Hook

by Charles, Colleen

  What would if feel like if he kissed me?

  Stop. It.

  “Look,” Chase said while I stomped my sneakered foot on the cement. “I’ll level with you, all right? I think you’ve got great people skills. Even when you’re flustered, you still sound more polished than half of the unqualified, rich, bratty interns that I work with. I’d like to offer you an internship at Banks Realty. Working for me.”

  Holy mother of God. Seeing him every day? Being in the same room with him every day? No fucking way. I’d rather talk dirty to perverts for all eternity while they bleed the weed to the sound of my voice.

  Instead of articulating it, I just shook my head.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I already have a job, Mr. Bradenton. A good one. One that I need to make my rent.”

  And you rich bastards would never understand that. Which is why you are currently saddled with your line-up of lazy interns because they’re the only group of college aged kids that can afford to work for experience in lieu of a salary. A small bubble of resentment rose in my throat, choking out any budding desire I’d felt for him. My blood cooled to the temperature of a freeze pop.

  I hated the way college students were expected to carry a full class load along with what basically amounted to unpaid slave labor. It was a total scam – only the rich kids could afford to work for free – and yet if you didn’t have one on your resume, no one took you seriously when you had your degree in hand and were ready to pound the pavement in search of a career. I would have loved to take an internship with Banks Realty – the kind of thing that would really make me stand out when I finally graduated. But I couldn’t do it for free.

  “If you’re worried about money, it’s not unpaid,” Chase said in his voice of honey and empty promises. He pursed his lips and looked up at the sky, muttering under his breath in a sing-song voice. “I haven’t exactly worked out the details yet, but I think we could offer you somewhere along the lines of fifty.”

  My heart catapulted in my chest, and I sputtered before I questioned him. I could make more than that in one three-hour shift at a diner. “Fifty dollars a week? I make far more than that right now.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. His expensive Italian loafer ground an old cigarette butt into the pavement and then his piercing eyes speared mine with a knowing look. “Fifty thousand. A year.”

  My jaw dropped so fast it must have looked like a cartoon scene where the mandible dislocates. Young adults with honors and an MBA didn’t come out of college making that. “What did you just say? If it was fifty thousand, that’s not even funny.”

  “Definitely not,” he said, voice steady. “When it comes to business, I don’t kid around.”

  He raised one eyebrow at me, and I shivered. With his eyes trained on me, I felt indecent somehow, exposed, like I shouldn’t be standing here in my jeans, t-shirt, and beat-up sneakers. Underneath I had on white cotton panties and a plain, white bra. It was like he could see straight through to my soul, overlooking the cheap bargain store cotton. He had to have an ulterior motive. Guys like him liked to play games, toy with the poor girl. Well, I wouldn’t be his latest pawn.

  “Bully for you,” I said, pursing my lips. I wanted to say no – I wanted to tell him to take that internship and shove it up his well-sculpted ass. Damn the unfortunate facts. If I accepted, I’d earn more than twice what I brought home as a phone sex operator. Now I faced the moment of truth. Would I cut off my nose to spite my face or tamp down my foolish pride and go for it?

  “Chastity,” Chase said, his voice warm, amused and dripping with unrequited lust. “I’m not offering you a job as a ploy to get into your pants, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I’m merely interested in what you could bring to the sales department at Banks. You have a unique way with…words.”

  He leaned closer and a wave of delicious, spicy cologne washed over me. The scent brought me straight into an emotionally charged flashback of me sitting in the flashy car mere yards from where we both stood, and I tamped down the resulting ache.

  I didn’t have time for romantic attachments. I didn’t have time for him.

  “What if I don’t believe you?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know you well enough to know your intentions.”

  Chase chuckled. He had a nice laugh – deep and pleasant, very genuine. It warmed me to the marrow in my bones.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret about Banks Realty,” Chase continued, spreading his hands in the air as he talked. “Everyone there is pretty goddamn boring. Suits. The one exception being Nolan Banks. But, it seems like most other people there have a stick up their ass. And that’s not exactly how a company like Banks Realty can survive in the twenty-first century. We need young people – people who know about things like Snapchat and social media and whatever you college kids are using nowadays. I like you because you’ve obviously got a fresh perspective. Why not bring it over to Banks? We’ll help you out, you help us out. Everyone wins.”

