My pulse jumped at the words “legitimate” and “permanent,” but I couldn’t quite get over the way our relationship had begun, how it’d been a business transaction more than anything, literally my dad’s job in exchange for physical release, the opportunity to enjoy my young, untouched body.
“I guess I just feel like I’m being bought,” I said slowly, carefully.
The big man jolted at the word “bought,” but I nodded my head, more sure of myself. “I feel like you buy everything, Chris. The meeting with the governor, wining and dining powerful friends, contracts for your company. Even my parents’ allegiance,” I added slowly. “They’re in debt to you now with that helicopter ride, even more so than before.”
And at least the big man had the grace to flush, acknowledging my words, nodding imperceptibly. So I continued, rueful.
“I’d give anything not to feel this way,” I said, my voice soft. “But you’re a man who’s able to buy anything you want, and right now, that’s me,” I added. “You bought me with my dad’s job, the promotion, my family’s financial security, not to mention the clothes, the jewels, the offer to send me to culinary school, travel the world with you,” I said with a sad smile. “But one thing you’ll learn is that I can’t be bought,” I said simply. “My heart’s not for sale.”
And the big man gazed at me thoughtfully again, leaning back in his chair.
“Well, what do you want then, Lindy?” he asked reasonably. “Do you want me to fire your dad? Take back the clothes and jewels? Take back the helicopter ride, is that what you want?”
And I sighed because of course those were ridiculous suggestions.
“Of course not,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I just mean … I don’t know, you know? We didn’t exactly meet under ‘normal’ circumstances so now it feels strange to think that you’re interested in me.”
The big man leaned forward then, taking my hand in his, his blue eyes piercing, penetrating.
“Oh believe it,” he said silkily. “It’s real little girl, it’s for fucking real. But I see what you mean with the ‘buying,’” he conceded, “I am a man of great wealth and I’m used to greasing the wheels with money,” he said. “It’s the way the world works, baby, this is nothing new.”
And here I set down my foot.
“But not with me,” I replied softly. “You can’t buy my love. Like I said before, it’s not for sale.”
Chris threw up his hands in exasperation again.
“But Lindy, I can’t re-write history, I can’t re-write the circumstances of how we met. What do you want me to do now? Demote Jim? Take away the promotion? Say, no, I made a mistake, I’m letting you go? This is the real world, little girl, I had something of value, you had something of value, and we exchanged to our mutual satisfaction, so what’s wrong? How do you want me to make this right?”
And I wasn’t sure, to be honest. All I knew was that I didn’t want to feel this way, would do anything to throw myself into his arms, forget our past. But the mercenary aspect of our history made me shudder, made my skin crawl, and I couldn’t get over it so fast.
“I’m so sorry, Chris,” I said slowly, getting up again. “I’m not sure how to make it right, but I know this is wrong.”
And this time, when I turned to go, the big man didn’t stop me. Why, oh why, did my heart cry out then? I loved him too, with every fiber of my being. But the way we met was insurmountable and I couldn’t forget it, not now.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lindy
“Hi Mom,” I said dully into the phone. “How are you?”
“Lindy!” said my mom happily. “Good, how’s school treating you?”
To be honest, terrible. I was barely dragging myself to class, barely talking to anyone, barely eating any meals even. Ever since my meeting with Chris my world had gone grey, I lived in a world of shadows and distant sounds, my hearing muffled, my senses dulled.
But Brenda didn’t need to know that, so I slipped a little white lie in there.
“Okay,” I said, trying to sound cheery. “Things are okay.” But my voice cracked at the end and that was a dead giveaway because my mom has been my mom for nineteen years and she could tell something was off.
“Honey,” she began slowly. “Is everything alright? I got something in the mail, and it was addressed to you from the school, and I know I wasn’t supposed to open it, but I did …” her voice trailed off.
That jolted me awake.
“What is it?” I asked sharply. Oh shit, was it my tuition bill? Something about my grades?
