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“So consistency means nothing to you.”
“Oh, I'm very consistent, I assure you.”
“Tell you what… if you stay till six I'll pay you $1,500.”
“I’m afraid I can't do that.”
“Why not?”
“I don't cut deals.”
“You won’t make $1,500 otherwise. You just said your client canceled.”
She traces the rim of her glass. “Sorry.”
She isn’t sorry. “It’s not personal,” she continues. “Cutting deals just isn’t my jam. I find it only leads to more concessions in the future.”
“Ah,” I reply. “Well, let's hope you're as good in bed as you are at negotiation.”
“If you have any doubt,” she says matter of factly, “You definitely shouldn’t hire me.”
“I have an open mind.”
“I don't think we should work together, Mr. Parker.”
I smile because she remembered my name. “And why is that?”
“Just a hunch.”
“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
“Prove me wrong.”
Chapter Fifteen
Vanessa
It’s hard to really know when the transition takes place from being in the rejuvenation center to being back in my real life. I can’t say when the decision is made one way or the other about my release, only that my stay shifts from one of deprivation and punishment to one of replenishment and actual rejuvenation. If that’s what you want to call it. It starts out with the soup. At first, it’s brothy, but at each meal it becomes a little more substantial until finally I’m offered vegetables and chicken. Who knew something so plain could taste so good?
Over the next few days, I am taken to the spa, where I have a blow out, an airbrush tan, and intensive laser treatments to tighten my sagging skin. Starvation is not kind to the body. In addition, I’m treated to a full body massage, mani-pedi, and facial. My hair and makeup are done, and my clothing is carefully selected each morning and delivered via an aide. Just so I don’t get the wrong idea about why I’m here, I sit through circle time with fellow Sirens, where we are given refreshers on the art of manipulation, seduction, and sexual technique.
Finally, one evening, just when I think this primping might go on forever, I am retrieved from my room and informed that my rejuvenation is complete, and I am free to serve the Lord’s mission. Free being subjective, of course.
A driver takes me straight to my mark’s building, straight to the restaurant on the first floor, where I suspect he’ll be. The church has had eyes on him, and my driver feels pretty confident he’ll show tonight. Whatever the case, I intend to get a good meal out of it and enjoy the atmosphere. But all I can really think about is getting home to my son.
My driver was right. My mark is dining tonight, and not only that, he makes my job easy when he engages nearly right away. I can only assume this means I made a good impression the first time. More likely, the church has done a good job at making me over. It helps that they’ve studied him. They know his preferences. Unfortunately for me, they’ve hardly shared them, and I’m not sure quite what to make of that.
I guess it’s fine, because he pays for my drink, which I leave untouched on the table. He invites me upstairs. He doesn’t ask for me to wait and then follow him up, not like some of my clients. He doesn’t seem to particularly care one way or the other if we’re seen together.
In his apartment, he surprises me by trying to make small talk. It feels out of character, and I’m wondering if he’s having second thoughts. “Did you pick this out?” I ask, perching on the edge of his sofa. He plops down beside me.
“No, why?”
“Just a hunch.”
He kicks off his shoes. I notice he’s taller than I thought, as men this type tend to be. Heroes and villains alike. “It’s probably a good time to tell you that I’m married…”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I didn’t come here to talk.”
