The Choice

by Alice Ward

  “Oh, Janis…”

  “That’s what I get for falling in love with a married man.” She paused, and her eyes went a bit dreamy and far away. “You know, even after all I’ve been through with him I still can’t help but want to be with him.” She shrugged. “Guess I’m not lucky at love.”

  “I know what you mean.” The way the words came out of my mouth gave away too much and made me wish I could confide in her, tell her to do whatever it took to be with the man she loved. Because one day it might be too late.

  Janis pierced me with her crystal blue eyes. “Even if you won’t talk about it, your sadness gives it away.”

  I looked down so she wouldn’t see the tears pricking my eyes. “Sometimes things are too painful to talk about.”

  She laid her hand on top of mine and squeezed, then sat back and let out a long breath. “Tell me more about this man who wanted to talk. Was he old and crusty, couldn’t get it up? Some of their fetishes are pretty weird. Did he expose himself or ask you if he could suck on your nose?”

  “What?! No!”

  She grinned. “It’s an actual fetish, nose sucking. There’s all kinds, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I once had a client who got turned on by wood. Not just any wood now, it had to be a fine cherry wood finish.”

  I was stunned to silence for a moment then laughed. “I guess a good sand job would make all the difference. Splinters, you know?”

  Janis hooted. “Yep. When the hostess mistakenly provided a walnut table, he couldn’t get it up.”

  I fell over on the couch laughing, and we made jokes about barking up the wrong tree and knot holes until tears poured down our faces.

  When we finally calmed down, Janis asked, “Is there anyone you’re interested in?”

  The lightheartedness that I hadn’t felt in so long vanished and I swallowed, shaking my head. “That part of my life is over.”

  “Oh, Mona, you could have any man who comes here. Just don’t get too attached.”

  I shook my head again. Despite their line of work, a lot of Jewels had boyfriends or clients they saw on the side who provided them company and a chance for a deeper relationship. Kind of like a glorified Sugar Daddy. Unfortunately, none of them were very healthy relationships.

  As always, I turned the attention back to her. “Anyone catch your eye lately?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have a crush on one of my regulars. He’s dripping in money, and he said he’s gonna ask me to meet him outside the club one day. Maybe that could turn into something.” Her face lit up with a smile.

  “Well, that sounds promising,” I said, even though I couldn’t imagine dating anyone who partook of what was offered at Jewel. Roman’s face popped into my mind, and I quickly pushed it back out.

  After we chatted a little while longer, we said good night and I tucked myself into bed, trying not to think about the problem of Jack.

  I’d drunk a lot of wine, hoping to fall into a dreamless sleep. I dreamed about Nate most nights. Sometimes, the dreams were wonderful, but they were usually the same dream, a memory really, of when we were at the fair and he won me a stuffed monkey from the basketball toss. The one I still wrapped my arms around every night.

  As the wine took me under, I could already almost hear the carnies calling out, tempting passersby with an easy win. The wind carried the scent of corndogs and cotton candy, and I turned to see Nate frown at the gathering crowd.

  When I heard the click of camera phones, I knew we’d been discovered: Nate Galloway and Adara Wilde — hottest couple of the year.

  Nate handed me the stuffed monkey, and in our failed disguises of baseball caps and sunglasses, we waved to the crowd then made a dash for the arena where we were scheduled to perform.

  The sky went from a dazzling blue to threateningly gray. Our tour manager, Don, was nervous about the coming storm. But since the seats were already filling up and the venue hadn’t called it, we went out on stage as usual.

  Our dynamic performing together was magic, as it always was.

  Then the lights became lightning. The drums thunder. Wind whipped my hair into my face.

  Deep inside the dream, I fought to escape the nightmare. I clawed for the surface, but even as I screamed for Nate to help me, his warm blue eyes sparkled with stage lights and love across the space littered with wires and sound equipment. I took in his features, his strong jaw, perfect nose, because I knew I would never see them again.

