Tell Me No Lies (Bright Lights, Dark Secrets Collection Book 4)

by Nolon King

  “What I think,” Lynette said, swaying her neck like a cobra, “is that you should consider what you’re saying about yourself when you come to school in that uniform.”

  Take that, Slut Mom, I could hear Lynette in my head.

  Theresa looked like she’d stopped breathing.

  She fired again. “I’m sure this isn’t the first time that someone has told you your uniform is inappropriate.”

  “Lynette!”

  “Can you believe yesterday my son asked me to explain the Rosebud scandal to him? Apparently your son told him about it.” Lynette continued, ignoring me. “We need to set the moral example. Pay attention to things — what we say, what we do … what we wear.”

  I wanted to slap Lynette. “I don’t think Theresa’s wardrobe had anything to do with the Rosebud scandal. But I do think we should all probably be better at minding our own business.”

  I smiled, turned around, and went to the back of the room to get a cup of coffee that I didn’t even want, hoping that Lynette wouldn’t follow me.

  A soft voice beside me said, “Thank you for that.”

  I looked up from my coffee and saw Theresa.

  Lynette was already gone from the room, and good riddance.

  “Fuck Lynette,” I said. “She’s just threatened by anyone who might be half as pretty as her, and she doesn’t know how to not act like a bitch when that happens.”

  Right now my act of sticking up for Theresa had everyone in the room pretending not to stare.

  But I stood by that. Fuck Lynette, and everyone else. I was sick of the other moms picking on Theresa. I wished now that I’d given her a chance when we’d first put Alec and Lena in this school. I could’ve been hanging out with a decent human being instead of Lynette’s bitches.

  I thought back to my sorority days, and what Olivia had been like before I’d stolen Ryan from her, and I realized that I’ve spent my entire life hanging out with mean girls.

  Because I’d been a mean girl.

  Well, no more.

  I put a friendly hand on Theresa’s shoulder. “Don’t let them get to you.”

  “I won’t.” She shook her head, still smiling, still appreciative. “I usually don’t. Thanks again, for sticking up for me.”

  “Of course.” I wanted to give her a hug, but that felt like too much, so I told her to have a great day before slipping out of the room, feeling too many eyes on my back.

  When things calmed down a little and I had more time, I would ask her if she wanted to have lunch.

  She needed an ally as much as I did.

  I was on my way to Olivia’s regular client, the one I’d agreed to take in exchange for her help getting into Cameo. It was an afternoon appointment, just like she’d said, so it was as inconvenient for me as it was for her. But at least the Broadway was beautiful.

  I pulled up to the valet, got out, and sauntered into the lobby like a starlet.

  Then I went up to the desk and told them I was here to see Frank Sinatra, just like Olivia had told me to. What kind of arrogant asshole would use Sinatra’s name as a pseudonym?

  The clerk called to double-check, although the way he was looking at me and trying not to smile, I was sure that he’d made similar calls more than a few times before. He gave me a card key and sent me to the gorgeous glass elevator, the one in the middle that went straight to the top floor.

  Five minutes later I stood in front of the penthouse suite, my heart beating hard as I raised my fist to knock. I wanted this appointment to go well so that Olivia would be happy with me.

  I opened my coat so that my lingerie-kissed body was on full display, then I knocked and waited, trying not to tap my feet.

  The door opened, and I peed myself.

  The most vile creature I knew in real life stared right back at me.

  Frank Wilder, Lynette’s husband.

  I hadn’t known it was possible to dislike the guy any more than I did. I wondered if Lynette knew he was cheating on her. Maybe.

  Maybe that’s why she was such a bitch.

  Or maybe she was relieved that he wanted to have sex with someone else.

  Frank was sloppy and slovenly. The kind of guy who didn’t care if he had tufts of hair growing out of his folds from spots he missed shaving, or food from lunch still in his teeth. His hair was usually greasy, just like the rest of him. Everything about him was big — probably except for his dick — and he wanted the world to know it. And apparently, Frank was good enough at his job that none of that mattered.

  It took him a moment to recognize me, but once he did, Frank actually licked his lips and said, “No shit.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking.”

  We stared at each other. I didn’t know what to do.

  What would Olivia do if I welshed on my deal to take Frank over for her?

  What if Frank decided to tell someone that I was working as an escort?

  Would my walking away make that more likely to happen, or less?

  But we couldn’t just stand there forever, with me in the hallway and him in the penthouse, neither of us knowing how to react to such an unfortunate pairing.

  Except it was only unfortunate for one of us.

  Frank opened the door wider. “I always thought you were the best looking out of all Lynette’s friends, and you’ve never looked better than now.” He raked me with his eyes, making me feel like I deserved my hourly rate just for that, then added, “Now we’ll have a little secret to share whenever you swing by the house.”

  Just hearing him say it made me want to take a shower.

  Disgusted but trapped, I went inside and let Frank close the door behind me.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “Yes, please.” I smiled, but it wasn’t easy. “Whiskey, neat.”

  I had to get my shit together. Frank was a client and I had a job to do. I went to the bar as he finished pouring my whiskey.

