by Ashley Beale
I get out of bed to make my way towards the door. The knock sounds again as I'm approaching it.
Peeking through the hole, I notice it's my newest neighbor. He figured out which apartment was mine after all, which is a little creepy. Even if I know that our names are all listed in the entry way of the building. I should have lied about my name, but I felt I owed it to him at the bar when he was simply trying to be friendly and honest.
Not exactly caring that I'm in a thin silk nightgown, hardly covering my parts up, I open the door. Placing my hand on my hip, I cork a brow and give him a questioning look. "Yes?"
His jaw starts to tremble before he speaks. His eyes focus far too much on my face. I can sense him wanting to check my body out- just like he has the other times I've seen him. Apparently our conversation in the bar earlier taught him to treat me like a friend and with respect, since that is all he claims he wants from me.
Even though that is clearly a lie. It'll be fun teasing him when I can.
"I just... I, um... was seeing if you were busy?" He clears his voice, while trying to stand a little taller. His shoulders broaden while his chest pushes out. You'd think we were in some kind of old battle where he has to show off his manly tendencies, rather than in my doorway asking to hang out.
It almost makes me chuckle to see him look so exasperated over what I'm wearing. I guess it'd be different if I were actually wearing a bra, not that I have much to show off in that department, I'm barely a B cup. I guess it looks bigger for the sake that my stomach is tiny.
"Yeah," I tell him. "Is that all?"
His brows crinkle in confusion. "You're busy?" He peaks behind me but most of my lights are off. My bedroom light however shines bright. He nods his head in acceptance before looking at me again. "That guy from the bar? Gotcha."
I should let him believe that I have some dude in here, but I find myself being slightly offended. "No, we're old friends that were catching up. Snuggles and I are just watching a movie. Why, what were your plans?"
I should've just shut up, because now I'm basically inviting him to ask me to hang out or something. My mouth tends to speak before my brain can tell it to keep shut.
Everett's grin spreads across his face. He doesn't hold back his excitement. I really do hope he understands that this is it. This friend thing or whatever. Nothing more- ever. I can't risk it with anyone, no matter if I find them attractive or not.
"I know this is a little last minute but I won tickets to a concert at Bayfront Stadium. And you're literally my only friend right now. Didn't know if you wanted to join me?"
"I didn't realize they held concerts there."
"I guess it's some local band that recently got signed. I won the tickets at the bar. I don't know much, except that the tickets are pretty sweet, and that it starts in less than forty minutes."
With a sigh I think about it. It couldn't hurt getting out of the house for one night, even if it's with a male I don't actually know. It's better than dinner somewhere, and since the stadium is only three miles from where I live, I can leave at any time. I open the door wider and let Everett in. "Sure, let me go get dressed first."
He clears his throat when he says, "No problem." I can only imagine he watches me as I walk towards the bedroom, but I don't give him the satisfaction of turning around.
The clock reads that it's already past ten. At least it's still warm and a bit humid out. The concert must start at eleven, which is a lot later than I'd recommend for a night out, but I'm young and should appreciate that I can stay up all night without regretting it the following day. I grab a pair of jeans, since it'll probably cool off, and once I have my bra set in place, I pull over an old Aerosmith tee-shirt. I have no idea what kind of concert this is, but it's the only tee-shirt I own with a band on it. Once I grab a sweatshirt out of the closet, I meet Everett back in my living room.
He is holding the one picture I have in my entire apartment- an old picture of my mom and I from when I was six- and it in no way impresses me that he feels the need to take it from its place on the mantle to examine it.
It used to stay in my room until the nightmares ate me alive, so now it stays placed on my mantle in the living room where I had assumed no one would touch it. It's the only thing I have of her- of my past before being fostered.
"Is this your mom?" he asks, showing me the photo.
I turn my head towards the kitchen, where I start walking to grab a water out of the fridge. "Yeah," I answer. "You ready?"
"Yeah, uh, let's go."
Everett drives a lifted white GMC Sierra. It doesn't fit in with the community here, and it's certainly nothing I'm used to riding in. Enormous trucks and the dresses I tend to wear don't exactly mix. I guess it's a good thing I'm wearing jeans and sandals tonight. When he cranks the truck, country music comes over the radio and I hastily glare in his direction.
"Are we going to a blue grass concert?"
He chuckles as he turns down the radio. "I have no idea what it is, actually. We can leave if one of us doesn't like it though. I take it you're not a country girl though?"
"Do I look it?"
His eyes roam my body once more, this time without arousal, but certainly with an appreciation. "No. Not at all."
"Good," I say blatantly.
When I was younger- old enough to remember, but the memories definitely vague- my dad used to bring me to my grandparent's farm, up until they passed away. I loved the tall grass in the fields, feeding the animals, and oddly enough, I even enjoyed the smell of cow manure being spread across the acres of land. When everything happened with my parents, I decided that I wanted nothing to do with my past. Not ever. Which in return means country living- including the music- is something entirely of the past. I won't allow those memories to resurface, even if they were good ones at the time.
