Honor Roll

by Collins, Kelly

  “You’re breaking your mother’s heart, Luca. I need to see you to know you are safe and well.”

  It was always Mom’s desire to see me, but I wondered about my Dad. He rarely came on the phone.

  “Soon, I promise. Soon.”

  We chatted for a few minutes, and she told me about the big feast they would enjoy as a family today. Every Sunday was the same, five courses and eating for hours on end. I felt bitterness at the word ‘family’. I had ruined my parents’ dream of having everyone live in Chicago and work in the family electrician business. I’d wanted something more—something different. When we hung up, I zoned out and thought about the conversation I'd had with my father the day I left for college.

  “You disappoint me,” he said. “You’re wounding my heart. I built this for my boys.” He pounded on his work van. Gregorio Electric stood out in bold, red letters on the side of the white panel. “You as the oldest were to take over and guide your brothers, but no, you want different. Aren’t we good enough?”

  “Dad, this isn’t about you. It’s about me being my own man. Making my way in the world. I don’t want to be you. I want to be me.”

  I hated the electrician business. The money was decent, but the schedule was a grind. Your life belonged to the next call coming in. What was the crime in wanting more? I didn’t want to be a carbon copy of my father. I wanted to earn more, be more, have more.

  “You go to that fancy school in the city and get yourself in debt. I bet when you’re finished, you won’t make more than an electrician's apprentice.”

  He’d left me in the driveway to choke on his words.

  Four years later, I walked across the stage with my diploma in my hand and a huge debt in my name. Dad had been right. The first company that offered me a job as a financial advisor intern offered less than Dad paid as an apprentice. So, I traveled far from my hometown of Chicago and enrolled in a master’s degree program in New York, the center of the financial world. If I couldn’t meet my goals here, I’d never be able to meet them. There was no way I would go home and admit defeat.

  Chapter 3

  Sandra had built Concierge Services on a solid premise. Those in the biz called it The Dean’s List since only the wealthy benefactors of the university were allowed to participate. I needed another wealthy patron. The rich bought what they wanted, and young coeds filled the need. For the right amount of money, any sexual fantasy could be fulfilled. The girls got the better end of the deal. Men were far more generous with their cash and gifts than women.

  Female clients demanded so much more. They wanted the besotted boyfriend experience. I had to be sophisticated, sexy, well-mannered, a great dancer, a great listener, a fantastic lover, a hard body, a romantic, and a mind reader. In exchange, I was paid the fee. On occasion with some, and always with Claire, I earned a bonus and gifts. I had enough ties to open a store. I even scored a Tag Heuer watch last Christmas. A gift from Claire for a year well spent. I would miss Claire.

  Upon entering the office, the soft perfume of the receptionist floated through the air. Merilee wore a cotton candy scent that made me reminisce about amusement parks and childhood.

  She’d been working here for as long as I had. “Hey, Merilee, she’s expecting me.” I walked to the right wall and pushed. The panel popped open, and I slipped into Sandra’s lair. I’d spent more than my fair share of time here. The room was cold and sterile like the woman who occupied it. White furniture, dark woods. Dark and light. Black and white. No gray zone.

  The last time I was here was because a client had attacked River. She left the service, but Sandra brought the rest of us in to discuss safety. It was the first time I’d seen the entire staff of only a handful of men and close to forty women.

  The time before that, I had refused to let a client peg me, and I was brought in to discuss flexibility. I considered myself flexible but drew the line at women with strap-on dildos.

  Today, I came on my own accord to solicit help. I was short by over four grand a month, and if I couldn’t obtain my goal, I’d have to face my father and admit I’d failed. No way was that happening.

  Sandra wielded control in everything, but I wasn’t beyond sucking up a little to get what I needed. Everyone set their standards, and mine had plummeted to a new low.

