Memoirs Of A Gigolo
Read Memoirs Of A Gigolo Online
Authors: Dranda Laster
MeMoirs oF A GiGolo
“Lying here in the bed we shared together thinking what went wrong? “I had it all, the money, cars, and the women. I was about to learn everything came at a price.
Who would do such a horrible thing? “After one of my many business trips I was tired but ready to see my beautiful wife. I opened the door of our home, and there she was lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. I was afraid to touch her, but I knew she was dead, I stood there in disbelief.
After I finally pull myself together, I called the police. “Where was my son Noel?” My greatest fears overtook my senses. Had this intruder also hurt my son? “My heart began to pound in my chest, and I could feel it in my ears. “Why…?.” I asked.
Who would want to hurt my lovely Stephora?” I dashed up the stairs hoping not to find what I feared to be true.
I opened the door to my son’s room to find him sound asleep. “Maybe she had put him down for the night, and opened the door to her killer.” Nothing seemed to be disturbed or out of place. Maybe was it someone she knew?
Hadn’t I told her many times never to open the door unless she was expecting someone? “I didn’t trust her ex-husband after their nasty divorce. “Why had I left her alone?” I wanted to take Noel some place safe, because he didn’t need to be exposed this. “Why wasn’t our housekeeper there?” I knew the nanny had the night off.
The police arrived after I called, asking questions about what I knew. I explained that I was out of town on a business trip, and arrived home to find my wife dead.
I sat there in the foyer, and I could no longer hold back my tears. “Mr. Jacobs could you pull yourself together long enough to answer a few questions” the officer asked. “Detective I just found my wife not two feet from here, dead…” He replied, “I understand, but this is necessary, and time is of the essence.” “The first forty eight hours are critical and I need all the information I can get to help find your wife’s killer.”
The detective asked, “Who do you think wanted to hurt your wife Mr. Jacobs?” I thought of all the possibilities and replied, “I don’t know, maybe her ex-husband, she didn’t have any enemies that I know of.” “Was there anything taken, jewelry, money or anything that you noticed?” “No, everything was still in place except the fact that she’s dead.”
“I have to ask you Mr. Jacobs, “Do you have any enemies?” “I’m sure I’ve made some enemies, but who hasn’t?”
“What line of work are you in Mr. Jacobs?” “I’m a broker, and I own my own brokerage firm in Chicago.” “What brings you to Beverly Hills?” “I started one here about a year ago.
“My wife loved it here she said it reminded her of home.” “Where was home to your wife?” “She was from Brazil but moved to Miami with her first husband.
“Being a broker must pay extremely well, to afford you all this? “I do ok, but this isn’t about how much money I make detective.” “I’m afraid it might be, if someone mistakenly killed your wife instead of you.” “Is that all detective, I need to take my son somewhere away from this.
“I don’t want this to be the last memory of his mother.’ “That’s all, but here’s my card if you suddenly think of anything.” “Thanks, and I will, but I’ve told you everything I know right now. I’ll be in touch Mr. Jacobs I guarantee you, so don’t leave town.”
“My lawyer will be in touch with you Detective” I scoffed. “Lawyer, why would an innocent man need a lawyer Mr. Jacobs? “I understand how this works detective’, husband murders wife open and shut case. “Mr. Jacobs, you’ve been watching too much TV it’s not that easy”, he smirked. “If that’s all detectives I need to get my son, and go.”
I grabbed Noel, and headed for my car I’d had enough of this. I had so many questions myself, and no real answers.
I found out after the fact that Stephora was shot once in the chest at point blank range.
Whoever done this knew she was home alone, and possibly knew her. Why hadn’t Noel been woken? Why hadn’t anyone heard the shot? The nearest neighbor was an ear shot away. Maybe Graham had hired a pro to do his dirty work? I was driving myself crazy trying to figure it out.
