Seduction (19 page)

MISSY'S PAYDAY
had finally arrived and she was thrilled beyond belief. She had already called and made an appointment to see the surgeon who would perform the sex change operation. Now she'd be able to throw out her wardrobe of extra small thongs that had kept her package in place all of these years. Her next call was to her real estate broker, to inform her that she finally had the cash for a substantial down payment for the apartment that she lived in. With real estate prices out the wazoo, and the six-figure cost of the reconstruction, Missy's funds were dwindling before she even had her hands on the cash. After paying for the operation and buying the condo, she would barely have five hundred thousand left, and a half million dollars in New York was like having fifty thousand elsewhere, especially with the extravagant way she lived. To secure her financial future, Missy decided to tell Mason that the ransom for the pictures and videos had increased to two million dollars. Obviously getting his hands on Terra's money was easy, since he'd come up with the initial million with no problems.

Missy went into her closet. Behind her wardrobe of designer clothes was a custom-built safe. She moved the dresses aside to gain access to the combination lock and quickly turned the knob to the left, then to the right, and back to the left, and like magic, the door to the small safe popped open. Inside was her original birth certificate that classified her gender as male, a sapphire and diamond broach from a generous lover, and the incriminating evidence she had on Mason. Missy gathered the videos and pictures and stuffed them into a tote bag. With millions at stake, she decided it would be best to take the evidence out of her home safe and put everything into a more secure safe deposit box at the bank. Her financial freedom was at stake and she wasn't going to take any chances by being careless with the evidence.

Earlier that day, she had typed and printed the letter he requested, had it notarized, and put it in the bag along with the other evidence. She planned to go to the bank first, then meet Mason, show him the notarized letter—to prove that she was serious—and demand a down payment that was sure to be the first of many installments. But she had no intention of giving him the letter until she got more money. Terra was a cash cow, and Missy planned on milking Mason until she had millions stashed away, and then maybe, just maybe, she'd give up the evidence.

Missy took her time showering, dressing, and applying her makeup because she wanted to look flawless. Even though Mason had seen her at the Black Door—scantily dressed—he had never seen her coiffed as the perfect woman. She wanted him to see how attractive she was, and that she was no different from any other woman (especially once she had the operation). It was raining kittens and puppies, so she decided to wear knee-high, black patent leather rain boots, a short black dress, and a white Burberry trench coat. She combed her long hair into a neat chignon, and with her hair pulled back, you could clearly see the one-carat diamond studs in each ear, another gift from a former lover. Missy checked herself in the mirror and had to admit that she looked just like one of those Upper East Side rich bitches who shopped and lunched for a living. A smile slowly crept upon her face at the thought of joining the hordes of women who lived the fabulous life without slaving away at a J.O.B. Yes, she had struck pay dirt and was ready to receive the first of many installments. Missy tied the belt around her waist, threw the tote over her shoulder, grabbed her umbrella, and headed out the door.

By the time she got outside, the rain had increased and now it was pouring cats and dogs. Missy stood underneath the building awning and waited for the doorman to flag down a taxi, but every cab that passed by was occupied. Finding a taxi in New York when it was raining was like trying to find bin Laden in the middle of a sandstorm—nearly impossible—so she decided that her chances would be better if she left the shelter of the awning and scouted a cab for herself. Missy turned up the plaid collar of her coat, popped open the umbrella, and stepped out into the torrential downpour.

Since there were no available taxis in sight, she decided to walk the ten blocks to her bank, deposit the evidence, and then head downtown to meet Mason. The walk took longer than she anticipated and even though her bank stayed open late, by the time she got there it was closed. Missy stood curbside and tried to hail a taxi, but they were either occupied or off duty. She quickly looked at her watch. It was seven-thirty and she was supposed to meet Mason at eight o'clock sharp. She began to panic because she didn't want to be late and risk him walking out of the hotel with her money.

“Damn, I should have called a car service,” she mumbled to herself. For a split second, she thought about taking out her cell phone and calling a car, but it was useless, because at this point a car would take at least an hour to arrive and another twenty minutes to take her to SoHo, and by then he would surely be gone.

Missy walked another two blocks before spotting a man across the street getting out of a taxi. Her eyes lit up like bulbs on a Christmas tree, and she jetted across the busy street before someone else hopped in the cab.

She had the umbrella cocked to one side, shielding herself from the rain as she ran, and didn't see that she had stepped directly into the path of an oncoming bus. Before Missy could take another step, she was broadsided and knocked twenty feet in the air. The contents of her tote flew in the air along with her, and as she crashed back to earth in the middle of traffic, the pictures floated down and scattered across the soaking wet pavement.

“Oh, my God! Somebody call an ambulance!” yelled the driver.

