“Fine, what do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth.
When he grins at me, I know that whatever he’s about to say is going to be bad.
Very, very, bad.
Chapter 7
Lola
I suck at escorting tonight. If it wasn’t for Reagan threaten me, I would have never gone out so quickly after the whole Tenner thing. But he threatens me to do that, with drugs, with a lot of things that I can’t even begin to think about yet. The guy practically owns me at the moment and I hate it. And if I don’t find a way out of it, incidents with Tenner are going to happen more and more.
I need to find a way to run.
Different scenarios play through my mind I sit at the dinner table, pretending that I’m interested in the client sitting across from me. But my dazzlingly charm is missing the mark badly and my whit is absent completely. Thankfully the guy eating dinner with me seems clueless about escorting services and probably thinks this is normally how escorts act.
“So what do we do next?” he asks, picking at the salad with his fork. His name is Elington, well at least that’s the name he gave when he called in.
I shrug, taking a bite of my chicken even though I’m not hungry. My eyes locked on him, my shoulders at just the right angle that he can see down the top of my dress—it’s the best move I can come up with right now. Make him seem like I’m paying attention to him, when I barely hear half the words he said. “What ever you want sweetie.” I always like to give the clients nicknames, one that fits their character. I could tell right away that Elington was the nervous and quiet kind, which led me to the term sweetie. Nice and simple, hoping that it will make the night nice and simple. But he does seem like the kind of guy who isn’t used to hanging out with half-dressed women who can bring a guy to an orgasm in thirty seconds so I have a feeling it’s going to take a lot of energy on my part to make this a great night, energy I don’t have.
“Well, what do you usually do... when… I mean after…” He scratches the back of his of his neck tensely while he glances around the restaurant for way longer than necessary. Finally, his gaze lands back on me and I can see his pulse throbbing in his neck, so damn nervous and strangely so am I. After all that’s happened, after the notes, Tenner, the person in boots, the woman who supposed looked like me, and now Reagan finding out who I am, I feel like a bundle of restlessness that doesn’t want to sit still.
“I mean, after the date part?” Elington says, letting out a anxious breath as he sets his fork on the plate. “What happens after we’re done eating?”
I give him the best seductive smile I can muster, but don’t turn on my sex appeal as hot as I usually do. “Like I said, we can do whatever you want. This is your night, sweetie.” I relax back in my chair, twirling a strand of my hair around my finger, my gaze still fastened on him. “But most of the time, this is when we’d go back to the room.”
He gulps nervously. “Okay, we can do that.” Then he turns in his chair and flags down the waiter for the check, still seeming tense, which makes me wonder if he’ll end up backing out in the end. It happens more than you’d think, especially with married men. I don’t think he’s married, though. He doesn’t have a ring on and no tan line from wearing one. He doesn’t give off the vibe either. He just seems experienced. Young and inexperienced, but then again so did Tenner and I turned out to be way wrong about him.
I’m guessing Elington’s a year or two younger than me, around twenty-one, barely legal to drink. Short brown hair, eyes that match, a lean body, he’s not that bad to look at. But looks aren’t what’s most important. I have a harder time with the quiet ones, but maybe that’s because I’ve always been more at ease with cocky guys, guys that can handle a girl taking charge, perhaps meet her in the middle, be on the same level.
Guys like Layton Everett.
God, what I’d give for him to be here. He was always so good at helping me out of my mess. He would know exactly what to do.
But he’s not because he’s dead because of you.
I shake my head. Don’t think about him Lola. You’re already stressed enough.
After Elington pays the bill, we head to the hotel that’s a few miles down the road from the restaurant, in the more sketchy area of town, the same one I went to last night. It’s the usual place the escorts at The Dusky Inn go, since most of the people hanging in that area are doing illegal things and therefore barely pay attention to anyone else’s shit. Nyjah has connections with one of the hotel owners, so he gets rooms or free without question and even has keys on hand. And they’re not the card keys. I’m talking old school metal keys.
I’m usually numb as hell whenever I enter the lobby, but tonight I’m wired, my emotions buzzing inside me, my stomach burning with lingering memories of last night. My head still hurts from last night and my wrist is a little bruised from where Tenner gripped me.
I don’t want to be here.
“Do you have the key Nyjah gave you?” I ask Elington as we get out of the cab and stand in front of the entrance doors. There’s a guy smoking a cigarette with the hoodie pulled over his head, leaning against the wall, watching us intently, probably because he knows what I am. Other than that there’s no one else around, but that’s normal for this place.
Elington nods as he pays the cab driver, then shuts the door. He takes a deep inhale as he studies the dimly lit, dingy, outdated hotel that rises up to the night sky. “Yeah… lets get this over with.”
Okay, that’s a new one. It’s like he doesn’t’ want to be here, which considering he paid a ton for this date, makes no sense. I want to ask him what’s up, but I also don’t want to give Reagan anymore of a reason to go to the Dellefontes so I keep my lips sealed as we head to the front door. I’m very aware that the guy following me tracks me with his eyes. I try to see what he looks like beneath the shadows of his hoodie, but he’s fairly far away and there’s not enough light and all I can make out is he has eyes, a mouth, and lips.
When Elington opens the door for me, I tear my attention on him and focus on my job. Taking the lead, I cross the lobby and get onto the elevator. Elington fidgets the entire way in the elevator, his head tipped down, his shoulders slouched, as if he’s about to fold over and pass out.
Yeah, I’m definitely betting this one’s a backer outer. Or it’s something else… I eye him over, trying to read him. “You okay there?”
He nods way too swiftly. “Yeah. Sure.”
I don’t believe him for one second and after last night, ever part of me screams to pull out my gun. I keep an eye on him my hand near my side. He only lifts his head when the elevator beeps and the doors open. “After you,” he says motioning for me to get out first.
I force a smile, then step out, noticing that he has a tin trail of sweat on his forehead. Something’s not right.
Reagan told me I had to come tonight for the simple reason that I was going to keep doing my job or else he’d give out my location. I was also going to take on more clients and start helping with deals by using my charming looks and personality to dazzle his clients. The problem with this is that if any of his clients no who I am then I’m screwed. But now I’m wondering if this is a setup. Maybe Elington is helping set me up for Reagan.
Elington lets me take the lead as I walk down the slender hallway, lined with shut doors. It’s silent, which is typical for this hotel, but I find myself desperate to hear a noise. I casually let my fingers graze my thigh, the reminder usually bringing me comfort but not tonight.