“Is he anything like your brother Stanley?”
“Stanley gets more of his characteristics from Dad, yes. They are calmer, funnier, and know how to make a good time out of doing nothing. My mom, Bailey, and Lena—they are the ones I’m worried about. Very high maintenance. They ask a lot of questions, they turn their noses up at the smallest of things. They can be prudes—they hardly drink and if they do it’s a small glass of really bitter wine.
“Lena has two kids, Joey and Jana. They are twins and they remind me of the Sour Patch Kids. First they’re sour, then they’re sweet. Sometimes I want to give them a swat or two because they always break or rip something of mine, but then they’ll smile and hug me and everything is all better. I don’t lay a finger on them because my family would shame me—plus Lena doesn’t believe in physical punishment.”
“How old are the twins?”
“Seven.”
“Old enough to know better,” he states, one brow cocked.
“Exactly!”
“Lena is married?”
“Yes. Her husband most likely won’t be there though. He’s in the Marines. His name is Dexter.”
“Got it.”
“And then there’s Monty. He is… always in rehab. Another one my parents consider a failure. I’m actually not sure if Monty will be there this year, but if he is, he’s really easy to get along with. But, if he’s there, you may want to hide your expensive stuff. We caught him stealing one year from Mom’s jewelry box and another time from Stanley’s suitcase. It wasn’t a fun year.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
I wave a hand, shrugging it off. “Don’t be. As you can see my family is a bit dysfunctional, but they are family and there is always a price.”
He looks me over. “If you ask me, it seems you and Stanley are the most normal and selfless of them all. Maybe that’s why you two get along so well.”
“Sometimes.” I chew on my bottom lip. “But Stanley can get annoying and he likes to pry too.” I pause. “He… lost his wife two years ago. Car accident.”
“Oh.” His face changes, his smile fading immediately.
“He’s sadder than he used to be, but he still likes to have a good time. Just… try not to mention anything about love or relationships to him, you know? We try to steer away from that. He hasn’t completely healed and he’s not ready to move on yet, so we like to act as if it never happened—unless he wants to talk about it.”
“Does he talk about it with you?”
“Every time he calls.”
“And what about with your parents?”
“Never,” I murmur.
“Oh. Again, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I turn to face him, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I bet you’re ready to bail, huh?”
He grins, head shaking as he drops the paper. “Not at all. I’ve learned a lot about you and your family already and it hasn’t even been an hour. I guess we don’t need this paper then, huh?”
“I guess not.” I smile up at him. “So, I’ll say you’re a dentist, that you like to draw comics to pass time, and you own a private jet.”
He busts out laughing, sitting forward. “Do I now? Since when have I owned a jet?”
“Since, like, years ago,” I tease.
“If you’d like me to have a jet, that’s cool. I’ll Google some pictures, save them, pretend it’s mine.” He fights a smile, revealing a dimple.
“Nah. Jets are overrated. Let’s keep this as honest as possible. It’ll be easier to keep up with answers and what not.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Matthew says. “See! This was a good idea, me coming over.”
“I guess… it’s just… well, the last guy I had in my place didn’t want to come over again after the first time. Like I said, guys are assholes. He told me he couldn’t see himself with me. Not sure what made him think that, and it’s water under the bridge now, but... Never mind. It was years ago.” I look up at him, watching as he nods his head in understanding. “You don’t talk much, huh?”
“I like to listen. I learn a lot that way.”
“I’m probably talking too much.”
“Not at all. I like your voice. You’re spunky.”
My heart catches speed. “You know, you don’t make it hard to like you! You are just too damn perfect. You always know what to say.”
I can tell my comments get into his head. He sits up straight, looking me in the eyes. “I’m a firm believer in having respect for women. Women are beautiful in a lot of ways, and some men don’t appreciate that. Every woman wants to heard, adored, and respected. Even when she pretends she doesn’t need it, I know she does.” He runs his eyes down my body. “You think men don’t see you. I can tell. You’re one of those girls that think she gets looked over for being herself and not looking like everyone else, but I see you. I see a lot of things in you, Piper—qualities that a man would kill to have in a woman by his side.”
“Like what?” I’m afraid to even ask, but I want to know.
“I see kindness, goodness, playfulness. You don’t even realize how stunning you are because you’re too afraid to look at yourself. Just because some of the people you love don’t respect you as much as you’d like them to, doesn’t mean someone else won’t. You should keep that in mind.”
I blink rapidly. “Yeah,” I breathe. “I should.”
His eyes avert to the telephone. He’s most likely caught sight of the blinking light. “Voicemails?”
“From my mom,” I groan.
He stands, walking around the sofa to get closer. “Do you mind if I take a listen?”
“Sure. But don’t go barreling out when you hear her,” I joke, standing with him.
He presses the speakerphone button on the receiver, and when Mom’s voice fills my apartment, I have the urge to run to my bedroom and duck under my pillows.
She is so annoying and I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing.
He listens to both messages, and when they are over, he turns to look at me, eyes wide, and humor riding his lips.
“Wow,” he says, trying his hardest not to laugh. “You weren’t kidding!”