  She rose from her desk, dressed in a crisp black suit. Her white shirt was starched so heavily, I feared it would crack. “You sounded disturbed when you called, Luca. What could be wrong with my hot Italian stud?” She pulled a tray of beverages from the side bar and walked to the white sofa to take a seat. The click of her black slingbacks snapped the silence like a whip.

  Ever the obedient employee, I followed and sat in the chair beside her. “Claire was fired. I need to pick up three new clients for an hour a week or one overnighter.”

  “Claire called and resigned from the service this morning. I can see where that would be a problem for you.”

  “‘Problem’ is an understatement. I need the money she was providing. It’s part of my long-term plan.” The stress of the night gave me a kink in my neck. I rolled it around and heard the pop, pop, pop of the vertebrae falling into place. Maybe this situation was like a spine. It was out of alignment and needed manipulation to fall into place.

  Sandra frowned. “You’re on your last lap here, Luca. I don’t know what you expect from me. Most clients don’t want to purchase a new toy, only to have to return it within a few months. You know once you graduate, you can’t stay. Those are the rules.”

  “I need a miracle, Sandra. I didn’t sell myself for nearly two years to almost get there. Surely, there’s someone who wants me short-term.”

  Never would I have guessed that three months before the end of my tenure at Concierge Services, I’d be benched. I leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees. I’d been told that my blue eyes could melt hearts. I looked at Sandra and prayed I could thaw her ice long enough to cut me some slack.

  Sandra popped the top of the diet soda and poured it into a lowball glass. The effervescence bubbled into the air above the crystal. “The problem, Luca, is desperation and discernment don’t mix well. You have to choose. If you’re truly intent on reaching your goal, you’ll be flexible. I know two women who would be happy to take you.” She leaned back and stretched out her long legs.

  A sick feeling churned in my gut. There were only two women I’d ever refused to see. One insisted on strapping on and making me her bitch. I’d done a lot of things in the past two years that I’d take back, but I still refused to stoop that low.

  The other was a native New Yorker, who broke through the glass ceiling of the financial world face first. Lined up next to the men in her company, she would be hard to pick out as a woman. Diane’s suits came from the finest menswear shop in the city, and she had her hair cut at the barbershop downtown. It was questionable as to what body parts were in her trousers.

  Something about our meet-and-greet made me wonder if I’d feel feminine next to her, and that didn’t sit right with my ego, so I’d opted not to see her again. My choices were slim, almost virtually gone. Sandra was telling me I’d have to choose between the two.

  “Have Diane call me to set up a date.” I picked at the invisible lint on my pants, afraid to look at Sandra’s smug expression. She’d been hounding me to take on Diane for months.

  I clenched my teeth to battle the frustration that was building from deep inside. Heat from my anger burned low in my stomach until I felt the warmth of it hit my ears. “I have to go. I have class in an hour.”

  Sandra stood and walked me to the opening in the wall. “Stop acting like someone ripped the arm off your teddy bear, Luca. You’re not a boy, buck up and act like a man. This is a business. Honestly, Diane can be instrumental in your future. Make nice-nice with her, and you may be able to write your own ticket.” She dismissed me with a flick of her wrist.

  * * *

  When I walked into Professor Saunders class, I took a seat up front and watched t
he door for Mim.

  When she entered, she scanned the room, and as soon as she found me, she smiled. I paid no attention to the lecture. My attention was focused on her and the way she looked up from her papers and grinned. She rushed out before class ended, but I’d had my Mim fix, and I was happy.

  * * *

  I arrived at Laura Prater’s office with a little pep in my leather loafers. Laura was my Monday quickie. She liked sex against the window of her forty-second-floor mid-Manhattan office building. In spite of her exhibitionist fetish, this assignment would be easy, and I needed a bit of easy today. Nothing had been status quo since Saturday.

  I rode the elevator to her floor. Her secretary, Bonnie, sat at her desk, looking bored.

  “She’s ready for you.” Bonnie thought we met for mentoring sessions each week. That was what the service called these little meetings, and in the grand scheme of things, they could be considered tutorial if the client chose to teach me something. What I’d learned from most of my clients was that women in positions of power were often lonely at the top, and I was the means through which they alleviated that top-level stress.

