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“I guess I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” she said. “But if you want nefarious, I can give you nefarious. I’m sure Madison has darker stories about—”
Stella held up a hand. “Please, I can’t take any more stories from the Happy Hooker.” She picked up one of the tubes of ChapStick that littered her desk and liberally coated her lips with it before continuing. “Look, Eden, I’m going to be honest with you. You’re not a writer. At least, you’re not a newspaper writer. The only reason I gave you the job is because you bugged the hell out of me. In fact, I’ve never met a more determined young lady in my life. I just happen to think you’re determined to do something you’re not well-suited for.”
“So what are you saying?” Eden tried to keep the panic from her voice. “Are you firing me?”
Stella didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes. It’s time you release the chokehold you have on being a newspaper reporter and try something else.” She paused. “Anything else. But if you want, you can finish the stories you’re working on.”
Eden sat stunned in her chair for a moment. But just a moment. Then her resolved kicked in, and she got to her feet. “I’m sorry that you didn’t like my article, Stella, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up on being a reporter.” Her voice gained in volume and strength. “Because I’m not a quitter. And to prove it, before I leave this newspaper, I’m going to get you your story on prostitution.” She punched the air. “The best darned story this newspaper has ever seen. Or I’m not Eden Tulip Huckabee!”
Stella took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Somehow, I knew that.”
Once Eden left Stella’s office, she forced herself to go back to her tiny little cubicle and finish her story on the marathon. As she wrote about the strength and endurance it took to complete the run, she set another goal. She would sign up for the marathon. She would train and get herself in shape because she could do anything she set her mind to. Including write a story about the seedy side of being an escort.
After finishing the marathon story, she reread the first story she’d written about Madison and realized that Stella was right. It wasn’t very dark or nefarious. Obviously, Eden had just scraped the surface of the escort world. If she wanted a great story, she needed to delve deeper. She needed to stop worrying about hurting Madison’s feelings and ask some hard-core questions. Something she would do that very night when Madison showed up at The Lemon Drop.
The Lemon Drop was a trendy bar that catered to the businesspeople who flocked there after work to grab a drink and decompress. Since working at the newspaper didn’t pay the bills, Eden bartended there four nights a week. It was where she had first met Madison.
Madison was one of those women who stood out from the pack. Not just because she was beautiful and gregarious, but also because she had a heart of gold. Eden had witnessed her giving a loan to a regular who was struggling to pay his bills, her couch to a waitress who had been kicked out of her apartment, and a designer coat to an old street bum who was cold.
That night, as Eden watched Madison breeze in the door of The Lemon Drop with a bright smile on her face, she had to wonder if Stella wasn’t right. Madison was the walking definition of a happy hooker. There wasn’t a time when she seemed depressed or angry or frustrated. But certainly underneath the mink-trimmed coat and Tiffany diamonds there had to be a dark story. Why else would you become an escort?
Madison jockeyed through the crowd until she reached the bar. All the stools were taken, but it didn’t take long for a guy to notice Madison’s pouting lips and offer his seat to her. She took it with a husky “You’re such a sweetie” before greeting Eden. “Hi! So how did it go with the Dark Seducer?”
Eden finished pouring the grapefruit and vodka into a salt-rimmed glass and placed it on the tray with the other drinks. “Not so great. He kicked me out.” She started to ask the guy next to Madison if he wanted a refill on his rum and Coke, but Madison had taken her coat off and the guy’s attention got captured by the full-figured body beneath the white sweater dress. Madison was one of those women who could be fifteen pounds overweight and still cause men to salivate. Probably because most of her weight was carried in her boobs and butt.
“You didn’t listen to me, did you?” Madison said, seemingly unaware that the guy was drooling. “You talked.” The look in her clear blue eyes wasn’t mad as much as sympathetic. As if she pitied Eden’s inability to shut her mouth… or seduce a man. Which annoyed Eden. Probably because she was right. And Eden couldn’t help wondering what would’ve happened if she’d kept her mouth shut and followed all the Dark Seducer’s commands.
“Okay, so maybe I talked too much,” she conceded. “But I think him kicking me out had more to do with his disappointment that I wasn’t you.”
Madison looked surprised. “Why would he be disappointed? He’s not my client.”
Eden almost dropped the bottle of rum she’d just picked up. “He’s not your client? Then why did you fix me up with him?”
“Because none of my clients would work as research for an erotica novel.” She giggled. “Unless lots of elderly women read erotica.”
Eden hadn’t wanted to lie to Madison about being a romance novelist. Even now, she felt guilty about deceiving her. But if she wanted to be a news reporter, she would have to learn to stretch the truth. No one would want to confide in her if they knew she worked for a newspaper.
“So whose client is he?” Eden asked.
“Chloe’s. She’s the young girl I was telling you about. The one who got mixed up with that asshole Zac.”
“The guy who runs your escort service?”
“Yeah. Zac has to be in his mid-thirties and Chloe’s not more than twenty, tops. Too young to be in this business.” Madison picked up a maraschino cherry from the condiment tray and sucked on it. It was like watching a television ad for lipstick. The guy next to her must’ve thought so too because he released a groan when she pulled it from between her lush red lips with a pop. “Are cherries fattening?”
“Those are. They’re soaked in syrup.” Eden leaned closer. “So she’s had a hard life?”
“More than hard. She doesn’t say much about it, but one of the other escorts told me that she was a runaway.” She set the cherry on a cocktail napkin and pouted. “Everything seems to be fattening. Which explains why I can’t lose weight.”
“You’re not fat. You’re voluptuous.”
“Only because you’ve never seen me without my Spanx.”
Eden laughed, then took the cocktail napkin with the cherry and tossed it in the trash before giving her a clean napkin. As she started mixing Madison’s usual martini, an idea struck her. “You should run in the Bay City Marathon with me. I did an article—I mean I read—an article about it, and people who train for the marathon lose tons of weight and completely tone their bodies.”
“I don’t know. Anything with a ‘thon’ attached to it sounds hard to me. It’s too bad I’m not famous enough to get onDancing with the Stars. I’m a good dancer, and those contestants look great afterwards.”
Eden handed her the martini. “We could look just as good if we trained together. In fact, why don’t you invite Chloe along? The bigger the group, the more likely we’ll succeed. We could start Saturday at Golden Gate Park.”
