Hired

by Zoey Castile

  “Anyway, they printed like thousands of copies and had this huge billboard in Times Square for a week. Then it sells even more copies. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it.”

  Fallon rolls his eyes, but I know he’s happy for Pat. Sure, he’s a bit shallow, but so are the rest of us on some level. Everyone loves something, might as well be ourselves.

  “I promise the next time I’m at the airport I’ll pick it up. What’s it called?”

  Pat pulls out his phone and Gary snaps his fingers. “That’s the longest he’s gone without showing someone a picture. You all owe me a drink.”

  The other guys and I gather around to look at the phone. In the cover, Pat stands shirtless with one hand behind his head to extend his already long torso.

  “Your nipples look mad pink,” Vin says, and a hand comes out of nowhere to slap his head.

  “The Sky’s Not the Only Big Thing in Montana,” I read the title out loud.

  “A little on the nose,” Gary says. “I prefer those historical ones where they’re like ‘oh, no, you’ve ruined my reputation.’”

  Pat’s all grins as he says, “It’s pretty good, too. The author’s from Montana, and grew up near my hometown.”

  “I’m happy for you, brother,” I say and slap him on the back. “And you guys don’t listen to me when I talk about fate.”

  That’s when they groan and roll their eyes at me. After an hour of weights, we move on to cardio. I tell them about Faith, but save all of last night’s stuff, which is weird because I’m definitely the kind of guy to kiss and tell. Or I was. But everything to do with Faith—I want it for myself. Even the memory of her. Though I have to stop thinking of her when we’re all in the steam room.

  I spend the better part of the day with them. Each and every one tries to convince me to stay and help make the New Orleans season happen. It’s temporary, but I’d get to be with my brothers. I’d get to be with her.

  I realize Faith hasn’t responded to my text even though she read it almost a minute after I sent it.

  She must be busy with her mom’s campaign.

  My nerves twist in my gut, though. Like I might have done something wrong. Scared her somehow. I know I wasn’t the only one who felt the spark between us last night. Like we could set the building on fire.

  Around five o’clock, when I say good-bye to the guys and head back to my room, I still haven’t heard from her. I decide to call, but when I get out of the elevator, Ginny is standing right in front of me and my entire body flashes hot.

  “Ginny!” I say.

  She looks from side to side like she’s scared someone will come in. “Hey, sweetheart. I threw away my keycard after I last saw you. I didn’t want to risk texting you. But I left my earrings in the safe. They were my mom’s and I haven’t worn them to the last couple of dinners.”

  “They’re in the safe?”

  I pull out my key card and let us in. My hand is shaking because the first thing I think is that Faith is expecting me for dinner.

  But Ginny is only picking something up, and I’m leaving this room forever in a few hours, and I’m not doing anything wrong. Then why are the hackles on my back standing on end?

  Ginny’s hands are trembling, too. That’s when I realize she’s been crying. Even with her sunglasses on, the redness spreads down her cheeks.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  She’s turning the safe lock in the closet. It clicks and she opens it. She brings out two pink diamond earrings the size of dimes. “Reggie knows.”

  I suck in a breath but do my best to stand still. I manage to say, “How?”

  “His perky little intern casually mentioned that she’d seen me here. Then he got this photo from a some sniveling reporter he hired to dig up a scandal on the Charles family. Irony’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  “Should you be here now?”

  “My husband doesn’t actually care. He’s with a sweet little intern half his age now and I’m picking up my earrings and—” Her hands shake so much that she drops one of them.

  I bend down to pick it up and hand it to her. “Ginny, sit down. I’ll pour you some wine.”

  She nods and settles into the large couch. I bring her a glass of wine, the one she left for me but I never opened. I spill some of it on the counter, and I’m so nervous I decide to pour some for myself. Every single one of my movements is punctuated with the thought of Faith waiting for me at her house. But Ginny’s so hurt, and I can’t just throw her out the door. She’s still a person who needs a friend.

