CON MAN

by T. Torrest

  The abrupt change in our conversation’s tone threw me. I sat back in my chair and furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you said yourself that you need more than a pretty face. Yet you assume every other man on the planet only cares about looks.”

  “No, I don’t.” Not really.

  “Yes, you do!” she said, flicking a hand in my direction. “Why else did you start this whole image consulting thing? You’re playing Frankenstein with these girls in the hopes that they can land some guy and validate your abilities.”

  “Whoa. Hold on. That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Well, it’s not all I’m doing.” I didn’t know where any of this was coming from. I had a proven track record. My methods worked. “Yeah, okay, so maybe I make girls pretty. But I’m doing it purely for the confidence boost. Are you going to try and tell me you don’t feel better when you look better?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “And does looking pretty take anything away from the person you are inside?”

  “Well, no…”

  “Which,” I went on before she could get in another word, “I’ll remind you is only half of what I do, here. The whole point is to teach these women confidence.”

  “It doesn’t change the fact that you think they’ll catch a man with their newfound attributes. One, who the hell says that the end-all be-all of a woman’s happiness lies in the acquisition of a man?”

  “They do,” I smirked. She knew it was the truth. The majority of my clients came to me because they wanted to snag themselves a Mrs. title.

  “And two,” she continued, ignoring the undeniable fact I’d just presented, “you seem pretty damn sure of yourself that you and you alone are the best judge of what does and does not constitute attractiveness.”

  “Hey. You should see some of my past clients. When I get through with them, they’re universally hot. Not just to me.”

  “What the fuck does universally hot mean?”

  I could tell Mia was getting pissy with me. I shrugged off her attitude and answered her question. “You know damn well what it means. The kind of girl that’s so hot that everyone thinks she’s hot. The kind of girl that breaks through a guy’s ‘type’ because of it.”

  “Like who? Give me an example.”

  “Marilyn Monroe,” I shot back without hesitation.

  “She’s dead. Gimme another one.”

  “Ann Margret.”

  “Then or now?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Mm hmm. Anyone from this century?”

  “Jennifer Lawrence.”

  She weighed my response as she regarded me with skeptical eyes. “Oh, I see. I’m sensing the pattern here. Caucasian girls with blonde hair are universally hot.”

  “Ann Margret’s a redhead.”

  “You know what I mean. Someone like your little crush Paisley—”

  “Ainsley.”

  “Whatever. Someone like Little Miss Whitebread-Blonde-All-American is considered the ideal. But someone like say, Sofia Vergara isn’t?”

  “No, she is.”

  “Salma Hayek?”

  “Her, too.”

  She smirked in spite of herself. “Yet you didn’t even mention either of them. Are you trying to backpedal with your racial preferences or are you simply trying to humor me?”

  “Neither. I know what you’re trying to do, here, and it’s not going to work on me. I can find a universally hot chick in every color of the rainbow. Race,” I scathed, “has nothing to do with it.”

  “Oh, so, you’re just personally attracted to white girls with light hair.”

  I hadn’t really ever thought about myself as having a “type,” but Mia was right. I did tend to favor blondes. “I guess,” I admitted. “But that’s not to say they’re the only ones I’m attracted to.”

  “Have you ever slept with a trigueñita?”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  Mia’s wide, impatient eyes glared at me as she waved her hands down her sides, silently indicating a girl that has brown skin like me.

  “No,” I answered automatically. “I guess I haven’t.”

  Instead of chastising me like I expected, her eyes met mine in a half-lidded, seductive stare. She leaned in a little closer and ran a hand along my thigh, and I almost leapt out of my skin as the unexpected contact made my throat go dry. I was too stunned by her hand on my leg and the look on her face to speak, but thankfully, Mia’s voice cut through the silence. “Then you have no idea what you’re missing out on.”

  Holy shit.

  My cock actually twitched in my jeans at the sound of her sultry voice, but before I could even register what the hell was going on, she sat back in her chair and started laughing her head off.

  WEEK SIX: IMPLEMENTATION

  Utilize training in real world

  Start conversations in social settings

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I personally chauffeured Jared to and from his third and final session with the therapist. Today was the first time I’d seen him in four days.

  The thing is, I normally remained hands off during the final week of my program. My clients needed to practice their new persona on their own, without me standing over their shoulder. Plus, the therapy sessions were merely a very condensed version of a full psychoanalysis. They needed to fully commit in order to get the most out of the few sessions offered. My hope was always that they’d continue with their therapy on their own. But even after only a few sessions, they’re feeling ready and able to take on the world. That’s when I showed back up to help celebrate how far they’ve come in only two short months.

  Jared and I headed to his new favorite restaurant in the city. We had an appointment at the sports facility to go bungee jumping tomorrow for his Final Task, but tonight, we just wanted to celebrate over a couple of burgers.