And my worst nightmare came true because my mom’s wavery voice came back on the line.
“Baby,” she said, “the registrar sent a letter saying that you’re getting D’s in two of your classes. Is that true?” she asked. “Are you having trouble academically?”
And I was silent for a moment. I’ve always struggled in college, it’s not the same as high school and things don’t come easy. I couldn’t quite seem to get the hang of my classes, no matter what I did, no matter how much studying I put in. And of course, I couldn’t focus since my conversation with Chris, so it was a miracle I was getting D’s, and not F’s.
I thought about covering it up, making up something about being sick, but my life was such a travesty that I couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stand going deeper into the web.
“Ma,” I choked, my voice thick. “I don’t think I belong here.”
“Oh no baby!” came my mom’s cry. “Of course you do, you worked so hard to get into college, why wouldn’t you belong there?”
And suddenly, hot tears began rolling down my cheeks.
“Mom, it’s not that. I just- I just don’t think college is right for me,” I sobbed into the phone. “It’s something you and Dad wanted, I know you’re proud of me, but I don’t think this is right for me.”
I could almost hear my mom shaking her head frantically.
“That’s not true baby girl,” she pleaded. “Your dad and I only want what you want, what makes you happy. We always thought school was what you wanted to. Isn’t that true, Lindy? Isn’t that true?”
And it broke my heart because I couldn’t say yes. I couldn’t lie anymore and pretend that getting a degree was my heart’s desire.
But my mom did a sudden turnabout. Perhaps it was because she’d sensed it all along, realized that I never really wanted to go down this path, or maybe it was because I was her baby girl, and she couldn’t stand to see me like this. So her voice softened, becoming soothing.
“Oh honey,” she said gently. “If this isn’t what you want, we’ll talk about it, okay? Don’t give up just yet, Daddy and I will go over options with you, there’s more than one way to live life.”
“Is there?” I sobbed into the phone. My heart was breaking with crushed dreams and I could almost feel my mom’s heart breaking along with mine, this was so tough.
“There are absolutely many ways to live life,” affirmed Brenda, her own voice choking a bit. “We love you baby, no matter what.”
And it was then that the floodgates broke free because I couldn’t keep my secret anymore, I couldn’t hide the fact that I loved Chris and wanted to be with him despite the sordid deal we’d struck, the way we’d gotten to know each other.
“Mom,” I bawled into the phone. “I have to tell you something. I’m in- in love,” I stuttered, “and it’s with Christopher Jones.”
My mom was confused for a moment.
“But why is that bad, honey? We’re so glad you met someone, is he a nice boy? I’m sure there are so many nice boys at school.”
I could tell Brenda hadn’t made the connection, my dad’s boss was so far from her mind, completely out of the realm of possibility.
“No Mom,” I said softly. “Christopher Jones as in Mr. Jones, CEO of United Electric. You know, dad’s boss.”
And this time there was a shocked silence.
“Mr. – Mr. Jones?” she stuttered. “But how do you even know him?
You’ve only met him once or twice before.”
And the whole story came tumbling out then, about my dad stealing from the company, his impending termination and how I bargained with Mr. Jones to keep Jim on for a little while longer in exchange for my body.
“No baby,” pleaded my mom, “say it isn’t true.”
“Mom, I’m so sorry,” I cried into the phone. “I didn’t want you and Dad to suffer, we don’t have much and we were going to lose the house. You know Dad can’t find another job that fast, he’s old and employers only want to hire young people now.”
“No baby,” cried my mom again, her voice breaking. “You didn’t have to do this for us, you didn’t have to make this sacrifice.”
And it was then that I pulled myself together.
“It’s okay Mom,” I said gently. “I did it, it’s done, and what’s more is that I fell in love with Mr. Jones along the way. And Mom,” I said hesitantly, pausing for a moment, “he fell in love with me too.”
There was utter silence from the other end of the line.
