Tell Me to Go

by Charlotte Byrd

  “Have you ever been to this kind of party before?”

  I shake my head.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Well, I’ve seen them in porn but you know how it is, it’s kind of like that but completely different, too.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” she agrees. “Real sex is a bit different from how it’s portrayed on the internet.”

  “Anyway, he didn’t tell me where we were going, but I had kind of an inkling about it since he did dress me up in this outfit,” I say.

  “Which is exquisite!” She enunciates every part of the word, savoring it in her mouth. “How did it all happen? I need details.”

  “I found the box on the bed in the cottage. He dropped it off while I was swimming. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find in there but when I saw this…it was so beautiful, I had to try it on. I’ve never tried anything like this on before.”

  Sydney’s eyes sparkle and her mouth opens in a wide grin.

  “Then he walked in.”

  “What?” she gasps. I shrug as if that sort of thing happens all the time. “So, what did you do?”

  “I let him help me with the corset.”

  “Ohhh!” she squeals, pointing her finger at me. “You…you’re a bad girl!”

  “It just sort of felt…right. I mean…okay, promise me that you won’t tell James…

  She nods.

  “Say it out loud.”

  “I promise.”

  “Nicholas just makes me so…whenever I’m around him I feel like the ground is shifting under my feet. I never know what he’s going to do next and that makes me want him so…much.”

  Every part of this sentence is true. I look down at my hands, which are trembling to the beat of my quickening heart rate.

  “So, what happened when you got here?” Sydney asks.

  “I think he brought me here not so much to be with anyone else but to seduce me,” I say slowly. “We were watching people and it was so arousing. Then he started to touch me.”

  “How far do you think it would’ve gone if you hadn’t seen me?” she asks, letting out a giggle.

  “I don’t know.” I bite my lower lip. “I don’t know if I wanted my first time with him to be here but at the same time, I wanted him so much that if he had stripped me and taken me right there, I would’ve let him.”

  My words come out quiet, almost in a whisper.

  Telling Sydney the truth, however much of the truth I can reveal, feels like a burden is lifting off my shoulders.

  The lightness in my chest and the fast pulse slow down and a wave of relief sweeps over me.

  “I have only one thing to tell you,” Sydney says with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Nicholas Crawford is trouble.”

  12

  When we make plans…

  When Sydney and I come back inside and find our men, I know that our plans for tonight are put on hold. I don’t need Nicholas to tell me this, it’s basic. Sydney and James know our real names and that means that we can’t make contact with this other couple, or anyone else at the party, using assumed identities. There’s too much risk.

  “Does anyone want to come to my place for a night cap?” James asks and Nicholas is quick to agree.

  Whatever was going to happen tonight will have to wait.

  “That could’ve gone better,” Nicholas points out.

  By the way he was acting back there, it never occurred to me that he was that upset by the situation. I mean, yes, our plans have changed but we can just do this again some other time, right?

  “What’s going to happen now?” I ask.

  “The mark flew in for this party, I’m not sure that he’ll be in town much longer.”

  “This was the only night we could do it?”

  He nods, clenching his jaw.

  “What should we do?” I ask.

  His eyes dart back and forth as he thinks. “We couldn’t have done it with James and Sydney on the premises,” he says.

  “Obviously,” I concur.

  “James doesn’t live far from here. Let’s stay for a drink and then you can tell them that you’re tired from the flight and we can come back.”

  I nod. I wouldn’t say no to curling up in a warm bed right about now, but I also wouldn’t say no to an excuse to run my fingers over his body once again.

  James’s house is much smaller than Nicholas’ but very cozy and loved. He has traveled all around the world and displays his collection of souvenirs proudly. He has African masks from his trip to Kenya, baskets made by indigenous Mayan women from Guatemala, and an impressive collection of olive oil from his recent trip to Spain.

  “I love to visit new places, but it’s hard to fit into my schedule,” James says, handing Nicholas a glass of whiskey.

  “Being a pediatrician is pretty demanding work. Lots of hours,” Sydney says proudly. They’ve only just met but she’s already acting like a doting wife.

  “I can imagine. Plus, flying out of Hawaii must add a ton of hours to the flights,” I say.

  “The long flights give me a chance to catch up on all the paperwork. Thank you WIFI, right?” James says with a shrug. “Hey, listen, let’s do a toast.”

  We lift our glasses in the air.

  “To the girls,” he says. “Thank you both for coming all the way here and…into our lives.”

  Sydney and I exchange smiles while Nicholas says, “I’ll drink to that,” and clinks his glass with mine.

  The conversation drifts from travel to what it’s like to live in Hawaii full-time to what it’s like to live in the Northeast. James is originally from Southern California, he got his medical degree from the University of California San Diego, and did his internship in Honolulu. He came here on a whim but stayed because he fell in love with the land and the sea. When he found a job at the main hospital in Maui he decided to stay for good.

