by Amy Briggs
“I’m intrigued. I’m not convinced, though. How do I get started, or get more information, or whatever it is that I do?”
“I’ll make an appointment, and we will go see Karen Flores. She’s the boss lady that handles interviews, placement, and matches. She can go over some of the details with you, and you’ll need me as a reference. I left in good standing, and the only way to participate is with a referral from a client, or former client, or employee. In this case, you would be the employee, not the client. The client would hire you to be whatever it is they’re looking for, and it’s completely at your discretion whether or not you agree to the terms. But, once you do agree, you are wholly committed for one year.”
“One year,” I repeated. “One year is not a very long time when you think about it.”
“No, it’s not. And I’m telling you, bro. You’re gonna be hot for whoever it is they match you with. Mark my fucking words. The spring in your step is gonna be back in no time.”
“Alright, fuck it. Let’s do it.”
Chapter Five
Elise
The pain in my back was overwhelming, like shards of glass scraping along my spine. After a full day in the hospital, and numerous calls from my sister insisting that she fly to me in New York, I finally had Jase by my side.
“We’re just waiting on the doctor to sign the release papers. I really think you should consider staying another night, like they recommended,” he almost pleaded with me.
“I’ve been here for two days already, and all they do is take my vitals and clean up my scrapes. It’s absolutely ridiculous for me to stay another day when I’d be more comfortable in my own home. Plus, I have work to do.” I was grumpy, my hair felt dirty and gross, and I wanted to use my own bathroom. I wanted to sit in my shower under the waterfall and be miserable in private.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner, Elise. I feel just horrible about it.”
It had taken a day and a half for Jase to return the call from the hospital, which wasn’t his fault. It was the weekend, and I went out of my way to give him weekends off, so he wouldn’t have been expecting a call to begin with. During that time, I was completely alone. I’d tried to call several people who I considered friends, or so I thought. They all either didn’t respond, or texted me back how sorry they were that I was in the hospital, but they couldn’t get away to see me, or be with me.
The whole thing gave me time to think about how truly alone I was. My poor gay assistant came, on a Sunday, to help spring me from the hospital, which wasn’t his job at all. He was just a good person, and seemingly, the only person in my life, besides my sister, that actually gave a shit about me. It turned out that all my lamenting the last few days about the depthless people in my life had lit up like a beacon of truth before my very eyes.
“Don’t say you’re sorry again, Jase. I can’t thank you enough for coming here today to help get me home. It’s your day off, and I’ve ruined it. I promise to make it up to you. Everyone that I reached out to couldn’t get away from their families or obligations. I tried a few people.”
“Your friends aren’t friends. They’re assholes you do business with,” he said frankly.
“It seems that you may be right, Jase,” I replied quietly.
“Well, no matter. I’m here now. And we’ll get you fixed up, and back at home. Do they have you on any good drugs?” He changed the subject, lightening the mood. I took note of the sparkle in his blue eyes; he always had such a radiant presence about him.
“They tried to, but I don’t want to end up a fucking drug addict, on top of everything else that’s happened the last few days. So, I’m just dealing with it.” The fact of the matter was, I didn’t like the way pain medications made me feel, much like alcohol, and I wanted to have my wits about me. The pain was excruciating the last two days, but had started to get a bit better.
As it turns out, a taxi had rear-ended the town car I was getting into. Since I was not completely inside the vehicle yet, I had been thrown back out and down the sidewalk, from the impact. I’m quite lucky that the damage wasn’t worse, and I was able to walk, even though the doctors didn’t want me to. I had no broken bones, but had suffered a sprained wrist, a bruised spine, and scratches and scrapes all over me from landing on the sidewalk. Almost all superficial injuries.
“Oh my God, woman. You’re a warrior. I’d be high as a kite.” He winked at me, eliciting a little laugh. I was so grateful for him.
“You’re too funny.” I gently swung my legs over the side of the bed, trying not to twist my back too much. The bruising was pretty deep, but I could walk, and I intended to walk right on out of there even though there had been talk of a wheelchair. “Now listen, I just need you to get me to the car, and then go home. I won’t be in the office this week, but I will be working from home, starting tomorrow. There’s just way too much to be done for me to take a bunch of time off.” I was serious about getting back to work, and shifting my focus from the loneliness I’d experienced over the past few days.
“Let’s make a deal,” he smirked, leaning his head to the side.
“Oh, a deal?” I played along.
“Yes. I have a fabulous idea,” he started. “How about if I get you to the car, and James gets you to your fancy condominium, but you take tomorrow off to sleep in your own big, fancy bed. I promise you that I’ll go in, and I’ll rearrange all of your meetings for the week, so that you can take all your calls in the mornings—except for tomorrow—and then you can spend the afternoons this week recovering. That way you’ll be in top shape in like, a week? Because we all know what an overachiever you are.” He batted his lashes at me, as if that would work, and I mulled over his proposition. Truthfully, I was quite exhausted, and even though I was being rather petulant about getting home, and getting to work, the doctors really did want me to take it easy, and it was a serious accident.
“Alright, I’m going to agree. On one condition.” The effort to get myself up had made me tired enough to give in, knowing he was right.