“Honey, you know that this whole older man younger woman thing is only in the movies,” she said gently. “You’re a young girl, you don’t know what you want.”
And I lost it then, gritting my teeth.
“Ma, if one more person tells me I’m too young to know myself, I swear I’m gonna scream,” I managed tightly, trying to keep a rein on my urge to slam the phone down. “I’m so through with other people telling me what I want.”
And my mom was silent, a pause so long that I thought she might have hung up had it not been for the soft breathing over the line. But then Brenda spoke, taking me by surprise.
“If you’re in love with each other,” came her voice gently, wavering only a little. “Then what’s stopping you from being together?”
I gaped, my mouth opening and closing without sound because this wasn’t the question I expected. I expected more denials, screams of grief, bellowing and beating of the chest, tearing at her hair, and not a totally logical question.
“Well, he is really old,” I said tinnily. “What you said was true.”
Another loaded pause.
“How old?” asked Brenda.
“Forty-five.”
And there was a gigantic whoosh of air as she exhaled, my heart dropping as I heard it. Oh no, that was a deal-breaker and Brenda couldn’t look past it, couldn’t see that age was just a number.
But she surprised me unexpectedly.
“Honey, you know your dad and I are fifteen years apart, don’t you?” she reminded me quietly.
I stopped for a moment. I had known that, but had forgotten because they were just Mom and Dad to me, in the general category of “old people,” people who were positively ancient.
“I know Mom,” I said slowly, “but Chris is twenty-six years older than me, not fifteen. That’s a lot.”
“It is,” Brenda agreed, “but you can overcome it, so long as you’re on the same mental level with the same approach and expectations to life. And trust me, your dad and I know, we went through a period where people questioned our decisions, questioned our love for each other. We started dating when I was twenty and he was thirty-five, folks thought that we couldn’t possibly be a good match.”
I gaped, astounded.
“Really?” I asked. I’d never heard about this part of their courtship, it’d always been rainbows and smiles from what they’d told me.
My mom hesitated.
“Yes, both sets of your grandparents opposed our marriage. Nanny and Don, and Marta and Gramps didn’t come to the ceremony, you know that.”
I did know that but they’d always painted it as a romantic elopement, a quick getaway because they were so hot for each other.
“But what happened?” I asked confused. “Everyone loves you guys, I’ve never seen anyone be nasty or resentful.”
And my mom sighed.
“Honey, it’s because you were born. The birth of a child is a magical thing and you were such a beautiful baby. Who could hold a grudge? After you were born, Lindy, our parents saw that we were truly committed to one another, that we were going to be a family no matter what, so they fell into line.”
And I gaped again. Holy cow, there’d been years of discord before I was born, my grandparents had opposed my parents’ union because of their age difference?
And hearing my unspoken question, my mom’s voice came over the line again.
“Yes, honey,” she said, her voice stronger now. “So if you tell me that you’re in love with Chris Jones, then Jim and I aren’t going to stop you just because you’re nineteen and he’s forty-five. It would be hypocritical, and based on our own experiences, we know it’s not a dealbreaker.”
I gasped, hardly able to believe what I was hearing.
“But Mom,” I said slowly, shaking my head, still trying to get my bearings. “What about the way Mr. Jones and I met? Don’t you think it’s so sordid, like he bought me somehow, paid me for my services?”
“Oh honey, you’re so young,” began Brenda again
Again, the “young” thing. I really was going to scream now, but my mom couldn’t hear my thoughts and she pressed on ahead.
“You haven’t seen the world,” my mom began slowly. “There are so many ways to meet people, and yes, yours was a little more transactional than most. But baby,” and here, her voice hitched. “You did it because you love your family. You care about your dad and me, and … and we didn’t have many options financially.”
That was true, I loved my parents and hadn’t wanted to see them thrown out on the street. But what about the issue of Chris “buying” me?
“But Mom,” I began again. “Mr. Jones paid for me, lock, stock and barrel, like I was a horse at auction almost. Don’t you think that’s wrong, that any relationship like this is doomed?”
