The Escort

by Laura Marie Altom

“Did you tell Mitsy that?”

  “No.”

  “So how did you avoid giving a paying client what she’d paid for?”

  Nathan hung his head. “Sometimes I let her get drunk enough to pass out. Other times, I talked to her about her husband, reminding her how much she loved him, and how she didn’t really want to be with me.”

  “When was your last meeting with her?”

  “Last night.”

  Garrett wrote faster. “And the time before that?”

  “Phoenix.” My fiancé looked me square in the eyes for this next part. “Uma already had me by the balls at this point, threatening to hurt me or Carol or even her little girl. I had to do what Uma said. There was no way I’d risk Carol being hurt.”

  “You went to Phoenix?” I’d fallen back to shrieking. “Are you kidding me? Was this during one of your supposed double shifts?”

  He nodded. “When I got back, Uma had her goon squad beat the shit out of me for not showing Mitsy a complete good time, if you know what I mean.”

  “Just so we’re clear…” Garrett consulted his notes. “Your employer—Uma Rosemont—delivered bodily harm to you for not sexually satisfying Mrs. Bartholomew-James?”

  “Yes.”

  My mind’s eye went to the afternoon when I’d found Nathan not breathing. I’d been so afraid he would die. I remembered how his face had remained unharmed. This version of his story made far more sense than when he’d told me a few guys from work beat him for the hell of it. All the more confused by his claim to have continued his work with Uma to protect me, my anger softened, but not by much. “How many times did I beg you to tell me the truth, Nathan? If you’d told me back then what was going on, Uma would be in trouble—not you.”

  “You say that, but you didn’t know what they were capable of doing. That night you put on the little peep show in your bathroom window, did you know that wasn’t me you were dancing for, but Uma or her guys, or both? They had the condo and our phones bugged—hell, they still do. Every move I made, they watched. I was scared shitless that if I made one wrong move, they’d hurt you. When Uma told me all I had to do to be free of her was see Mitsy one last time, I jumped at the chance. She even gave me a fifty-grand bonus and let me keep the Bentley.”

  “Fool!” I shouted. “How could you be so stupid? Is that how you paid for my ring?” I twisted off the offensive chunk of rock and metal. I no longer wanted it. It was tainted and burned my skin. I threw it at him, but missed. It bounced off the table and hit his cheekbone, drawing blood.

  “Carol,” Garrett warned, “it’s going to be a long night. How about you have Liam and Ella take you to their place. Cops have the search warrant for your condo, and I haven’t gotten word as to when they’ll turn it over.”

  I’d worked so hard for my own private sanctum. That condo was the one place where I felt safe. Now, it felt just as dirty as my ring, as my heart, as the love I’d once felt for this accused murderer.

  —

  Liam and Ella whisked me to their Palo Alto castle in the helicopter.

  I’d told them all that I’d learned in the interrogation room.

  My throat felt swollen from the need to cry, but no tears would come. How could I have been so blind? No—I hadn’t been blind, but stupid. Refusing to see the truth staring me in the face.

  Nathan told me he quit working escort jobs, but he never had.

  On some level, I understood that he’d been trying to protect me, but that wasn’t enough to get past the mountain of lies. He’d lied about everything. Not just where he’d been, but who he’d been with and the nonexistent jobs he’d applied for and the fact that he still had Uma’s dirty, very pricey car.

  Had his love and promises of forever also been a lie?

  Simple logic told me they had to be.

  While Liam flew the craft with his instructor in the seat alongside him, Ella sat beside me during the brief hop to their home. She held my hand, and I welcomed her comfort.

  Liam landed without fanfare, and while he stayed outside with the pilot, Ella showed me to a guest suite that was larger than my condo.

  “Stay here for as long as you want,” she said. “Let me pamper you until this whole ugly mess blows over.”

  “I-I can’t put you to that much trouble.” I flopped my hands at my sides, unsure about my next move. My mind had descended to a level deeper than numb. I’d become detached from my own thoughts, and my spirit floated somewhere away from my body.

