My Gigolo (7 page)

He absolutely should not have taken that call. It made him feel weird, disconnected somehow. He felt without an anchor.

Gabe had Mike. She had friends to talk about and places to go where she’d be greeted with a smile. She had a house that was so obviously hers. She talked to total strangers without wondering if they would ask about her rates or wonder if she’d ever been with someone of her own gender.

He had…his job.

But he loved his job. Didn’t he? He loved being with a different woman every night. He enjoyed overcoming the occasional shyness and instilling new confidence. The challenge of figuring out what made any given woman coo and sigh thrilled him.

Hell, he had sex more than anybody he knew. He
loved
being an escort. Wouldn’t change a thing.

But she had friends. Family. A
life
. He had…other people’s fantasies.

Then again, what was wrong with living out other people’s fantasies? He was in high demand. He was a healthy, active, thirty-year-old man in a sprawling, busy city, and more people knew his name—well, his escort name—than he could begin to sit down and count. He’d had to tell Regina to cut back on his calls just this month. Even he couldn’t have that much sex.

But now that he thought of it, he seemed to remember more and more of the faces he romanced lately. He wasn’t really seeing different women every night. In fact, as he pictured his schedule for next week, he realized that of the twenty women he’d booked, ten were…regulars.

Four of those even had a specific night of the week. He was…a Thursday Night Special. A Wednesday Night Special. A Friday Night Special. Even a Monday Night Special.

He used to refuse Monday nights during football season so he could watch the game. That Sara chick had somehow talked him into giving up his Monday Night Football. Good God, he was as regimented as any husband. When had that happened?

He pulled into his usual parking space and stared up at his apartment complex, looking for anything that made his window and balcony different from anyone else’s. That made it his own. He saw bright red curtains glowing in one window, bright blue in another. Porch furniture sets on balconies. Potted plants galore, though winter had killed off any flowers or greenery long before now.

Nothing in his own window but the standard blinds. Nothing on his balcony but his ten-speed, and he wasn’t the only person with one of those by far.

Did he make any personal impression at all on his surroundings? He thought of white siding and charcoal shutters. He thought of the comfortable-looking porch swing. It was the most hideous shade of green known to man, but he’d wanted to sit in it and swing, just to see if the chains squeaked like they were supposed to. He thought of a loft bedroom, a spiral wrought-iron staircase, a crooked smile, a woman baking her own birthday cake because everyone at work requested it.

He made a mean tuna casserole. Did anyone even know that?

His apartment, too, greeted him with open arms, but instead of the smile he’d tried at the city limits, it received an outright scowl in return. Generic in every sense of the word. Basic furniture. White walls. The only thing remotely unique was his computer center. That, he had blown some serious coin on. Everything else…

He knew escorts who had turned their apartments into pleasure palaces, but he’d made a promise to himself back when he started that he would never bring clients home. Now he couldn’t even remember why. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money to spruce up the place. He had saved most of what he’d earned over the years. Why hadn’t he at least tried to make the place more homey?

Vaguely depressed, he dropped his bag on the couch that had come with the apartment and went to his bedroom. Comfy mattress, but nothing special. Plain gray sheets and comforter. He lay back on his boring, generic bed and stared up at the ceiling.

He liked his life. Always had. So why did he suddenly not?

She’d probably called her sister as soon as he left. Had anyone even noticed he was out of town for the night? Was she already hanging out with the friends she’d mentioned with such laughter and fun in her tone? With any of the half-dozen acquaintances who had passed their table?

Who could he call to touch base with? Of whom could he ask all of these new questions?

He did have friends, of course, but none like that. Not here, anyway. There was always Brad out in San Diego. He hadn’t talked to him in a coon’s age—since the other escort had given up the business and moved out West. Maybe he should give him a call tonight. See if the old Brad-meister had any advice for an escort-about-town who was starting to feel like a kept man.

And maybe he’d see if Brad had an extra room he could use for a while. A vacation—especially to sunny California—might be just the thing to get him back on his feet.

If worse came to worst, he could always work on his tan.

