About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(2)
Chapter Two
Quinn
I read the email three times. Every additional time I read it, my smile grew bigger.
I had dealt with a lot of women in my five years as an escort, but the shy ones were always the ones I preferred. Their nervous smiles and sweet pink blushes did it for me. I loved making them come. They always seemed so surprised when they did.
I chuckled to myself and responded to Maya.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Setting a date.
Hello Maya,
Thank you for your consideration; you seem sweet.
I think you’re right. Why don’t we talk about what you need from me and we’ll go from there?
I like to meet future clients face-to-face. Are you free today or tomorrow?
Quinn x
I set my laptop down, walked into the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee. Yawning, I rubbed a hand down my face. I wouldn’t be working out today. I smirked to myself.
Mrs. Haverbrook gave me a better workout last night than I would have managed by myself anyway. She was quite limber for a fifty-year-old. Truth was, I never even thought about her age when I was with her. Sure, she had grey streaked through her hair, but she had told me she would like to grow old gracefully, and she was. Pilates and yoga kept her body tight, and her dates with me were what kept her mind young. Or so she told me.
She had a thing for having me act as her son’s friend. If there ever was a Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. Haverbrook would’ve given her a run for her money.
Ping.
Sitting down at the kitchen counter, I absently rubbed my stomach and opened the email. As I read, my brow pulled down in a deep frown.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: Setting a date.
Quinn,
This was a bad idea.
I apologize for the inconvenience.
All the best,
Maya x
So, meeting beforehand had her worried. Call me crazy, but that just made me want to meet her even more. I didn’t want to think she was an ugly duckling, but the thought had crossed my mind, and in most cases, that was why clients were nervous. Most shy clients had major self-esteem issues.
Stopping the coffee machine mid-flow, I poured a cup, added cream, and downed it in one hit. I was tired as hell. My muscles ached in the very best way. I wanted to respond, but didn’t have a lot of time to get ready to meet my best friend Harry for lunch. Instead, I closed my laptop, stood, slipped out of my boxers, and walked naked to the bathroom. Showering in record time, I ran a hand through my too-long-to-call-neat hair, sprayed deodorant all over my body, and dressed in jeans, a Rolling Stones tee, and white sneakers.
As I walked out the door, I tossed a black jacket over my shoulder and unlocked my car. It was nothing fancy, but it was my day car, and I liked it well enough. My night car was normally a rental, care of the agency, and could be something as classy as a Maserati, or something as plain as an SUV. With the keys in the ignition, I hesitated.
I should have left it be. But something was bugging me, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what. A sigh escaped me when I reached into my pocket for my cell. I accessed my mobile email and responded to Maya.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Setting a date.
Maya,
Meeting with you would be a privilege, but I understand your hesitancy.
You don’t know me from Adam. I could be a serial killer for all you know.
If you’re still willing to talk to me, we can continue getting to know each other over email?
Take care,
Quinn
PS: No, I’m not a serial killer. That was probably a bad example.
I pressed send before I could second-guess myself. Then thought about what I’d written. A serial killer… Really?
My forehead landed with a thud on the steering wheel and I groaned at my stupidity. Now I’d never hear from her again. I resigned myself to that fact and drove over to Harry’s place.
Harry Bridgeton had been my best friend for the past five years. I’d never wanted or needed a best friend before him. But Harry had a way about him. It wasn’t easy being my friend sometimes, but he always stuck by me. He met me when I was in a bad place. He helped me through that bad place, encouraging me to do something with myself. In fact, it was Harry who suggested I become an escort.
I remembered it like it was yesterday.
Harry turned to me and held my hard gaze. “I don’t want to push you into anything, but I think you need a new job. Construction’s not for you, bud.”
I knew this. Work was declining and I barely had enough money to feed myself. Harry always let me know he was there when times got tough, but I declined, my pride stinging every damn time. I was twenty-six years old and had a chip on my shoulder. A big one. “Oh, yeah? What do you suggest? I don’t have a college education behind me, Har. I’m lucky to get what I’ve got.”
But Harry just smiled easy-like. “What do you like doing? What are you good at?”
“Drinking and f*cking.” See that? There’s that chip I mentioned.