“I told you!” I cup my mouth as I grin. “She is so extra and for no apparent reason.”
“Well, if it makes any difference, I love sweet potato casserole.”
“I will definitely let her know that.”
“Funny thing is, I’ve been through a similar situation like this with a past client. I’m pretty sure I can handle it. It will take a lot of patience, but I can do it.”
“Patience is key,” I inform him. “I need mega-doses of it while I’m around her. If only it were a real prescription.”
Matthew walks towards me, nodding, with his lips tipped up. When he is less than two steps away from me, he says, “Don’t worry.” His hands cap my shoulders. “Your mother will think we are great together. As long as you make this easy on me, we’ll get through this weekend. Hopefully she’ll get off your back about a lot of things, as well.”
“She and Bailey think I’m a lesbian,” I tell him, sniggering.
He releases me, eyebrows raised. “Do they really?”
“No, I don’t think they believe it, but Bailey always tries to put that idea in Mom’s head.” I roll my eyes at the thought of Bailey. “Bitch,” I mutter beneath my breath.
“You are one interesting client, Piper Madison.”
“And you are one hell of an escort for sticking this thing out with me, Matthew Cooper. The fact that you’re still ready to tackle this after all I’ve told you surprises the hell out of me.”
“Hey,” he says. “It’s what you need me for, right? I’m here to help as much as I can.” He sits back down on the sofa. “Now, tell me what our favorite wine should be. I have a feeling we will be needing lots of it to get through this holiday.”
I watch his arm go over the top of the couch and I can’t help my smile. I just can’t break it.
This guy is gr
eat. Seriously. Too great.
With him at my side, I know I can get through this.
My family won’t hound me like a pack of hungry wolves. They will have to admire him because I’m admiring the hell out of him already.
They’ll wonder how I got so lucky, and I can rub it in their faces by saying one of my favorite quotes: Patience is a fucking virtue!
He is wonderful at his job. Spectacular, really.
As I sit beside him and tell him about the Stella Rosa wine I just so happen to adore, I can only wonder one small thing.
Why in the hell didn’t I think of hiring him sooner?
Chapter 4
Matthew
“Great. We have to wait another damn hour.” Piper pouts as she slouches down in the chair beside me. “I hate traveling during the holidays. I swear there is always a delay.”
Her sweet fragrance drifts past my nose. It’s warm, like cinnamon and apples. Her burgundy braid swings before it finally settles, her bangs flapping as she stares ahead.
She’s a lot prettier than I imagined she’d be. She’s clearly mixed with something—I assume African-American and Caucasian blood.
“You aren’t upset, are you?” she asks. “I mean, you haven’t said much today. I hope my impatient ass and the delay isn’t bugging you.”
Is she kidding? I’ve dealt with much worse during my job endeavors.
If anything, Piper is a step above my usual client. She’s wild, a bit all over the place at times, but I find it cute.
“The delay isn’t bugging me at all.” I smile in her direction. With my clients, I’ve learned to keep my responses simple and to the point. I never know how they’ll react to something I say so it’s better to say less… sometimes.
Piper sits forward, holding a finger in the air as she looks at me. “Oh, wait! Didn’t you say today was your birthday?!”
Oh, yeah.
My birthday.
Two days before Christmas.
I find it dreadful.
“It is,” I nod, surprised she remembers. Most clients only think about themselves.
“Well,” she says, a mischievous look on her face. Standing up, she drops her tote bag on the chair and digs through it. She pulls out her wallet and then takes a step towards me. “Since we have an hour, I think you deserve a little gift.”
“Whoa…wait.” I shake my head, catching her free hand before she can get too far. She spins around, stumbles, and falls forward, but I catch her so she ends up landing on my knees.
A gasp spills from her lips, and she breathes heavily, peering over her shoulder at me.
“You shouldn’t do that,” I murmur in her ear.
I hear her swallow before asking, “And why not?”
“Because I don’t celebrate my birthday.”
“Ever?”
“Never.” I release her and she stands immediately. She’s still not comfortable with our close proximity. I’ll have to get her over it before we land in Colorado.
“Well, you want to satisfy your customer, right?” She shoves a hand on her hip.
“Oh, God,” I groan, dropping my head. “You aren’t going to do this to me, are you?”
“Do what? Get you a gift that you very much deserve since it’s your birthday? Why, yes, Matthew Cooper, I am.” She grins like a child on Christmas morning, stepping away slowly and then, before I know it, she’s disappeared.
This girl is… different than my usual.
Most of my clients are insecure, quiet, reserved, not outgoing at all, which is why they do their research online for men like me.
But Piper? Well, she isn’t quiet or very reserved. She’s outgoing as hell, and so sweet, buying a gift for a man she hired to pretend to be her boyfriend.
I laugh silently at the thought, wondering just what she may get me in this crowded airport.
She returns in no time, her hands behind her back.
“Okay. Close your eyes,” she insists.
“Please,” I beg, fighting a smile. “Let’s not do this.”
“Come on! You’ll like it, I swear.”