  Especially, you, charmer-boy.

  I cleared my throat, trying to regain moisture back into my mouth and lips. Too bad all the moisture had already pooled in between my legs. “It’s a tempting offer. But I’m not sure that it’s right for me. I can’t lose focus on graduation.”

  Chase laughed again. “Why not? You’d miss getting men off every day? Come on, Chastity. I’ve only known you a short while, but I’m an exceptional sales guy which makes me a great judge of character. You don’t belong yanking men’s chains for hire. It’s like you’re some kind of verbal hooker. Why haven’t your parents tried to stop you?”

  Because I don’t have parents to protect me, you entitled bastard.

  But I didn’t utter the painful words. They were too raw. Instead, I gasped in surprise. He’d triggered me in the worst way, and now he was going to see Chastity Sexe with both guns blazing. “That is wildly offensive. How dare you talk about my parents and what they would or would not tolerate? Were you born in a barn? Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have a license to run around the city insulting people.”

  I stood there huffing in ragged breaths with my hands on my hips and my chest jutting outward in righteous indignation. He reared back and took me in from head to toe all heaving, angry, flushed woman. Then, he grinned.

  Grinned.

  “All right, all right,” Chase conceded, throwing his hands out in a defensive posture. “How about you come to a little party with me, and I’ll make it up to you? It’s a Banks Realty banquet – the whole nine yards. A little something to celebrate the company director getting married. You can meet everyone, and if you think you’d be suicidal working there, then just tell me and I’ll leave you alone. But if you like it…”

  This was a man used to getting his own way. I wondered if he’d deliberately baited me in order to soften me up with his apologetic make-up speech that ended with a trip to Banks Realty. With him.

  But fifty thousand.

  That’s a lot of litter. Maybe even a bigger apartment in which to place the litter box.

  “Okay,” I said, before I could even reconsider the words coming out of my mouth. They might be my famous last words. “I’ll do it. I’ll go to the banquet with you and check it out. But you have to promise me two things.”

  “Perfect.” Chase grinned and then he held up his right hand in the Boy Scout oath. “I promise to be on my best behavior. Now, tell me about your conditions. See. You’re already negotiating. You were made for real estate.”

  My heart melted at the sight of his perfect teeth, his perfect face. His perfect everything. “First, my boss can’t know I’ve even set foot inside Banks Realty’s office until I make a decision. I can’t get fired. Secondly, you keep your hands, your cheesy pick-up lines, and your charming smile to yourself.”

  He grinned and nodded. “Oops. The charming smile part might be my undoing. It’s my signature, you know. The banquet is this weekend. Saturday night. The Waldorf Astoria in
Manhattan. I’ll pick you up at seven sharp and wear a cocktail dress.”

  I nodded, unable to speak. Where in the hell was I going to come up with a suitable cocktail dress for the Waldorf?

  Shit.

  “And Chastity?”

  “Yeah?” I uttered the syllable as I speared him with a too cheap to buy a dress glare.

  “I can’t wait.”

  Chapter Six

  Chastity

  On Saturday morning, Trina and I woke up early and went into Chinatown, combing the thrift stores, searching for The Perfect Dress. Even though we weren’t dating, the girlie girl in me wanted to knock Chase to his knees. He’d never seen me in full hair and make-up, and for a poor chick, I cleaned up nice.

  I didn’t have a huge budget to work with, but I’d saved up a couple hundred dollars that I thought I could use on something special. By the fifth or sixth shop I’d grown tired of the hunt, but Trina stayed focused.

  “Girl, come on,” she whined. “Just one more store. Come with me, I promise you’ll find something. As your friend, I have to give you the kick in the ass you need to keep going. Come on, Chas. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. If you like Banks, you could have a ready-made job when you graduate. Complete with full benefits and a nice starting salary.”