The ride over to the concert ends up being a silent one after that, but not uncomfortably so. It's a short drive so it didn't exactly matter if the music was on or not. The parking lot at the stadium isn't even half full of vehicles, and most everyone piling out of their vehicles has to be younger than me.
I glance over to Everett with a dubious look. He grins in return, probably hopeful this will turn out better than it's started. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
Opening the door, I realize that I have to literally jump from the truck. With an audible grunt, I hop down to the gravel beneath me. Everett snickers when he rounds the corner. He reaches around to shut the door for me. "Sorry about that."
"I'm fine," I quickly reply.
As we get closer to the gate, you can hear them doing a sound check. It isn't as amplified as I expected it to be, but then again, it's obviously not anyone too famous. Everett hands the ticket collector our tickets and she tells us to have a good evening in return.
Being pit tickets we don't get seats, instead we have to stand near the stage with at least fifty other people. It's not overly crowded, not like I had expected it to be.
"Want a drink?" Everett asks loudly in my ear.
"Sure," I yell back.
He walks away without asking what I want, leaving me alone in a crowd of strangers. The music silences after a moment and the lights on the stage go dark. Soon a red light beams center stage, as a loud explosion echoes from one of the speakers. Different lights illuminate over the stage, going along with the pattern of the music. Two men with guitars strapped over their bare shoulders walk onto stage, as another joins in behind a drum set.
They walk up the microphones placed at the front of the stage and look out over crowd. "Who here is ready to fucking party?" One screams.
The crowd goes wild. I clap, because frankly, I don't know what else to do. It's sort of thrilling being this close to the stage- I've never even been to a concert before.
An elbow bumps me and I look over to see Everett smiling at my clapping hands. It's become too loud to communicate with one another, so I take the beer he offers and smile with gratitude. Returning my atten
tion to the stage, I realize they are in fact a wannabe rock band. I don't mind the music they start to play, even if the air around me starts to instantly have a skunk-like smell... which means we're surrounded by people openly smoking pot.
I don't smoke, but I've tried it. It was an easy escape when I was in foster care- that and getting drunk. It was when I found my love of being pleasured by sex that I decided drugs weren't my specialty... getting fucked was. After all, we're all addicted to something that takes away the pain.
I'm actually glad Everett doesn't have a joint or anything on him. He hasn't even tried for a cigarette. Not that it matters a whole hell of a lot to me what he does or doesn't do, but since he wants to be a friend, it's nice to know he isn't going to reek of that stuff. To me it just ruins people.
By the end of the concert my feet feel worn and my body is exhausted. Although I actually enjoyed most of the music they played tonight, I'm glad when it's over. As the crowd starts to clear around us, Everett grabs onto my hand. I start to pull from him, being an automatic reaction, but he leans over and loudly whispers, "I don't want us getting separated."
There is only one exit, and I know where his truck is, but it's the thought that counts. I allow him to hold onto my hand but it takes effort on my part. Sex is one thing- it's when you cross the line to holding hands or kissing that things become unnerving. I honestly cannot remember the last time I held someone's hand before, even if it were just a friends. I can be certain it was before I dropped out of high school though.
I would assume it was with my last boyfriend. I was fifteen at the time.
When Everett's truck is in view I can't help but pull my grasp from his. He doesn't say anything, instead he reaches into his pocket to pull out his keys. I'm surprised when he opens the door for me, but when I'm climbing up, I immediately realize it's probably because he can get a nice view of my ass as I climb up to the seat.
He waits until I'm situated in my seat before he slams the door closed and makes his way over to his side. Once he brings the engine to life, he glances over in my direction. It's going to be a few minutes before we can leave the parking lot, due to all the other vehicles already lined up at the entrance. I think somehow he enjoys that idea. "So... what did you think?" he asks.
"I actually enjoyed myself. Thanks for inviting me."
"Yeah, wasn't too bad." He turns the wheel and heads to line up behind the other vehicles. "So what kind of music do you enjoy?"
"I guess it depends on my mood. I don't think I could choose just one thing to listen to."
"Yeah, I like change as well."
"Is that why you moved here?"
Everett's body immediately stiffens but he tries not to show it. Relaxing his body into the seat, he looks anywhere but in my direction. Red flags go up and I remind myself that I need to keep a distance from him. It's obvious we both have dark secrets we don't want the other knowing about, so the less time spent together, the better on the two of us it is.
After a few seconds he responds with, "For my job."
It's not until he pulls out onto the main road that I speak again. "What do you do for work?" It's the absolute worst question I could ask, because it usually turns around on me. I get asked what I do, and although I'm a great liar, I know I'll feel a morsel of guilt telling Everett anything but what I actually do.
"Marketing director."
I stare at him, thinking there is no possible way that is true. He is unmistakably from some back road in the country, due to his style of clothing and his pickup truck. Although he has the money for a condo in my building and a newer model vehicle, the idea of him being a marketing director just seems improbable.
I don't say as much though, in fact, I don't question things at all. If that is what he does, good for him, and if it's not, it's not my business. "Sounds... fun," I lie.
He chuckles at my unenthusiastic response. "Yeah, sure. It's a job. It pays the bills. What do you do?"
