by J Q Anderson
The minutes drag and I resent the fact that instead of enjoying this trip I am dreading it. My mind drifts to the shop and it is tough to stay connected with what used to be my full time occupation. At the dinners, people talk about things I could care less about and I wonder how I ever found any of this remotely entertaining. The conversations are shallow and staged.
I make it through the first two dinners and by the time the third event comes I’m ready to walk away from Rachel the same way I did with Tamara. Come to think of it, I haven’t talked to Tamara since. I wonder if she’s already made Ryan my replacement. This would normally bother me, but at the moment all that occupies my mind is how I can get out of this trip with Rachel and go back home. To her. You’re slipping, Jake. The realization that my thoughts are not only on the shop, but on Natalia is sobering. I can’t let that happen.
I don’t want to end up like my father.
An image of him broken and lost after my mother left barges in my mind and the uneasiness in my chest churns like a giant meteorite.
Fuck, Jake. Keep this up and Natalia will walk away, too.
I push the uneasiness back to the dark place where it rose from and I resolve to follow through with my work commitments. My conscience can fuck off.
But as the weekend progresses the sense of dread I feel expands. Even sex with Rachel leaves me empty and for the first time since I started working as an escort I feel like a whore. Every guy I know would give up his left nut to fuck Rachel. So what the hell do I have to complain about. Maybe it’s time for retirement.
Rachel wants to book our next trip together and I tell her I will call her during the week. None of my clients know about my shop, or any other detail of my personal life, so I keep my explanations vague.
As I fly home in my first class seat, I am convinced that at the very least I need to take a break. After what happened with Tamara and almost again with Rachel, I should step away from my activities as an escort, or I will burn a lot of bridges. Deep down I know a break is not a smart option if I decide I don’t want to retire. My clients will find my replacement and I am not willing to start over.
I run over the many possibilities in my head over and over and by the time I land I have made my decision to retire. The store had an incredible start and even though I know sales will wind down after the novelty fades, I am in no need of an additional income.
When I land I ask Pete to meet me for a quick drink so I can share the news. He congratulates me.
“About time. You’re too old, Jake,” he says, laughing it off. He’s not all wrong. Even though I am barely over thirty, the demand for a young ass is peaking among the forty year old clientele I cater to.
I resolve not to tell Natalia yet. I don’t want her to think I am ready to jump into another kind of relationship. I don’t want to be with other women, but I need to hold on to my independence. I tell Pete to keep his mouth shut and not tell Sydney, since she and Natalia are quickly becoming good friends. He tells me I’m an asshole for keeping this from her, but agrees not to tell Syd, although he says it would make Syd happy to know I’ve left that lifestyle. Like Natalia, she’s always hoped I would choose to do something else with my life.
The next few days I see Natalia almost every night. I let my clients know about my decision to retire and put them in touch with Ryan. Tamara and I have a long conversation. She was my first client and in great measure is responsible for my successful career as an escort. She’s been a great source of connections and even though things never got personal between us, I feel a deep sense of appreciation for her. Careful, Jake. That’s almost a feeling.
A few texts from my other clients come through during the week, some when Natalia and I are together. She knows I get messages from other women and doesn’t say anything, but every one of those times I can see a clear change in her expression. Sometimes she simply gets up and leaves the room. Afterwards we either get into an argument over something stupid, or one of us makes up an excuse and goes home. I am glad I haven’t told her about my retirement. She’s getting a bit too possessive and it’s starting to piss me off.
Thursday I pick her up form work. I’m waiting outside on a bench and she eventually walks out, talking to a guy in a chef’s coat. He looks like he’s in his early thirties and smiles widely at her as she places a hand on his arm. He’s listening to whatever she’s telling him, standing a bit too fucking close for a coworker. She kisses his cheek and I close my hand into a fist as ire runs down my spine. Natalia turns in my direction and waves at me when she sees me. I nod back and stand up, keeping my eyes trained on that fucker as he gingerly walks away.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.” She stands on her toes and kisses me.
“Clearly,” I mutter.
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
I nod in the direction of the guy. “Making lots of new friends at work?”
She lets out an amused chuckle. “Excuse me?”
“Who was that?”
“Who was who?”
I raise an eyebrow. She does the same.
“Really, Jake?”
I press my mouth in a grim line. She has a point. I can’t claim stake without promising anything in return. For the first time our agreement bites me in the ass. I run a hand through my hair to shake off my ridiculous sense of territory. I realize this is probably how she feels whenever my phone rings and it’s a client. I have no right to feel this way, but the familiarity of her interaction with that prick still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Do we have plans?” She says, and I am glad for the change of subject.
“Yeah. Pete and Syd’s house for dinner.”
“Really?” Her face lights up and I can’t help the smile it brings to mine. “Syd didn’t say anything to me last night.”
I shrug. “I think it was last minute.”
I don’t say much as I drive us back to her apartment. I wait for her to shower and dress, looking through the window at the approaching storm tinting the sky gray. The whole time the only image occupying my mind is her reaching up and kissing that fucker goodbye.
