Red Hot Rose Boxed Set (2 page)

The woman gave us her first genuine smile of the day.
 
“Yes, Jessica, you always do.
 
Which is why I’m giving your friend a chance, even though every fiber of my being is telling me to send her away.”

I went from smiling to frowning in one second flat.
 
Should I be insulted I’m not escort service material or proud?
 
I couldn’t decide, and since I needed the money so desperately, and no one else in town seemed to be hiring, I accepted the fact that this was my very last hope.
 
I pasted a smile back on my face and mustered up all the courage I had left in my body to say, “Thank you, Ms. Corrigan.
 
I promise, you won’t regret it.”

“See that I don’t,” she said, her attention back on her computer, an obvious dismissal in her tone.

Jessica grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room.
 
I tripped on the corner of an oriental carpet that laid over the marble floors and nearly went down, but she caught me.
 
Together we stumbled out of the office and out into the hallway.

The door shut behind us and Jessica stood in front of me, smoothing her hair and dress down.
 
“Well.
 
That wasn’t the most graceful exit I’ve ever made, but I guess it doesn’t matter … ” she grabbed my hands and squealed, “… since you got the job!” She jumped up and down, her face stretched into a manic expression of sheer excitement.

I shook my head at her, pulling my hands away so I could yank my skirt down and my top up.
 
“You are a lunatic, you know that?

I took one last look at myself in the mirror of the tiny bathroom we shared in our little apartment, turning my head slowly from left to right, taking in the sophisticated chignon that Jessica had coaxed my hair into.

“Are you sure, this is okay?” I asked, reaching up to feel it.

Jessica yelled, “Don’t touch it!”

I jumped in fright, my hand flying back to my side.
 
“Geez.
 
Ease up on the caffeine, spaz.”

“Move,” said Jessica, shoving me over with her hip so she could lean in closer to the mirror and put on another layer of lipstick.

“You are the only person in the world I’ve ever met who can wear that bright red stuff and get away with it,” I said, watching her technique closely.
 
If it were me standing there, it would already be on my teeth.
 
“Everyone else just looks like a clown when they try.”

“Thank you.
 
I think you could wear it too, but I’m afraid you’ll smear it at the party and I won’t be around to repair you.”

“I’m fine with my gloss.”

She stood back up straight and turned to look at me, examining my face and hair again for the fiftieth time.
 
“At least it’s tinted gloss.
 
Just make sure you reapply throughout the night and check every once in a while that it hasn’t smeared.
 
I’ve put enough goop in your hair that it should stay put.”

“I’m going to have to use nail polish remover to get this damn
 
hair-glue out tomorrow,” I mumbled, seriously not looking forward to dealing with all the hair product that was keeping my dry, frizzy hair held up in this fancy look that both Jessica and Ms. Corrigan had insisted on.
 
“I can’t believe that woman actually sent you a picture of how she wanted my hair done.
 
What a control freak.”

“Hey, this is her business.
 
She started it herself and grew it to be the most successful operation in the whole state.
 
Did you know that she sends girls on planes sometimes to other cities?”
 
Jessica turned back to the mirror.
 
“I want to be one of those girls someday,” she said, turning her head side-to-side, reaching up to move a single hair two inches over to another spot.

I took her hand and pulled her from the makeup counter.
 
“Come on.
 
If I look at either of us in this mirror any longer I’m going to have a very hard time not grabbing a pen and drawing fake warts and mustaches on our faces.”

Jessica laughed.
 
“Why on earth would you want to ruin perfection like that?”
 
She grabbed her purse off the front table as she walked into our tiny foyer.
 
“These faces are going to be our tickets.”

“Tickets?” I asked.
 
“Tickets to what?
 
A life of glamour and prostitution?”

She slapped my arm.
 
“No, stupid.
 
We’re not prostitutes.
 
I told you, we don’t have sex with the party people.
 
We just stand around and look pretty, make conversation, and flirt.
 
That’s it.”

We walked out the front door together and I stood by while she locked out door.
 
“Oh yeah?
 
What about that guy … Bill or whatever?”

“He was a voluntary fuck, so it’s not prostitution.
 
I got paid regardless.”

A shocked laugh flew out of my mouth.
 
“Voluntary fuck?
 
Is that an industry term I should know?”

“Come on, stop goofing around,” she said, going down the stairs to our shared car.
 
It was really hers, but she let me take it whenever I wanted, which I did when it was raining.
 
My scooter was awesome on gas, but not so awesome on keeping me dry during storms.

“What if someone propositions me?” I asked, getting worried about voluntary fucks and involuntary fucks.
 
Is there a difference?

“It’s just like a regular party.
 
If you see a guy you like and he asks you out, you can say yes or no.
 
It’s very simple.”

“I guess I don’t get why they even hire us if it’s just a regular party.”

Jessica’s Mini-Cooper could fit just about anywhere, which was lucky since we were currently parked next to an SUV that was taking one-and-a-half spaces for itself.
 
She sighed heavily as she backed out.
 
“I’ve told you before … sometimes we get assigned parties and other times we get assigned individuals.
 
It just depends on what the client wants.
 
