by Ali Parker
Phillip rolled his eyes at me and started muttering under his breath before returning to mindlessly wiping the already pristine tables.
* * *
I got back to the apartment I shared with my best friend Janie around eight thirty in the evening. It was cold as hell outside. My cheeks burned from the stinging wind I’d had to face riding my bike to make deliveries and to come home. My legs hurt from all the riding and so did my ass and vagina. Bikes were not comfortable things, and although I was a seasoned rider, I would never get used to the damn seat. I needed a plush one.
Maybe one day, I’d be able to scrounge up enough cash for a purchase like that.
Janie was sitting on the couch when I came in and put my bag down on the kitchen counter. She muted the TV and looked over at me, resting her cheek in her hand and pouting her full pink lips. “I missed you, Piper. I thought you’d be home earlier today?”
I sighed and went into the living room. Our place was small. Tiny, really. It was more of a studio apartment with a bedroom and a den. I’d made the tiny den space into my bedroom, and for the sacrifice, I didn’t have to pay as much rent as Janie, who had the bathroom attached to her room. She needed it. She worked as an assistant to one of the top players in New York City, Jackson Lee, so when she got ready in the mornings, she went all out. It was literally in her job description.
I dropped down on the couch beside her and kicked my heels up onto the coffee table. “I know. Things got complicated. I needed to make some deliveries.”
“Of course you did,” Janie said, patting my knee. “Want a glass of wine? One of my coworkers brought me a basket. It’s homemade, so don’t get your hopes up, but wine is wine, right?”
“Please,” was all I had the energy to say. Janie stood up and went into the kitchen. She was wearing a pair of dark gray leggings that showed off her perky ass. Her boobs were equally as perky beneath her wool sweater, and she wasn’t even wearing a bra. Bitch. “Tell me about your day. I need a distraction.”
Janie opened a bottle of red wine and poured two glasses. “Well, it was a bit hectic. Jackson has been really busy trying to get everything ready for a secret mission of sorts that starts around Christmas time.”
“Secret project, huh?”
“Key word ‘secret’.”
“Tell me.” I grinned.
“I can’t.”
“Oh come on, Janie. Who am I going to tell?”
Janie came back to the sofa and handed me the glass of wine. She swirled hers around in her glass and studied me. “All right. Fine. But you have to swear this stays between us. It’s very confidential.”
“Pinky promise.”
“Have you heard of the Casanova Club?” she asked.
“No.”
She nodded. “All right. Well, it’s basically an elite dating event.”
“A dating event?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Like speed dating?”
“Erm, no. Not really. Twelve men have been selected to participate. Twelve men all like Jackson. Rich. Handsome. Incredibly successful. But these men are all so busy, they don’t have time for the traditional dating scene. They are all, however, looking for someone to spend the rest of their lives with.”
I giggled. “Seriously? You mean someone to produce their spawn for them while they carry on making millions and screwing their secretaries.”
“For the record, I’ve never fucked Jackson. He’s quite the gentleman.”
I grinned. “If he propositioned you, are you telling me you’d say no?”
“Now that he’s married? Yes. Had he put the moves on me before that? I would have turned into a puddle at his feet and let him do whatever he wanted to me.” Janie gave me a sly smile before taking her first sip of wine. She cringed as she swallowed. “Oh God. Save yourself. Don’t drink it.”
I stared at the red liquid. “But it’s wine. I can’t throw it out.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Janie said, leaning forward to put the glass on the coffee table. “Anyway, a lot of time went into selecting the men for the 2018 event. One woman will be selected to spend one month with each man throughout 2019. At the end of the year, she will either accept a proposal from one of them, or she can walk away with a million dollars, cash in her hand.”
My eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. It’s been running for three years. And all three years, the woman has chosen the engagement.”
“Obviously. It’s more money long term.”
Janie shrugged. “I guess.”
“How does someone get a chance to be one of these women?”
Janie burst out laughing. “Don’t even go there, Piper. Seriously. These women are vetted and sent through the wringer. They’ve already done interviews, galas, contests—you name it. By December, it will be narrowed down to ten women. And then to one.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “A million dollars would solve all my problems.”
Janie put her hand over mine. “I know, baby girl. I know.”
Chapter 2
Piper
Someone in the exam room was mercilessly tapping their pencil on their desk.
I peered around, trying to spot the culprit in the hall of nearly two hundred kids all taking their final exams, but failed.
I turned my eyes back to the page in front of me and carried on filling out my answers. My mouth was dry, and my throat itched. I so badly wanted to cough but didn’t dare.
I hated exams. Everything about them gave me anxiety. Not only that, but I had to tutor after this and then head to the restaurant for an evening shift. It hadn’t been easy going to school part time to brush up on my math and sciences in preparation for medical school. I was hoping to be a pediatrician someday, but with everything going on, that dream seemed like it was slipping through my fingers more with each passing day.
How was I supposed to afford to go to medical school? How was I supposed to have the time to go to classes full time?