Chapter 27: Natalia
I help Sydney with the last dinner preparations while the guys get the barbecue ready and have drinks outside. Jake has been brooding ever since he picked me up from work. I tell Sydney about the way he reacted at me walking out with Charlie.
“Natalia, if I were you I wouldn’t even acknowledge it. He has no right to throw a fit.”
“I know.” I look down at the veggies I’m chopping. “I have to put up with all those women calling him. I wish he knew how much that hurts. I can’t even think about it, even after all this time.”
“Have you told him that?”
“No, Syd. I have no leg to stand on. Jake has never lied to me. He’s always been straightforward about what he does. Besides if I bring it up, he’ll run.”
“Natalia. If you want a future with Jake, you both have to get through this hurdle. You need to tell him how you feel and he needs to fucking get over his perpetual panic of commitment.”
“I just wish I understood why a normal relationship freaks him out so much.”
“Look, I’ve known Jake for a long time. He’s always been that way. But it’s no excuse.” She pours me a glass of wine and switches to a lighter conversation about the latest happenings at the club. I am relieved with the change of subject and finish my wine. She refills my glass, then picks up her baby from her bouncy seat and slips her into the highchair to feed her.
“May I?” I ask, gesturing to the bowl and spoon she’s holding. Syd smiles and hands them to me.
I feed baby Mia while she smiles and tries to grab the spoon. Syd scoops chopped mango on the tray of her chair and Mia squishes it as she brings it to her mouth with a grin. She doesn’t want any more of the vegetables I am feeding her, but when I pretend the spoon is an airplane she’s engaged again and finishes the whole thing.
“You are a pro, Natalia,” Sydney say
s. “You are invited for dinner every night until Mia turns eighteen.”
Jake walks in and his eyes lock on me as I am wiping Mia’s face and kiss her little hands. His expression stills for a moment and when our eyes meet his are guarded. Whatever his problem is tonight, I don’t want any of it. I am tired from the long weekend at work while Jake was away who knows where with who knows who. I shake off the bitter thought and, ignoring Jake, get up to finish setting the table.
Dinner with Syd and Pete rolls into the late hours. Jake and I really enjoy spending time with them and it often diffuses the tension between us. They are also my only friends in San Diego aside from the few people I met at work. I like that Sydney knows Jake well and that there is a lot about him I don’t have to explain to her.
Jake and Pete walk to the car as they finish their conversation. Syd hugs me at the door, lingering a bit longer than usual.
“Be patient with him. He will come around. He’s just as stubborn as a goat. But I know you are special to him, Natalia.”
I hug her again in response. When I look at Jake over her shoulder he is watching us intently with that same guarded expression from before. What the hell is his problem?
The ride in the car is quiet. I’m beat. I have the day off tomorrow and am looking forward to sleeping in.
“What was going on between you and Sydney?” Jake says as he pulls into traffic.
“Nothing. Why?”
“When she hugged you goodbye you looked… I don’t know. Upset.”
I shake my head. “I’m not upset, Jake.” I am too tired to get into an argument and honestly, even more tired to put up with whatever his reasons are to be so moody. I wish I had my own car. Jake lives in Cardiff near Syd and Pete, but has to drive across town to take me home. On nights like today, I don’t want any favors from him.
“I’m going to rent a car,” I mutter.
Jake frowns. “Why?”
“I don’t want to depend on you for every place I have to go to. It’s not fair.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Still. It will give me more independence. Especially on the days when you are away.”
He stays quiet for a long pause, his eyes lost on the road.
“I won’t be traveling for a while. You don’t need to rent a car.”
This gets my attention. Is he cutting his hours at his other job? Even after all this time I still can’t call it what it is. An escort, Natalia. Fancy word for whore. I am dying to ask him what’s changed. He’s been in a bad mood since he came back.
“Jake, is everything okay?”
“Yes,” he answers almost immediately. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
I shrug. “You are in a strange mood tonight.”
He eyes me speculatively and runs a hand through his hair.
“I’ve just got a lot of shit in my mind, it’s all.” He doesn’t explain further and I know better than to ask. These conversations between us always end in an argument about unreasonable expectations.
He drops me off at home and kisses me briefly at the door. I don’t invite him to stay over and he doesn’t ask. I think we both need space tonight.
The next two days I am off, but Jake is teaching a water polo clinic at Pete’s club, so I don’t see him. I spend my time visiting kitchen emporiums with two girls from work. We stock up on utensils and other tools we often use in the kitchen. I spend a large amount of my salary, but I am glad with my new purchases. These are all things that will last me for years.
Pierre, the Executive Chef, selects me from within the interns to assist him in plating entrees. This is great because I get to stay in the kitchen as an apprentice and it temporarily excuses me from the next rotations on my schedule. I work my ass off so he keeps me here and I don’t have to get anywhere around the pool.
Chef Pierre has been great to me and has become my mentor. He loves learning about Argentina and my training at the culinary academy. As the week ends, my prayers get answered and he asks me what rotations I have left at the hotel. I tell him I have completed everything except the pool and, when I confess to him that I am afraid of swimming, he tells the management he needs me in the kitchen and next thing I know I’m exempt. I almost hug him.