Luckily he asks the same time he parks the truck outside our complex. I pull out my cellphone to distract myself from his question. There is a message from Kandy displayed on my phone.
Winston is offering double the price for tomorrow night.
A tingle hidden deep inside my stomach causes my face to become hot. It's not often I find a client that I'm actually excited to meet with. Not that I find any attraction to him, it's purely about pleasure. I have to respond and tell her no though, no matter how much it throbs between my legs for another release like today, it's simply against my policy. I already told Winston that.
Wish I could, sorry.
The truck dings when Everett opens his door. I slide my phone back into my purse and open my door as well, jumping out.
When we both walk through the entrance of our complex, I thank Everett once more and start my way towards the main elevator. I hope he doesn't think it was a date, because there is absolutely no way I'm allowing him to give me a kiss goodnight.
Waiting for the elevator door to open, Everett walks over and leans against the wall, staring at me vigilantly. "Does this mean we get to hang out again?"
"Friends hang out," I tell him, reminding him of the word friends. "So yeah. I suppose we could." Even if in my head I'm telling myself it's stupid to allow him into my life too much. It wouldn't be good for either of us to get too close, even if things stay exactly how they are.
"Good," he replies with a hopeful smile. I have to admit when he flashes his teeth at me, there is something charismatic about him. "Have a good night, Brenna."
"Yeah... um... night, Everett."
The door opens and I slide into the elevator before he can say anything more. I don't find relief until the door slides shut. I'm not sure if I'm making a mistake or not, but I have an unsettling feeling buried inside my gut. Things are going to get messy if I don't keep my guard up.
Chapter Six
Everett
I walk into Kandy's office, which is covered in more animal print than a taxidermy's office. It's accented with bright hues of pink, purple and other neon colors. Avoiding the barbaric appearance of her office, I sit down and watch as Kandy types away on her computer.
The woman herself is also wild. Younger than I imagined by the details of her record, but she certainly doesn't dress her age. Instead she's in a dress that I'd imagine a teenager to wear with hair piled on top of her head. Her glasses have zebra stripes on them, the same as her notebook, pen, and other surrounding items.
"Michael Ranson," she states out loud. It's the undercover name I've been given for the case.
"That's correct."
"Please confirm your date of birth then."
We go over a few random details that she already has but apparently has to confirm. She did just have her client list taken from her, so I'm sure she's taking extra precautions with everything, which is why I've done overtime studying my folder. I don't want to mess up even one single detail of this investigation, especially knowing how much I need to prove myself to Chief O'Riley.
Once she seems content, she allows the glasses to slide down to the bridge of her nose as she peeks over the rims at me. "Perfect," she states. Her smile a bit flirtatious. "Now, I have a small questionnaire for you to fill out. When you're done with that, I'll match you with one of my phenomenal ladies I'm sure will satisfy you like no other." Her voice drags out in an attempt to be seductive. She knows what she is doing in the terms of pimping out other females.
Picking up the questionnaire, I have to keep a straight face at the questions asked. Do I like anal play? Am I into bondage? Will toys to be used on me? What fetishes I may have? There are so many perplexed questions that if this were actually for me, I'd immediately walk away right now. I do, for the most part, answer them the way I would if it were me whom was seeking an expensive bedmate.
When I'm finished, I hand them back to Kandy. She smiles joyously at me while going over the answers, writing little remarks next to them. My face warms at the thought of her judging me, wh
ich is absurd. I'm a pretty basic guy, I enjoy some kinky things in bed, but nothing to those extremes. I know people walk in and mark off a good portion of those questions, so I shouldn't feel ashamed right now. Especially since I'm not actually renting a whore.
"I think I have the girl just for you!" Her enthusiasm rubs me the wrong way. It's like a dating service, except there are no fancy dinners or fun activities. It's straight to a dingy hotel room with an overused vagina. "Her name is Chasity. She's twenty, but don't let her age fool you. She's been in the business quite some time. Her preferences match almost perfectly to yours. She's also one of the best I have, which means her schedule is busier than the other ladies. Once I finish your background check and everything goes accordingly, I could have you two meet up in just three weeks. How does that sound?"
"Is there anyone else that I could get with sooner?" I hate sounding so fucking desperate, but it's an investigation. I have to get things moving. My assigned reasoning is that I'm recently single after nine years of a relationship, and that I'm desperately lonely. I want someone more for companionship rather than for the sex, but in time I want to move into the intercourse phase. It wasn't exactly easy to talk about, but I think it also played into my favor. She never once questioned my motives, but instead was a listening ear.
She doesn't hide her disappointment with my request but doesn't say as much. "Oh sure, there is also Mona. She isn't quite as vanilla as you, but my ladies always make sure your pleasure comes first... pun intended." She winks, finding amusement in her play on words. "Looking over her schedule, you could probably meet up with her at the end of next week."
"I'll take it," I tell her.
She marks it down on a piece of paper, then again on a calendar she has in front of her, all in code words. She is smart about many things I've noticed. I do my best at not over analyzing the things she does because I know it'll all take time, but I make mental notes of certain things that are easier to pick up on.