∞∞∞∞
A few days later I buried my wife. It was one of the saddest days of my life, and I needed only a few close friends and of course my mom to attend the funeral.
I had flown Sephora’s parents over from Brazil. Her mother was inconsolable, and I think her father blamed me for her death, and who could blame him. I was supposed to be her protector.
They entrusted me with their daughters’ safety and happiness, and I had let them down as well as myself.
After all the women I had screwed, or screwed over, she was the only woman who ever loved me unconditionally.
It was the day of the funeral, and I had to pull it together for my son. I knew he could feel my pain, and my distance. I had to find the strength to raise him the way Stephora would have wanted. My soul hurt, my mind was shattered, and as I looked down at her for the last time, I could barely breathe.
I stood there by my mother who was the crutch that held me up. The tears I had fought back started to flow uncontrollably. Before they closed the coffin, I kissed her lips for the last time.
How was I ever going to live without her? Even now the tears still flowed for Stephora. My beautiful wife what wouldn’t I give to have her back in my life.
Had my reckless lifestyle caused Sephora’s death and me so much pain? The saying goes, “What goes around comes around, and I was on the receiving end.”
This was the second wife and second death. I was beginning to feel like the Black Widower. I didn’t want the police to know I was married for a brief moment to someone else. What would they think? That would give them more ammunition against me.
The police were investigating her death, and I was their main suspect. What they really wanted to know was how I made my money. I still had my firms, and that was where I spent most of my time lately. I had the best lawyer money could buy, but what the police wanted to know, was what I was hiding. I hadn’t even told Stephora that I was still running my escort service, or that I was still selling myself to the highest bidder.
The money was too good, and I planned to retire as soon as I made a few million. I was real close until this mess happened, and now it had blown up in my face. My lawyer advised me to shut it down after I told him the truth. I had already offered my share to Aaron, a friend and colleague of Nicks’.
What would I tell Noel, our baby boy? His mother died because I was a fool who thought more about money than he did his own family.
In my mind, I was securing his future, and what a joke that turned out to be. Who did I think was I fooling? I loved sleeping with women for money. It gave me complete pleasure, and power and I was a sick bastard, who was thinking only of himself.
Suddenly the phone rang jolting me out of my thoughts. It was my private line, and unless it was business, I never used it. “Hello, talk to me.” “Donavan, its Amy can you talk?” It was Amy, very wealthy client who paid big bucks for me.
“Yes, but make it brief I’m in the middle of something important” I said. “Ok, this won’t take long.” “I was wondering if you could possibly come to New York for the weekend.” “I’m giving a party for one of my dear friends, and she is recently divorced.” “Before you say no, I’m willing to double your fee.”
Double my fee I thought, fifty grand sounded fantastic, but I had to pass. I wasn’t in the mood, and I didn’t have the stamina. “Amy, I wish I could, but I’m a bit tied up at the moment, but maybe Nick will be willing to come in my place.” “You do remember Nick, don’t you?” “Yes, but it’s really you I wanted.”
“I’m sorry Amy, but it’s a bad time.” I muttered. “I understand; I heard about your wife did they find out who did it,” Amy asked. “No, not yet, but I want rest until they are brought to justice.” “Well, I guess Nick will have to do, but if you change your mind.” Amy replied, sounding disappointed. “I want, so I’ll talk to you later,” I said trying to hurry and hang up the phone.
I was still healing from Stephora’s’ death, and I wasn’t in the mood to work or do anything else for that matter.
“Later Amy” and I hung up the phone.
She was a relentless bitch sometimes, but she was rich and paid me top dollar.
I slipped on my robe and headed down to the kitchen. I hadn’t eaten in a few days, and I was starving. Martha the housekeeper had already made a pot of coffee. I grabbed the paper from the doorstep, and noticed a police car still parked outside. I poured my coffee and opened the paper; I was still front page news. When was this ever going to end, I asked?
