by Jessie Cooke
The services were graveside only. Dad wasn’t a religious man and he said more than once that he didn’t want a big fake ceremony with preachers or priests or even Rabbi’s talking about how his soul was in Heaven. He had some unorthodox beliefs when it came to death. He believed that the body “dissipated” back into nature. If he was to be believed, he would be part of the oak tree that stood next to his grave in no time. That would make him happy, so I hope he’s right.
The graveyard was packed. Dad was a good man and everyone loved him. I had to post a note in the paper asking people to send donations to his favorite charity in lieu of flowers…I was swimming in them. As we stepped out of the back of the Rolls, Samantha took my arm. “Are you doing okay?” she asked. I think she’s afraid I’m in shock and the grief will come out all at once. She keeps trying to get me to talk about things. I tried telling her that sex would help…she laughed. She’s definitely attached to that virginity.
I smiled at her and squeezed her arm with mine. “I’m fine,” I said honestly. “I appreciate you coming.”
She smiled back. She’s so sweet. Too sweet for me. I thought I’d seen the last of her when she found me in the floor with a naked woman…but when I explained to her what happened, she believed me. That was a new experience. Even though I knew that I was telling the truth, I hadn’t expected her to accept it. But, here she was…and here I was…thinking that she was going to have to get a whole lot tougher if she was going to make it in the music business.
We took our place in the front row and the services began. My father’s friends and business associates all talked about him in lieu of an actual eulogy…it was another thing he wanted according to the lawyers. He also wanted me to speak. I chose to go last because I still hadn’t really decided what I was going to say. If there was an award for procrastination I would win it hands down.
After six…or maybe eight, of father’s colleagues and friends giving their speeches, it was my turn. I took my place at the podium and glanced around at the mourners. Just as I opened my mouth to speak…I saw her. She was wearing a form-fitting black dress that fit her fabulous body like a sexy glove. Her long dark hair fanned out across her shoulders and hung down her back. It looked like she’d finger styled it and it was just messy enough that to look at it was to imagine she’d just crawled out of my bed. Her lips are so full that even from a distance they stood out on her face…and those eyes…those are what really got to me. Some might say that seeing Olivia in the buff was the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about her. That was definitely a part of it, but the biggest part of her appeal are those giant hazel eyes. A man could drown in them.
She was standing way in the back against a tree and she was looking right at me. I had to wonder how pissed off she was about not getting her money. I do know the old man wanted to try everything…but the idea of making a rich woman out of a prostitute was a little more than I could stomach…no matter how hot she was.
“Are you okay, Ryan?” The CFO of my father’s company was suddenly at my side. I didn’t realize how long I’d been lost in thought.
I forced a smile and said, “Yes Andrew, I’m okay.” I turned towards the crowd of mourners then and said, “Thank you all for coming. I’m going to make this short and sweet. I’m going to say what most of you already know. My father was the bravest man I ever knew and probably ever will know. He was never afraid to live his life out loud. It was funny because when people first met him, they never suspected it. He was always polite. He was soft-spoken and he was a gentleman.” I tried not to look at Olivia when I said that, but I couldn’t help it. I wondered if she thought the same. She had slipped her sunglasses on over those gorgeous eyes so I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She was pretty brave herself though…she didn’t turn her head away.
“Behind that perfect gentleman was an adventurous soul. He didn’t do anything half-ass and he refused to die without fulfilling his “bucket list.” Some of you who know the circumstances of his diagnosis might think the bucket list was about that…but it wasn’t. The bucket list was how he lived his life…and if there is one thing I will always be grateful to him for giving me, was that drive and passion for life. The difference between Dad and I is he didn’t hold back.” I looked at Olivia again. This time she shifted her stance a little bit like she was considering taking off. Still looking at her I said, “What I plan to learn from his death is that I don’t have forever. I’m going to do my best from now on to live by my father’s example. I’m going to reach for the stars.”
I sat back down and went through the motions of the rest of the funeral, thanking God when it was finally over. When I stood up, the first thing I did was look for Olivia…she was gone. I left the cemetery with Samantha on my arm and Olivia on my mind.
The next couple of weeks were like a circus. There was the reading of the will…several board meetings…deciding what to do with his house and his car collection…deciding what the fuck I was going to do with a freaking billion-dollar empire…my head was spinning and by the second Friday night I’d had more than enough. I thought about calling Samantha but decided against it. I’d been dating her for six weeks. No sex for four weeks. I’m not usually one to cheat in a relationship but is it really cheating if she and I weren’t sleeping together? My cock says no and that we have to save ourselves.
I pondered calling the “agency” that Jace told me Olivia worked for, but ordering up a hooker…even if she is the hottest, highest class one I’ve ever met, just didn’t appeal to me. Instead I dressed in my jeans and t-shirt and leather jacket and grabbed the keys to my motorcycle. No limousines and monkey suits for me tonight. I’m going to be me tonight, and I’m going to find a hot little woman that is neither a virgin nor a whore. Something in between would be nice. Hang in there! Not much longer now!
10
Olivia
“I thought you were coming home today!”