  He was happy that our training was through, but not so thrilled about having to leave the city. “New York is amazing,” he said over his beer. “I’m thinking of moving here permanently.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been talking to Samantha ever since that photo shoot at her apartment. She’s got some friend named Livia that runs a pretty big deal photography studio out in Jersey, but she’s looking to expand her reach in the city. I don’t know. I guess I’m feeling optimistic that it could turn into something. I checked out a couple apartments this week.”

  “That would be awesome. It would be great to have you around.”

  “I bet you say that to all your clients.”

  “No, actually,” I said meaningfully. “I really don’t.”

  Jared understood where I was going with my statement, but in true guy form, neither one of us dwelled on it.

  “So, hey. How’s it going with the blonde?” he asked, changing the subject.

  I shrugged. “It’s not, yet. I can’t do anything about it for a few more weeks, so I’m trying not to think about it.” Yeah, right. As if I’ve thought about anything but her for the past month.

  “Well, I’ll tell you who I wouldn’t mind waiting for, and it’s that Mia. Holy shit that chick is smokin’.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “I know,” he said on a sly grin. “Which is why I’m guessing you won’t mind if I take a crack at her?”

  I almost took a crack at his head for suggesting it. But instead, I pulled out my phone to text him her number, saying, “Sure. Go for it. It’ll be entertaining as all hell to watch her eat you alive.”

  Jared waggled his eyebrows as he popped a fry into his mouth. “One can only hope.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Mia’s “breaking the ice” task was set to take place at my favorite sports bar. I drove to her apartment to pick her up before hauling the both of us down to the village.

  We chatted about her work for a few minutes, but Mia was obviously intent on continuing our conversation fr
om the other night. It was like she’d been busting at the seams to get back on the subject as she asked, “So. Did you nail Paisley yet?”

  “Ainsley,” I snickered. “And no. I already told you, I won’t until we’re done working together.”

  “Yeah, but you also told me that you’ve stepped up your game recently. What happens if she bites and your eight weeks aren’t up yet?”

  I flashed back to the other day at my car after our ice skating lesson. I never even thought about it. I was going to do it. Afterward, I’d been able to appreciate that nothing had happened between us. There’s no telling where things would’ve led just from a simple kiss.

  My resolve had been strengthened since then.

  “Well, she’ll still be my client until the end of October. I guess I’ll have to wait.”

  “Are you really going to have the strength to turn her down?”

  I pulled up to the curb about a half block from our destination. “Trust me, I’ll be able to hold out.”

  I got out and came around to Mia’s side, but she didn’t wait for me to escort her out of the car. “Oh sure,” she said, slamming the door shut. “The girl you’re crazy about finally falls for your bullshit, and you’re going to tell her to wait twelve more days, or six, or three until it’s official before banging her.”

  Mia seemed unusually pissy about the situation. I didn’t know why she suddenly had a problem about it. “Why do you care so much?”

  “I don’t,” she stammered. “I just find it fascinating.”

  I put a tentative hand at the small of her back to lead her down the sidewalk. “Well, maybe you’ll find this fascinating, because to answer your question, yes. I’m telling you, it’ll be a piece of cake. I can wait.”

  “What, are you getting so much great sex from every other woman in this city that you can hold out indefinitely?”

  “Not indefinitely. A few more weeks.”

  “But how?”

  “Because I’ve already held out for twenty-eight years, for godsa—”

  Oh shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  How the fuck did I just say that out loud???

  We both froze on the sidewalk as Mia aimed an incredulous stare at me, her eyebrows raised in accusation. “Is that part of the men’s program?”

  “What?” I asked in an attempt to buy time. How the hell am I going to get out of this?

  “Is that a ‘tip’ you reserve for your male clients? To tell women they’re virgins? Does that help them get laid quicker?”

  The jig was up. I considered lying just to get out of having to admit the truth, but I’d be breaking the number one rule of my program. I was already venturing into some pretty gray area with Rule Number Two, and I had to maintain some standards for myself.

  Didn’t make the news any easier to confess, however.

  “No. I’m uh… I’m actually…”

  “You’re really a virgin?”

  God, I always hated that word. “Yes.”

  “As in, you’ve never had sex with another human before.”

  “That’s traditionally the definition of that word, so yes.” Mia gaped at me in shock, unsure whether or not to believe me. “Please stop staring at me like that.”

  “I just… I don’t know what to say. How does something like that even happen?”

  I swiped a hand over my face. I was kind of hoping she’d drop the subject, but I could tell that it was merely wishful thinking. “Pretty much because it doesn’t happen.”

  She jutted a palm in my direction. “But look at you! You’re a hot, confident guy. I’ve seen you in action, dude, and you’ve got game.”

  “Thank you?”

  Her eyes widened in alarm as a sudden revelation came to her. “Dios mio, do you think you might be gay?”

