Perfect Ten

by Michelle Craig

  “What? I’ll kill her! No. I’m the one who has the wedding to go to, and I told her I didn’t want to take a date, and certainly not from an escort service.”

  “Well, miss. You may want to reconsider. Joe Starling is our number one escort. You’re very lucky he’s available to fill in for Brian. Sometimes he has a two month waiting period he’s so busy. We’ll only charge you Brian’s rate, of course.”

  Oh, my God. This was ridiculous. I could not believe Gracie had set this up without my approval. Although…

  I asked him to hold while I thought it through. Really thought it through. It might be nice not to have to endure the sneers from my sisters, not to mention my mother that I would surely receive if I showed up without a date. Maybe I should. I mean, what did I really have to lose?

  The heck with it—nothing ventured, nothing gained. I quickly picked the call back up before I lost my nerve. “Is it possible for me to meet him before Saturday?”

  “Sure. We can set up a meet and greet here at the office. Let me check his schedule. Hold on, please.” He put me on hold, and I was glad for the reprieve. It gave me a second to accept my risky—for me—decision. I was still going to kill Gracie, but who knows? I might thank her later.

  “Miss Graham? Could you come in tonight? Joe’s due to pick up his schedule around seven o’clock. Would that work for you?”

  “Sure. I can do that. Where are you located?” He gave me an address in one of the taller high-rises in Los Angeles. The address alone told me Perfect Ten was no run of the mill escort service. That was some expensive real estate.

  I went back to crunching numbers and thinking about all of the things that could go wrong with hiring an escort. I think part of the reason I chose accounting to make a career out of was the fact that there aren’t too many gray areas. Numbers don’t lie. You don’t have to guess what they’re going to do. They’re either right or they’re wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it was a comfortable, minimally risky job.

  I finally gave up at six and went home, calling Gracie on the way.

  “Hey, Faith. What’s up?”

  “I got a phone call today informing me that Brian had to cancel so my new escort is Joe Starling. Does that sound like something you might know anything about?”

  Silence met me over the phone. “Gracie?”

  “Don’t be mad. We just thought that if he showed up at the house to pick you up, you might go with it. Are you mad? You’re mad, aren’t you?”

  I was weighing my options over in my head as I let her suffer my silence. I could make her feel bad and drag it out or I could let her off the hook. Sighing loudly, I gave in and let her off the hook. “No, I guess not. I’m actually going to go meet him tonight and make my decision then. What do I owe you?”

  “Oh, no. The girls and I went in together on him. Consider him a gift.”

  “Well, the guy on the phone assured me I wouldn’t have to pay Joe’s going rate, since the other guy couldn’t go. How much is it, anyway?”

  Gracie didn’t want to answer me. She tried changing the subject, and when that didn’t work, she said she had to get off.

  “Wait! Gracie, tell me how much you girls spent right now!”

  “It’s no big deal. Susan paid most of it. She has so much money she doesn’t know what to do with it.”

  People came from miles away to get Susan’s baked goods. Sweets by Susan had made her a very rich woman over the past six years, not to mention her husband’s successful marketing career. “That’s not the point. How much?”

  “One fifty an hour. We booked him for eight hours.”

  “Holy shit! That’s twelve-hundred dollars! Are you crazy?”

  “Nope, not crazy. Crazy would have been paying Joe’s rate. He bills at four hundred an hour, I think.”

  Who the hell is good enough to bill that much money just for the pleasure of their company? I already knew he was going to be too hot for me to pull off being with—the fat girl did not get the hot guy. It simply didn’t happen.

  “Gracie, while I appreciate what you and the girls are trying to do for me, I need you to stop. I know you all want me to be happy, but you have to stop pushing men at me. I’ll find someone when I’m ready.”

  “But that’s the point. You won’t! And we know you don’t want to be alone, but you put out these vibes that say to any guy within range ‘back off.’ So we were thinking that maybe if it was a business arrangement, you’d be more relaxed.”

  “Okay, but then what? I do okay on this ‘date’ and he falls madly in love with me? Gracie, I know, I know you think I’m a cutie, but I have a mirror. Ask my sisters about me being date material. They’ll tell you the truth.”