“Okay.” I sigh, shutting my eyes. “Fine.” I hear her come closer, feel her petite body at my side.
“Okay, you can open them now.”
I open my eyes, and right in my face is a vanilla cupcake with sprinkles. A white candle is prodded through the middle. I blink, surprised. “A cupcake?”
“Yes. I remember you telling me last night that your favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla. I would have lit the candle but there I’m not trying to get arrested before our flight, so… ya know. Pretend to blow it out or something.”
I look into her deep green eyes, how they light up with something I haven’t felt in so long: pure joy.
It has been months since I’ve been happy—years since I’ve actually lived for myself. Each day, I go through the motions, pretending I have this fabulous life, when really all it’s doing is making me money to keep a roof over my head and my bills paid.
I love women, and I love making women happy, but I don’t enjoy what I do in order to accomplish that. I don’t like that I’m getting paid to pretend, but I like the final result, which is the dough.
It’s the pretending that gets to me. I get caught up with the lies—the bullshit—and then when I’m done, sitting alone and dwelling on what my life actually is, I realize how much of a failure I truly am.
So that’s why, after Piper, I will be retiring from this escorting business and doing something meaningful with my life. Something worthwhile, like drawing the comics I love and actually publishing them.
“Oh, no.” Piper’s voice slices through my thoughts and I look at her, watching as that joy transitions to disappointment. “You hate it, don’t you? Damn it! See, I’m just like my family. Over the top. Annoying.”
She starts to lower the cupcake, but I stop her, grabbing the container it’s in and holding it. “Stop, Piper. I appreciate this. I really do. It’s been a while since I was given anything for my birthday.”
“I bet,” she says. We’re quiet for several seconds, the both of us staring down at the cupcake. “We can celebrate some more, you know? I mean, I know this is business and all, but maybe when we land we can buy some champagne or something. The cabin is only a few miles from Aspen. And don’t worry, I won’t tell my family it’s your birthday. They would really embarrass you then.”
I place the cupcake in the chair beside me. “We could have a small party in the bedroom.”
“Yes,” she says, excitement coursing through her voice. “Exactly. That would be fun.”
“So, I wanted to ask what you do outside of work—you know, for fun?”
“Oh. Umm…” she thinks on it, lips twisting. “Well, if I’m not working at home, I’m either watching TV or doing some online shopping. When I have time, I go thrift shopping. I like to color in this adult coloring book my boss gave me sometimes, too. It’s actually very therapeutic.” She smiles. “And what about you?”
“I do a lot of drawing.” I glance at her. “I know it sounds corny, but I read a lot of comic books and I’ve even started my own series.”
“Seriously? That wasn’t just something you made up for the job?” When she smiles, I thank the man upstairs that she doesn’t find me a complete nerd. She slides in closer when I nod, so enthusiastic. “So what’s yours about? What’s your favorite to read?”
“I have a lot of favorites, but this year my favorite has to be The Walking Dead. I started in January and haven’t let up since. Of course, I read them on my Kindle. Don’t have much time to run out to a book store to buy them, but I would love to have them as a collection.”
“Sounds fun!”
“As for what mine is about… well, do you know the game Call of Duty?”
She rolls her eyes playfully. “Of course. Every guy has the damn game.”
I laugh. “Well, think of that, but with lots of sex and lots of blood.”
“Wow. Sounds like a man’s dream
come true.”
I wink at her. “Oh, it is.”
* * *
We are finally on the plane.
I shift in my seat, checking my emails on my laptop once we’re finally given permission to use our devices. I ordered a gin and tonic before takeoff; Piper got a bottle of water.
I have a few emails from potential future clients and I figure maybe I should shut down my profile, but I’ve been reluctant to do that. Before the escorting, I was a nobody and I’m terrified to go back to that.
Piper fidgets in her chair, tweaking her neck pillow, and then grunting as she leans closer to the window.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She looks at me. “I’m… nervous. I want to sleep, but I can’t. I’m worried what my parents will say to you.”
“Seriously?” I quirk a brow. “Piper, stop worrying.” I put a hand on her thigh, and our eyes lock. “I can handle them, I’m sure of it. I’ve been doing this for years.”
“I know you have, but my family isn’t as simple as you think.”
“I’ve gotten that message loud and clear.”
She presses her lips, looking me over before turning in her chair and fully facing me. “Wanna know something?”
“What’s that?”
“When I was only twelve years old, my parents sent me to boarding school. They didn’t send Bailey, or Lena, or even my brothers. Just me. They told me my imagination was too broad, that I needed to calm down my vivid thoughts and wild spirit. I used to try and impress them so much—and look at me now. I’m still doing it. I don’t even get why I visit, when I end up dreading it so much and being miserable while I’m there.”
“Because you love them,” I state simply. “And because they are your family.”
“I guess so.”
“You don’t have any really close friends?”
“Used to have one, but she moved to Africa. She made this pact to renew her life. Start fresh. By doing so, that meant no more social media, no more cellphone, no more computers.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “I haven’t heard from her since college.”
Holiday Escort: A Christmas Novella Page 3