  “Thanks.” I walked through the door of her office and locked it behind me. Laura sat in a red leather chair in front of the window, dressed in a skirt and thigh high stockings—nothing else. Pictures of her with famous people covered the walls. Movie stars. Presidents. Industry icons. In the corner sat a telescope. I’d always wondered what she looked at through the lens. The skies lit up with the bright lights of the city at night, so stargazing was not an option.

  We didn’t talk much. She was always near naked and dripping wet when I arrived. She needed no priming, no foreplay. She wanted what she wanted. She liked me fast and hard.

  With my hands in my pockets, I drifted toward the telescope. “I’ve always wondered why the telescope?” I looked through the lens and stepped back. In the scope was a man watching through binoculars. His trousers were at his ankles, and his dick was in his hand. I stumbled back and knocked a picture of Laura and the Pope off the wall.

  She shook her head and tsked. “Some things are better left unknown, Luca.”

  “Who the hell is that?” I peeked through the telescope again. It was like a train wreck that couldn’t be ignored. Through the lens, I saw the same man stroking himself. Laura pushed the scope to face the wall and pulled me toward her.

  She took her position, always bent over the leather chair with her side facing the window. “That’s my boyfriend. This," she waved her hands around, "is our thing. Mondays, he watches; Wednesdays, I watch. He’s a member of the service, too.” She talked like it was normal for a man to watch his girl get laid by someone else. My thoughts went straight to Mim, but I immediately shut them down.

  “This whole time?” We’d had this Monday date for the last eight months or so. This job was a highlight of my week because it was so easy. Now I wasn’t sure I’d get hard. Knowing some sick bastard was across the street getting off made me nauseous.

  “Yes, now let’s get busy. He’s waiting.” She turned around and reached for me. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Luca, really?”

  She dropped to her knees and slid a condom on my limp dick, then pulled me into her mouth. I don’t care how uninterested I thought I was. When a woman sucked me, things happened against my will. Moments later, I was pumping my way to three hundred and fifty dollars. All the while, my insides twisted with humiliation. I would have never sunk this low had I known, and now that I did, I didn’t have much choice but to perform.

  Wanting this over as soon as possible, I reached around and stroked her to climax while her breasts swayed to our movement. She threw her head back and groaned into the palm I’d placed over her mouth. There was no sense alerting Bonnie to our misdeeds.

  Five minutes later, I was running down the stairs–forty-two flights of them. I took the long way home, needing to burn off the filth that branded my skin like a bad tattoo. It was early afternoon when I passed in front of the church. I stopped at the door and debated going in but changed my mind. I needed more than a conscience cleansing. I needed an exorcism. I shoved my hand into my pocket and felt the smooth side of my coin.

  Keep your eye on the prize.

  Just as I passed the massive oak doors, the priest summoned me.

  “Excuse me?” He rushed behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. “I could use a hand with something. Can you spare a minute?” His eyes pleaded.

  Filled with indecision, I looked at the priest and then over my shoulder at my escape route. In the end, I nodded. He grabbed my arm and guided me into the narthex of the church. It had been two years since I stepped foot into a place of worship, and being pulled in by a priest wasn't how I'd imagined my re-entry into the faith.

  My heart thumped in the cage of my chest. The sculptures of saints looked down at me like they knew every single sin I’d committed.

  “I’m in a bit of a hurry. What did you need?” I’d never had a panic attack, but if it felt like someone sitting on my chest while simultaneously strangling me, I was having a full-blown episode right now.

  “You can take a few minutes to serve God. I’m Father Tim Tobin, and you’re the young man with the hundred dollar bills.” I followed him into a back room filled with flowers. “The Parker wedding was yesterday, and they wanted to donate the flowers to the Alzheimer’s center. Some of these arrangements are too heavy for me to manage on my own.”