  “So, you’d never consider moving back to the mainland?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure,” he says, smiling at Sydney. “I don’t really want to, but I guess I could be convinced.”

  Sydney reaches over and kisses him on the mouth. I haven’t seen her this happy for a long time.

  “On the other hand, Maui is much nicer than Boston…so maybe my girl here can be encouraged to make the move instead.”

  “I’m thinking about it,” she lies when we both know that she is almost as good as moved here already. “I have to find a job first and tell my roommate that I’m leaving her behind.”

  “Oh, is that right?” Nicholas asks, his eyebrows raising. “Is that what’s going on?”

  I look down at the floor but the smile at the corners of my lips betrays the truth.

  “I thought that we had come to some sort of arrangement?” he whispers.

  “What’s that?” James asks.

  Nicholas asked me to never tell anyone about the offer that he’d made. I didn’t tell him yet but I did reveal it to Sydney. That was before I was planning on coming back.

  I glance up at him and cross my arms to see what he is going to say.

  “I asked Olive to come here to give me a chance,” Nicholas explains. “Take a break from her work for a bit and just give… us a chance.”

  He pauses before he says the word us. Without revealing exactly what his intentions are to our friends, he has to come up with an alternative explanation.

  “So, it’s settled then?” James asks, lifting his glass in the air. “You girls are staying in Maui?”

  Sydney and I exchange glances.

  “We haven’t exactly gotten that far yet,” she says. “Nothing is decided.”

  “That’s too bad,” James says. “‘Cause I’m not sure you’ll be able to find two guys like us anywhere on the mainland. And you definitely won’t find this scenery.”

  “Ask me again in a week,” Sydney says, pressing her lips onto his cheek.

  “A week is good. I’ll take a week.” He turns to face her and their mouths collide. Their desire for one anoth
er is contagious, making me reach over to take Nicholas’ hand. He gives me a little squeeze before mouthing, we have to go.

  13

  When we discuss terms…

  Just as I’m about to tell Sydney that we have to leave, Nicholas squeezes my hand and whispers, “It’s off.”

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. We can’t talk now. A big part of me is relieved. I thought that I was looking forward to getting back to that house but running into Sydney and then coming here to relax has really altered the atmosphere of the whole event.

  “Do you want to order some food?” James suggests and the three of us reply with a resounding yes.

  “In that case, I’m going to have to change out of these clothes,” I say. “Any chance you have something I could borrow here?”

  Sydney shows me to the master bedroom, where half the closet is already filled with her clothes. Her suitcase is neatly put away underneath with James’s shoes piled two rows high to accommodate the space.

  “You don’t waste much time,” I joke, slipping on a comfortable pair of leggings and a loose pullover.

  “Oh my God, this is heaven,” I mumble, lying down on the bed and enjoying the feel of my body in something that doesn’t poke and shape it in any particular way.

  It’s not that the outfit I wore didn’t make me feel unbelievably sexy, it’s more that I really hate wearing things like that. Letting the sleeves hang past my fingertips, I finally feel in my element.

  “You look beautiful,” Sydney says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Earlier? Yeah, I felt pretty hot.”

  “Earlier…and now.”

  I give her a smile.

  For a moment, I wonder if the fact that we ran into each other in a place without many inhibitions is going to change our relationship.

  But looking at the way she gazes at me now, I realize that nothing is different. We were best friends before and we are best friends now.

  There is nothing romantic or even sexual about the way she is looking at me, she is just one friend telling another friend how beautiful she is.

  “You looked pretty awesome, too,” I say, watching her change into a pair of joggers and a crop top.

  When we get back into the living room, the men are mildly surprised.

  “What happened to the thongs?” James asks, making a dour face.

  “If you are going to stuff yourself fully dressed, then so are we,” Sydney announces.

  The food arrives fifteen minutes later. While James and Sydney head to the front door to collect it, I turn to Nicholas to find out what happened.

  “It’s off. He left.”

  “Who?”

  “Our mark.”

  “Yes, I know.” I roll my eyes. “But you never told me who he was.”

  “He was someone who was there for two hours and who is now gone. Probably on his way back to New York.”

  Shit, I say to myself. I want to ask his name again but I hear Sydney’s voice and I know that the timing is all wrong.

  We don’t hang around James’s house long after we finish dinner. Everyone is tired and overly excited from the night’s activities and Nicholas says that he has an early morning.

  We drive back to his house in silence. I attempt to ask more about who we were supposed to do a job on this evening, but he doesn’t give me much except for a few grunts. Since there is no radio signal out here, I go through his Spotify playlists to find something to listen to.

  “All you have is Led Zeppelin and the Yardbirds.”

  “I have at least twenty playlists there,” he corrects me.

  “But they’re all kind of the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Classic rock. Rock anthems. Contemporary Rock. Modern Rock. It’s just rock, rock, rock,” I whine.

  “What do you want to listen to?”

  “Something…soothing.”