  “This isn’t about finding love, Faith. It’s about getting yourself out there. Taking a risk. You need to date. And your sisters will most definitely not tell me the truth, because the truth is that they’re all jealous of your figure and your angelic face. They’re all stick women with horse faces!”

  I had to laugh at that. My thirty-year-old sister, Marge, did have overly large teeth. “I’ll agree with Marge, but what about Dana?”

  “Dana looks sickly, Faith. Don’t you see that? Has your family finally succeeded in brainwashing you? Have you lived here in the land of the plastic people too long? She’s a model. I know she’s successful, but really look at her. She’s weighs, what? One-hundred and two pounds, right?”

  “No. She now weighs one-hundred and nine. Her agent just put her on a diet last week. I heard every last detail at dinner last weekend.” Dana ate two lettuce leaves and some carrots at that dinner, along with a small scoop of cottage cheese. I don’t agree with her lifestyle, but it still beats being the fat one in the family.

  “Christ, Faith. Do you hear yourself? When was the last time anyone ever said that was a healthy weight for a woman who is five-foot-ten?”

  “Okay, Gracie. I get your point. Enough.” I could feel my shoulders hunching as we discussed my sisters. As hard as I tried to love myself in my entirety, I fear that I’ll always see the fat girl my mother constantly compared to my perfect sisters. I’ve never quite measured up. No pun intended.

  I could hear Gracie sighing on the other end of the line. “Faith, I love you. Take this Joe person to the wedding. Let him hang all over you and throw him in your family’s face. If not for yourself, then do it for us.”

  I laughed then. Gracie could always make me laugh. “Well, since it’s for you, okay.”

  And that is how I wound up walking into Perfect Ten and laying my eyes on the most exquisite, breathtakingly dazzling specimen of man that ever existed. Trust me when I tell you, there is nothing better to look at in the entire universe than Joe Starling. Unless it’s Joe Starling smiling.

  CHAPTER 6

  JOE

  MY SMILE VANISHED immediately. “Absolutely not?” I looked myself over from head to toe making sure everything was in order. Pants zipped? Check. Shirt tucked in? Check. Glancing into the mirror Stan kept in his office for last minute inspections confirmed that there was nothing disgusting hanging out of my nose and no food dangling from my lips. What the fuck?

  I looked back at the woman who made my heart beat erratically with a bewildered look. I was highly offended that she found me lacking. And totally not used to that feeling. I wholeheartedly hated it.

  With eyebrows raised and a voice that was unnaturally high, I repeated, “Absolutely not?”

  She had the grace to look away. As she did, her cherub face went up in flames. Her flawless alabaster skin turned a lovely shade of rose. The flush started at the base of her neck and climbed all the way up to the tips of her cheekbones. I wanted to trace the pattern with the backs of my fingers, and then follow it with my lips.

  Addressing Stan, she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  Okay, now I was seriously agitated. She wouldn’t even look at me! I crossed my arms and started tapping my foot on the floor. When she finally looked my way, she cou
ldn’t quite meet my eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that I need someone a bit more plain looking. I need an average Joe, not a perfect ten.” The agency’s crest hung on the wall behind Stan’s desk, the words Perfect Ten seeming to mock me. She flicked her fingers in that general direction. “And certainly not the Perfect Ten!”

  A perfect ten. Even though she said the words with contempt, I couldn’t help but smile. When other women told me how hot I was, it made me want to go bathe, but when she said it, I felt different—in a good way. Like I was warm all over. Or I finally knew what peace felt like. I know I’m not saying this very well, but it was nice to have a girl look at me without immediately undressing me. She had no agenda; she just needed a date for a wedding.

  “Oh, I can be average. I can be whatever you want me to be.”

  She snorted aloud, which I found strangely endearing. With a look of degradation in her eyes, she indicated her own luscious body with a wave of her arm, and said, “Come on. No one would ever believe this,” then she waved her arm over at me, “could get a date with that.”