“Anything for you, my queen,” he grinned.
“You will reschedule my meetings and then take tomorrow off as well. We’ll just play hookie for a day.” If he handled the rescheduling of everything first thing, then the office and the business could wait a day; they’d all survive without both of us.
“You got yourself a deal. Now, let’s get you out of here. I’ll go find your doctor and light a fire under his ass.”
“Thank you.” I squeezed his hand gently. It wasn’t his responsibility, or in his job description at all, to do what he was doing for me right now. I couldn’t express just how thankful I was, but I made a note to figure out something special I could do for him.
I let out a long sigh as I waited for him to return with the go-ahead that we could leave. Looking around the hospital, they’d put me in a very nice private room, which, of course, I was paying for. It almost had the feel of a hotel room, without the nice bed obviously, and the TV was on a swivel in the air. But otherwise, they’d decorated it with fancy brocade wallpaper, and even some crown molding. Not that money was an issue; I did find it rather wasteful though. I was sure I was paying extra to be “comfortable” in a fancy room, when I wasn’t even injured that badly. It made me wonder what kind of rooms people who weren’t on page six had. I pulled out my phone and made a note to look into supporting local hospitals, and finding out what they really needed. Surely insurance premiums weren’t going up because people like myself had fancy rooms. I’d make sure that wasn’t the case.
Shortly after I’d slid my phone back into my purse, Jase returned with the doctor, who gave me some instructions on how to take care of my wrist, which barely hurt in comparison to my back, and offered me a prescription for pain pills again as well.
“Ms. Regan, take the prescription, just in case.” He shoved the paper into my hand. My lips pursed at the drug pusher mentality since I’d already told both he and the nurses that I could manage the pain on
my own. I took the paper anyway and tossed it into my purse so we could get this show on the road.
“Thanks, doctor. I know that you don’t want me to go, but I’ll be much more comfortable recovering in my own home.”
“I’m sure you will. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if anything changes. My number is on the prescription.”
As the doctor left, Jase gave a little fist pump, and said excitedly, “Alright, Miss Thing. Let’s get you out of here!” He grabbed the wheelchair that they were insisting I exit in, and pulled it up to me. It was dramatic and absurd.
“Do I really have to ride in that?” I glared at him.
“Yes. You do. Now sit your skinny ass down, so I can do wheelies on our way out,” he teased, making me laugh again.
Jase wheeled me out to the street, where James was already waiting with a new town car. Luckily, he’d sustained no injuries; in fact, he was the one who helped me when I was knocked to the ground.
“How are you feeling, Ms. Regan?” he asked with a small smile. His stature was overwhelming, and many people thought he was my bodyguard, as if I needed one. The last three years, he’d been driving for me regularly, and we chatted often while we were sitting in traffic. It seemed that the people whose company I enjoyed most were in my employment.
“I’m much better, James, thank you. I’m quite ready to go home though.”
“Can’t say I blame you there.” He opened the door to the car, and waited patiently for Jase to help me out of the stupid wheelchair. I struggled to get up, mostly from the awkwardness of being in a chair on wheels, but all the moving around had started to take its toll, and I was exhausted and frustrated with the entire situation. I couldn’t help but look around to make sure there were no cars coming before getting in the backseat, a feeling I would have for a long time to come.
With a sigh, I was finally situated, and Jase returned the wheelchair to the front desk before heading home himself.
“I’m ready when you are, James,” I said, as I settled in. My home was not particularly far, but there was always traffic, and it would likely take us over a half hour to get there.
“Are you comfortable back there?” Our eyes met in the rear view mirror as he checked on me. The whites of his eyes had begun to yellow with age—he was in his sixties, I thought—but the kindness behind them was always evident.
“I am,” I said softly. “Thank you for coming out to get me.”
“It’s my job, Ms. Regan,” he replied with a grin.
“Yes, I know, but you were kind of in an accident too. You could have sent someone else, I’m sure.”
“You know I’d never let someone else come and take you home. Now, tell me what’s going on. You look a heck of a lot better than the last time I saw you.” He winked at me before turning his attention to the road, to get us home.
“Well, no major damage. Looks like I got pretty lucky. And obviously, we’ll be suing the taxi driver, although who even knows with taxi drivers anymore if they’re bonded or insured, or what these days. But we’ll get you a new car.”
“I’m not worried about the other car. That’s why we have insurance. I’m more concerned with how you’re doing. I can see that you’re in some pain, but it looks to me like something else is going on.” He always knew if I had a good meeting, a bad meeting, or if something was making me smile, I’d always share too. We’d been together long enough for him to know I wasn’t myself. Or maybe I was myself, and the old feelings I had were the layers that I needed to shed.
“I’m okay. Just tired.” I was afraid to say what I was thinking.
“You know, it sure would be nice if you had someone waiting at home for you. Or better yet, someone who was with you through this whole accident.” Said as if it were a casual statement, I looked back up to catch him glancing at me in the mirror again, awaiting a reaction.
“I suppose. But Jase came to get me.”
“Did anyone else come, Ms. Regan?”
“You know you can call me Elise, James.”
“Did anyone else come to the hospital, Elise?” he asked again, appeasing my request.