  “Mind if I take this off?” I asked

  Frank looked at my jacket and nodded with a predatory smile. Then he waited for me to doff it before handing me the drink. I felt more naked in my lingerie than I usually did. I turned away for a swallow of whiskey so that he wouldn’t see me wince, then I turned back around and said, “How can I please you?”

  I don’t want to talk about what happened next, or think about it ever again. I’ll just say that sex with Frank should be against the law. It’s like fucking a greased elephant that reeks of body odor, eggs, and human shit. Worse, the asshole loves to make a mess — all over and inside me. All around the room. It wasn’t just sticky, it was disrespectful. How was I supposed to walk through the lobby with my eyelashes glued together and the rest of the goop crystallizing in my hair?

  I wanted to wash up, but I wanted to get out of there even more.

  I wanted to kill Olivia, but I couldn’t blame her for being desperate to hand off her worst client.

  I wanted to tell Frank to fuck off, but he was a client, and the client was always right.

  Except, fuck that last one.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled at him.

  He looked at me, confused. “I’m sorry?”

  “You should be!”

  “What did I do?” Frank asked, as if he didn’t know.

  “Look at me!” I pointed to my face and my hair and my body, then to the mattress and the mirror. “Look at the room!”

  He didn’t seem sorry at all. “But isn’t that what I paid for?”

  “No, Frank. It isn’t.” But yes, it totally was. “And you’re cheating on your wife!”

  He stared at me, flummoxed. “Aren’t you cheating on your husband?”

  I was speechless, because yes, of course I was. It was a sinking moment, realizing that I was fostering the same destructive cycle in someone else’s marriage. I tried so hard not to think about that, each and every day. But this time it was staring me in the face. I’d had coffee with this man’s wife, traded recipes, and …

  Had Fa
mily Days.

  Like the one that was right around the corner.

  “I’m really sorry, Natalie,” Frank said, seeming to mean it.

  He went over to his jacket coat and pulled out an envelope, then reached into his pants pocket, his hand emerging with a wad of cash fastened with a money clip. He peeled a bunch of hundreds from the top of the pile, and added them to the envelope. It was hard to know for sure, but it looked like a thousand dollar tip.

  “I promise to be better next time,” he said.

  There was still cum on his hand, so that probably meant there was cum on my money.

  But of course, I took it anyway.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday Evening …

  “No way, Victor. I’m not seeing Frank Wilder ever again and—”

  “I said okay, Natalie. But you need to stop yelling.”

  He was right, for both of our sakes.

  I’d had to pull over three blocks after starting my car — I was shaking so hard that I’d nearly clipped a Mini-Cooper by accident. I got the finger from somebody’s grandma as I swerved around.

  “I’m sorry I’m yelling, I’m just really upset. I know him.”

  “I understand, and believe it or not, that sort of stuff does happen. But it isn’t my fault. How was I supposed to know that you knew him?”

  I bet Olivia knew.

  “You’re trying to draw a line in the sand that doesn’t need to be drawn. We’re on the same side. You say No Frank, we figure out a way to make that work. But you can’t just—”

  “What do you mean, we figure out a way to make that work. How hard is it to figure out, Victor? You tell him No, Natalie doesn’t want to fuck you. How hard is that?”

  “I’ll do that with Frank, sure, I get it. That’s sticky.” Fucking right it’s sticky. “He’ll understand. But it isn’t good practice to tell a client that a girl don’t want ‘em, Natalie. And believe me, there are a lot of guys that our girls don’t want. So what kind of business would I be running if I told our customers that they weren’t good enough to purchase our product?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “It is what you’re saying.”

  No harm in being blunt. “I’m your most requested girl, is that right?”

  “What are you getting at, Natalie?”

  “My first-timers all become regulars, and I only just started.” No need to mention yet that I’d be quitting soon. “So I ought to have some input into who those regulars are.”

  “I’m not saying that we can’t. But that doesn’t mean—”

  “If you want me to keep working for you, then I get to know who the guys are before the jobs. No more mystery dates from now on. And I have the right to refuse. Nothing, nothing is worth what I just went through.”

  “Are you done?”

  “I’m done.”

  He didn’t sound pleased. “Then I hear you, and goodnight. I’ll email you.”

  The line went dead, and I immediately regretted my tantrum. I didn’t have enough set aside yet to leave Ryan and be sure that we’d be okay.

  How mad was Victor?

  Was he going to let me go?

  After everything I’d put up with so far, would I end up slaving my face off at Sloppy’s anyway, knowing that I’d blown my chance to give my kids everything they needed?

  I drove home, asked the sitter to stay until I got out of the shower, and once I was clean, spent a satisfying night with my children watching movies until they fell asleep. Alec was on my left, and Lena on my right, each with their heads on my chest. I’m not even sure what we were watching, since I was drifting in and out of sleep the whole time, but we were together and we were safe.

  I cuddled them on the couch, telling myself that at least for this little moment my world was okay, and that my work was helping to make it that way.

  I don’t remember going to bed, but I thought about my call with Victor the second before I opened my eyes.

  I reached for my phone, unplugged, opened Victor’s email, and laughed out loud.