When the bus stopped suddenly, it put in motion a horrific chain of events, causing a taxi to swerve up on the sidewalk, nearly killing a crowd of pedestrians, and another bus nearly missed hitting the bumper of the first bus.

Traffic was snarled and backed up for blocks, and by the time the paramedics arrived fifteen minutes later, they took Missy's vital signs, scraped her mangled body off the concrete, placed her on a gurney, and rushed her to the nearest hospital.

MASON ARRIVED
at the Soho Grand ten minutes early. The weather was unforgiving. Mother Nature had opened the floodgates, unleashing torrential rains down on the city, so he allowed an extra forty minutes for what was usually a fifteen-minute cab ride. He was nervous about making the exchange, and kept thinking about the possibility of Rico counting the cash right then and there. Mason had a ready-made answer in the event that he did insist. If that was the case, Mason would simply say that counting a million dollars in public wasn't safe. He would make Rico feel so paranoid about carrying that much money that he'd probably run right out of the hotel straight home, before anyone robbed him of his sudden windfall. Mason checked his watch; it was eight o'clock sharp, and he expected Rico to come rushing through the door any minute.

Five minutes later, and Rico still wasn't there.
He probably had a tough time getting a taxi,
Mason thought, knowing what a nightmare it was finding a cab in New York in the rain.

Another two minutes went by, and Mason's cell phone rang. He thought it was Rico calling to say that he was running late, but he looked at the caller ID, and it was Terra. “Hey, sweetheart, how are you?” he asked, after flipping open the phone.

“I'm fantastic! What are you doing? Can you come over? I have some great news to tell you,” she said quickly, nearly running her words together.

“Uh, I'm getting ready to go into a meeting, but I can come by later. What's the great news?” Mason wanted to know. He was so wound up that he needed to hear something uplifting as a momentary distraction.

“I'll tell you when you get here,” she said, and gave him her address. “Okay, sweetie, I'll see you later.”

Hearing the happiness in Terra's voice, Mason began to feel guilty for getting her involved in this mess—even though she knew nothing about the scheme—and would be relieved once the blackmail issue was settled. He took Missy's card out of his pocket and dialed her cell number, but after four rings, the call went to voice mail, and he hung up without leaving a message. He checked his watched again; it was a quarter after eight. He was surprised that Rico wasn't there yet, because he knew how anxious the greedy bastard was to get his hands on the money.

Maybe he's upstairs,
Mason thought, and walked up the wrought-iron steps to the lobby bar. The dim lounge area was full of people sipping cocktails and chatting. He squinted his eyes to adjust to the lighting and scanned the plush sofas, but Rico wasn't there. He then walked into the bar area to the left, but he wasn't there either. Mason peeked his head in the restaurant, but still no Rico.

Mason went back downstairs and waited for another thirty minutes. It was nearly nine o'clock, and Rico still hadn't shown his face. All types of thoughts were running through Mason's mind.
Suppose he decided to go straight to Terra and extort the money from her directly?
he thought. But he quickly dismissed that theory, because if that were the case, Terra would've been irate instead of bubbling over with joy when she called.
Maybe he was meeting with a tabloid reporter at this very moment and is showing them the pictures.
But again that didn't make any sense either, since Rico would only be getting a nominal fee for the pictures instead of the million dollars. Mason went through dozens of other scenarios, but none of them made any sense, especially since he told Rico that he had the cash, and there was no way that Rico could have known that Mason didn't have the full amount.

At nine-thirty he decided to leave, because clearly Rico had no intention of showing up. It had stopped raining, and there was a fleet of taxis in front of the hotel. He hopped into one and gave the driver Terra's address. Mason sat in the backseat, freaking out, and didn't know what to do. Rico had changed the rules midgame; now Mason had no clue how to proceed. He took out his phone and redialed Rico's number, but again the call went to voice mail after a few rings.
He's probably looking at the caller ID and purposely ignoring my call
. He wanted to go over to Rico's apartment and confront him, but he didn't know where he lived. The only information on Rico's card was his new name and cell number.

As the taxi cruised up the West Side Highway, Mason carefully weighed his options. On the one hand, he could come clean and tell Terra about his unsavory past and the blackmail scheme, or he could wait until Rico crawled out of the woodwork with the evidence and gave Terra a private viewing of the pornographic videos. Either way, the truth would come out, and Mason knew no matter how hard telling Terra about his homosexual experience would be, she should hear the truth from him. Rico couldn't be trusted and would more than likely spin the facts and paint him to be bisexual, which he wasn't since that was his first and last encounter with a man. As hard as telling her was going to be, Mason knew that he had no other choice.

He wanted to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible, and could have cruised around Manhattan all night, but the driver had pulled in front of her building and was waiting impatiently to get paid. Mason gave him a twenty, told him to keep the change, and got out.