“Livie, don’t whine. It’s not becoming of an adult.” God, I hate it when my husband talks to me like I’m twelve. I wasn’t whining. I was pissed!
“Excuse me…Why the fuck didn’t you make your flight today? There, is that more adult like for you?” Michael was home from his ten-day trip for exactly two days before he took off again, this time to Florida. He’s been gone for another five days now and he was supposed to come home today. He called me at the last minute to say he wasn’t going to make the flight and “maybe” tomorrow he’d be home. I’d had just about enough.
“Jeez, you’re in a mood. Are you on the rag?”
“Answer my fucking question, Michael! Why aren’t you home? You’ve been gone for the better part of two weeks!”
“I have business to attend to Olivia. So you can continue to spend my money.”
“You son of a bitch!”
“I’m going to go now Livie. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll be in a better mood.”
I wanted to scream “Fuck you!” But instead, I very adult-like, hung up the phone. Then I threw it across the room and screamed. I was losing my mind being alone so much. I’d turned down two jobs with Jeff because the thought of one more person thinking that I’m a prostitute was too much for me, but I needed some human contact. My best friend had been out of town almost as long as my husband. She came home for a few days in between, but other than tell me I was an idiot for not suing Ryan Golden, we hadn’t had much time for conversation. She had to go to a conference. I looked around the big, empty house and I knew that I couldn’t sit there one more second alone. I had to get the hell out of there. I ran up the stairs and jumped in the shower. I needed to be around people in a place where nobody expected me to change anything about myself to meet their expectations. No fancy parties with rich men. No fancy clothes because that’s what I’m “supposed” to wear. No bending over backwards to get my husband to notice me. I needed to go somewhere that I could just be myself with no pressure to be what everyone else expected me to be.
Two hours later dressed in j
eans and a Levi jacket I walked into a place called “The Roadhouse” in the village. I hadn’t known where to go just that I wanted to go somewhere “different” than the places I’d go with my husband or Carrie. I remembered Harold liked to wear a t-shirt around the apartment during the day that said, “Roadhouse” on it. Just making conversation one day I asked him about it. He told me it was a “biker” bar in the village. He told me that was where he’d met his wife over thirty years ago. His eyes had softened and the love he still felt for a woman long gone shone in his face. That’s why it stuck with me. I’m really not sure that Michael would still remember me so fondly, years after I was gone.
I found the place easily. The parking lot was full of Harley Davidsons and the neon sign was missing the “E” in “Roadhouse.” It looked like just the place to escape. I desperately needed to escape. I walked up to the door and the giant, tattooed bouncer looked me up and down. I suddenly had confirmation that all the “work” Carrie talked me into having done paid off.
“I need to see your I.D.” he said. I happily handed him my driver’s license and after scrutinizing it and my chest for about five minutes he handed it back and said, “Have fun.”
I stepped past him and stood for a few minutes letting my eyes adjust to the light…or lack thereof. I could see a group of what looked like motorcycle guys sitting around a big table near the back and silhouettes of bodies scattered around at tables and a few up at the bar. I ventured up and took a seat on the cracked vinyl of one of the stools next to a woman with long wild blonde hair, a biker jacket and jeans that gave new meaning to the word “skinny.” I smiled at her and she looked at me like I was a bug she’d like to crush with her kick-ass combat boots. I thought about leaving. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here. It’s just one more place that I don’t fit in. I looked into the mirror behind the bar and saw my reflection. I’m thirty-one years old and I don’t have a single line on my face. My tits are perfect and my belly is flat. My butt is round from all the hours I spend at the gym. My skin is flawless thanks to many hours in the dermatologist’s chair…not to mention a ton of ill-gotten cash. None of it has made me happy. As a matter of fact, I was more dissatisfied with my life right now than I’d ever been. I sat my nice round butt back down on the stool. If biker chick didn’t like it, fuck her. I was tired of trying to fit in.
I got the bartender’s attention and ordered a beer and a tequila shot. That should take the edge off. While I waited, I looked around the bar again. My eyes had adjusted and I could see that I picked the right place. Nobody was wearing a suit or designer clothes. I’d bet the collective income of everyone in the room was less than a million dollars put together. They were laughing and talking, dancing and shooting darts…and they had lines in their faces and some of them…God forbid…had bodies that didn’t look like they spent hours at the gym each day. There were so many tattoos you could almost smell the ink and for the first time in a really long time I actually felt at ease. The bartender sat the beer and the shot down on the bar. I turned around and tossed a twenty on the bar, picked up the tequila and tossed it back and then I chased it with a healthy chug of beer. As soon as I sat the mug down on the bar my peace of mind was shattered.
“Should I be flattered that you’re following me, or should I just assume that you get around?” I turned at the sound of the deep voice and my eyes collided with a pair of jade green ones that had starred in many of my fantasies as of late. Ryan Golden! Fuck me! I should have known…did I know, subconsciously?
“I’m following you? Please don’t flatter yourself.”
“Who says I’d be flattered?” he asked with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leaned into the bar and signaled the bartender.