  He grabs his phone away from me, scrolls down then up before landing on the Beatles’ Blackbird.

  “I was thinking something more folky but I guess that will have to do,” I say.

  “What did you think seeing Sydney there?” he asks after a moment.

  “I don’t know…I was pretty shocked. I never thought she’d be the type.”

  “And you?” Nicholas asks. “Did you ever think you’d ever go into a place like that?”

  I shrug.

  “Tell the truth.”

  “No.”

  “Would you if I had asked you?”

  “You mean, if we were like…dating?”

  He nods.

  “I don’t know. I really don’t but…” My voice trails off. I’m not sure if I am comfortable telling him this yet.

  “But what?” He pushes me.

  “Well, being there tonight…we were there for a job…but it didn’t feel much like work. I mean…it was…really sexy.”

  I don’t know why I feel so embarrassed admitting something like this.

  It might be because I’m a woman and we are all told by society that having sexual urges is something that’s wrong.

  Or maybe it’s just me.

  My upbringing.

  For men, sexuality and being aroused isn’t limited to one person and no one blames them for that.

  But for women? There’s something wrong with it. There’s something inappropriate even.

  But if that were true, then who the hell are all of these men fucking?

  “It is sexy,” Nicholas says. “Watching you watch them…made me really hard.”

  His words bring me back to that moment, and I can’t help but lick my lips.

  “But the terms of the offer remain the same,” Nicholas says.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “If you want me to sleep with you, you’re going to have to beg for it,” he says.

  “I accept your challenge,” I say with a smile.

  14

  When I get a call…

  The following morning, I wake up late, head straight to the pool, and swim a few laps before Nicholas shows up. As soon as I see him, I know he’s agitated. His hands move around in little jerks as he asks about my night’s sleep. He rubs the back of his neck as if he has something else on his mind.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, giving up on making small talk. There’s no point to it if the other person doesn’t play along.

  “I’m just upset with myself. With how everything went down last night.”

  I play with the ends of my hair.

  It feels like I should apologize as well but I’ve done that already. I had no idea that Sydney and James would be there.

  Neither of us did.

  “Have you made your decision?” Nicholas asks, dragging his hands through his hair. “About my offer?”

  “Did I pass last night’s test?”

  He considers that for a moment before giving me a small nod.

  “One million dollars for staying with you for one year plus a percentage,” I clarify.

  “Yes, yes,” he says quickly.

  “How will you pay me? Every other week would be ideal,” I joke.

  “Done,” he says, surprising me.

  I take a deep breath and say, “I have to send my employer an official letter of resignation.”

  I expect a hug or at least a smile. Instead, Nicholas spins on his heels and starts to walk away.

  “Send it today,” he instructs before disappearing back inside the house.

  Despite the chilly reception, I can’t help but feel giddy. One million dollars divided by twelve months is a little over $83,000 a month! That’s more than I make a year at my old job. Divided by two, it’s a payment of $41,667 every two weeks!

  I dive under water and scream at the top of my lungs.

  This isn’t imaginary money. This isn’t potential money that I will make if a con pays off. This is real money. He’ll pay me this no matter what.

  I get back to my cottage and open my laptop.


  The words of my resignation letter flow out naturally and without much thought.

  For a moment, I consider making it more formal. Then, I’m tempted to just write FUCK YOU.

  Eventually, I settle in the middle and opt for not burning bridges.

  The gist of it: I am pursuing other opportunities.

  As soon as I press send, a wave of euphoria sweeps over me. My body feels lighter. My thoughts are clearer.

  While I’m at my laptop, I check my email.

  There are about fifty messages of promotional crap from various stores and companies I gave my email to. After I delete all that garbage, I remember that this isn’t the only email account that I haven’t checked.

  The other one is through Corrlinks, a special email service that’s reserved for communicating with federal inmates who are forbidden from using regular email accounts like Gmail and Yahoo.

  I see that I have a message from him as soon as I log in.

  Actually, there are three.

  One written each day.

  Owen and I have never been particularly close but over the last few years, our relationship has really blossomed. He went to prison not knowing how to read or write.

  He struggled with reading since he was a kid. Mom always said he was just lazy, but in prison he learned that he was dyslexic. Luckily, the first penitentiary he was in had a program that prepared inmates for the General Education Development (GED) test. The teacher took an interest in him, helped him pass the test, and earn his high school diploma.

  Owen learned quickly and now writes me long diatribes about the research he has done about the literacy rates among inmates (apparently, about 60% of prison inmates are functionally illiterate) and what can be done about it.

  But that’s not all we talk about.

  We talk about my job.

  We talk about his cellmate.

  We talk about his plans for the future.

  I usually write him three or four emails a week and fill them with enough detail to last him until my next message. He writes me one every day.

  The first email continues the story of his cellmate’s upbringing, the one he left off writing in his previous email. The second email tells me how much he’s enjoying working in the kitchen and then concludes with a request to remember to write him again.