Kissing Booth

by River Laurent

  “Sometimes good things happen to good people, Dani. It’s about time you had a break. It’s not the money. It’s what the money represents. Your freedom. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  Chapter 12

  Dani

  Suddenly, I have memory flash. I’m back in the small house I lived in with my parents. The Child Protection Officers are there. They’re telling my mother and father that the others kids have reported me for selling my body in school the day before. I can see my mother’s face vividly. It is white with horror. I try to tell them that I only wanted to help, but my father won’t even look at me. And my mother is so ashamed she hangs her head.

  I take a deep breath. Wow, that was so long ago and yet it has remained so fresh in my memory banks. “And it doesn’t make me a whore? Taking all that money?” I ask slowly.

  “What? You’re being paid to act like his fiancée. If you then chose to screw him because you want him like mad, that’s your fucking business. Your life. You hear me? Just be smart about this.” She pauses. “But I know you wouldn’t, because that’s not your style. And I know something else, too.”

  “What?”

  “You won’t let yourself have any fun.”

  “You don’t know that!”

  “Sure, I don’t.” She laughs. “You won’t, because you don’t know how to.”

  Ouch. That one hits a little closer to home than I like, because she’s right. I’ve never been able to devote any time to fun. I’ve never had a vacation. No Spring Breaks for me, no trips to Europe, or Mexico as a graduation present. I’ve been working since I was thirteen, as soon as I could get papers stating I was eligible. I was the Girl Without Parents, the Foster Kid, the one who never belonged. Penelope is my only true friend, plus a few casual acquaintances I sometimes chat with before, or after class. But most of my classes are online, so I’m fairly insulated from the world.

  “Is that weird? That I don’t know how to have fun?”

  “No. Not weird. But something you should work on. This is your chance. Live it up a little! Go shopping, hit the slots, or the poker tables, drink all you want, have a ball. He’s paying for it.”

  “That’s true. I guess, I could. He doesn’t seem like the type who would begrudge me a bit of fun. I’ll find out more about him before we go and we’ll see.”

  She let out a sound between a growl and a groan. “Honey, you are gorgeous. You’re smart and sweet and you’ve got a kickin’ bod. He wants you with him because you’ll make him look good in front of his ex. He might think he’s in control of the situation, but you are. Remember that when you want to enjoy yourself, and you’ll find a way to convince him.”

  Her knowing laugh makes me laugh, but it also makes me blush and bite down hard on my bottom lip. I can’t stop thinking about his eyes, and his smile and oh, God, his body under that expensive suit of his.

  And the way he looked at me. The way his eyes trailed over my body whenever he got the chance. He said I was beautiful. I don’t think he was lying about that. He’s attracted to me. Admitting it to myself makes my heart race all over again.

  Him. Attracted to me. Whoa!

  “This still feels so crazy,” I whisper.

  “Probably because it is.” She chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t amazing. Because it’s definitely that. Just promise you’re gonna keep me updated all the time. Okay? I mean, even if you have to check in while you’re staying with him. I don’t want my girl staying with a guy who’s gonna wear her skin.”

  “You always say the sweetest things.”

  “Also update me if he wants to turn the twosome action into a ménage scenario.”

  “Eww,” I scream.

  We’re both giggling as we get off the phone. As always, a talk with Penn makes me feel better. I can do this, and I’ll have a great time while I’m at it.

  And when it’s all over, I’ll have the kind of bank account that I could only dream of until now. I can’t help but plan for the future as I stroll out of the restroom.

  As I get to the door, a man in uniform runs up to me. “Dani Saber,” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Let me show you to your ride.”

  For a second I can only blink, then I follow him out to the street. A gleaming limo is idling on the street waiting for me. He opens the back door and I slip inside the perfumed interior.

  The driver opens the glass partition and smiles. “Good evening, Miss Saber. My name is Tom. Where can I drop you off?”

  I give him my Red Bank address.

  He nods and closes the partition.

  The car begins its smooth journey. Wow, this is the life.

  When a text buzzes on my phone, my smile fades.

  BROCK: Why did it take you so long to get to the lobby? Is everything all right?

  What the hell? Is he monitoring me? I decide to ask him as much. Are you some sort of stalker now?

  BROCK: No, but I had my driver parked illegally. You spent an extra fifteen minutes in there. I was about to go down and make sure you were all right.

  Wow. He’s intense. Uh, thanks. Everything is fine. I made a phone call from the Ladies.

  BROCK: From now on, please let me know when you plan on doing something like that.

  I can’t stand another minute of this crap. I call him up instead of wearing out my thumbs texting everything that’s on my mind. “What’s with this caveman macho act? That sort of thing went out of style a long time ago.”

  “Hello to you, too, Dani.”

  “I mean it,” I snarl. “I don’t need to tell you when I’m making a phone call, Brock. In case you forgot, we only met this evening. And while it’s true that you have employed me to go to this wedding as your fiancée, it doesn’t give you the right to dictate what I do.” Penn would be so proud of me right now. I’m sort of proud of myself, in fact.

  “I won’t apologize for being concerned about your well-being, now that we have an arrangement in place.”