  But when the wind should have whipped across the venue, the song stretched on until we sang the last verse. As it ended, Nate approached me, handing me the stuffed monkey he’d won again.

  “I want you to get rid of this monkey.” Nate lifted a lock of hair away from my eyes the way he always did and flashed his incredible smile.

  I gasped, holding the stuffed animal close to my chest. “It’s the last thing you ever gave me, Nate, I’d never—”

  “I know,” he interrupted, “but it’s time to let go, begin your life again.”

  My head spun, and I dropped my microphone and it made an amplified thump that vibrated through my chest. “No, Nate!”

  But he was gone… sucked into the sky. Away from life.

  Away from me.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Roman

  After dropping Duk off at his hotel, my driver took me to the ranch in the hills of Montana that had been in our family for years. Previous generations had used it as a summer house, to escape the heat of the city, but I lived here year round. The sky was tinged with pink at the horizon as I let myself in.

  “Good morning, Mr. Wellington.” Ms. White, my house manager, greeted me at the door with her usual note of formality. It hit me suddenly that while I’d known her all my life, I didn’t know how many years she’d been in my family’s employ, or even how old she was. Her face had a timeless quality, but with the old-fashioned style uniform she wore, I judged her to be in her late sixties.

  She’d worked for my family since she was a young woman, and still adhered to the old-school rules of service. In return for her loyalty, her salary was now as high as my managing directors. The family had always expected a lot from her, but she always far exceeded those expectations, making herself available night and day. When I was a kid, I was convinced she was a vampire because I could never catch her sleeping. Even now, no matter what time I got in, she was always there to greet me at the door. It seemed she had a weird kind of telepathy, sensing when I’d arrive.

  I’d often felt bad for her because with no other members of my family in residence anymore, usually she was alone in this huge house. I wondered if she ever missed my mother and father, or the way it had been with us kids growing up. Probably not, she was pretty stuffy. Besides, I employed a few others, daytime people who cleaned or did odd jobs and took care of the property, but she was the only one who lived on the ranch. I was often away on business or working late in the office and she had no family of her own. Apparently, she’d been married when she was younger, but her husband was killed in a car accident, which was what prompted her to take a job in the first place.

  The entrance hall, with its expanse of marble and tall ceiling, seemed especially cold and empty tonight, the house silent aside from the ever-ticking grandfather clock. There wasn’t much to keep a manager busy. No cooking or cleaning up, as I never ate at home. If and when my family were in town or I had a gathering of any kind, I hired a team of people to attend them. Which never failed to rumple her feathers.

  But I never had many visitors. Liliana and Pete were my most frequent guests and sometimes my older sister, but my brothers and parents had lives elsewhere, my parents basing out of New York City. It was a huge home to live in alone, big enough to house them all and yet they rarely came.

  It wasn’t that they didn’t like me, I think they found me boring. Who wouldn’t when they spent half their time going on adventures? Compared to safaris in Africa or deep sea diving the Great Barrier Reef, my little palace with its mountain backdro
p was a dead bore.

  “Do you need anything?” Ms. White asked, not even a note of sleepiness in her voice.

  “No, I’m rather tired, so I’ll probably sleep in late. You should do the same.” Fatigue was setting in, and I caught myself in a yawn. “Just make sure I’m not interrupted. Unless the house is on fire of course, or a parade of monkeys and the circus traipses through.” I laughed, still feeling giddy, hoping she’d join me, but her face remained stoic and uninspired.

  “Of course,” she responded mechanically.

  Maybe in addition to her holiday bonus this year, I’d get her a ziplining expedition. Something to rattle those old bones.

  “Thank you, Ms. White.” I turned from her and made my way up the sweeping staircase.