  “Does he know who I am?” I ask her.

  “Don’t worry,” she says, taking the glass. Her red lips leave a mark on the rim. She pulls her legs up. I’ve never seen her this scared and sad. Not even when we were on the phone. I’m so used to this confident, radiant woman who possesses everything she touches. “You can’t make out your face in the photo. He won’t recognize you at the masquerade ball.”

  I never mentioned the ball to her.

  “I know, sweetheart.” She drinks again and takes off her sunglasses. Her eyes are red and puffy. The green of her irises dull, like someone snuffed out her happiness. “I was at the salon and Faith was so radiant, so in love, and mentioned her New York beau. Why didn’t you tell me you were Colombian? This whole time I kept calling you—”

  “Ginny,” I say, sitting across from her in the armchair. I place my hand on hers. “It’s all right. I’ve been called much worse than Argentinian. Right now, I’m worried about you. I watched my mother die with regrets of being with a man who cheated on her, who didn’t treat her like the treasure she should have been to him.”

  She looks at me and shuts her eyes. “It’s not that simple. What would people say? His campaign would attack me for days. My Lena’s in college—”

  “You have your own money and your daughter would understand as long as you’re happy. Also, who cares what people would say? Your happiness is the one that matters.”

  “You’re so innocent, Aiden,” she says. “And kind. I’m sorry I tried to take advantage of you.”

  I shake my head. “You didn’t.”

  “I’ll get through this,” she says, taking a deep breath. For a moment, the woman who picked me up in that hotel lobby is back. She brushes her blond hair out of her eyes. “Faith’s a good girl, Aiden. Be good to each other.”

  “I know. I will. I’m supposed to go to her now, actually. Just waiting for my dry cleaning.”

  “Say no more.” She finishes her drink and leaves it on the table. Her ears wink as she checks herself in the mirror. She pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek lightly, wipes off any residue she might have let. “Don’t be offended if I don’t look at you at the ball. You’ll agree it’s for the best.”

  There’s a knock on the door, and I go to get it. I laugh as I walk. “Don’t worry, it won’t be the first time.”

  There’s a twenty in my hand for the laundry service, but when I turn to the door, the face that looks back at me is tear stained. Angry. Hurt.

  “Faith,” I say, my voice strangled.

  “Who’s in there with you, Aiden?” she asks.

  I look down at my feet. That red-hot feeling coursing is through my veins. Every part of me is stunned into silence, so she repeats herself. Her dark eyes are narrow in their fury, her eyelashes wet. She must have been crying in the elevator. But how—?

  That’s not the question I should be asking myself. It isn’t “how did she know?” It’s “why did I do this?” It’s “why did I fucking hurt her?”

  She pushes past me, and I try to grab her arm.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me.” She walks into the living room, and even though I can’t see Ginny, I know what it looks like. Virginia Moreaux, her mother’s opponent’s wife in my penthouse with two empty wine glasses on the table.

  “Oh, Faith,” Ginny says, shaking her head sadly.

  “How did you get up here?” It’s the wrong thing to ask but I am not thinking straight.
/>   “Not that it matters, but I have friends on shift.”

  She must mean Angie. I hate myself for trying to find an excuse. For the next words that sound hollow. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Faith lets go of a shuddering sigh. She closes her eyes, and the single tear that falls from her left eye is like a punch to my stomach. I did that. I made her cry. I hurt her.

  I finally see that there’s something in her hand. A manila envelope. It’s a little worn. Like she crushed it and then tried to smooth it out.

  “Tell me, Aiden,” she says, her voice steady as a drawn knife. “What is it really like? Because from where I’m standing, you were hired by the Moreaux campaign to be with me. To get in my head.”

  “No,” I say. To be honest, I’m not sure what story is worse.

  Ginny gives me a tiny nod, like I have permission to tell the story of us. Because that’s the thing. I wouldn’t just be giving away my story, but her privacy as well, and of course that’s one of my stupid fucking rules.