I rolled my eyes and focused my attention back on my beer, or at least I tried to. Some other biker dude walked up on Ryan’s left and was having an animated conversation with him while he waited for his beer. While he wasn’t paying attention my eyes couldn’t help taking in his smoking hot reflection in the mirror. He was dressed just like all the other bikers and it made me wonder if I was wrong about people not pretending here. To look at him now, you’d never guess the guy was loaded. He was wearing a skin tight white t-shirt that molded to his chiseled chest and arms. Colorful tattoos shot out of both sleeves and ran down to his wrists. His hair looked like he’d taken off his helmet and ran his fingers through it and dark stubble coated his jawline. He was a far cry from the man that spoke at his father’s funeral a week or so ago. That man looked as comfortable in a three-thousand-dollar suit as this one does in his jeans. Of the two versions I would have to say this one is the hottest. Ryan Golden wasn’t just hot though. He was stomach fluttering, knee-weakening, heart racing, pussy tingling hot, and it pissed me off that I thought so. I sucked down the rest of my beer and stood up. Ryan Golden was not what I needed tonight.
“Leaving so soon?” I tried just glaring at him and walking away, but he wasn’t going to make it that easy. He followed me until I was almost to the door and taking in my t-shirt and jeans he said, “You know, you’d probably get more business if you wore something a little more revealing.”
I don’t know what came over me…I didn’t think, I just reacted to his hurtful words. I swung around with my hand up and let my open palm connect with the stubble on his jaw. His head barely moved and his green eyes looked shocked. But, to my surprise instead of looking angry, he looked amused. I didn’t wait to see what he might have to say about it. I turned back towards the door and pushed my way out into the fresh air. Afraid he was still following me I kept moving until I was alongside the bar where I could be alone for a few seconds. I gulped in the cool night air and cursed my luck.
“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine…” Fuck! What is this guy’s problem? I turned on him with fire in my eyes and said,
“You are no Bogey!”
The bastard laughed. “And you my dear are no Ilsa…but I bet you could be, for the right price.”
“Stop that! I told you I am not a prostitute!” Damn it! I could feel the tears springing to life.
“Oh that’s right, you told me…it must be true.”
“What are you doing here? Did you come here just to torture me?”
He laughed. “Yes, because my life is all about you. I come here all the time. What’s your excuse?”
“I come here all the time too,” I lied. He laughed again. Bastard.
“I’m sorry, but this really doesn’t seem like your usual haunt. It’s a little harder here to spot the men who can afford to pay you millions to sleep with them.”
“Fuck you!” I started to step around him towards the parking lot and he stepped into my path. “Get out of my way!” The tears were overflowing now. Shit! I didn’t want to let him see me cry…again.
I looked down at the ground and tried to push past him. In a soft tone like the one he used the day at the penthouse he said, “Hey, I’m sorry okay? Don’t cry.”
“Are you kidding me? You bully me and talk down to me! You get in my way while I’m trying to leave, and then you’re going to act like you give a shit that you made me cry. Get the fuck out of my way!” He stepped to the side and I started towards the parking lot again. I was only about three steps past him when I heard him say,
“Give me the two days my dad had left…and I’ll give you the money.” I stopped walking and took a deep breath. He was offering me two million dollars to spend two days with him…I felt a sudden rush of anger…an accumulation of the past few weeks. I exploded with it and he wasn’t expecting it. I turned quickly and my closed fist connected with his face. I was both exhilarated and appalled. The spray of blood that rushed out of his nose thrilled me. The fact that I was suddenly filled with this violent rage appalled me. Who the fuck am I?
11
Ryan
“Shit! You’re fucking crazy!”
She had tears flowing down her cheeks again. You’d think s
he was the one that just got belted in the nose. “I’m sorry…but you keep insisting on calling me a prostitute…”
“I didn’t say that!”
“No, but you implied it! It’s the same thing. I’m not a fucking prostitute and so help me God if you call me one again I won’t be responsible for what I do next.”
My nose was pouring blood. I pulled off my vest and my t-shirt and used the white shirt to press into my nose. I sounded like a little kid with a stuffy nose as I said, “Then explain it to me, Olivia.”
“Explain what?”
“Why I found you naked with my father…why there’s two million dollars in a trust account for you…why you work for an escort service…”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Fine then, I’m free to formulate my own opinions.”
“You’re also free to hire someone you think is a prostitute and so is your father. But…God forbid a woman should profit from your creepy fetishes. Put your head forward, not back!”
I leaned my head forward. “You’re right, but Dad and I aren’t the ones protesting too much over it either.”
“Pinch the bridge of your nose. You wouldn’t understand.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Try me,” I said. I have no idea why it mattered to me, but it really did.
“I grew up in a family of seven children. I was the middle child. For years I don’t think anyone in the house even realized I was there. I became a bookworm and an introvert…and then I met my husband. He paid so much attention to me. He showered me with compliments and he couldn’t get enough of me…That lasted for almost ten years and then lately…nothing. My girlfriend told me it was because I was getting older. She said I should have “procedures” done on my face and body and make myself look younger and more desirable. My husband was trying to get his new business off the ground. I wasn’t going to use his hard-earned money on plastic surgery…so I agreed to take the escort job. Escorting was all I did, period. I never broke my wedding vows…until your father.”