  “Having an arrangement in place doesn’t mean you own me.”

  “No, but it means I’m investing money in you, and I don’t want to lose on this investment.”

  I blink. “I’m an investment?”

  “You’re an investment of money—and time, which I value above all else.”

  “You don’t have to invest a thing in me, Mr. Brock Whatever Your Last Name Is. I didn’t ask you to bestow this great honor on me, and I don’t want you to.”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  “What do you think?”

  For a few seconds, all I hear is the sound of his breathing. I wonder what’s going through his head. He can’t like being told off like this, but he had it coming to him.

  “Fair enough. If this is all too much for you, you’re free to do as you choose. If you decide not to take me up on my offer, it was nice knowing you. Though I plan on docking a percentage of your pay for skipping on my bedroom.”

  Just like that, the call is over and I’m right back where I started from. My foster mother always did warn me that my mouth would get me into trouble. I sit back, utterly dejected. Well, it was nice while it lasted, the idea of all that money. All that freedom.

  Buzz, buzz.

  My eyes snap down to my phone.

  BROCK: In case you’re still in, I’ll have a car pick you up at nine tomorrow.

  Damn him. I manage to wait twenty minutes before replying. Okay. I’ll be ready.

  Chapter 13

  Dani

  He’s true to his word. The car is waiting outside my building at eight-forty-five the next morning.

  I wish I had chosen a better time for him to arrive. Pre-dawn, maybe. I could’ve made the sacrifice if it meant avoiding the nosy gazes of my neighbors as they left for work, or came back from dropping their kids off at school. Not that Red Bank is a dump. Well, I guess, it is compared to Brock’s penthouse, obviously, but not in general. Even so, nobody expects to see a limousine parked at the curb of a converted three-story
house with a chain-link fence separating the side yard from the sidewalk.

  There are a few whistles in the air as I hurry out to the porch, struggling to get my wheeled luggage down the uneven, wood planked steps.

  Tom gets out, wearing a dark blue suit and hurries over to me. “Let me help you with that, Miss Saber.”

  “Oh. Thank you.” Actually, I nearly told him I can manage, but I remember just in time that I’d better get used to treatment like this if I expect to be believable as the fiancée of a man like Brock. He wouldn’t pick just anybody off the street. His girl would have to be sophisticated, sharp, worldly.

  Well, I’m none of those things. I’m barely removed from the days of wearing ill-fitting, grease-stinking clothes from the Goodwill. There are certain formative experiences which never wash away. That’s one of them. I carry it around with me like a badge, but not of honor. Of shame, more like. I still get the feeling sometimes that people are watching me, judging me. The way they’re watching as I climb into the back seat of the limo. But I can pretend. And I can pretend good.

  Now that I’m on the other side of the tinted glass, I turn to look at my neighbors.

  Mrs. Morgan is smoking one of her day’s many cigarettes. The old mason jar which she converted to an ashtray sits on the wooden railing, waiting to be crammed with hundreds of butts. She ashes over the side, onto the plastic flowers. The only things she can manage to keep alive.

  Her porch adjoins Mrs. Weaver’s, and the two of them are muttering to each other over the bannister which separates them as Mrs. Morgan gestures to Brock’s car with her cigarette.

  They just happen to be the only two outside at the moment. There are others watching from inside their homes, pulling back faded curtains to get a look at what that strange, reclusive, dark-haired girl is up to. I can just imagine what they’re thinking and saying in their thick North Jersey accents.

  Is she some sorta big shot or somethin’?

  Who does she think she is?

  Who’s she friends with?

  Must be nice...

  “Are you ready, Miss Saber?”

  I realize the driver is speaking to me and smile gratefully. “Absolutely. Thank you.”

  He grins at me and at that moment I decide to forget my gossiping neighbors. They’re nothing. They can only make me feel as small as I allow them to make me feel. One of the many self-help mantras I’ve mastered over the years of trying to get past my troubled youth.

  It comes back to me in moments like this. Even sitting in this sleek, ultra-comfortable car with its buttery leather and a minibar inside. I can’t help but go right back to being that poor little girl everyone laughed at again. I remind myself that she’s in the past. Just a page in my history, and I’m stronger as a result of what she had to go through. Even so, I hate it when people stare at me.

  Penelope’s advice rings in my head. Have fun.

  She’s so right. When will I ever have the chance to do something like this again? I’m going to live the life of a glamorous, wealthy woman, and pretend to be the fiancée of a gorgeous billionaire. I don’t know who his ex is, but holy cow, she must be something else not to keep him. I’m going to make the most of it, and that means no more negativity. Brock won’t want to hear about it, and he’s the one paying me to pretend with him. I’m going to turn this experience into the best vacation ever.

  First though, there’s something I just have to know. “Excuse me?” I call out to the driver.

  “Yes, Miss?”

  “Oh, you can call me Dani.” I scoot forward until I’m seated just behind him, since I can’t imagine shouting throughout the ride even if it’s a short one. “I have a crazy question for you.”

  “What can I help you with?” He’s middle-aged, maybe late forties, with kind eyes.