A long-time paralegal, Gabe knew how to keep a secret. Confidentiality training was part of the hiring process at any law firm. She never shared details of her cases—not with Doug or Phil, her closest friends, or with Mike, to whom she told everything else.

She would never in a million years know how her own secret got out so quickly.

“So, who is he?”

“Who is who?”

Cheryl Myers, one of the two receptionists at the firm and the only person she considered a friend both outside of work and in, perched on the edge of Gabe’s desk and smiled saucily.

“Whoever put that glow all over your face.”

She blushed, turning away to sort depositions. “What glow?”

“Don’t give me that, Gabrielle Turner. I’ve known you too long.”

“Ooh, pulling out the big guns. The given name stings, Cher.”

“Got your attention, didn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her friend. She knew from long experience that Cheryl simply could not let something go. Especially something gossip-worthy.

“Look, it’s nothing. There’s no glow. I just had a good weekend, and today’s my birthday.” She willed the blush away, but she couldn’t do anything about the glow. “Am I not allowed to be in a good mood?”

Rolling her eyes, the thirty-something receptionist leaned over and plucked at the plastic wrap coving the cookie-and-bonbon tray until it opened enough for her to steal a sweet. “It’s eight-thirty on a Monday morning. Ain’t no one allowed to be in a good mood just yet. So give.”

Gabe raised one eyebrow. “Those are for later. And there’s nothing to give.” Relenting a bit under a patented Cher Look, she shrugged. “I just got a birthday present a little early.”

Cheryl’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Wait just one hot minute. The look. The reluctance to talk about it.” She smiled, the expression both astonished and honestly happy. “You had a booty call.”

Instant facial inferno. “Good God, hush! And no, I did not.”

“You did!” Nodding approvingly, her friend looked her over. “So who is it? Have you been seeing him a while? Was it that mouth-breather guy that Vince tried to set you up with? His cousin or whatever?”

If she weren’t so amused, she’d probably want to die. “There’s no one. Especially not the mouth-breather.” She shuddered. “If I wanted a booty call, I’d have called Will’s brother. He’s at least minimally groomed and is evolved enough to breathe through his nose like the rest of us humans.”

“Come on, Gabe. I know you. I don’t even want to think how long it’s been since you got some decent action. And I know action when I see it.” She winked and took a bite of bonbon. “And I’m not the only one who’s noticed it.”

“Shut up. Who?”

“Charlene noticed right off the bat. She said you practically floated in this morning, all smiles and greetings and with a veritable trail of spring bunnies and twittering bluebirds hovering at your shoulder.”

She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, God.”

“So give. Who was it? Damn, these things are good. Why don’t they ever turn out this good when I make them?”

“You gotta sift the powdered sugar.” She slumped with her arms crossed in her lap and lifted what she sincerely hoped was a pitiful look up at her friend. “I tell you this in the strictest confidence. I don’t really care what anyone else thinks, but you’re right. You’ve put up with me too long not to at least know a little. There was a guy, but I can’t tell you who. He’s not from around here, and I very much doubt I’ll ever bump into him again.”

“I knew it.” Cheryl lowered her voice and leaned down again to better whisper. “Was he cute? Was he hot?”

She blushed, her own voice barely audible. “He was…God, Cher, he was absolutely beautiful. Body like a Greek statue.” She shivered, remembering. “And if you swear not to tell anyone else…” Pausing, she shifted to peek around Cheryl’s slim frame to make sure no one was listening at the door. Once sure of secrecy, she met her friend’s intent gaze. “I came three times. The
first
time.”

Blue eyes that she had quietly envied for five years widened. “Three? Wow! It’s been years since I managed that. The first time?”

Blushing furiously, she nodded and had to bite back a ridiculous giggle. She
never
giggled. “He woke me up later for two more.”

“Nice!” Sitting back, Cheryl reached for another bonbon. “And he’s not from around here? Pity. Sounds like a handy man to keep around.”

“Oh, no.” Firmly shaking her head, she sat up straight and adjusted her keyboard. “You know my relationship policy, and it wouldn’t work with this guy, anyway. He’s…complicated.”