  The silence was deafening. I was confused as to what she was talking about, and doubly confused as to why Stan was nodding at her. “Huh? You’re joking, right?”

  Stan touched her arm to gain her attention. “Okay, Ms. Graham. Let me see if someone else is available for you.”

  “No!” It was out of my mouth before the thought even left my head, but fuck no. I wasn’t letting one of the other guys get their hands on this beauty. She was not going on a date with some horny bastard from the escort service. Yeah, yeah, pot meet kettle.

  My beautiful goddess jumped at my rather loud exclamation. “Um, excuse me?”

  “Everyone else is booked. It’s me or no one.” Those two sentences came out of my mouth so fast, they sounded like one long-ass word. As she looked down at her clasped hands, I gestured to Stan that I’d slit his throat if he found her someone else. His frown was so fierce, I thought he might get a cramp in his forehead, but he got the hint.

  Pretending to look through his schedule, he agreed that I was right. “I’m sorry, Ms. Graham, but it looks like Joe’s right. It’s him or no one. He’s the only one who isn’t scheduled to work that day.”

  She held up a single finger and pulled out her cell phone. “Can you give me a couple of minutes? I need to make a quick call.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she turned tail and almost ran back out into the outer office.

  ***

  FAITH

  “Pick up, pick up …” I needed to talk to Gracie! She had to answer her phone.

  “Hey, Faith, how did it go?” Grace asked, as she finally answered my call.

  Oh, thank God. “I’m still here. I can’t do it, Gracie. He’s gorgeous. I mean like Ashton Kutcher, Adam Levine, and—I don’t know—Hugh Jackman all thrown together. He’s over-the-top.”

  “Faith, he sounds perfect.”

  Perfect? Was she insane? “No. It’ll never work. He’s too hot for me, Gracie. Way too hot.” If she saw him, she’d understand.

  “You know what? I’m not going to listen to this today. You’re going to march back in there and tell him when to pick you up. Do you understand me, Faith Lindsey Graham?” I should have known better than to think Gracie would agree with me.

  “Crap. Yes. Okay. I’ll do it.” Guess it was time to put my big girl panties on. Deep breath …

  ***

  JOE

  Faith came sheepishly back into the room. She puffed out her cheeks as she let out a long, slow breath. “Okay. I guess I’ll just try to let hair and makeup do its trick. Pick me up at four o’clock on Saturday. Is that okay?”

  I tried desperately to hide my elation, but the grin that spread across my face simply could not be contained. “Yes, ma’am. Four o’clock. I have the address.” I had a moment of inspiration as she turned to leave.

  “Faith?”

  She looked exasperated when she turned around. Her brows were raised in consternation, and she had one hand firmly planted on her hip. “Yes?” She did have a backbone in there after all. Nice.

  “What color are you wearing?”

  She pinched her brows into a frown, clearly not happy with the answer. “Orange. The bridal party is wearing shades of brown and amber for the fall season, so my sister requested I wear orange. I’m not in the wedding, but she sweetly informed me that our mother would want me in some of the family pictures, and she didn’t want me to clash—of course.”

  There was definitely a story there. Her words were dripping with scorn. But orange was fine with me. I was born in Philadelphia and still have an unhealthy obsession with the Flyers, so orange was great. “Okay, orange it is. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  ***

  It turned out that I couldn’t wait until Saturday to see her. I went through her file and did something I should never have done. I called her friend Grace, who had set up the date.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. Is this Grace Davis?”

  “Yes?”

  Now I wasn’t quite so sure of what to say. I had to play this carefully, or I was going to come off sounding like a stalker. A nervous chuckle escaped as I tried to come up with something. “Uh, I’m not really sure what to say now.” I tried for an easy-going laugh then, but I wound up sounding like Jack Nicholson as the Joker. Fuck.

  “You could start by telling me who this is and what you want.”

  “Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry. This is Joe Starling. I’m Faith Graham’s escort you hired?” Still had no idea what I wanted to say. “Look. I know this is awkward, but I just want to know what Faith likes. I probably shouldn’t be calling you to ask about her, but…” Aw, fuck. This was a mistake. “You know what? Forget I called, please. Sorry to bother you.” I was just about to hit the end call button when she stopped me.

