Betrayal (27 page)

That was part of my ongoing inner monologue as Patrick chatted away with Andrew, my first appointment of the day. Andrew was a stylist extraordinaire, apparently very high-priced, and sought-after. New clients rarely made it to Andrew’s chair for hair and makeup, but with one call from Patrick, I was there at ten-thirty in the morning.

Patrick told me as we left the apartment that my attire didn’t matter. Andrew would have clothes for my interview. I got the distinct impression that I was in over my head, and I hadn’t done anything yet.

Every now and then I’d catch some of Andrew and Patrick’s conversation. It was never about me, except to discuss colors of eye shadows or my blouse. Andrew shaded and perfected my complexion, painted my lips, and curled my hair. I was nothing more than a life-sized doll being made into something fit for display.

The dressing room didn’t have a mirror as I shimmied out of my shorts and top and redressed, all the way from the lace underwear to a lace-accented, sleeveless sheath dress. I called Patrick to help me zip the back. When he did, the material came together hugging me in all the right places.

“Little cousin, you look amazing.”

I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen myself. “Why the underwear? You said no sex.”

“Because it makes you
feel
sexy. It’s a package. You may not be selling sex, but in a classy way…” He helped me with the matching jacket, the one with matching lace cuffs. “…you need to ooze confidence. It’s a persona and, Alex Collins, you’re rocking it.”

I sat on the bench and eased my freshly painted toes into black suede Prada platforms with an ankle strap. When I was done, Patrick reached for my hand.

“Come here, little one. Let me introduce you to Miss Alex Collins, Columbia law student, sexy and confident. Close those gorgeous golden eyes and when I say so, open them.”

My heart beat erratically as I blindly followed Patrick’s lead. With his hands on my shoulders he turned me to the side.

“Open.”

I stood paralyzed as the woman in the mirror did the same. After the spa in Savannah with my mother, my hair was nice, but with the dresses she’d bought, I had the sensation of Alexandria, five years old and dressed for tea. That wasn’t whom I saw today. Patrick was right. My hair was up, professional with more than a hint of sex appeal. The charcoal gray dress and jacket with the straight skirt flattered my curves. At the same time, there was nothing about what I saw that said I was selling my body or my soul. Even the shoes. They were sexy, but could easily be worn to court. My makeup was flawless, with just the right amount of bronze to highlight the red and blonde highlights in my hair.

Andrew and Patrick both stood behind me, waiting for my reaction.

Finally, I let the façade of indifference break away, and my entire countenance beamed with approval. “Wow! I don’t know what else to say.” I turned to Andrew. “Thank you. Obviously, you’re a miracle worker.”

“No. I’m an artist. All I did was highlight what you already have. You’re stunning. You were before I began.”

“Thank you.”

When Patrick and I eased into the backseat of a taxi, he said, “I’m going to be dropped off at Kassee.” When I looked at him as though I had no idea what he was saying, because I didn’t, he went on, “the design firm. I can’t miss this afternoon.”

My pulse quickened. “B-But…”

Patrick squeezed my hand. “I would miss it for you. I would. But there’s a big sales pitch this afternoon. I’ve put a lot of time into this and my boss wouldn’t understand. Remember, Infidelity is an illusion so I couldn’t exactly explain what I’d be doing with you today. Don’t worry. You won’t be alone. Cy’s going to meet you in the lobby of 17 State Street. He’ll escort you to Infidelity.”

“All right. Pat?” I asked tentatively. “Is this a mistake? I had planned on looking for a job, like other people do.”

“That’s still an option. Go to the interview. See what Karen has to say. Then, if you decide waiting tables or maybe working the box office at the New Amsterdam Theater is what you’d prefer to do, do that. There’s no obligation until you sign the agreement.”

Five thousand dollars
.

That would double the money in my checking account. That would give me another month’s rent. I swallowed and nodded.

Before Patrick got out of the taxi, he kissed my cheek. “I can’t wait to hear all about this tonight. Be ready to give me a full report.”

I nodded, the blood draining from my cheeks. As the taxi driver maneuvered us back out into traffic, I straightened my shoulders and plastered my Montague smile in place. I told myself that this was better than what Adelaide had done. This was on
my
terms. This was one year. My mother and stepfather had forced my hand and I hadn’t folded.

One interview.

I could do that.

“YOU’RE STUNNING,” CY
whispered as he kissed my cheek.

He’d been waiting for me in the lobby as I entered the blue-glass building with the distinctive curved façade.

“Thank you. Andrew’s a miracle worker.”

“No. I may be gay, but I know a beautiful woman when I see one. So will Karen.” He placed my hand on the crook of his arm and led me toward the elevators. “I wouldn’t have made calls last night if I had any doubts. Tell me about yours.”

“My doubts?” I repeated. “I’m nervous.”

Our voices were low.

“Think of this like an admissions interview. That’s what it is. Alex, you passed that interview for both Stanford and Columbia. I think you can wow Karen.”

Since we’d entered the open elevator and were no longer alone, I didn’t respond. Cy hit the button for the 37th floor. The elevator stopped at several other floors as busy people stepped on and off. With each movement upward, my anxiety increased. This wasn’t like Stanford or Columbia. Those were accomplishments that I could one day list on my curriculum vitae. I was most certain that Infidelity would not be mentioned as
previous employment
.

When the doors opened, the large lobby with a glass desk and the beautifully scrolled lettering spelling
Infidelity
on the fifteen-foot wall surprised me.

“I thought this was a secret company?” I whispered.

“No, Infidelity is a website that caters to an exclusive crowd. It employs hundreds of people, everyone from writers and photographers, to janitorial personnel. It’s a legitimate Fortune 500 company.”

Cy walked us to the desk and spoke to the receptionist. “Mr. Perry and Miss Collins here to see Ms. Flores.”