  My parents hadn’t wanted me to buy this house from them and had tried to convince me to settle in one of the other properties they owned that was smaller and more manageable. But those were in New York or Seattle. Even the condo I kept in Butte, the closest nearby city, was surrounded by bustling motion. I liked the seclusion this old house provided. I also had fond memories growing up here. I had a huge family and I wanted there to always be a base for all of us, so any of us seven kids — who were now spread out all over the world — had a place to go where we were the happiest. Plus, it made me feel closer to them.

  Upstairs in my private suite — an apartment with a living room, bedroom, study, weight room, and bathroom — the Butterfly haunted me. The mask, her voice, and all the gracious lines that composed her body combined to make the most beautiful woman I could recollect ever seeing. I couldn’t get the vision of her — flying across the theater, sitting across from me — out of my mind. I felt consumed by her.

  I needed a distraction.

  Playing the piano always soothed my soul when I was feeling irritated, so I sat down in front of it. But the only music that would come to mind was the lilting tune she’d sang as she hung suspended in the air.

  I could still almost hear her voice accompanying the song, that raspy, honeyed tone that had aroused every sensation in me.

  She’d possessed me. I laughed and shook my head. She’d tantalized me into spending a middle-class man’s annual wage to merely talk to her. And now I was dreaming of her like I was the only client in an upscale brothel.

  That’s what I was. A client. In a brothel.

  I slammed my hands down on the keys and shot to my feet, ripping my hands through my hair. I had to find a way to change her perception of me. I needed a way into her world.

  After punishing myself with twice my regular regimen of weight lifting, I fell into bed well after the sun had risen.

  When I woke in the morning, or rather, afternoon, I was disappointed that I hadn’t dreamed of her.

  I’d been hoping that I’d have a nocturnal experience to rival what my imagination had so lustfully delivered in Jewel’s private room. It was a little sad that I needed to dream of a woman rather than have her. And it was odd for me, as I usually never had any trouble getting what I wanted.

  Facing the day, I let the warm water of the shower invigorate my muscles. As I stood under the spray, I mused over the evening before, going over the details in an effort to find a way to see her again. I wanted to fulfill my fantasy and make love to her as I’d promised.

  Right then I decided I would go back to Jewel with Duk, and I would pay to see her again. That, however, wasn’t a solution to my problem, because I’d have to pay to make love to her. I didn’t think either of us were on board with that. I had to think of a way around this particular problem. Another conversation perhaps, during which I could convince her to allow me to touch her this time? I was filled with a sudden need to taste her. I took care of my own need in the shower.

  As I shaved, I grumbled at the fact that I hadn’t jacked off twice in twelve hours since high school. No woman had ever affected me this way. Damn it. She was too good for Jewel and its debauchery. I needed to find a way to see her outside of the club. I’d hate for our first sexual encounter to be under the shadow of prostitution.

  Yet, she’d already refused me, and I wasn’t even sure she liked me.

  I was driving myself nuts and coming no closer to a solution, so I went downstairs to find Ms. White. She’d at least provide me with the sour-faced reality I needed at the moment.

  I found her in the kitchen cooking lunch, which smelled heavenly. I decided to break through my usual business-like demeanor and try a more amicable approach with Ms. White and see how she responded. It was a long shot, but maybe this Butterfly woman didn’t respond to me because I was too stuffy. Pete had certainly complained about it enough times.

  “What are you cooking, Martha? It smells amazing.” I sniffed the air and smiled for show.

  I watched her body tense at the casual way I’d addressed her. Her eyes widened for a moment, but she gathered her wits and steadied herself again.

  “Cornish game hen. I figured you’d be quite hungry, having missed breakfast.” She busied herself wiping down the marble counter with a thick black towel, keeping her eyes leveled on her work to avoid making eye contact with me.

  “Right. I stayed up most of the night, couldn’t sleep at all. I think I finally passed out at seven or something. I’ve never done that.” I marveled at myself, staying up past dawn and sleeping until the afternoon.

  “You needed your rest, sir.” She collected crumbs from the counter in her hand and flung it into the trash with an expert’s ease.