  “Ginny,” I say and immediately know it’s the wrong thing because Faith repeats the name.

  “Ginny,” Faith says, hurt evident in her voice at this woman’s nickname on my lips.

  “I met her as Ginny Thomas,” I say, holding my hands up. What am I defending, really? “When I was in Vegas, I took a bad deal with this woman. A client. That’s how I ended up turning my back on Ricky and the others. Then Ginny hired me to spend a week with her. We were both in a bad place. The minute I arrived here, she had to go. That’s the day you met me.”

  “Hired?” Faith says the word.

  I’ve never been ashamed of myself or what I do. And yet, the hurt on Faith’s lips makes me wish I could scrub everything in my past just to get rid of that.

  “I’m an escort,” I say.

  “Faith,” Ginny says, starting to make excuses for me.

  “Don’t,” I say softly. No more excuses. No more lies. No more half-truths. “Faith, I never expected to meet you. To care about you so much that I wish I could be a different person. Someone better. I never expected to fall in love with you.”

  Her eyes snap up to mine, and the anger there deepens. She takes out the photo. I remember that night. Me and Ginny on the rooftop.

  “You don’t love me,” she says, as if that picture proves it.

  “That was the night we called things off. We never—It doesn’t change the fact that I love you, Faith.”

  “Don’t say that. You don’t get to tell me you love me! Not when you’ve lied to me.”

  “I didn’t—” I want to say that I didn’t lie. Half-truths and withholding the truth are just as bad.

  “Your real name isn’t even Peñaflor.”

  I look down at my feet. “That’s my father’s last name. I stopped using it but when you met me you already saw my ID so I thought it would be easier. Faith.”

  “Don’t say my name.” She composes herself. She tosses the photo on the couch, where Ginny sat only moment earlier. It’s my fate in life to be surrounded by women who are hurting and not be able to do anything about it. To be the cause of it. “Don’t look at me. Don’t text me. Don’t call me. Pretend I don’t exist.”

  It’s completely the wrong moment, but Fallon’s words spring to mind. “I’m single for life,” I said. And he shot back, “Famous last words.”

  And they were, because I feel like I’m been parted in half. I’m dying. My whole body is hot and I want to throw up. I want to fall at her feet and beg her. I want to tell her that I’ll never hurt her again.

  Maybe deep down inside I’m still that stupid kid with the torn handmade shirt, that weak little boy who couldn’t compel his father to go to the hospital. That scumbag who chose his own pleasure to honesty.

  I’m weak. I’m a fool. I don’t deserve her.

  And as she storms out that door, I know that psychic was right about one thing: I have to let her go.

  20

  I’ll Never Break Your Heart

  FAITH

  After a while, Aiden’s words start to blur together. I stop listening. There’s those whiskey eyes, that mouth that made me feel like I was coming out of my body. It doesn’t feel right being in this room.

  Virginia is so still I almost forget that she’s in here. She’s the most dressed down I’ve ever seen her, like she’s trying to blend in. But she’ll never blend in, even if she wears jeans and a simple top. Her dazzling diamond earrings wink at me in a cruel way. Did she look this way when they met? Did they meet at a bar like I did? Was he working that night?

  I know the answer in my heart. He couldn’t have been, because I don’t think even Aiden could have faked that kind of sadness.

  It doesn’t matter. Even if I could forget the fact that he’s an escort, I can’t ignore that he lied to me. That this picture is how I found out. Would he have told me eventually?

  He says that they called things off, that moment captured in this overexposed photograph.

  Of all people, why did it have to be her?

  I can’t listen to him tell me he loves me because it doesn’t mean anything now. All of that love, that stupid head-in-the-clouds love I had this morning is gone. So I just start talking. I throw the photo on the table. Her wine glass is there with her lipstick on it.

  “Don’t look at me. Don’t text me. Don’t call me. Pretend I don’t exist.”

  I walk out that door and he doesn’t stop me.

  But Virginia does.

  God, he calls her Ginny.