  “Carol, how much trouble did I put you through around this time last year?” With her hands on her hips and her baby bump showing, she’d moved from beyond beautiful to ethereal. “In a hundred years, I could never repay you for all you’ve done. But I’m going to try.”

  I nodded, struggling against an avalanche of emotion threatening to spill.

  Murder One? I clawed at my throat that refused to give me air, and then tears fell from my eyes like a cold rain I had no control to stop.

  Ella helped me to a settee, and held me and rocked me and gave me the comfort I didn’t deserve for having been so naive.

  “Garrett will fix everything,” she assured me. “By morning, Nathan will have been released, and this will all be a bad dream. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding.”

  If only it could be that easy. But even if it was, what then? How did I forgive Nathan for the mockery he’d made of our relationship? What had been real?

  “Remember how Liam and I used to square off over every little thing? When I look back on those days, all of that pushing and pulling seems like a silly waste of time. From what you said, Nathan was trying to protect you. I know it probably doesn’t seem like it now, but given time, if what you two share is real, you’ll find a way to forgive him.”

  I failed to see how that was possible when I never wanted to see him again.

  Chapter 29

  Nathan

  I’d dozed off in the sterile interrogation room where Garrett insisted I be held until the criminal defense team he’d summoned showed. I’d told him not to bother—I couldn’t afford even an hour of Garrett’s services, let alone those of an entire team. He’d told me no one was helping me but Carol.

  Good to know where I stood in the grand scheme.

  When the detective who’d booked me showed up with fresh coffee and a dozen glazed donuts, I had no idea how long I’d been there or even if it was day or night.

  I gladly took the caffeine, but there’s no way I could have swallowed a single bite of any food.

  Garrett and three additional suits entered the room. He introduced them, but I paid no attention. I needed to get to Carol, try to explain. The only I hope I had of making her understand every lie had been told to protect her was if I got the hell out of here.

  “Mr. Black…” Detective Hyatt finished his third donut, then licked his fingers before opening a thick manila file. “For a murderer, has anyone ever told you you’re not very smart?”

  I remained silent.

  “I like to think I’m a fairly intelligent man,” Hyatt droned on, “so when I saw that your bank account went up by fifty large, then, within hours, you blew the same, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out somebody hired you to do the job, right?”

  Fuck no. I wouldn’t say a word. It was obvious to me I’d been framed, and I’d told Garrett the same, so why was this cop now pursuing an even more absurd avenue?

  As if answering my question, he slapped a plastic bag on the table. It looked as if someone had smashed a strawberry inside. Only that wasn’t quite the truth. I looked closer, to find the corkscrew I’d used to open Mitsy’s wine. The red could be nothing else but her blood.

  “I’m gonna be sick…”

  Garrett kicked a metal trash bin in my direction.

  I retched a few times, then figured I’d better get my shit together.

  Uma’s sudden kindness made perfect sense. She’d framed me for poor Mitsy’s murder. That fact was obvious to me, so why were the cops having su
ch a hard time catching on?

  “When a guy’s fingerprints are all over the murder weapon,” the cop said, “I have to ask myself, is he a fucking retard? Or just lazy? Or maybe Mrs. Bartholomew-James pissed you off to the point that you just didn’t care. What happened, Nathan? Did she forget to pay you? Then there’s the pile of jewelry we found where you’ve been shacking up with your pretty little girlfriend—oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that you bought her a ring, so I guess that makes her your fiancée.”

  I tried my damnedest to lunge across the table to strangle the guy, but my chains wouldn’t reach.

  “Mind that temper, Mr. Black. Outbursts don’t look good to juries.”

  “Fuck your jury. I didn’t do shit. I took Mitsy—Mrs. Bartholomew-James—to a party. That’s it. Before we left, I used the corkscrew to open a bottle of wine. Have you ever thought about digging a little deeper? Did you know her husband knocked up his girlfriend who’s fucking young enough to be his daughter? Mitsy refused to divorce him—she even told him the only way he’d get her out of the picture was to kill her. I don’t know why you’re wasting time on me, when it’s pretty obvious he’s your guy.”