As the days advance Chef Pierre adds more tasks to my schedule. I accept them gladly, eager to learn as much as I can. My ultimate dream is to work with Chef Pierre on his pastries. He’s the best in the city and the main reason why I wanted to do the internship at this hotel. The rest of the interns seem a bit put-off by the favoritism. But in my defense, I never complain about the long hours or the monotonous work he throws my way.
I stay after hours so Chef Pierre can train me in-between shifts. There is not much time for mistakes during the rush hours, so I use every minute he gives me. All my energy is focused on work. I don’t see much of Jake that week except for dinner on Sunday night. We are both tired and he spends the night at my apartment, so we can at least fall asleep together.
The weeks that follow are busy. Jake is working full time at Double Post and I am finally getting bits of pastry training from Chef Pierre.
The hotel will soon offer one of the interns a permanent position in the staff. I have a good chance, I think, but so does Charlie. He and I have become good friends. If someone can take this dream from me it is Charlie. He comes from San Francisco and his training at the Culinary Academy has prepared him well.
Charlie and I are in constant competition. We challenge each other and I work harder than ever just to see the look of respect he gives me when I do something that impresses him. To me, Charlie’s opinion matters as much as Pierre’s.
Jake doesn’t like Charlie. He hasn’t come out and said that, because that would mean Jake has to own up to an actual feeling, but he’s always in a bad mood if I walk out of work with Charlie. On those nights, he stays quiet and most likely spends the night as his place in sulky protest.
As the weeks advance, Jake is getting the hang of managing the shop and I start getting more normal hours. The girls I met at the internship constantly ask me to go out with them, but I’m always with Jake. At work, people tease me about my imaginary boyfriend. Charlie has seen Jake a few times and vouches for my sanity. I have told Charlie vaguely about my relationship with Jake. It’s hard not to talk about personal stuff when we spend so much time together at work. Charlie and I usually take our breaks together and spend a long time talking. He had a girlfriend, but they broke up because she said he didn’t have enough time off.
“It’s better this way,” Charlie says, taking a bite of his sandwich. We are taking our lunch break on a bench outside with a breathtaking view of the ocean.
“Did you love her?”
“I don’t know.” Charlie shrugs. “What about you, Nat? You in love?” he teases me.
I nod. “I think so, but if I told him he would freak.”
“You haven’t told him?”
“No. I don’t know. After Marc I didn’t want to make any plans with anyone. I just wasn’t ready.”
“Then don’t make plans with anyone. But don’t settle.”
I look up at him. Charlie doesn’t beat around the bush. You always know exactly where he stands. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at his job. He never hesitates when it comes to making a decision.
“Do you think I am a linguini-spine, door-mat, or whatever else you guys call people that cannot put their foot down?”
Charlie laughs. “No. But once you figure out what you want, don’t wait around for this guy to bring it to you. The way I see it, you either go for it, or are better off alone.”
“Jesus, Charlie. Way to put the bullet between the eyes.”
He winks at me, then scrunches up his trash and stands up. “Let’s go.”
Charlie’s words simmer in the back of my mind all day. The following night I invite Jake for dinner at my place after he closes Double Post. Jake loves it when I cook for him, which I don’t get to do a lot due to our miss-matched schedules. For toni
ght I rolled home made pasta and sautéed scallops in a white wine sauce. I am finishing the Alfajores for dessert as Jake walks in.
“Whatever that is, it smells amazing.” He smiles and saunters toward me, then hugs me from behind and kisses my neck. I am rolling the Dulce de Leche filled cookie sandwiches onto shredded coconut and both my hands are busy. His lips tickle my neck and I shiver.
“What are those?” he says over my shoulder. I love Jake’s enthusiasm when it comes to food. He’s always appreciative of whatever I make for him and acts as if it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever tasted. I explain that the cookies are an Argentinean staple and describe how I made them. He wants to try one and when I feed it to him he closes his eyes.
“Hmmm,” he moans in appreciation, then pulls me into his arms and kisses me. I can taste the sweetness in his mouth. “I am the luckiest bastard on earth.”
I smile, because he always says that.
We eat dinner on the floor, propped against the couch. Jake says he loves everything and we take turns feeding each other bites. When we are done, he refills our wine glasses and sits the plate with pastries between us. He closes his eyes every time he eats one and it makes me smile.
“You have to make me these for my birthday, babe. I don’t even want a cake. I just want a box full of these.”
“I love that you like my food, Jake.” I grin.
“I never had a woman cook for me before.” He pops another cookie in his mouth. I frown.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He nods and takes a sip of wine. He looks uncomfortable.
“Your mom didn’t cook?”
He stills, then takes another sip of wine. I have never asked Jake about his mom and whenever he talks about his family he never mentions her. “No,” he mutters, then puts his wine down and pulls me onto his lap to kiss me. “Thank you, babe. This was amazing.”
