Promise to Keep

by Jessica Wood

I glanced at the bartender who was still eying me suspiciously, and then turned back to Michael and shook my head. “What do you say we get that drink someplace else?”

  “Sure.” He flashed me a devious smile. “I’m staying in the hotel across the street. We could go there if you want.”

  I wasn’t a virgin, but I wasn’t a girl who went to hotel rooms with strange men either. I knew nothing about this man. He could be married, or a criminal, or worse. Maybe I should just go home and go to bed.

  Suddenly I realized this was just the sort of worrying that Jackson always said I did too much of. I had gone out tonight to let loose and remind myself that I was single, that I shouldn’t be waiting by the phone for my best friend to call, that I had a life of my own. Tonight, I needed to have some mindless, uncomplicated fun, and that’s exactly what this stranger could offer me.

  I flashed Michael my sexiest smile and bit my lower lip. “Sounds good to me.”

  His hotel was very nice, complete with a doorman at the front of the hotel and gorgeously arranged bouquets in antique Victorian vases on all the tables in the lobby. I shifted uncomfortably in my outfit, feeling distinctly out of place in my slutty dress and darkly-drawn eyeliner. I followed him quickly through the lobby, up the elevator, and into his hotel suite.

  “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll have room service bring up some drinks,” he said as he picked up the hotel phone and called down for a bottle of vodka and a bottle of Bacardi 151.

  I considered sitting on the edge of the giant, king-sized bed in the center of the room, but I quickly stopped myself, realizing how bold that’d be, and how very unlike me that’d be. So I opted instead to sit on the sofa situated against the far wall.

  The hem of my dress moved dangerously higher when I sat down. I caught Michael’s eyes looking at the exposed skin when I sat down as he walked over with the tray of Bacardi and Vodka. He joined me on the cushion beside mine and set the tray on an end table. As he poured us each a shot of the Bacardi and Vodka, I felt nervous about drinking hard liquor for the first time.

  Think about Jackson. He’s sure enjoying himself with alcohol, a voice inside me said encouragingly.

  I drew in a deep breath and realized there was no way I was backing down now.

  I clinked my shot glass of Bacardi 151 to his and said, “To a fun night!”

  “To a fun night!” he agreed and we both downed our shots.

  I’d never had anything stronger than beer before and wasn’t prepared for the difference. The Bacardi burned my throat and I thought I was going to die. Desperate to soothe the fire, I grabbed the vodka and gulped down the clear liquid that looked like water. But I discovered quickly that was clearly a mistake, and it was nothing like water.

  Michael grabbed me a bottle of water from the mini fridge and offered it to me, but I shook my head, determined to try to act cool and collected. “No thanks; I’m fine.”

  “Oh, you’re more than fine,” he said as his lips twisted into a smile. The meaning of his words were clear as he looked me up and down with lust burning in his eyes.

  I blushed and my face grew hot, and I wondered if this was the effects of the alcohol. I smiled at Michael, feeling sexy, empowered, and uninhibited all of a sudden. “So, tell me about yourself, Michael Davison. Who are you?” I asked seductively as I leaned forward into him.

  To my surprise, Michael handed me his business card and I whistled loudly to show how impressed I was. He was a lawyer from a big firm in New York City.

  “And what brings you to Philly?” I flirted shamelessly, crossing and uncrossing my legs like I’d seen women do in the movies. It had just the effect that I was hoping for as I saw a bulge growing in his slacks.

  “I’m here just for the week, taking depositions from witnesses for a case we’ve been working on.” He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to adjust himself.

  “That sounds fascinating! You must be extremely smart to be a lawyer.”

  “Ah, it’s not as exciting as it sounds.” Michael shrugged off the compliment, but I could tell he was eating it up. He was grinning from ear to ear and poured us another round of shots. As he handed me a shot, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I’m more interested in you.”

