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“Yeah. He has a four-year-old son.”
Claire has always wanted a sense of security. Her parents in Virginia avoid taking any responsibility for her. I get that she is an adult, but their level of disconnect just seems very odd to me. I know that them sending money to her has helped her to maintain a certain lifestyle. But I also know she longs for the unconditional love that is lacking in her life from those who should in theory give it out freely.
“How did the actual date go?”
“Better than expected. Last night was about meeting his ex-wife and her new boyfriend. Ethan hired me to help even out the score. He is having a difficult time allowing another man into his spot with his son.” Claire shifts in her seat and wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Okay, enough about me. Back to you.”
I play with my straw wrapper, thinking about the voice message and texts that were left for me this morning. “What do you suggest I do if Graham asks me out via the website?”
“If you see a red flag, then keep saying no. But be aware that he can still book you for a date if you are free.” Her hands are animated while she punctuates each point with a sudden movement, a sure sign that she is passionate on the topic. “But you can reject him. It is just that rejecting him could cause a rift within the agency. You might get a bad reputation. And since he obviously knows Dominic on a more personal level—”
“Ugh,” I groan.
“Pissing off the boss, despite how laid-back he seems, is never good for business.”
“Yeah, exactly,” I agree. Claire has a good point. I stare down at the last bite of my bread that rests on my plate. Is there really no easy way out? We are only speaking in hypotheticals, but I’m already starting to get a headache.
“Word spreads like wildfire among men of elite status. It is like some special code they live by. They probably profile us beyond our Entice account.”
Man code. “Gotcha.” It makes sense.
“Anyway, let’s stay focused,” Claire says, clapping her hands together. “For today’s preparation, I created a vision board to help us stay on track.”
“Of course you did.”
Her smile grows while she digs in her bag to pull out a folded piece of paper. “It was made on short notice, so keep your expectations on the low end of the spectrum.”
I watch as she unfolds her work of art. “Mission Angie Impossible?” I read the title. “Sounds ominous. Maybe I want to back down already.” I look over the paper and see a 2D mannequin version of myself, with scribbled notes written along the edges. When I see all of the things I need to do in print, I ask myself again if it is all worth it.
“You’ll be fine. You're in good hands with me.” Claire clicks her tongue and then scoops out an ice cube from her glass of water to chomp on. “It’ll be fun.”
“If you say so.”
“As we accomplish each task, I have a cutout to add to your body on the vision board. That way, we make sure you are all complete.”
I give her a weak smile. I am glad she is helping me navigate these details. I already feel so lost, and we haven’t even started.
“Ready to go? We have a lot of shopping and pampering to do.”
“Yup,” I mumble, knowing that I will most likely be blowing through the majority of my Visa gift card to please one man for one night. Seems like a big waste when I put it like that. Parts of me surrender to the mere fact that I will still not be enough for Mark—regardless of following his orders to a tee.
I am not going to be enough.
* * *
With travel and date preparation time factored in, Claire and I have three hours to run through the streets of the Pearl District with our list of tasks and vision-board outline to accomplish. I follow Claire into the nail salon first, and we both get our fingernails and toes done. The foot bath and massage make the outrageous cost worth it. I mean, seriously, who can afford this luxury every two weeks? I relax in the chair until the sweetest employee ushers me to the back for a fifteen-minute tan in the bed. I strip and lie down in the coffin, vowing to never do this again unless it is absolutely necessary. Even though the experience was soothing, I regret exposing my body to the harmful rays.
Picky bastard.
I forgo the suggestion of professional waxing for my brows and agree to let Claire do them at home, as well as put my hair up. If Mark notices the difference, so be it.
It takes fifty minutes to finish up at the salon. Claire unleashes me to the cell phone store while she gets a head start dress shopping next door in a trendy designer shop. I give her the list of qualifications on what Mark wants me to wear, from head to toe, making sure we are on the same page.
“Just go to the junior section, because apparently he wants me to look like a whore,” I half joke. If he expects me to act like one, then he is going to be disappointed. She scoots into the boutique while I enter the phone store.
It doesn't take me long to have my new device in my hand with a sparkly magenta case. At least the workers got a good laugh over my much-needed upgrade. Heading out of the store, I set out to find Claire.
Once inside the boutique, I follow the sound of the high-pitched giggles and discover her in the dressing room with a champagne flute in hand. I have been doing this all wrong. Target does not serve alcohol while shoppers try on clothes. Pretty sure if they did, it would end with higher cases of buyer’s remorse.