  I glared at her. Mostly because she was right. But I didn’t like the way the man made me feel. And fleeing those feelings had been my modus operandi since grade school. I’d protected my fragile heart with the tough girl act for so long, I wore the shtick like a second skin.

  “Right, like that great kimono in the store back there? It only cost four hundred dollars!” I looked down at my scuffed sneakers and kicked at a crack in the sidewalk but only succeeded in stubbing my toe. “This was stupid,” I muttered, wanting to be surly. Needing to be surly. “I shouldn’t have said yes. Everybody’s going to know what a huge loser I am as soon as they see me. There’s no way I can put on a front good enough for The Waldorf.”

  Trina grabbed me by the shoulders. “Nope, don’t you dare start with that, girlfriend,” she sang out. “You will not sell yourself short.”

  Before I could protest, she steered me into a store across the street. The windows were dark and dusty. Antiques littered every available surface on the black and white tiled floor.

  “We’re not going to find anything in here,” I mumbled under my breath. “I don’t want to look like Mildred Pierce, for fuck’s sake.”

  Trina shushed me, then grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the back of the store.

  “Look,” she said with a smug smile. “Vintage designers. All fifty percent off. Today only. We’ll find something. Let’s get to work digging for gold.”

  I rolled my eyes and pushed her away, then stepped forward and started combing through the racks. Most of the stuff was horrible – dated and covered with ugly floral prints – but then I saw it. It. One of the coolest dresses I’d ever seen. Made of black silk, when I pulled it off the rack, I realized it would hit me right around mid-thigh. Triangular cutouts decorated the upper bodice, which would show just enough cleavage to be sexy without being tacky.

  “Oh my god,” I gasped. “Trina, look at this!”

  She snatched the flowing silk out of my hands and flipped up the label. “Chloé. Nice. Very nice. Try it on. I think we just found you a dress for the ball, Cinderella.”

  I glanced around the musty shop. Empty, except for Trina and me. But the idea of changing in public skeeved me out. What if someone walked in? But I had to slip it on because a huge sign about no returns on sale items hung right above my head.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Isn’t there some kind of dressing room?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Trina stepped forward and pulled my cotton blouse over my head, then tossed it to the floor. She grabbed the black silk dress and threw it at me. I barely managed to put my arms through the sleeves and pull it down before I knew that it fit me like a glove. For the first time in my life, I felt truly beautiful.

  Trina whistled. She grabbed my wrist and tugged me off to the side, shoving me in front of a grimy three-way mirror.

  “Look at you,” she said, snapping her fingers from the top of my ponytail to the ripped sneakers underneath. “Rich boy isn’t gonna be able to resist this!”

  I gaped, not believing that the reflection shining back did indeed belong to me. The black silk made my skin look creamy and pale, and even in the bad lighting of the shop I could tell it fit me as well as if it were tailored to my frame. A slight bulkiness rippled under the silk from my jeans, but I knew that as soon as I tried it on with nothing underneath, the effect would be perfect. It even looked chic and new, like it wasn’t hiding in the middle of some Chinatown junk store.

  “It’s perfect,” I said. I smiled – I couldn’t help it. I so rarely had perfect shopping finds like this one. It was almost as if some otherworldly, cosmic force helped me find the only garment in New York that I could afford.

  “It is,” Trina agreed with a knowing smirk. I’d spend the next few hours eating crow while she rubbed it in. “Now go pay and we’ll get some lunch. If I were you, I’d want something to eat before all that champagne. The nice stuff doesn’t go down like butter.”

  By the time we returned to our crappy apartment, my nerves galloped out of control. I’d left myself just enough time to shower and get ready. Everything seemed to go wrong – I sliced my calf open with a dull razor in the shower, my shower-cap leaked and I had to redo my blowout, and I couldn’t stop a glisten of anxious perspiration from lighting my brow. And no amount of loose powder could chase the flush from my cheeks.

