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I don’t laugh or tell her we’re not on TV. I feel it too. That impending closeness that comes with solving a case, when your instincts take over and your mind won’t rest. “Let’s stop by Pagan Hospitality,” I say. “You ever have drinks with a stranger at a bar and not introduce yourself?”
“Nope.”
“Well then, maybe Gerry can give us a name.”
Chapter 24
Catherine
July 5, 2008
There are many things I’d rather dowith my Saturday night than entertain a Newb. I’d rather be with Aiden. I’d rather drink a bottle of wine, alone on the sofa, dressed in nothing but my fat pants and a T-shirt. Heck, I’d rather pick up trash on the side of the freeway.
This isn’t a new feeling for me. But the resigned long-suffering has changed a little bit. The edges have become sharper, the frustration morphing into something that feels alarmingly close to anxiety. Usually, I can easily chase the blues away. I can create a fantasy that has my client spinning even after reality begins to settle in again. But, tonight, I’m struggling to find the motivation.
I haven’t seen Aiden since the beach house, since I lied to him about knowing the man that Elizabeth left the Moonlight Lounge with. I don’t know why I panicked. I don’t know why I lied. There was just a moment where it all came rushing back to me. All the drama and pain that Lizzie caused, and I didn’t want to drag it all to the surface again in case I was wrong.
I didn’t lie to Aiden when I told him that white males with blond hair and blue eyes were a dime a dozen, and until I—untilToni—can find out more, it’s better this way. It’s better for everyone, including Aiden. If I told him whatI thought and ended up being wrong, I would have wasted his time. Maybe sent him on a wild goose chase, further away from what really happened to Elizabeth.
“Are you okay?”
I blink slowly as I come back to the present. Taking my time, I add a little bewildered sweetness to my smile. “I’m great.”
“Oh. Ah…You seem distracted.”
The kid sitting in front of me, Tyler Shaw, is twenty-three. He’s short and cute, with neatly styled blond hair and pretty blue eyes, magnified slightly by his square-framed spectacles. He’s an MIT grad who works an entry-level job with a major pharmaceutical company. And he’s a virgin.
He’s saved for months for this date. He’s been thinking about it a lot. I know this to be true because he told me within five minutes of our meeting.
“Just thinking,” I reply, tilting my head a little. “Do you want to get out of here?”
He looks around the hotel bar like he’s been dropped into an alternate reality against his will. He hesitates. And when a bright red flush spreads up his neck and he replies, “Ah, sure,” I sense his uncertainty.
“Come on.” Impatient to be done, I extend my hand and, when he takes it, lead the way to the elevators.
Tyler Shaw has one hour of my time. Drinks at the bar took thirty minutes and judging by the anxious tap of his foot on the floor, it won’t take me more than a few more to break him into the world of one-night stands once we’re in the hotel room.
We’re standing side-by-side in the hotel elevator. With each floor higher that we travel, the tension between us grows, and I’m not entirely sure if it’s because he’s anxious or because I don’t want to be there. Maybe, both?
Tyler’s eyes find mine in the reflection of the elevator doors, and when I smile, he quickly looks away, embarrassed.This is just a job, I remind myself as a new, niggling guilt creeps into my mind.
The only thing that’s changed in my life is Aiden,meetingAiden. That’s the problem. He’s the problem. Admitting it to myself is harder than I thought but denying it would be useless. The truth is glaring. I don’t want to beherebecause I’d rather be withAiden. I’d rather be anywhere with him. I’ve been on two other dates since I spent the night with him at the beach house, and although the clients probably never would have guessed it, I hated everything about them. It felt dirty. Every breath against my ear made me want to roll my shoulders. Every touch against my skin made me want to throw up. For the first time ever, escorting felt like selling myself—and selling myself short.
When the elevator doors ping open, I push the thought to the back of my mind. I send Tyler a bright smile and follow him out into the hall. The purple and gray carpets that line either wing are slightly faded with age. The walls have a few smudges and scuff marks that haven’t been seen to. The whirr of a vending machine reaches for me from somewhere nearby. The hotel, La Maison, isn’t necessarily a shit hole but it’s not exactly theHotel de Pariseither. You’d think if the kid was going to save thousands of dollars for an hour with an escort, he’d throw in a few extra hundred to make a good impression.
When we come to the door of room six hundred and thirty-five, he shoves the folder with his background search under his arm and inserts the card into the card reader. He waits for the light to go green before pushing open the door and walking in ahead of me.
A big, black suitcase is open on the bed. Clothes are strewn about everywhere. “Ah…Excuse the mess.” Tyler rubs the back of his head. “I didn’t know what to wear.”
“That’s okay.” I saunter into the room, deliberately taking my time. The AC is on high, and the cold room has a chill running down my bare arms and legs. The short mini-dress I’m in does nothing to hide my gooseflesh.
Placing my clutch down on the table in the corner, I turn. There are no nerves. No panic. This client is an Easy Pleaser. He wants to lose his V-card. And he has zero experience. All in all, this is probably going to take me less than ten.
But Tyler doesn’t move. He just stands there in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, looking like a sick puppy.
“Are you alright?”
He startles like a deer stumbling across a hunter. “Um…I-I don’t know.”