I buried Stephora two weeks ago today, and I thought something else would be news worthy by now. I wanted to be left alone, but that wasn’t happening. Momma had taken Noel back to Chicago with her until this was all sorted out. I didn’t want her to take this on, because she already had Janet, but Momma knew I needed time to heal, and she was excited to spend time with both her grandchildren.
It was for the best I knew, but I did miss him something awful. Momma tried to convince me to move back to Chicago, but I didn’t want to leave, and I really couldn’t leave. The police had already said don’t leave town, and I didn’t want to give the police any more fuel for the flame.
I needed to sell the house, but I knew there would be few buyers after they found out there was a murder here. How could I think about selling the house it was a gift to my wife? It had sentimental value and living here made me feel closer to Stephora somehow.
I had the house cleaned from top to bottom after the police gathered all the evidence they needed. I couldn’t get Sephora’s face out of my mind. Momma said it wasn’t healthy for me to stay here, and I knew she was right.
I dressed and called Nick. Twenty-five thousand I knew he would He'd jump at the chance. Nick was my partner and friend, and, after going solo for a few years, I decided to bring him in.
He was after all the mastermind behind our male escort business. I couldn’t believe the women who would pay top dollar for sex in the twenty first century.
We’d hired a few model type guys with great bodies. We did background checks and made sure they all came highly recommended. Nick being bisexual or heterosexual I wasn’t sure, but he made sure they knew their shit. We were rolling in the dough. Sixty percent off the top, but we were taking all the risk after all.
Nick decided to take this thing global, and it was making more money than ever. He was in France setting up shop, but I wanted out. How could I continue to do something that might have cost Sephora her life?
I phoned Nick and explained that he was to be in New York for the weekend. “Juan man, I’m not sure I can make New York.” “Is there someone else you can call?” I said, “No, this is a job only you can handle.” “Amy is willing to pay top dollar, and she one of our best customers.”
He sounded interested and said “Will she be sending her private jet?” “Of coarse and doesn’t she always.” “You know Amy; she pays well, but she’ll work the fuck out you, literally.” “Yes I know, but I know you know your shit. “Listen, I need you to go solo no extras if you know what I mean.”
“Donavan, don’t worry; I know how to handle Amy and her friends. “No extras needed” he laughed. Nick was a party guy who always needed an entourage. His head for business is what I took to immediately, after we were introduced at a party. Nick looked like the boy next door. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a body to die for. Nick had this effect on women and men, sex appeal only he possessed. He had the swagger of Robert Redford, and the boyish charm of Brad Pitt. “Nicolas Green would do just about anything if the price were right. What I didn’t know, was that nothing was off limits with him. When you lie down, with dogs you get up with fleas.
Born Donavan Jacobs, I always knew I was something special. Women adored me at birth, my mother being the first. She loved her some Juan, and I loved her just as much. I was her only child, and nothing was too good for me.
I went to the best schools and sported the best wardrobes.
High school was where I learned to be the man every woman wanted. I was voted most likely to succeed, and Mr. Personality. I kept my head in my books, but I had a thing for beautiful women. I always had the pick of the litter, Black, White and a few Asians sprinkled throughout.
I was a women’s pet, and the guys regret. They all wanted to be with Juan, and with good reason. I was the total package. I never paid for a date or went without one. I also learned that white girls would do anything for a black man to take them to bed. As for black women they always wore their feelings on their sleeve. I always thought that they were stronger than they gave themselves credit for.
My mom was the most beautiful black woman God ever made, but she lacked confidence. Not because she was uneducated or poor, but because she didn’t know what she had. Women of any color have what all men want. I call it a money maker. My father was married and had a family across town. His guilty conscious paid for my Ivy League education. That’s all he ever did for my mom and me, and it sickens me to think about my father.
Because my mother was a strong and wonderful woman, she raised me to be a man. I often overheard my grandmother talking to my mom, and one of her famous quotes was. “He needs to see a man in order to become a man”.