  “Interesting you should say that, Mr. Black—especially since our grief-stricken husband claims it’s his wife who’s been having the affair—with you. He’s even got proof. Does a romantic trip to Phoenix ring any bells? Mr. Bartholomew-James was all too happy to provide photos of you with his wife at lots of different functions. You’re quite the man-about-town.”

  “I didn’t do this. If you’d do your job, you’d know. Yes, I was with her, but only for my job. I worked for Uma Rosemont, who runs an escort service. She set up everything and collected the money. All I did was show up where she wanted me to go. And for the record, I did such a crap-ass job of escorting in Phoenix that my boss had her goons beat the shit out of me, and threaten to do the same to my girl. If you want another set of viable suspects, I suggest you start with her whole organization.”

  During my impassioned speech, Garrett and my supposed wonder team stood gawking.

  Now that I’d gotten started, I couldn’t stop. “Mrs. Bartholomew-James was a sweet woman who wanted nothing more than to be loved. I’m sick that she’s gone, but even sicker about the fact that you’re wasting time with me when her real killer is still out there, no doubt sipping a Mimosa while congratulating himself on a job well done. When would I have even had time to kill her? As soon as I made sure she was safe in her bed for the night, I left her alone. The alarm engaged when I shut the front door. The limo driver will be able to back up my story. What time was she killed? Because I’m willing to bet somewhere along my walk to Carol’s from Chinatown, I’m caught on a security camera looking not like a blood-splattered killer, but a happy fucking guy who’s excited about getting home.”

  —

  I was left alone in that room for hours.

  Every so often, a uniformed cop showed up to take me out for a piss, but then right back in I went. The lawyers brought me a cheeseburger and fries. I managed to get a few bites down before feeling sick again.

  Eventually, I was moved to a holding cell. It was crowded with a lovely assortment of smelly-ass drunks and degenerates.

  The meth head two seats down pissed himself.

  I turned my head from the smell.

  Hunched over, I rested my elbows on my knees, cradling my forehead. How had I gotten here? All I’d ever wanted was to be the kind of man Carol could be proud of. Now, I wasn’t anything. Not only had I let her down, but my family. Was even my mom looking down on me in shame?

  Hours turned into days.

  I was moved to another part of the jail and forced to change into prison attire.

  Garrett and my other lawyers popped in and out, always hammering me with the same questions, telling me all evidence pointed to my story being true, but the cops weren’t quite ready to let me go.

  Then, one day, they did.

  Mitsy’s husband had been caught trying to leave the country with his pregnant mistress and an obscene amount of cash. Turns out he’d been the main suspect all along, but I’d made for an effective pawn that Uma had been paid a princely sum for providing. He’d been interrogated and eventually broke down and confessed.

  My legal team believed I had grounds for a civil suit. I didn’t give a shit. All I wanted was Carol.

  I went straight from the police station to her condo, where the doorman turned me away.

  Next stop—my shitty apartment.

  I showered and changed. Ate Lucky Charms from the box, because I didn’t have milk in the fridge. I slept until dark, then found an electronics store where I bought a cheap phone. After the last time I’d been unable to contact Carol for the dumb reason of not having her number, I’d memorized it.

  Before even leaving the store, I added her to my contacts and punched the auto-dial.

  “Hello?” she answered on the third ring.

  All my breath left me from the relief of hearing her voice. “Babe, I’m out. Didn’t Garrett tell you? Where are you? I need to see you.”

  “I’m staying with Ella and Liam. I’m not sure I want to see you.”

  “I don’t blame you, but please, at least hear me out.” Filling the silence was the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. “Please…”

  “All right, but only for coffee.”

  She named a place in Palo Alto, so I climbed in the Bentley that I was surprised the cops hadn’t seized. The whole ride, I tried writing a speech in my mind. What were the magic words needed to make Carol understand that all the bad I’d done hadn’t been without reason?