  She didn’t look up from her work to acknowledge me. As she continued to hold herself as if I were a drill sergeant, I began to fear that my influence on women who were not particularly interested in my money was slight.

  My own mother was distant, always so busy flitting from one charity event to the next that it was all I could do to schedule a conversation with her.

  But, dammit, I craved attention at the moment. I needed a mothering hand, a solid shoulder, advice.

  I certainly could’ve called my own mother, but I knew she would probe, and I wanted to be as vague as possible. I couldn’t very well call my mother and ask her how to gain the attention of a woman I’d prostituted last night for her company.

  My parents were good people, solid and smart. And wealthy. Being such, they were on the board of this and that, and they traveled extensively. Since both had been raised sheltered in wealthy families, they’d never really had the grounded base of an average person’s reality. So even if I could bypass the awkwardness, they probably wouldn’t be able to offer much insight. They were also in their late seventies.

  At thirty-two years old, my twin sister and I were the youngest of seven, four brothers and one sister, plus us. All of my brothers were significantly older than me, the eldest having just turned fifty. My twin sister and I were sort of a mistake, although no one ever talked about it that way, but we were born ten years after our nearest sibling.

  Ms. White was going to have to be my impromptu therapist. I had friends, but none who were as close as my sister — god knows I couldn’t talk to her about this — and none were worth troubling with such intimate issues. Besides, Liliana was out of the country.

  Having made the decision to have a heart-to-heart with Ms. White, I blurted out, “So, how do you know when a woman is interested in you?”

  I closed my eyes when she expelled a small rasping cough. Maybe I was as stuffy as Pete said.

  Ms. White found her voice and recovered faster than I expected. “I couldn’t say, Mr. Wellington, I’ve never been known to have any effect on a woman.” Despite her best effort to joke, her face flushed a deep scarlet red.

  “No, I guess you haven’t, but when you were um… when you met your husband. Did you give him any sign that you were interested in him?” I was swimming in dangerous waters, but if the stiff-as-a-board Ms. White had fallen in love with a guy, certainly she’d know how to get to the Butterfly.

  “It was a different day and age, then. My father arranged our marriage.” She slid a pl
ate in front of me weighed down with a glistening game hen trimmed with asparagus. “What would you like to drink, sir?”

  Her formality had to go. I needed human interaction, not Jeeves the butler.

  “Wow, this looks wonderful.” My mouth went wet with anticipation of the excellent meal, but I held off my indulgence for a moment longer. “I’ll have a lime and soda water and just a moment more of your time.”

  I watched her back tense as she turned away from me to fetch my water from the fridge. “As you wish.”

  “Did you love your husband?” I asked, fearful I was overstepping a line, but it’d been years since he passed.

  “I did,” she said, setting the frosty bottle of Ty Nant water in front of me.

  She turned from me again to slice a small lime in half. She rimmed the juice around a tall crystal glass, squeezing the rest inside. I stared at her, hoping for more of an answer. She remained silent, twisting open the water.

  “Should I not’ve asked? Is it too painful a memory?”

  “Not anymore.” She carefully poured the beverage into my glass, eyeing it with laser focus. She was hiding something, to protect herself I suspected.

  “You ever get lonely here?” I tried another approach.

  “It’s pleasant enough.” Her eyes were still fixated on the stream of bubbling water filling my glass.

  “Well, I’m lonely here. I’d love to fill this place with, you know, laughter, movie nights, dancing, kids, dirty sneakers… the way it was when Liliana and I were growing up.”

  “Would you?” She looked up in surprise, as if my admission had shocked her out of her rigid persona.

  Would I? It was the first I’d thought of it and it had just come tumbling out of my mouth. Did I want kids? Kids always wanted dogs. Maybe I’d get a dog.

  “It’s been so long, I hardly remember,” she grumbled as if she were dead inside. She finished pouring my drink and slid it over next to the plate.