My mom and dad needed me at the restaurant, helping them with their dream, not pursuing my own. That was why they had no clue I’d even been considering pursuing another future. It would do nothing but upset them, and then they would try to push me out of the restaurant. I didn’t want to sound egotistical, but I knew the place would fall apart without me.
I was the one who kept on top of everything. Who handled deliveries and bills and taxes.
At the end of my exam, I closed the packet and stood up, collecting my purse and notebook from the floor. I carried my papers to the front of the hall and handed them in to the professor sitting at the table. He gave me a courteous nod, and with a quick look at the clock above the door, I hurried out of the hall to make my way to the campus library.
I was tutoring a first-year student in English. It was their second language, so they were struggling, and their parents expected them to achieve an impressive GPA. They paid me well to make sure their son passed with flying colors.
I met up with Luke in the library. He was sitting at one of the communal tables, peering down at a textbook when I took the seat beside him. The computers in front of us cast a white glow on his skin as he lifted his dark gaze from his textbook and smiled. “Hey, Piper.”
“Hi, Luke. I’m sorry I’m late.”
“It’s all right. How was your exam?”
I shrugged. “I think it went well. We’ll see next week, I guess. How have you been?”
“Good.”
“And did you get that test quiz I asked you to ask your professor for?”
He nodded and leaned over to pull a booklet out of his backpack. He handed it to me. “Does this look right?”
I flipped through it and nodded. This was last year’s English exam, and it had great sample questions he could use to practice. It would also help him know what to expect when he went into his first exam. “This is perfect. We’ll go through everything from your textbook together, and then over the next few days, I want you to complete this booklet.
Bring it back to me when we meet next week, and I’ll mark it. Then we’ll know where your areas of opportunity are.”
“Sounds good,” Luke said.
And so began the tutoring lesson. Luke’s parents didn’t cheap out. They paid me to spend three full hours with their son on Wednesday afternoons. It worked for me because I walked away from that time with a hundred and fifty dollars in my wallet. And Luke walked away in a better place than he’d been when he sat down. He was under a lot of pressure from his family to succeed, and I offered him a safe space to learn without feeling pressured or criticized. It was crucial to the learning process, and I believed that was the only reason he’d been struggling in the first place. His parents’ approach to motivation was too abrasive.
Luke was a sensitive soul. He needed someone with a warm energy to help him.
I guessed that was me.
After the three hours, Luke handed me my cash and thanked me for my time. I reminded him that he had my number if he got really stuck on any of the questions in the booklet. He could call or text me any time, or just send me a picture of what was stumping him and I would get back to him as soon as I could.
When he left, I checked my watch. I still had about an hour to kill before I had to be at the restaurant.
So, I opened the web browser on the computer and typed in “The Casanova Club”.
I’d been thinking about the elite dating service since the words left Janie’s lips last night. I was more than a little curious.
And it wasn’t because of the chance to date twelve ridiculously wealthy and attractive men. It was the money. One million dollars would make a huge difference in my family’s life. I could save the restaurant. Save my mom and dad from potentially losing their house if things continued to go the way they were going now. Pay for my schooling. Help my brother get on his feet and start his own life, rather than letting his dreams become the same as our mom and dad.
Nothing came up from my search. I frowned. She had called it Casanova, right? I was sure she had.
I tried a couple other keywords, but nothing popped up. I’d have to harass Janie more about it. Surely, there was some way I could get my foot in the door.
Janie had been adamant that this process was not for me. She told me the women I’d be competing with were women of high social standing who attended cocktail parties at least once a week and carried handbags worth more than my entire wardrobe. She wasn’t saying that to be mean, and it didn’t hurt my feelings. She was just trying to get me to be realistic.
I knew this was wishful thinking. I knew twelve men of this caliber would not be interested in a little nobody like me with a big ass and smaller chest who worked in a restaurant that was falling apart. Literally. Even the baseboards had come unglued from the walls over the past few months.
But I had to try. One million dollars on the line changed things. I didn’t care if I had to stand in a room full of women who likely popped breath mints that cost more than my bicycle.
I tried a few more searches on the computer for the Casanova Club. I used as many different keywords that I could think of, but nothing came back. This really was a secret and exclusive event Janie was helping Jackson Lee with.
I envied the position she was in. I had to try to convince her to give me a chance to slip my name in there somehow. Surely, there was no harm in that. Maybe one of the billionaires wanted a girl he could fix.
Women weren’t the only ones who liked project partners, right?
I packed my school bag back up, slung it over my shoulder, and left campus to head to the restaurant. I rode the bus, which took me about half an hour, and got off at the stop three blocks up the street from the restaurant.
When I got inside, the warmth welcomed me. I rubbed my arms as I made my way to the back room to drop off my things and get my apron.