And that’s when my mom paused again.
“Honey, how do you think your dad and I met?” she asked slowly.
“At a restaurant,” I said slowly. “You were a waitress and dad was eating there, and you struck up a conversation.”
“That’s true,” confirmed my mom, “but there’s more to it. Your dad saw me but I didn’t like him at first. So he paid me for my phone number.”
I cut in quickly.
“Dad slipped your manager a fifty for your number,” I said stoutly. “That’s different, you didn’t get the money.”
“Not quite,” said my mom quietly. “Jim handed the manager a fifty, but then my manager passed the money onto me and said there was a nice man outside interested in meeting me. And so I too was ‘paid,’ baby. Maybe not as explicitly as you, but I got paid just the same.”
But I couldn’t square it away. My parents’ meet-cute was exactly that, a sweet story that they’d relayed countless times.
“It’s different for you guys,” I said stubbornly. “You didn’t have sex for money.”
And my mom sighed.
“Sex, sex, sex, all young people are about is sex these days,” she said. “Honey, there are so many grey areas and all I’m saying is that both you and I fall into the grey space. Maybe you’re a little more towards one side, and I’m a little more towards the other, but the fact is that a man bought us in some way, big or small. And all I can say now,” she said with a small smile in her voice, “is that your father and I have been together for twenty years. Twenty years honey,” she said softly, “happily married for twenty years.”
And I paused then. That was real food for thought because despite all the objections I’d thrown out, my parents were living proof that you could succeed despite ominous beginnings, when all the signs pointed to no.
And my heart began to beat rapidly then.
“So what are you saying, Mom?” I asked slowly. “That I should date Mr. Jones? See where it goes?”
And my mom sighed again, her voice low.
“Baby, I can’t tell you what to do,” she said simply. “But I know from my own experience that
the heart wants what it wants, and you can’t stop it from going where it will. So follow your emotions, ask yourself what’s right for you, and I promise baby, your dad and I will support you every step of the way.”
And with those words, we ended the conversation, my heart full, my mind buzzing. Because I’d expected this phone call to be filled with terror and recriminations, demands that I come home immediately, locking me the house until I came to my senses. But instead, it had been the opposite. My mom and dad were open-minded human beings who’d lived full, colorful lives themselves, in many ways mirroring my own situation. And I knew without a doubt now that Brenda and Jim would only want happiness for me … in whichever way, shape or form it came.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chris
“Anyone home?” came the dulcet voice, its tones so familiar, so sweet that my body immediately hardened. Shit, what the brunette could do to me was unbelievable, turning me into pure iron with just a few words. But I called back, responding in a normal tone.
“In the study,” I growled. Okay, that wasn’t too bad, I sounded like a bear but at least a friendly bear, right? Not one that was going to devour a sweet girl.
Because Lindy had emailed unexpectedly, asking to meet at my house and I was shocked to get the message. She’d been so confused after our meeting at the Four Seasons, stuck on the point that I’d “bought” her, her thoughts whirling, eyes troubled, that I was sure it was over. I was sure the girl was going to retreat, take her time finishing school, find a job, and heck, probably the only time I’d ever see her again was now and then at her parents’ place if I was lucky.
So I’d steeled myself to the possibility. It fucking sucked, I’ll admit it. I’m used to getting what I want, and when it comes to women usually it’s not very hard. Generally there’s a sigh, maybe some token resistance, but sure enough, the woman’s in my bed at the drop of a hat, sometimes even by the next sentence.
But I’d had a feeling of foreboding with Lindy because she was different. The brunette was genuinely troubled, she wasn’t putting up a front of “I want you but I don’t,” trying to snare me by being difficult. She genuinely felt torn by the circumstances, feeling that she’d exchanged her beautiful body in return for her dad’s job. And of course she had, so I was curious to see what had changed … if anything.
Client No. 6: A Dial-A-Date Romance Page 77