  “No problem, Father.” It seemed odd to be calling a man a few years my senior ‘Father’. At a glance, it was easy to tell we were opposites. He was blond. I was dark-haired. He was short. I was tall. He was celibate, and I wasn’t.

  “If we can load these into the van out back, that would be great.” Father Tobin picked up one side of a large urn of flowers, and I picked up the other. “You walk past the church a lot, but you never come in. I’d love for you to join us at Mass. You can listen to the pipe organ you helped repair.” We walked the flowers to the pristine white van and placed them inside.

  “Thanks for the invite. I’ll think about it.” We loaded the remaining floral arrangements, and Father Tobin walked me back through the church.

  He stopped me in front of the Pieta. “She was a perfect mother, and he was the perfect son. Her beautiful expression shows her resignation to his fate. She had the faith of a thousand.”

  I looked at Mary gazing upon her son with love. “Yes, she is perfect.” Did every mother feel as passionate about her son as Mary had?

  “There are many kinds of death. The one most beneficial is the death of sin. He died for yours.” Father Tobin pointed to the confessional. “Let me hear your sins so you can bury them.”

  I shook my head. “Thanks for the offer, Father, but you have to be willing to stop the sin to bury it, and I’m not there yet.” I brushed away the bead of sweat that fell across my brow and glanced back at the statue before I walked out.

  By the time I made it home, I was exhausted and hungry. I buried my thoughts in a can of chili and a box of saltines while I watched a marathon of sitcoms and rubbed my MBA coin between my fingers. Just before bed, my phone buzzed with an incoming message from Sandra.

  Luca,

  Good news for you. I’m putting you on call. Don’t say no, you asked for this. Wednesday night you’re going to a fundraiser. Check your calendar.

  Sandra.

  Judith Kent was a new addition to my Wednesday calendar. Her biography listed her at eighty-four years old. Holy crap. She had no employment recorded, but it was obvious she had money. Her photo showed her dripping in diamonds. Thankfully, her bio said companionship only. I loved the no sex “dates”. River had a no sex regular named Ben. She loved him and continued to see him even after she left the service. God, I missed River.

  Not willing to give up my Thursday time with Mim, I typed a message back to Sandra.

  Sandra,

  Not sure I like the idea of being “on call” and my new client is old enough to be my grandmother. Don�
��t book me on Thursday because I have plans.

  Luca

  With Sandra, I had to be definitive. If I didn’t give her parameters, she’d have me naked and working out of the back of a truck to accommodate her clientele.

  Luca,

  I’m nearly old enough to be your grandmother if your mother had you at ten. Don’t forget you asked me to help you reach your goal. Surely you remember that saying about beggars and choosers. Get your tux ready and stop whining.

  Sandra

  For someone to tell me to stop whining was a first for me. I’d never been a complainer, and I’d never been a whiner, but getting this close and seeing my dream just out of reach was depressing. I’d managed to pay off over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in student debt. I wasn’t going to throw in the towel at the eleventh hour when things got sticky.

  Tomorrow was Tuesday; coffee at the Student Union with River and Jade, then my math lab. Clients filled the afternoon. It was twofer Tuesday, Meredith Hostetter at seven, and Shelby Nivens at nine. Generally speaking, Wednesday would be my free day to catch up, but not this week. This week, I’d be escorting Judith Kent to what appeared to be a hospital fundraiser.

  Maybe seeing Mim wasn’t a good idea after all. Then again, I could use the distraction of Mim. I pulled my coin from my pocket. It glittered like the treasure it represented.

  * * *

  I walked into the coffee shop to find River and Jade at the same corner booth we’d been meeting at for as long as I could remember. We met through work, but our budding friendship held us together.

  “Luca, you look like hell.” Jade was always a tell-it-like-it-is girl. She sat next to River and stretched her legs under the table so her feet rested on my side of the booth. Her belly was already big, and she was just a few months along.

  “Are you having twins?”