  “What do you want to know?” I gulped down another shot of Bacardi and then one of vodka. They went down easier this time, and I felt myself buzzing hard. To my surprise, the alcohol had made me feel relaxed, happy, and incredibly horny.

  Michael looked at me. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, and I don’t even know your name.” I watched as his eyes moved down my neck and stopped on my breasts.

  “Well, I can fix that.” I took the hotel note pad from the nearby end table and folded it into a business card, seductively running the paper through my fingers as I made fuck-me eyes at him over the edge. Then I wrote my name and phone number on it and handed it to him formally, like we were business partners.

  “I see. Well I’m glad to meet you, Chloe.” He grinned and tucked the paper into his jacket pocket. “So what do you want to do tonight? Anywhere in the city you wanna check out tonight?”

  My body was on fire at this point from all the alcohol and all I wanted to do was release all the pent-up energy and stress I’d felt for the past few weeks. “Michael,” I said his name slowly as I licked my lower lip, “I think we should just stay in and make our own fun.”

  Then I moved toward him like a cat preparing to pounce on its prey. The second round of shots had definitely lowered my inhibitions, and my need to prove to myself that I could have fun like Jackson fueled me on. I was going to fuck this stranger tonight, and I was going to enjoy it.

  I lunged at Michael, pushing him back against the hotel sofa and pulling off his pants. His erection immediately sprang free and I took him greedily into my mouth, not waiting another second. I was determined to give him the best blowjob he’d ever had and took him deeply into my throat while I cradled his balls.

  “Oh my God,” he groaned. He pushed his cock deeper into my mouth as he ran his hands through my hair, encouraging me on. “This is amazing, Chloe!”

  Seconds later, he began to spasm and I knew he was near his climax. I pulled him from my mouth and did a sexy striptease for him so he could have a moment to cool down. I wasn’t ready for him to be done just yet.

  Michael gawked in awe as I peeled the dress from my body and began to caress my naked body with my hands. His eyes grew wide as he watched my hands move down between my inner thigh as I began to pleasure myself, masturbating in front of him while he began to stroke his cock.

  “You are making me so hot! I can’t wait to feel me inside you!” he panted as he grabbed a condom from the night stand and put it on. I saw little beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and I knew he was more than ready for me.

  “Well let’s not wait then,” I countered as I straddled him on the couch, enveloping his cock with my eager, wet folds.

  “Fuck!” he roared out in pleasure as I took in the entire length of his shaft. “You are the hottest woman I’ve ever met. You’re so tight, and wet, and gorgeous!” Michael groaned as I thrust wildly on top of him, fueled by the need to escape my own problems and to prove to myself that I could have meaningless sex.

  My body reacted to the physical stimulation and it began to feel good; really good! It didn’t take long before I orgasmed loudly on top of him, crying out as every muscle and nerve in my body surged with pleasure.

  Michael rolled back his eyes and groaned as he reached his own climax.

  We did it twice more that night, once in the shower and once in the bed before finally falling into a deep and drunken sleep.

  When I awoke the next morning, my head was pounding and I felt sick to my stomach. It took me a moment to recognize my strange surroundings, and when I did, I felt even worse.

  What was I thinking last night? Was it worth demeaning myself with some stranger just to show up Jackson? I realized that I had to get out of there and tal
k to Jackson. I didn’t care if he was busy. This was ridiculous and I needed to see him.

  I’d never had a one night stand before, or anything remotely dirty like this, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do before I left.

  I turned toward him on the bed and whispered. “Thanks for last night, Michael, but I’m afraid I’ve got to go.”

  When he didn’t respond, I tried shaking him. That was when I realized the body sleeping beside me was actually a pile of pillows under the sheets.

  I sat up on the bed and realized that Michael was already gone. Then something on the nightstand caught my attention.

  It was an unmarked envelope.

  Confused, I picked it up and opened it, expecting to find some kind of goodbye note. But to my surprise, it was filled with hundred-dollar bills. Thirty of them to be exact. It was three thousand dollars in cash.