  I’m going to be sick. I hit the door close button, but she gets in anyway.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” I tell her, rage foaming at my mouth.

  “Faith, please. You have to understand.”

  I press the ground floor button, but the elevator stops at the rooftop balcony level. I need to get out. These metal walls are too close, too tight. Everything about this enclosed space makes me want to scratch my skin raw. Her perfume is too cloying. Does he like to smell her? Her freshly manicured nails, the red blush on her cheeks, catch the hazy yellow light.

  “You knew,” I say, pushing through the confused hotel guests that get in. I step out and she follows me. “Yesterday at the nail salon. You knew it was Aiden. That look on your face.”

  Even with her splotchy, teary-eyed face, she manages to look regal. Women like her, they can have everything. Why did it have to be this one thing, too?

  “I figured it out,” she says. “You have to know—”

  “I don’t have to know anything. It’s done. I’ll see you with your husband at the masquerade ball.” All I can think is that I need to run. But I can’t stand here waiting for the next elevator. Angie’s working tonight. She’s at the rooftop bar. At least, I hope she is, because I know that one look from Angie and Virginia Moreaux will shrivel into her sensible Chanel loafers.

  But she’s relentless, and she’s right beside me as I pull the glass door open and step into the pool area. Angie’s at the bar, but there’s a swarm of people trying to get drinks. The sun is setting, casting cotton candy light over the white furniture of the rooftop. The pool has a dozen tipsy bodies in the shallows and one on an ice-cream-shaped floaty in the deep end, so I stand there.

  “My husband is cheating on me,” she says.

  She holds herself so elegantly, like she’s used to standing beside someone who is angry and fuming at her. Like I am right now.

  I glance around to see if anyone is paying attention to us, but almost everyone is drunk and in their own worlds. For her to say that out loud—she must really want me to listen to her.

  “Does that make it okay that you did the same?” I ask her.

  “We never slept together, if that means anything to you,” she says.

  “It doesn’t.”

  “I was lonely and angry. I was tired of the same old song and dance. I felt trapped by everything I’m supposed to be. Aiden happened to be there and he just shines. From the inside out.”

  I want t
o say that I know that. I know that Aiden feels like sunshine on my skin. That I bask when I’m with him. But my lips tremble and my throat burns, so I don’t chance speaking.

  “The day Aiden and I called things off, I already knew he’d met someone. That was you. He shouldn’t have kept things from you and I’m not saying to forget all of this, but to believe when he says he loves you.”

  I take a step closer to her so she can look into my eyes. “Love isn’t enough.”

  She shakes her head. “Sometimes it can be.”

  I hate that this woman is here telling me all these things, as if she knows my life. But I spent all morning asleep. My body shut down at the sight of that photo, and all of a sudden, everything was too much to process. When I woke up, I crumbled the whole thing up. Then I grabbed it from the trash.

  Everyone was trying to get in touch with me, but all I could do was scream and cry because I should have known. I should have been smarter.

  When I glance over my shoulder, Angie’s eyes are wide. She’s making her way to me.

  The worry in her eyes and the sadness in Virginia tugs at my anger. It deflates, and now all I’m left with is the hurt part. It’s hard to talk to her because I don’t want her pity. I don’t want her life lesson.

  “Today,” I say, taking one last step so we’re shoulder to shoulder, “today it’s not enough.”

  I go.

  I don’t look back. She doesn’t follow.

  And neither does Angie.

  21

  Ten Minutes Ago

  AIDEN

  I can hear the guys talking in the small sitting area of my hotel room. I’m under the covers. This new room is a couple of floors down. It’s almost exactly like my old room, only not a penthouse and with no Faith. Fallon and Robyn said I could stay with them, but I want to be alone.

  “What should we do?” Pat asks.

  “It’s been three days,” Vin says.

  “I could get him a copy of my book.”

  “You didn’t even write it,” Gary says, and there’s a slap.

  “Should we take him to a strip club?” Vin says.