“I like complicated.” Crossing her arms, her friend shrugged. “You know, one of these days, you’re gonna have to give up this Lone Woman policy. You think you’re happy, but everybody needs somebody.”

She rolled her eyes. “God, you sound like my sister.”

“Your sister’s smart, and my name’s not God.”

A snort escaped her. “I’ll remember that the next time you swear your advice on my love life is sound.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Standing away from the desk, Cheryl turned to leave. “Get to work, ya slacker.”

“Hey!”

But her friend headed for the coffee pot with a laugh, and Gabe turned back to her own work with a smile. She was
not
glowing. And if she was…well, who wouldn’t be after a birthday present like that?

Her smile turned to a crooked grin, and the morning went on.

March

He still had her sister’s number. He could just call her up and say something witty like, “Hey, Mike! I really enjoyed your sister. Can I get her number for a repeat performance?”

Somehow, he doubted that would go over well.

He cancelled his last regular’s last appointment. He didn’t want her anymore. Didn’t want any of them. Josephine was too talkative and wore too much make-up. Sara’s breasts could set a world record. They actually intimidated him a little. Lana was too thin. Merry was too fat. Janette was a little too fond of her own ass. And Denise? Just…no.

He needed a new scene.

Wearing his newly common scowl, he pushed through Briggs’ glass doors for what he hoped was the last time. The sooner he moved on to Cali, the better. He didn’t think a vacation would cut it. After all, what would he be coming back to? The same-old same-old.

Regina’s face lit up as he strode over to her desk. “Blade! I haven’t seen you all week. You have a lot of calls.”

“I imagine.” He leaned on the desk. Slumped, really. “Look, I just came in to tell you I’m moving. No more calls for me. I gotta get outta here.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Moving? You can’t move!”

He shrugged. “People do it every day. Can I get my last check?”

It was a little joke, as all his clients paid in cash, but it failed to amuse. The receptionist looked gut-kicked, and he abruptly wondered if she’d carried something of a torch.

“But why?”

“Why what?”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Why are you moving? I thought you liked it here.”

He shrugged. “City seems smaller than it used to. I’m starting to feel like part of the scenery. Like the last stop on a guided tour.”

Dark blue eyes regarded him steadily. Finally, her expression changed from confusion to speculation.

“You haven’t really been yourself lately.” The speculation fell away, and she seemed to come to some kind of decision. She sat up straight and put on her receptionist face. “You could just call her, you know.”

He grunted. Surely, it wasn’t that obvious. “Call who?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Whoever it was that knocked you off your pedestal.”

Stymied, he could only gape at her.

“She obviously threw you, Blade. Just call her and ask her out. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“But…I…you…”

“People do it every day.” She smiled, softening her cool receptionist demeanor. “You’re not the first escort to develop a thing for a client. I just didn’t expect it from you, of all people.”

“Why me, of all people?”

She shrugged and handed him a thick envelope she’d pulled from a desk drawer. “You’re one of the few who really enjoyed the job. You weren’t just doing it for the money. I didn’t expect you to take the tumble.”

He snatched the envelope out of her hand. “I haven’t taken any tumble.”

“Oh, please.” Despite the snark, her tone was sympathetic, as were her eyes. “My only advice is to not go halfway. If you want something real with her, give up the business. No woman wants to kiss her man goodbye, knowing he’ll be kissing several someone elses before he gets back to her.”

“Regina, I’m moving. There’s nothing and no one to keep me here. Hell, I’m already halfway packed.”

She winced, then forced a smile and turned to her keyboard. “Uh-huh. Just call her before you go. You’ll kick yourself later if you don’t.”

He tucked the envelope into his pocket and left, actually considering the advice. Did he want to see Gabe again that much? Was she really the root of his discontent?

And how had Regina, a woman he saw maybe twice a week at most, seen through him so easily? Sure, he considered her more than an acquaintance, but…

Maybe he did have friends here.
A
friend, at least. Maybe he didn’t have to move just yet. He hadn’t even called the Brad-meister to see if he could crash on the couch a few days until he found his own place.