysitting money, and I’m home to stay with Sarah. You can go.”
“I…” She looked at me as if I’d just beaten her. Shit, why was I treating her this way? I totally hadn’t meant to be mean and hurt her feelings.
With a nod, she squared her shoulders. “Okay,” she said and then turned away before darting off.
I opened my mouth to call after her and apologize for being an ass. I even lifted my hand, but then I dropped it.
“Fuck.”
When I heard the front door open and close at her departure, I closed my eyes and ran my hand through my still damp hair to curse at the ceiling, only to realize I was still only wearing a towel. I muttered a couple more obscenities and dropped the terry cloth to the floor so I could pull on a pair of boxer shorts for bed.
It was after one in the morning. My first class tomorrow started in less than seven hours. But when I flopped down on my bed in the dark and set the back of my wrist against my forehead as I stared up at my darkened ceiling, sleep grew elusive. In my head, I ran through the events of the night along with my conversation with Reese, and I concluded that I needed a do-over. I had handled everything wrong and just needed to manage it all differently. I should’ve refused to think about Reese when Monica had prompted me to. That way I never would’ve called out her name and then gotten myself in trouble and freaked myself out, then turned down a client for business and pissed her off.