My father was sitting at his desk when I opened the door. He looked up and peered over the top of his glasses. “Hey there, kiddo.” He smiled. Kiddo was still my nickname, even though I was twenty-one years old. I guessed us kids never grew out of the pet names our parents bestowed upon us when we were just learning to walk and talk. I didn’t mind.
“Hey, Dad, how are you?” I asked, giving him a one-armed hug as I let my bag crash to the floor. Textbooks were heavy.
“Good. Good. You know how it is. Getting some bookkeeping done. Your mother is in the kitchen. She put aside a plate for you if you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” I said.
“Go on. I’ll finish up here.”
I left the office and went down the hall to slip into the kitchen. My mother was kneading dough, no doubt preparing some pastries for the morning, and my brother was sliding a rack of dishes under the industrial dishwasher. He pulled the lever on the side, and the stainless-steel hood closed over the dishes like a giant mouth, swallowing them up to get them all sparkling clean again.
“Hey, Piper,” Phillip said, wiping his wet hands on his apron.
My mother looked up and smiled at me. She had flour on her hands and cheeks, and she blew a strand of curly blonde hair off her face. Traces of gray were starting to appear, muting the strands that had once been bright and gold. “Hello, sweetheart. How did your exam go?”
“Good,” I said. “It feels good to have the semester over with. How was today?”
My mother exchanged a look with Phillip, who frowned and said, “We haven’t had a customer since Tony came in for his morning coffee and scone at nine o’clock.”
Fuck. “Really?”
My mother nodded and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It looked more like a grimace to me. “Don’t you two worry about it. Things will turn around. We’re entering the Christmas season now. That’s when it will pick up. Last year, the holidays helped us break even.”
“Breaking even isn’t enough, Mom,” I said as gently as I could. “Not after twenty-five years.”
“It will all work out, Piper.”
“But Mom—”
My mother held up her hand. “Not now. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know how you feel. How we all feel. I just… I can’t talk about it. I have to get these scones made for tomorrow morning, and there’s still next week’s orders to put through. I’m just so tired.”
I sighed. “I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”
We spent the rest of the evening tidying up. I helped my mom with the order and then my dad with the garbage. Phillip put all the chairs up at the end of the night and swept and mopped the floors. I made sure all our front of the restaurant products, like coffee, condiments, ice, soda, and tap drinks were all fully stocked. There was no sense in it of course. Nobody was coming tomorrow, except for Tony if we were lucky. And his order came to $3.95.
Pennies.
Not nearly enough to support our daily operations cost.
My parents were drowning, and their method of coping was burying their heads in the sand. They needed help.
I had to apply more pressure on Janie. I was going to talk her ear off about this whole Casanova Club charade until she broke and at least tried to find a way to get me involved. What did I have to lose that I hadn’t already lost?
Not a damn thing.
I would do whatever it took to save my parents from going down with this ship. Even if that meant I had to spend a year dating twelve different men.
I was used to hustling and sacrifice. At some point, all this hard work had to pay off, right? All I needed was an opportunity, a chance to break through the reality that kept me on this side of the tracks and the wealthy on the other side.
I finished my shift at the restaurant and walked home. By the time I stepped through the door, it was eleven o’clock. Janie’s light was on in her bedroom, and I imagined she was either reading one of her current romance books or she was up late doing some last-minute work for Jackson. Either way, her door was closed, and I wasn’t going to disrupt her.
I would pester her tomorrow.
And every day after until she finally gave in and th
rew my name into the mix.
In the meantime, I had other things to worry about, like my order of three knitted scarves due in the next twenty-four hours. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and locked myself in my closet-sized bedroom to take up my knitting needles and purple yarn.
The scarves weren’t going to make themselves. I could sleep when I was dead.
Chapter 3
Joshua
Snow clung to my black wool coat which I drew tighter around my throat and chin as I walked up the freshly salted path from the sidewalk to the front door of the restaurant. I let myself in and shook the snow out of my hair and from my shoulders. As I shrugged out of my coat, the maître d’, a young man in a white shirt, black vest, and black pants, greeted me.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Curtis.”
“Bonjour.” I nodded as he held out a hand to take my coat. I continued messing up my hair, which had grown damp as the snow settled down to the roots, while the maître d’ hung my coat on the brick wall behind his counter.
“Suis ma,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him.
I fell into step behind the young man as he escorted me out of the dimly lit foyer and under a rounded archway into the rest of the old restaurant beneath the Chateau Frontenac. The walls were either brick or stone, and the space was akin to what one might expect in a wine cellar of a prestigious home.
My family was crowded around a table in the private room of the restaurant. When I entered, my mother spotted me, rose from her seat with a grace possessed only by French Canadian women, and glided toward me, her black ensemble flowing around her. “Joshua,” she said as a smile stretched her lips.
“Mom.” I smiled, wrapping my arms around her in a hug. She kissed both of my cheeks as my father rose from the table as well. He was dressed in a light gray suit which he’d already unbuttoned.
My mother held me about a foot away with her hands on my shoulders. “You look good. Très bien.”
“Thank you.”