  “Holy shit!” I exclaimed, and the loudness of my own voice made my head want to explode. I don’t think I’d ever been so hung over.

  This didn’t make sense. Why did Michael leave me money? There must be some explanation for the money. Some detail that I’d missed because my head hurt so badly.

  Then I turned the envelope upside down and a piece of paper fell out of it. It was a business card that read Madam Celine’s Escort Service; attractive companionship for the busy professional male. Always Discrete, Always Satisfying. Client Cums First.

  “Oh my God! He thought I was an escort,” I gasped. And just like that, I felt more sick at that moment than I’d felt all morning, and I immediately ran into the bathroom and vomited until there was nothing left in my stomach.

  Afterward, I should have felt better, but I didn’t. How could he have thought I was an escort? I thought back to last night and tried to remember all the things he’d said and done, and all the things I’d said and done in return. As each embarrassing scene from last night came into focus, it all became horribly clear: he’d gone to the bar to meet up with an escort and when I said I was waiting for someone, he’d mistaken me for the escort he was meant to meet.

  I riffled through the room until I found the business card he had given me. I needed to give him the money back. I felt dirty just being in the same room as that envelope full of cash. I dialed the number on Michael’s business card and got a receptionist at the law firm. When she offered to take a message, I hung up the phone as fast as I could, mortified beyond words at the idea of leaving a message to someone who just paid for my body. What do you even say to such a guy? “Hey, remember me? Well, I’m not an escort, I’m just a slut. Call me back so I can return your three grand. Thanks.”

  I reached for the envelope and looked at the cash again. Maybe I should give the money to the police or donate it to a charity? Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom could sure use some charity right now. I quickly pushed that thought from my mind. No, that would be completely wrong to keep the money and give it to them. That would basically be turning myself into an escort.

  And I was not an escort. This was just a mistake. I’d been looking for a one night stand and it was just a misunderstanding. If I intentionally kept the money now, it wouldn’t be a mistake any longer; it would be prostitution.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  December 2003

  Nineteen Years Old

  CHLOE

  I realized that I needed to sort this whole mess out somewhere I felt comfortable and safe. I decided to take a trip back home to see Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom.

  The forty-minute drive helped. I kept the window down and the cold air hitting my face helped wash away my hangover and clear my head. By the time I got there, I felt almost human again.

  But then I gasped when I saw it. As I pulled up into the driveway, there was a new “For Sale” sign in the front yard.

  “Hi, sweetie. What an unexpected surprise. Is everything okay at school?” Aunt Betty folded me into her arms in a motherly embrace.

  I looked over into the living room and was surprised to see Uncle Tom passed out in his recliner. There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey and a dirty, empty glass on the side table next to his recliner. From the smell of alcohol that lingered in the air, I had a feeling he’d drank more than enough to get himself drunk.

  “School’s fine.” I paused, unsure how to bring up the subject. “Aunt Betty, why is there a For Sale sign in the front yard?” I decided not to beat around the bush.

  Aunt Betty looked down at her hands so I wouldn’t see the tears brimming in her eyes. “This house has just gotten too big for us now that you’ve gone off to school.”

  I knew this wasn’t the real reason. “Come on, Aunt Betty. I know how much you love this house. There are so many great memories that happened in this house. I know you guys would never put it up for sale because you thought it was too big. Please tell me what’s really going on?”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right, honey. There’s no point hiding the truth from you.” She met my gaze and I noticed how blood-shot and sunken-in her eyes were, and I immediately felt the guilt that’d become a constant gnaw against my insides. “Our insurance didn’t cover all of Charlie’s medicals bills. Some of the surgeries weren’t covered. The doctors also told us that Charlie’s recovery process from the accident will be a lengthy one. He’ll need to stay in the hospital for some time and he may need continuous physical therapy for a number of years so he can adjust to…”

  She couldn’t finish the sentence, but I knew what she was going to say and a lump formed in the back of my throat. “Are you sure there isn’t another way? Selling the house just seems so final.”