  A light drizzle had traffic snarled.

  I showed up twenty minutes late, which I’m sure didn’t help my cause.

  The Grind was packed with trendy Palo Alto yuppie types engaged in sharing their next million-dollar ideas over Mozart, bagels and scones. I hated them. The way they all no doubt had perfect jobs and wives or husbands and kids. At the moment, I had nothing but a car I needed to sell for the cash, an ex-fiancée, and her giant ring.

  I spotted Carol in a corner booth. She had her laptop open. The glow accentuated the dark circles under her eyes.

  “Hey.” I slipped into the booth, squelching the urge to kiss her.

  She closed the lid on her computer, then hugged her fingers around her coffee mug.

  “You look pretty.”

  “Don’t…”

  “What? You do.” Her hair might be in a messy ponytail, and she wore no makeup or her usual lady power suit, but to me, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

  She sighed. “Why are we here?”

  “Because I love you, and I hope you still love me?” I reached across the table for her hands, but she flinched from even my slightest touch.

  “Love you? How can I love you when I don’t even know you?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “You didn’t just lie once, but so many times I can’t even count them all. And then that thing with the texting…God…It turns my stomach to think a moment I believed private between us was so…” She shook her head.

  “I’m sorry. When I told you I was quitting, I had every intention of doing just that, but then Uma went all psycho, demanding I reimburse her for the money she’d put into me. I thought I could work off my debt without you knowing. I wanted to tell you, to warn you, so many times, but I knew she was bugging our place, and—”

  “So she really had my condo bugged? Where does this end? The hits just keep coming.”

  “Look,” I forced a deep breath, “like I told you before, I’m sorry. This whole thing got blown way out of my control. Hell, as far as I know, from day one, her intent may have been to set me up for Mitsy’s murder. According to Garrett, she’s in jail now—not for pandering, but tax evasion. She’d have gotten away with it, too, if Mitsy’s hubby hadn’t gotten greedy enough to make stupid mistakes and tip off the cops that he was the true killer. Once he panicked and eventually confessed, it was ov
er. More than anything, I want to put this whole messy chapter behind us. Every single thing I lied about was to protect you and your little girl. Uma was everywhere. After she landed me in the ER, and pulled that sexting stunt with you, I knew she was capable of anything. I couldn’t take the risk of her hurting you. The whole time I didn’t touch you, it wasn’t because I wasn’t dying to kiss you and hold you, but because I feared she was watching, and didn’t want to subject you to one more second of possible exposure. Yes, I fucked up. Yes, I’m a horrible person. But I love you, Carol Moore, and if it takes the rest of my life, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you love me again.”

  I’m not sure what reaction I’d expected from my impassioned speech, but stone silence wasn’t high on my most-wanted list.

  “That’s it? You can’t say anything?” I took her ring from my jeans pocket and left it on the table. “Since everything Uma gave me were gifts, I’m allowed to keep it. I’ll have to come up with the money to pay taxes, but all you need to know is the ring is yours.”

  “Why would I want a ring that was purchased with dirty money? Especially when it’s from a man who’s just as dirty?” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll sell this ring and get you a new one from a gumball machine. Would that make you happy? Will anything make you happy? I’m taking responsibility for my mistakes, but are you even listening? Or have you gone into defense mode, putting up your security blockade before I can do anything more to hurt you?”

  “Really, Nathan?” She leaned in. “You’re trying to turn this around and pin our breakup on me? I thought you were the man I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I never cared if you were rich or poor. All I wanted was you. You were the one who had to take this stupid escort job, and look where it landed both of us. You’re lucky you’re not in prison and I’m not in a psych ward.”

  “True. But since we’re not in either of those places, and I’m now free to become the kind of man you deserve, why not take that journey together?”

  “It’s too late.” She blew her nose with a napkin. “You ruined everything. You broke my heart, and there’s no fixing it. Just go away, Nathan. I never want to see you again.”