  “Wait! Joe, tell me why you called.”

  Just as the ‘No!’ had come out of my mouth back at the office, I blurted, “I like her.”

  I heard Grace laughing. “Okay. What do you want from me?”

  “Well, for starters, can you tell me why she would say I’m too hot for her to go out with? Doesn’t she own a mirror?”

  “Oh, I think I like you already, Joe. Finally, a guy with eyes in his head.” I could hear Grace let out a gusty sigh. “She comes from a family of models and snobs. They tell her all the time that she’s not good enough, successful enough, skinny enough, pretty enough. Over the years, she’s believed it all.”

  “Sounds like a great way to grow up. We ate out of garbage cans at times, and still, my mom would tell me what a great provider I was for bringing dinner home.” I felt my body tighten as I let that last little tidbit of information slip out. I don’t talk about my past—ever. The past is the past for a reason. It’s best left there.

  “Garbage cans, really? And Faith is rich, as I’m sure you know.” Her voice was hard now, and I could tell she thought I might be a gold digger.

  “For the record, I’ve got more money than I need. I don’t want her money. Look, like I said, I like her. I just want to have a nice date. Could you at least tell me what kind of flowers she likes?”

  Grace still sounded a little skeptical, but she said, “Sunflowers. She loves sunflowers and daisies.”

  “Thank you. That’ll do for a start.” I hung up before she could ask any more questions about me. Hopefully, she wouldn’t call Stan to complain about me bothering her. He wouldn’t like to know that I called to get information on Faith. But he wouldn’t fire me either, so whatever.

  CHAPTER 7

  I PAWNED OFF my Friday night date with a newbie who couldn’t say no to me. I wasn’t specifically requested, so I could get away with it. I had more important things to do. Technically, it could be considered research for Saturday’s date. I was planning to stalk Faith.

  So now, I’m wondering. Since I had her address, how weird would it be to try to run into her? I mean, it could ha
ppen, couldn’t it? She lives in Santa Monica, right on the beach. It’s a great area, and I know it well. There’s a big, public walkway running the entire length of the beach. I could casually stroll past her house a time or two. Maybe she’d be sitting on her deck or taking a walk herself. Fuck it. I’m going for it.

  It took me almost an hour to groom myself. A fucking hour. I showered and shaved, made sure I didn’t have any stray eyebrow hairs around, cut my nails. I felt like a damn girl. You believe that shit? But—I looked good. And I wanted to look good.

  I’ve been told more times than I can count that I have a great ass. So, on went my tight, dark jeans. No sagging pants for me, thank you very much. I put on a black button down shirt, straight from the cleaner’s, and even broke out my cowboy boots. Jeans and cowboy boots may not be typical beach attire, but I knew it was a good look for me, so I went with it. I wasn’t planning to walk in the sand anyway. I did wonder if the silver belt buckle I put on was too much, but my mirror told me it wasn’t.

  So now, I was strolling by her house, no flowers though—I nixed that idea for now. It was a nice house. Small, but in one hell of a location. If I had to guess, I’d say her house cost well over two million. It was cute, too—just like Faith. The dark blue awnings stood out against the stark white of the siding. Typical beach colors, but it was the double-tiered deck that made it.

  A large table for six with blue cushioned, swivel chairs filled the bottom deck, along with some vibrant flowers in large pots scattered here and there. There was a circular staircase leading up to the top deck where I could see a couple of rocking chairs and comfortable looking chaise lounges. I’d love to be up there sitting in one right now, instead of down here hoping for any fleeting glimpse of Faith. As lovely as the house looked, it was missing one thing. Her. Strike one. So I’d take a slow stroll along the walk and maybe catch her on the way back.

  I traveled about a half mile before I couldn’t take it anymore and turned around to walk back past her house again. The excitement I felt over the possibility of getting a peek of her was kind of ridiculous, but it was there none the less. My strides were longer and quicker on the way back, but alas, no Faith. I hoped she wasn’t out for the evening.