  Her shoulder slumped and her eyes filled with tears. She shook her head. “I don’t think so, honey. I just don’t know how we can manage it all without giving up the house. Even if we sell a lot of our things and refinance the house, it won’t be enough. Based on what we’re anticipating, we’ll need at least half a million dollars to pay for all the medical bills in the first year. Even if we were to withdraw early from our retirement funds, we don’t have enough money saved to cover everything. Tom’s worried that we’ll have to file for bankruptcy.” Her words broke into a sob as he buried her face in her hands.

  “Oh, Aunt Betty, I’m so sorry.” I held her tightly as she cried helplessly in my arms. The only other time I’d seen her cry was when my mom had passed away, and this felt worse than that because I knew it was all my fault. “I wish none of this ever happened.” I wanted to tell her that it was all my fault, that I wished it’d been me in the car instead, that I’d gladly take his place right now if I could so he could continue living his normal life before the accident. That was how I felt.

  But I couldn’t voice any of those thoughts to her, or to Uncle Tom. I knew them well enough to know that they’d just console me and tell me that I shouldn’t think that way, that I had done nothing wrong, that it was no one’s fault. And as much as I wanted to hear those words, they were the last two people that should tell me that it hadn’t been my fault, that I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “If we sell the house, your uncle and I can move into a small apartment. The utilities will be cheaper and we’ll be able to use the money to pay off some of the medical expenses that we’ve incurred. Then we hope we can pay for Charlie’s ongoing physical therapy with our combined income after our monthly expenses.” She sighed. “I think that’s the best plan we’ve got.”

  Then something occurred to me.

  “Aunt Betty, you, Uncle Tom, and Charlie have loved me, taken care of me, and provided me with so much. I want to help out as much as I can. I owe you guys at least that.” With my heart in my throat, I reached into my purse and pulled out the three thousand dollars that was stuffed inside and handed it to her. “I came to give you this. Maybe it’ll cover some of the expenses for now. I have another two thousand dollars in my savings that I’ll bring over later this week.”

  She gasped aloud and hugged me so tight I could hardly breathe. Fresh tears of relief flowed down her cheeks and made me wet to
o. “This is a miracle. This will save us for another month. But where did you get this much money?”

  “I’ve been saving it from my two part time jobs.”

  I expected her to question me further. She knew I had just started these two jobs shortly after the accident a few weeks ago. But to my surprise, she didn’t. Maybe with all the stress, it hadn’t crossed her mind. Or maybe she was at a point where she’d believe anything if it’ll help make life just a little easier.

  When she took the money from me, there was a wave of relief and hope on her face that touched my heart. It felt amazing to be able to give back to the woman who had loved and raised me like I was her own child. And at that moment, it didn’t even bother me to know where that money had come from.

  ***

  That evening after dinner, as I lay in the room that had been both mine and Charlie’s at different periods of time, I thought back to all the precious memories I’d had in this room. I thought about how happy my life had been while living in this house. With each memory I recalled, I realized more and more how emotionally attached I’d become to this bedroom, to this house. I couldn’t imagine having to say goodbye to it all.

  Just then, my phone rang, and to my surprise, it was the ever-elusive Jackson.

  For a brief second, I thought about ignoring his call—to give him a taste of his own medicine—but as the phone continued to ring, I gave in and answered.

  “Hi,” I said plainly, torn between being angry at him and missing him.

  “Hey, Clo. I’m so sorry for not calling you back sooner. It’s just been a really crazy month with pledging and everything. I hope you’re not mad.”

  “Do you want the truth, or do you want me to tell you I’m not mad?” I asked him bluntly, giving him the answer passive aggressively.

  “I deserved that.” Jackson’s voice was filled with agony. “You have every reason to be upset with me. Clo, I know I’ve been a really shitty friend to you in the past few weeks. You deserve better. You’ve always been there for me, even when I pushed you away. I should have been there for you when you needed me. I hope you can forgive me.”