“Yes, Mr. Perry. Ms. Flores is expecting both of you. Let me tell her that you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

I watched as women and men walked past. They all seemed to have important business down one hallway or another. If I hadn’t heard Patrick’s elevator pitch the night before, I would never have known what other activities happened behind the walls of Infidelity.

“Cyrus!” a gregarious middle-aged woman wearing a navy skirt and jacket said as she rushed towards us.

“Karen,” Cyrus greeted her as they kissed one another on the cheeks. “Thank you for agreeing to meet our friend Alex.”

“Why, of course. Any friend of Cyrus Perry’s is a friend of mine.” She turned her attention to me and offered her hand.

As we shook, I said, “Ms. Flores, very nice to meet you.”

“Miss Collins, my name is Karen and I look forward to meeting you. Please…” She gestured toward the hallway. “…let’s go to my office. We must talk.”

Cyrus nodded as we began our trek toward Karen Flores’s office. On our way, we passed multiple large office centers filled with cubicles and workers as well as private offices. Once we’d successfully wound around what I could accurately describe as a maze and I’d begun to wonder if in order to ever find my way out, I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs, we came to another elevator. Instead of one button, Karen pressed a badge against a sensor and turned to Cyrus. “How is Patrick?”

“He’s well. Thank you for asking.”

When the doors opened we stepped into the elevator. “I believe I heard he’s doing very well at Kassee.”

“Yes,” Cyrus said, his shoulders broadening with pride. “He’s a talented designer.”

I stood attentive as they conversed about Patrick’s attributes and promise of success. The entire scene was surreal. If only I didn’t know the backstory, if only I didn’t know that Cyrus had met Patrick with the help of this woman and Infidelity, I could take everything they said at face value. Now, however, with my knowledge, everything I heard was skewed.

When the elevator moved, I knew we were moving upward, but how far up or the number of floors. The control panel had only two buttons:
O
and
I
. Karen had hit I. When the doors opened, I had the distinct impression we were now at the real Infidelity, the reason for our visit.

We were again met with a large glass desk, a receptionist, and the word
Infidelity
in beautiful scroll upon the wall behind her. The difference here, versus the other lobby, was that there was only one door beyond this woman and to pass through that door, a security code was required.

Karen’s office was lovely with a full wall of windows that looked out on the financial district and beyond to the Brooklyn Bridge. While Cyrus and I sat in the two chairs facing the desk, Karen asked, “Would you like anything to drink? Water, tea, coffee, perhaps something stronger?”

They both looked at me.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

Karen settled behind her desk and opened a screen on her computer. “Alex Collins, twenty-three years old, soon to be twenty-four, recent graduate of Stanford University, graduated with honors, and currently enrolled at Columbia Law.” Her eyes widened. “Is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Alex, tell me why Infidelity should consider bringing you into our fold.”

I sat straighter on the edge of my seat. “Ms. Flores, I’m not well versed enough with Infidelity to answer that question. I was given a brief synopsis of this company and what it does, but while it may be unusual, I’d prefer to learn more from you. While I’m intrigued, I have my future to consider. Besides the obvious financial benefit, I’d like to know what Infidelity can do for me.”

Karen smiled and sat back against her chair. “Yes, indeed.”

She continued to watch me as the silence grew. Finally, when I didn’t speak, she leaned forward and began, “I’m sure from the brief description that you received you have questions. Miss Collins, let me make this clear, at Infidelity we do not sell sex. That is not what Infidelity is about. I’d like to get that misconception off the table right away. At Infidelity our clients buy class, poise, companionship, and compatibility. Our clients are exclusive and successful. Our employees are confidential and classified. Currently, we have over one hundred employees in extremely high-profile relationships. Whether the client is a CEO, politician, or in the arts, no one, not even their closest friends and family, know where they found their significant other. The beauty of our service is that relationships take time. If a client is high profile, every potential partner is under suspicion. Here at Infidelity, we guarantee that nothing will ever be disclosed. That is one of the reasons that we are very selective as to whom we employ.

“I’ll be honest, Miss Collins. You are many things, but your life goal is what makes you a potential candidate for Infidelity. Yes, you’re beautiful. You’re also young. Youth spurs beauty. I can find beautiful women in every city or town in the country. You’re intelligent. Your education speaks to that. However, we have intelligent employees who were never granted access to institutions such as Stanford. It’s because of your dream for your future that you stand out.

“I’d venture to say that one day you’d like to be a successful attorney, perhaps even enter the judicial system. You obviously have the résumé, assuming you complete Columbia. Maybe your goal is politics
…
my point is that you will adhere to our strict code of ethics and confidentiality. If you don’t, it’s your closet that will be decorated for Halloween.”

I nodded. That made sense. “Are your clients as well screened as your employees?”

“Yes.”

“I apologize for repeating myself, but what can Infidelity do for me?”

Karen stood and walked to the front of her desk. Sitting on the edge, she leaned back. “Miss Collins, your background check has just begun. From what I could obtain, it appears you didn’t have financial concerns while at Stanford. Your tuition, as well as monthly payments to your savings and checking accounts, was all paid by a trust fund brokered by the Savannah law firm of Hamilton and Porter. That trust fund is now gone.”

I swallowed and looked from Karen to Cy and back to Karen.

“Miss Collins, that is my business—our business. I know about my clients and about my employees. I don’t share that knowledge, but I make it my business to know.”

“Everything you said is correct,” I confirmed.

“The next natural conclusion is that you’re in need of money. If we broker a mutually beneficial agreement, Infidelity reimburses its employees well. The average employee receives twenty thousand dollars a month for living expenses. You see, it’s important for our employees to fit in with the clients and their world. While all of our clients agree to provide housing, their generosity beyond the basics—very high-end basics—is at their discretion.