Hesitating at first, we both knew the answer. Nobody came. I wasn’t important enough to anyone for them to change their plans or make time to come to the hospital. “No, no, they didn’t.”
“Why do you think that is?” he asked, leading me down a rabbit hole I knew was coming, but had no idea where it ended.
“I think it’s because I don’t have any real friends, James,” I confessed. It felt kind of nice to say out loud, like a weight lifted from my shoulders, but also elicited a slight pang in my chest, to come to terms with the fact that my relationships were empty.
“Why do you believe that?”
“Well, because it’s true.” I paused to contemplate my answer further. “I’ve chosen to keep people at a distance, I think.” And suddenly I felt sad. I’d done this to myself. I could have had more fulfilling relationships, I could have stayed friends with people from college. At the time, they seemed less driven. But now they had families, other friends, parties that had nothing to do with business or being seen by someone influential.
“Perhaps now is a good time to change that?” he suggested gently.
“You know, James, I wish I knew how.”
That was when James told me about Infidelity. Before working for me, he worked for a man who met his wife through their services. He said that they were madly in love, and when their contract ended, they had gotten married, and no one ever knew that was how they’d met in the first place.
“Doesn’t that seem kind of desperate? Paying for companionship?”
“Doesn’t really matter what I think,” he replied. “Perhaps it’s actually far more efficient and rewarding to have someone do the work of finding a person that they guarantee you’re compatible with. How hard is that to do on your own?”
“It’s damned near impossible, James.”
Money wasn’t the issue; it was never the issue. Feeling like I had to purchase a friend, or a lover, or whatever he would be; that weighed on me. But maybe James was right. Perhaps it was smart to cut out the worst part of dating or new friendships, weeding out the bad ones, and getting right to it with someone who liked the same things, had similar goals and loves.
“What do you have to lose by trying it out?” he asked.
I didn’t answer him, and he didn’t expect a response, because he already knew. I had nothing to lose.
Chapter Six
Carter
Brian went with me to my appointment at Infidelity.
“You look nervous, man. Just chill.”
My heart was racing, and I was anxious as hell. I was finally doing something outside of my comfort zone, and it was exhilarating, and nerve-wracking at the same time. “I’m cool. It’s just kind of strange, you know?”
“Yeah, I get it. But honestly, I think you’re going to be shocked at how smooth this will go. Karen is a bit stiff, but she has a track record of success, or they wouldn’t be in business. You don’t have a single thing to lose, except another year of discontent. Would you rather that?”
We both knew the answer so, without speaking a word, we ventured in. As we rode the elevator up to our appointment, my mood shifted from anxiety to excitement. Brian warned me that it could be awhile after I was accepted before I was placed with anyone. The exclusivity, and the specificity in which they used to match people, could take a while for the right match to be made. Even knowing that, my optimism started to take over, and when we walked into Karen Flores’ office, I was practically beaming.
“Well hello, Mr. Kelly.” She shook my hand. “Brian, lovely to see you. Gentlemen, let’s have a seat and get to it, shall we?” Her matter-of-fact behavior was off-putting at first, but I could sense that she was a “no nonsense” kind of woman. A conservative suit covered her small frame, and while she wasn’t necessarily old, you could see the slightest crows feet at the corners of her eyes. I wondered how long sh
e’d been matching people up.
As Brian and I sat in the chairs opposite her desk, she pulled out a folder and a notebook. Old school note taking was something few people did anymore. So many people had gone electronic these days, but I preferred good old-fashioned hand note taking myself.
“So, Brian here recommended you as an employee of Infidelity. You are aware of what we do here Mr. Kelly?”
“Yes ma’am. You match your clients with appropriate companions in the form of employees, such as myself.”
“Yes, that’s correct. And what is your preference in a client? Are you looking to become the companion to a man, a woman? What are you looking for in a match?”
“I’m looking for a woman,” I said, surprised momentarily that she asked which gender I preferred. It had never occured to me that all matches were fair game. “I suppose I’d like for it to be someone who has similar interests, although the purpose of me coming here is to be exposed to a woman that might help me grow.”
She tapped her pen to her chin thoughtfully, scanning over me. “Interesting. And by grow, what do you mean exactly?”
“While I’m not necessarily looking for a… physical… match—I’m not even sure how that works to be honest—I’m hoping to meet and spend time with someone that has aspirations beyond becoming the wife of someone successful.” It felt like it may have sounded arrogant, but it was the truth, and Brian made it very clear that the only way this would work is if I was unquestionably honest.
“Well, the way this works, is that we are not in the business of selling sex, if that is what you’re asking. My job is to place two compatible people together. What you choose to do is completely up to you. Under no circumstances, are you to feel forced physically in any way. But in all other ways, the client essentially owns you based on the terms of the agreement for one year. Your responsibility to act as their boyfriend, or whatever it is that they’re looking for, either publicly or privately. You must agree to these terms in advance before we ever place you. You must agree that whatever the client wants. For example, if they want you to move in with them, you will. And in turn, you will be compensated for your time and effort, and any expenses incurred with fulfilling their wishes will be covered by the client. What are your thoughts?”