  Trina watched me with amusement as I stumbled around the apartment, cursing and muttering and looking for that damned torture device they call an eyelash curler. When the buzzer rang at exactly six-fifty, I gasped. Early. I should have known.

  “What, you forgot he’s coming already?” Trina laughed. “You better go. Just remember, the coach turns back into a pumpkin at midnight.”

  I stared down at my plain, black pumps. No glass slippers for my feet.

  But as soon as she spoke, he knocked. My stomach tangled into hundreds of tiny knots. I ran the gamut of emotions – none of them exactly positive. Anxiety of course. And shame. When he laid eyes on the exotic Trina…well, I’d disappear into the distance like a slow fade. With her almond eyes and honeyed skin, men chased after her like a pack of wolves. I always stood beside her, darkened by her glittering shadow. The perpetual sidekick.

  A second knock on the door jolted me out of my haze, and I grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open, almost angry at his possible reaction.

  Chase stood there, and just one look took my breath away. So, I stared. And stared.

  And stared.

  His tan skin perfectly offset the crisp white cotton of his dress shirt, and even his bow tie looked to be tied at a jaunty angle to match that charming and crooked grin. The dark stubble I loved so much had been shaved clean, and the rest of his hair slicked back. His dark eyes twinkled at me as they took in my dress.

  “Well, what do you know? We match. And I didn’t even call you to discuss wardrobe.” Chase stepped forward with a waggle of his arched brows. “Did you plan that, Chastity?”

  “No.” I looked down, hoping against hope that my make-up held out long enough to keep my cheeks from flaming as red as a fire engine. “You’re okay with this dress?”

  Chase stepped even closer – so close that I could smell his intoxicating cologne. “You look amazing,” he whispered in my ear. The sensation of his breath against my sensitive skin made me shiver, and I had to dart quickly away in fear that I’d plaster myself against him and never be able to pull away.

  “You guys get on out of here and have some fun!” Trina watched us with an amused smirk on her face and her hand propped up on her curvy hip. Chase glanced at her in a cursory way, as though she were nothing more than a fixture within the space.

  “As long as I’m with Chastity,”
Chase said as he continued to stare at me. “I’m sure I’ll have fun.”

  As we walked out the door together, my cheeks continued to flame as crimson as the front page of the Sunday New York Times.

  Diego waited beside the limo. He gave a slight bow to Chase before opening the back seat door for me. People on the street stared and whistled as I crawled inside. The car drew even more attention than it had before when it sat parked in the same spot.

  “Chastity, you remember my driver, Diego,” Chase said. “He’s specifically requested that you don’t jump out of the vehicle tonight, lest you become human roadkill.”

  I smiled, face flaming, remembering how we met and the argument over this poor man the night I’d fled this very car. “Nice to see you again, Diego.”

  The short, burly man nodded as I slid inside. Every inch of his demeanor remained professional, but a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Nice to see you as well, miss,” the driver said smoothly as he held the door open and gazed inside as Chase and I settled down on the seat. “It’s unusual for…”

  “Thanks, Diego,” Chase said in a booming voice. As if he knew Diego was about to utter something inappropriate. “I don’t want to be late. Barracuda Banks will tan my hide if I don’t arrive within a certain window. Woman scares the shit out of me.”

  “You and me both,” Diego agreed with a nod as he shut the door, slipped behind the wheel and hit a button that slid the tinted glass into place between the front and the back, giving Chase and me privacy. Privacy I didn’t want or need.

  “Barracuda Banks?”

  “Anne. Nolan’s mother. And I use that term loosely. You can’t even begin to understand what she’s capable of doing.”

  I shivered and ran my hands along my upper arms to soothe the gooseflesh. What in the hell had I gotten myself into here?

  As the limo pulled away from the curb, it finally hit me that I was actually going to the poshest party of my entire life. Trina’s joking aside, I did kind of feel like a Brooklyn Cinderella. I couldn’t help but smile. When Chase handed me a bubbling flute filled with champagne, I accepted. What could a couple of sips hurt?