Tonight it’s some kind of fund-raiser and they wanted some eye candy around.
 
That’s us.”

“And the fact that you’ve slept with half your clients doesn’t equate to prostitution in your mind.”

Jessica shot me a dirty look.
 
“If you call me a hooker one more time I’m going to pinch your boob super hard.”

I put my hands over my chest for protection.
 
“I’m not calling you a hooker.
 
I’m just trying to get this all straight in my head … justify what I’m doing, I guess.”
 
I thought about the professor I had for my Tuesday econ class.
 
I’d put the damn course off for the whole four years, avoiding it because I had such a hard time grasping the concepts of the required course.
 
And now that I’d laid eyes on him and his wavy hair and horn-rimmed glasses, I couldn’t decide if the class would be easier because I was mooning over his incredibly hot face and body while trying to impress him with my intelligence, or harder because it would be impossible to concentrate during his lectures.
 
He was unfortunately one of those professors who felt like he should teach the classes personally instead of using grad students to do it.
 
Ugh.
 
Hot and dedicated.
 
Somebody shoot me
.

“One last time, I’ll explain for you with the short attention span and zero memory.
 
You get paid to show up and do the job of being an attentive date.
 
That’s all.
 
When the evening is over at the designated time, you are on your own time.
 
If you decide to fuck during that period, it’s all you.
 
And if the guy pays you a little extra for that fuck, you can either consider it a tip -which believe me, a lot of guys give even if you don’t fuck- or you can get all negative and down on a fun job that pays a lot of money and call yourself a prostitute.
 
I, personally, call myself a modern woman, making money to support herself and her dreams of being a business owner someday.
 
I’m not breaking any laws or hurting anyone, so as far as I’m concerned, it’s all good.”
 
She looked over at me.
 
“Okay?
 
Do you understand?”

I nodded my head, my lips pursed.

“Say it.
 
I know you’re thinking something, so just say it.”

I shook my head silently, keeping my thoughts to myself.
 
Call it what you like, but when a guy pays you after or before sex, it’s being a hooker.
 
And I will not be a hooker, no matter how much money some guy offers me
.
 
I thought about one of my favorite all-time movies, where the guy hires a hooker and pays her for the week.
 
I was a total sucker for a Cinderella story, even if it involved ladies of the night.
 
I wondered if it had been me in that story, if I would have taken the money.

“Okay, keep your opinions to yourself then.
 
I don’t want to hear them if they’re mean anyway.”

“Come on, Jess, I’m not being mean.
 
I’m just … nervous.”

“Jesus,
Rose, what is there to be nervous about?
 
We’re just going to a party!
 
We’re going to stand around, drink a single glass of wine -you know that’s all they allow- eat some appetizers, chat up some old men, and flirt with the waiters.
 
What could possibly go wrong?”

“What if someone wants to have sex with me?”

She laughed.
 
“Trust me … you’re so uptight, you might as well be wearing a sign that says STAY AWAY in neon lights.
 
It couldn’t be more effective at keeping men at bay.”

I frowned, not sure whether I should be happy about that or not.
 
It felt like an insult, but part of me was glad that I had an invisible go-away sign on.
 
I guess if I’m sending off those vibes, I don’t have to worry about the sex thing.
 
Which means I won’t have to think about being a hooker.
 
I smiled, happy with the idea that I could be making a hundred bucks an hour to go to a fancy, catered party with my best friend.

“That’s the spirit,” said Jessica, grinning over at me.
 
“An actual smile.
 
And imagine … your face didn’t even crack!”

“Shut up, hooker,” I said, laughing when Jessica screeched her outrage.
 
“Just don’t let me get trapped with someone, okay?
 
If someone tries to, like, I don’t know … smother me, you promise you’ll come get me, right?”

“Yes.
 
Absolutely.
 
That’s why they always send us in groups to big parties like this.
 
Safety in numbers.
 
I’ll watch your back, you watch mine.”

A flicker of fear entered my mind, making me feel a little queasy.
 
“Safety?
 
As in, there’s danger?”

Jessica pulled up to a huge mansion-like house that had a valet guy in front.
 
She put the car in park and turned to face me.
 
“No, there’s no danger.
 
Look at this house, would you?” she said, gesturing towards the huge columns that stood outside my window.
 
“What could possibly be dangerous about a party in a palace like this?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, looking out the window up at the massive walls that rose two very tall stories into the night sky,
 
“probably nothing.”
 
The fountain on our left, that I could clearly hear now that Jessica’s door was open, gave the place a presidential feel almost.

I let my misgivings slide into the background as I took the offered hand of the valet.
 
He helped me out of the car, and I stood waiting for my friend to join me.
 
She was gamely flirting with the guy who’d gone to retrieve her keys and park the car for us.
 
She flashed him some cleavage, leaning over to show him they were still in the ignition, earning her a big grin.

“Come on, Jess.
 
Time to party,” I said wryly.
 
I worried momentarily that she was going to use up all her flirting powers before we even got in the front door, but then quickly dismissed that thought out of hand.
 
Who am I kidding?
 
Jessica’s powers are limitless.
 
She sucks the energy out of lesser women and uses it to enthrall every man from fifty feet around
.