  I knew she was only trying to help, but she was totally on the wrong track. I chuckled as I answered, “Definitely not.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  As humiliating as this conversation was, I couldn’t help but grin. Mia and I were comfortable with one another. It allowed me to be a little lighter about the whole thing. “I could tell you but it would undermine my entire marketing angle. If my clients ever knew…”

  “I can help you!” she blurted out, throwing her arms in the air. “Who better to work on your marketing angle than a marketing expert? C’mon. You need to discuss this.” When I continued to hesitate, Mia crossed her pinky finger over her heart and held it out to me. “Pinky swear. What happens at McGee’s stays at McGee’s.”

  I gave her a long, hard look out the corner of my eye before linking my pinky with hers, then turned to go inside, Mia trailing on my heels. I flagged the bartender down and ordered two shots of Jaegermeister.

  “I don’t drink Jaeger,” Mia said through a scrunched face.

  “They’re both for me. If you want me to talk about this, I’m going to need to drink my way through it.”

  She clapped in victorious glee as I downed my two shots and then ordered us a couple of beers. It wasn’t until we were settled in at a booth in the back that I finally spoke again.

  “Okay. So, you remember I was in that accident when I was twelve.”

  “Hard thing to forget.”

  “Well, afterwards, I was sent to a boarding school upstate. I’d missed so much classroom time that my father thought I’d have a better shot at catching up if I was ‘fully immersed in a scholastic atmosphere.’”

  “Your father sounds like he’d be fun at cocktail parties,” she snarked.

  “No, he’s cool. Just took my education more seriously than he ever did his own.” I took a sip of my beer and continued. “I was a scrawny little thing, made even scrawnier from the months lying in a hospital bed. You’d think some schmancy private school would afford a more sheltered environment, but really all it did was allow for the assholes to pick on the weaker kids within a vacuum. I was bullied almost every single day of middle school. I couldn’t wait to come back to Westchester and start over, but high school was no different.”

  Mia’s eyes softened, and I started in again before she could say anything pitying out loud.

  “But I was smart. I studied. Made good grades. Got into a good university. It wasn’t until sophomore year of college that I thought to make myself stronger—mentally as well as physically. I worked out hard; I studied even harder. By junior year, I’d completely transformed. Finally, the girls started to notice.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Georgetown.”

  “Nice school.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Mia sighed and rested her elbows on the table. “So you didn’t start dating until you were... what? Twenty?”

  “’Dating’ is a relative term.”

  “How so?”

  “Because I’ve never really had a serious girlfriend.”

  She looked at me as if I’d just stripped down naked and broke out into a dance on the table. This conversation was almost as embarrassing. “So like, you’ve never even, you know...”

  “I’m not a monk, Cruz. I’ve done stuff with girls before. Just not... that.”

  “But again... You haven’t really explained what happened.”

  “What didn’t happen.” When Mia did nothing but roll her eyes, I said, “I told you, I was shy. And scrawny. I had zero game.”

  “Yes, but that was high school. You said you transformed yourself after that. You turned into this and you still never dated anyone in college?”

  “Not really. By then, the persona ran too deep. I wasn’t used to girls noticing me. Once they finally did, it took me years to figure out a way to work it.”

  “But you’ve been out of school for… what? Six years now? What are you waiting for?”

  “The right girl.”

  There was an uneasy silence between us until I cleared my throat and added, “I was a late bloomer but I still had a hard time believing I had bloomed. It’s diffi
cult to shake off that voice in your head, the person you once were.” I snickered, my face dropping to my shoes as I added, “Week Eight is normally devoted to this entire subject, by the way. My clients inevitably feel like whole new people at the end of this. They need to learn how to deal with it.”

  “I highly doubt that you’re able to instill that in your clients in eight weeks when you haven’t even learned how to deal with it after eight years.”

  She was right, of course. Take away the fancy suits and the cultured veneer, and I was nothing more than an empty shell. “To tell you the truth, I’m still learning.”

  “To tell you the truth, I kinda want to fuck you right now.”

  The comment caught me off guard and I almost spit out my beer. I knew she was only screwing around, though. The fact that we were friends was actually what made this completely awkward situation less so. Our eyes met for a beat before I broke, just cracking the hell up.

  Mia laughed and added, “You’re not really my type, but wow. I think I could get past that just for the chance to deflower you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Dave and Buster’s was an adult arcade out in the Palisades. Basically, it was a place to relive your video game youth while drinking booze. It was a little cheesy, but a good place to go for an easy way to socialize. All that background noise from the pinging video games, tons of people milling about... It was impossible not to interact with your fellow humans in a situation like that. There were plenty of opportunities to strike up conversations with strangers, which was the focus of today’s assignment.

  Ainsley’s task tonight was going to be to play some games and talk to whomever was occupying the machine next to hers. Easy, right?

  I figured it would be a blast.

  Problem was, Ainsley didn’t have much video game experience, so she spent most of her time preoccupied with how awesome everything was. She was currently obsessed with Ms. Pac Man.

  I watched from a safe distance, waiting for her to get to work. Soon enough, a young kid took over the Galaga machine next to her, and it wasn’t long before the two of them were chatting it up.