  I feel like I can trust him. “How long have you been driving for Brock?”

  “Mr. Garret?”

  Oh, right. His last name. I didn’t think to ask for it. I have to be smarter.

  “I suppose it’s been nearly three years now.”

  “Have you picked up a lot of different girls in this car?”

  I see him blanche in the rearview mirror.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boss. We’re not romantically involved or anything like that. I don’t even care outside of wondering where I fit in here. Does he do this sort of thing often?”

  “Send me out to Red Bank to pick up a charming young woman?”

  I roll my eyes, but can’t help giggling.

  “No. He does not.”

  “You mean that? Like I said, I won’t rat you out or anything like that. I just want to know what I’m dealing with.”

  “Scout’s honor.” He grimaces a little, like he doesn’t know whether or not he should share the next bit of info.

  “Go on,” I encourage.

  “It’s not as though he’s a saint. He has his girlfriends, of course, but they’re nothing like you. They’re usually a bit…uppity, if you know what I mean.” He lifts his nose to demonstrate.

  I laugh.

  “And he’s certainly never invited a young lady to move in with him for any length of time.” He meets my eyes in the rear view. “You have a suitcase. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

  My cheeks go red. “It’s not like—”

  “It doesn’t make a bit of difference to me,” he says with a shrug. “You’re pleasant company.”

  “Thank you, Tom. For the record, Mr. Garret is paying me to stay with him and oh, God—that didn’t come out the way I meant it to.” I bury my red-hot face in my hands.

  He chuckles. “Please, don’t worry. You won’t find any judgment from this area of the car. And I can tell you’re not that sort of girl. For one—and I don’t mean this in a negative way, not whatsoever—the sorts of girls who charge for their time don’t normally live in such a modest area.”

  I smile. “That’s a very gentle way of pointing out how poor I am.”

  “I don’t mean any insult by it.”

  “And I didn’t take it as an insult. I understand what you’re trying to say.”

  He grins at me.

  Chapter 14

  Dani

  I decide to let him get back to driving. I know I should be having fun with this situation, but it seems unlikely considering the fluttery feeling in my stomach whenever I remember the way Brock looked at me. Also, there’s still a lot of pressure on my shoulders.

  I don’t want to trip up in Vegas, and make a fool of both of us. I want to be convincing. I have to make his ex believe that we are madly in love, even if I’m not the usual type of girl he goes out with.

  A thought occurs to me. What happens if he decides at the end of the weekend that I didn’t do a job worthy of the huge amount he’s offered me? He seems to be genuine, but I really should get something in writing. I wish I knew a lawyer. He seems smart enough to know how to create loopholes…and he did say he is a tough negotiator, but he didn’t negotiate hard with me at all.

  This part baffles me most of all.

  Is my company really worth that amount of money? He doesn’t even know me, but he’s willing to offer more money than I could hope to make in seven or eight years. How could he possibly thinks he’s getting the better end of the deal?

  This girl must have really hurt him if he’s this desperate to prove to her he is over her. If she turned him down, she must be one of those uppity girls. I can’t understand how he thinks a girl like me will make a woman like her jealous.

  Me? I look down at my good outfit—skinny jeans, knee-high riding boots, a thigh-length blue cardigan. What’s so special about me? My hair is thick and pretty enough, I guess, but brown. Plain brown, just like my eyes. And I’m too curvy. I’d give just about anything to be able to wear a button-down blouse without worrying about a button popping off and taking out somebody’s eye. Average height, average looks. Average just about everything.

  Not like him. He’s special.
Which tells me she must be very special, whoever she is. Maybe he’ll tell me, or better still, I’ll snoop around online and find out for myself. I need to know who I’m up against. Just the thought of being up against anybody—especially a girl who made a deep enough impression on him to warrant the sort of scheme I’m getting myself wrapped up in—makes my heart race a little.

  As long as he puts things in writing, that is.

  “What took you so long?”

  The sound of his voice, not to mention the irritation in it, makes my head jerk up.

  He’s waiting on the second floor, looking over the living room with his hands palm-down on the banister. He’s just as sexy in a black sweater and jeans as he is in a suit. The way the cashmere—and I’m betting its cashmere—wraps itself around his thick arms is darn near miraculous.

  But he’s so brusque, the part of me that’s not drooling get pissed off. Still, what did I expect? Roses and a seat by the fire? This is a business arrangement. I close the door slowly. “It took as long as it took to get here,” I explain with a shrug. “Have you ever been to Red Bank?”

  A muscle jumps in his clenched jaw. He looks mad at something. “No. It’s not exactly a place I’ve had on my bucket list.”

  “I don’t think it’s on anybody’s bucket list.”

  His expression softens. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was concerned.”

  “Why?” I ask curiously. Either he’s the most possessive man in the world, or there’s a reason for him to be so anxiously over-the-top all the time. I realize I’m trying to analyze him like a case study out of one of my textbooks and chide myself. I’m doing this for the money. After the weekend, I’ll never see him again.

  His hands tighten on the banister. “Maybe I was just worried you wouldn’t keep to your end of the bargain.”