  He’d sent me a list of all my requests, restating everything I had ranted about the day before in terms that were clear enough to validate my concerns but while also meaning nothing in court. Basically, he was letting me know that yes, I could pick my clients, and yes, I would get to know who every one of them was beforehand. Even if secrecy was a part of his promise, he could swear that their secrets were safe with me. He also warned that I was not to share the details of our agreement with any of the other girls, for the sake of “keeping discipline.” If they found out, the deal was off and Frank would be one of my regulars.

  My lips were sealed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wednesday Morning …

  MELINDA

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Please, Ryan. Never call me that again. Melinda, or we can’t work together. We really should be closer than that by now, considering the secrets we’re keeping between us.”

  As usual, Ryan was a delight.

  If I was using him for other things, I might even call him delicious. He was too pretty to be so unassuming. And it wasn’t just because we were sitting outside by my pool. Dominic was inside, pretending he didn’t give a shit, though he could hear every word and was probably already dying to check in.

  Small talk was over. The first few beads of sweat were beading Ryan’s brow. He didn’t seem nervous, but he was probably overly hot in his collared shirt, especially with the sun as warm as it is. That’s why I was wearing my swimsuit. Well, that, and because I liked to watch Ryan behind my sunglasses, trying hard not to stare at my tits.

  “So, what was your general impression of Jess?”

  He looked almost grateful to be getting down to business. He opened a folder, looked down on the page and then back up at me. Blinked, probably because he got a flash of my cleavage. He really was adorable.

  “My notes are all here.” He closed the folder and slid it over to me.

  I didn’t say anything, enjoying his discomfort, not because I’m a sadist, but because it was necessary before we reached a place where we both could be happy. Right now he was feeling a medley of emotions, including the holy trinity that would help Dominic and I to get our way: guilt, excitement, and regret.

  “I can read those later. I would love to know your thoughts, Ryan. What do you think of Jess Lindley?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters—”

  “Aren’t you the one who assessed her?”

  “Well, yes, of course, but I followed the criteria. It’s checking boxes, and all of my work is there.” He pointed to the folder, as though that might stop me.

  Lightly laughing, I took the folder and put it underneath the tablet sitting between us. “Like I said, I’ll read that later. Right now I’d prefer that we talk it out. Fair for the amount that Shellter Productions has paid you, yes?”

  “Yes … Melinda.”

  Looking at him now made me want to pitch an idea to Dominic, a web series where great-looking guys were caught completely off guard. It wouldn’t be good for more than a dozen episodes, but sometimes even that was eleven more than enough. He was probably cursing himself, hating the way he was responding, without any way of knowing that we saw Ryan as the right guy because all of this made him so uncomfortable.

  “Can you maybe start with a specific question? I feel a little lost.”

  “Of course.” I smiled. “Let’s start in the simplest place possible. Why don’t you give me a summary?”

  “What do you mean? Should I—”

  I pointed to the folder under the tablet. “Summarize everything there into a paragraph.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue, so I told him to, “Go.”

  And then he blurted, “Jess Lindley’s addictions are manifesting in a variety of ways, through overt drug use, perfectionism, and catering to others. She has her issues, of course, but Jess is committed to recovery, and she h
as positive notions about the future. She … well …” Ryan gestured toward the folder. “Like I said, it’s all in the write-up.”

  He looked down at the table, avoided my eyes, even though he couldn’t see them behind the shades.

  Because he knew what I was really asking, before I asked it.

  “No,” I pressed, all business, no bullshit. “I want to know what you thought about fucking her.”

  Ryan’s torment intensified. “She was good?”

  “Just good? If I have something that’s just good, I send it right back.”

  “She was … eager.”

  “Eager?”

  “Committed. I don’t know.” He shook his head. Desire for Jess was tattooed on his face, so was the pain of confession.

  “Tell me more.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s your job, Ryan. My questions are perfectly reasonable, considering the amount we paid for this job. I’m sure your report is thorough, enlightening, and insightful. Meticulous. Like always. But this is a very human business, so I need you to be a little more human with me.”

  I leaned back to stretch, both my body and the moment, to raise the roof of Ryan’s discomfort while he kept trying not to look, squirming in his chair.

  “Be descriptive. You’re not telling an employer, you’re telling a friend. Because Blush clients will want to boast. Our girls will be the best in the world, and you’re helping us to make sure of that. We aren’t just building the best of the world’s oldest business, we are changing the culture around it. Turning the taboo into an extravagance. Blush customers will want to tell their friends about their time with our girls and boys. Eventually. So …”

  I leaned forward, ample cleavage on display.

  “Pretend you paid good money to fuck Jess Lindley. How was she?”

  I settled back in my chair, crossed my legs, and waited.

  “She was … uninhibited. Open. Playful I guess. She was fun to … you know, have sex with. She was comfortable in her skin. Some people exude sexuality, and Jess actually doesn’t outside the bedroom, or at least it isn’t the same. But behind closed doors, she’s wasn’t exactly a wildcat, although I’m positive that she could be if that’s what her client wanted. But what made her great is that she was excellent at reading my mood. That’s her super power.”