Chelsea pulled playfully on Jake’s skinny black tie and leaned in so he could hear her over the music. “I hate to be a tease, but it’s time for me to go.”
He tried to persuade her to stay, just as they both knew that he would. She looked at her watch. Just past three a.m. “Look at it this way,” she said. “You let me leave now, and you’ve got an entire hour to line up one of these little sluts to go home with you. Waste all your time on me and, well, you and your friend there are on your own-”
She pushed up against him again.
“Damn, you’re hot,” he said, kissing her neck and fingering the top button of her blouse.
“Occasionally. Want me to pick out a girl for you, or are you going to be fine on your own?”
Jake smirked and shook his head. “Let me at least walk you out.” He took her hand and led her from the club. “Do you have a car?”
Town cars and limos were parked and double-parked outside. “Yeah, right. I used my entire student loan check to pay for a car service while we were in New York this week.”
“My car’s in a lot in SoHo,” Jake said. “Nick’s driver’s waiting out here somewhere. Let me just run in and check-”
They both knew a ride in his friend’s car would start something they’d finish en route to her hotel. She was tempted but decided against it. She’d been faithful to Mark the entire trip and didn’t want to mess that up now.
“Really, I’m fine with a cab.”
Jake walked to the curb and tried to hail a taxi, but four yellow cabs passed them by, already taken, their rooftop medallion numbers unlit.
“I’ll be fine,” Chelsea finally said.
He ignored her and remained in the street, one arm raised above his head.
“Tick tock, Jake Gyllenhaal. You’re wasting that final hour. The other players are locking down all the pretty girls at Pulse as we speak.”
He touched her hair and leaned in for a kiss before thanking her for the fun and turning away. As Chelsea watched him return to the club, she still felt his lips against hers and wondered if it was a feeling of regret about turning down the invitation to go further.
Five more taxis passed her by before one finally stopped. She crawled into the back seat and shut the door. “The Hilton at Rockefeller Center, please. Fifty-third Street at Sixth Avenue.”
The cab rolled a few feet and then stopped. “You have cash?”
“Excuse me?”
“You have cash, right?”
“No. I’ll pay by Visa.” Chelsea had spent her final bills on that last Angel’s Tip at the bar. She was so messed up she’d forgotten about the free liquor in the VIP lounge.
“No credit cards.”
Chelsea knocked on the machine installed on the partition in front of her. “What’s this thing for if you can’t take a credit card?”
“It’s broken. Only cash tonight.”
“I’ll pay you when I get there-my friends have money, I promise.”
“I do not run a loan company, miss. I will not drive you if you do not have the money.”
“Well, I’m not getting out of the cab. What do you think about that?”
“The meter is still running, miss, and you don’t have any money. You need to find another taxi.”
Chelsea was startled by a knock against the window. It was Jake.
“My savior,” she said, rolling down the window. “I don’t have any cash, and this asshole won’t take my fucking credit card.”
“He wouldn’t do that to you, now, would you, kind sir?”
“Tell him, kind sir,” Chelsea said. “Tell him how you want to strand a girl here on the streets of New York City all by herself.”
“You need to get your drunk friend out of my car,” the driver said.
Jake touched the tip of his chin, as if pondering the situation. “This is quite a predicament, isn’t it?”
Chelsea knew Stefanie hadn’t seen the appeal, but this guy really was incredible. The hair and clothes were too much, but the smile-those lazy eyes and the softness around his mouth-were irresistible.
“Can I borrow twenty bucks?” she asked. “I mean, I know you’re hurting for money and all, so I’ll be sure to mail it to you from Indiana.”
“I tell you what. Get out of that cab and stay with me a little longer. I’ll make sure you get home.”
“I told you I have to go. My flight’s in, like, three hours.”
“Fine, here’s your money.” He removed a hundred-dollar bill from the money clip in his pocket. Chelsea reached through the window to take it, but Jake snatched his hand back. “As my father always says, there’s no such thing as a handout. You’ve got to earn this money, young lady.”
Chelsea tilted her head to one side. “And what would your father propose I do to earn it?”
“That is it,” the driver said. “Get out of my cab.” He opened his door, and Chelsea knew it was only a matter of seconds before he was going to pull her physically from the car.
She and Jake were still laughing by the time they made their way to the entry stairwell of a basement apartment around the corner.
Chelsea felt the cold concrete against her exposed toes as she dropped to her knees and tried not to think about Mark. This was just a onetime thing. Spring break. New York. Jake Gyllenhaal. It was all a fantasy, and tomorrow, it would be as if nothing happened.
Jake was touching her hair softly at first, but by the time he got close, he was gripping her head firmly with his fingers, guiding her movements. He felt the wire hook in her right earlobe come loose. He did not want it to fall to the ground. Not now. Not at this moment. She might stop what she was doing. He slipped the earring into his pocket and replaced his hand on the back of her head.
When she had finished, he helped her to her feet and gave her a quick peck on the mouth. He loved girls who swallowed, but that didn’t mean he needed to put his tongue in there afterward. She laughed when he brushed the dust from the knees of her pants.
“Where’s my hundred bucks?” she said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll take Nick’s car.”
“Don’t you be ridiculous. Give me my money, or my pimp’s coming after you.”
He slipped a hundred-dollar bill into her purse. “Let’s get you a cab before your pimp says I’m monopolizing you.”
“If I can turn tricks in doorways, I’m perfectly capable of hailing my own cab. And now I even have money to pay. You better get back.”