“Mason Anthony to see Ms. Benson,” he said to the doorman.

“Go on up, she's expecting you,” he said, and gave Mason her apartment number.

“Sweetheart, there's something important I have to tell you,” he mumbled in the elevator, trying to rehearse his lines. But no matter what words he used, the truth would sound ugly and disgusting. His only hope was that she could find it in her heart to forgive him. The elevator doors opened, and he slowly stepped off and made his way to her apartment. Doom washed over Mason, as if he were going to face a firing squad, and in a sense he was, because he knew that Terra's eyes would shoot holes through his character the moment she heard the truth. When he reached her door, it was ajar, and he called out her name.

“Come on in, honey, and make a left. I'm in the den!” she yelled.

Mason followed her voice and found her perched on a white leather sofa in an exquisitely decorated room mixed with antiques and sleek Scandinavian furniture. She was watching a plasma television mounted to the wall like a piece of art. “Hey there,” he said.

Terra looked over at him and blew him a kiss. “Hey, sweetie.” She noticed the backpack swinging off of his left shoulder, smiled, and said, “I see you brought a change of clothes. Now how did you know I was planning a sleepover?” she teased.

“It's not a change of clothes.” Mason sat down next to her. “I have something important to tell you.”

“So do I. Guess who's going to be starring in a major motion picture? ME!” she blurted out before he had a chance to answer.

“Wow, that's great. When did this happen?” Mason could clearly see that Terra was flying high, and he hated to be the one to let the helium out of her balloon, but it had to be done.

“My friend Sage bought a movie studio and has signed me to a two-picture deal, but I'll tell you all about it in a minute. I want to watch the commercials so I can see who got that Dove commercial that I auditioned for,” she said, turning her attention back toward the television.

Mason sat back and waited. After the break was over, the ten o'clock news came back on, and he knew that it was now or never. “Terra, there's something important I have to tell you,” he said, moving closer to her.

She looked at Mason and noticed the serious expression on his face. Her heart began to race. She didn't know what he had to say, but whatever it was, it was no laughing matter. In the time that she had known him, she'd never seen him look so somber. “Mason, you're scaring me. What's the matter?”

“It's a long story, so I'll start at the beginning.” He took a deep breath. “Back in college—”

“Earlier this evening, in midtown, a bus struck and killed a pedestrian. Witnesses say a woman, later identified as Missy Walker, ran in front of a moving bus and was pronounced dead at St. Vincent's Hospital. The fatal accident caused a major pileup in midtown and tied up traffic for hours,” the newscaster said in the background.

The second Mason heard the name Missy Walker, he stopped talking and stared at the screen. The camera crew had obviously arrived after she was taken to the hospital, because there was only a shot of the bus, a ripped tote bag, and debris littering the ground. Mason looked closer at the scene and could see what appeared to be a mangled videotape. Fortunately for him, Missy didn't survive the accident and neither did the evidence. What wasn't destroyed by the rain was crushed underneath the gigantic wheels of the bus. The words “I don't believe it” slipped from his mouth unconsciously.

“Did you know her?” Terra asked, watching the stunned expression on his face.

“No,” Mason said, still staring at the screen in disbelief. Now he knew why Rico didn't show up at the hotel. He had been killed by a bus. Mason silently gave homage to whoever or whatever was responsible for ridding the world of Rico. Now there was no need for a full confession, and he wouldn't have to worry about him blackmailing Terra any longer. One crisis was over, but there was still another issue for Mason to deal with. At that moment he decided to wipe the slate clean and tell Terra about his involvement in the Black Door. Which now was the only lie between them, and from this point on, he wanted nothing more to do with half-truths. He took her hand in his. “Sweetheart, remember when we met and I told you I was into real estate?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I'm not. I lied.” He waited for her reaction, and when she didn't say anything, he continued. “I manage the downtown location of the Black Door,” he said softly, almost in a whisper.

She snatched her hand away from his. “You WHAT!?” she screamed.

“The Black Door, the club that you went to in the Meat-Packing District,” he said.

“I know what club you're talking about.” She stood up. “Are you telling me that you're the manager of that sleazy sex club?” she said with her hands on her hips.

“It's not sleazy,” he said in defense.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

“Will you please sit down and listen to me?”

Instead of sitting next to him on the sofa, Terra crossed the room and sat in a chair. She folded her arms in front of her chest and said, “I'm listening.”

Mason told her about his plan of becoming a doctor and working part-time as an escort to help pay for school. He explained that when his funds dried up, he was offered the job of manager at the new club and couldn't say no. With the hefty salary that came with the position, he would be able to save enough money to return to school. He expected Terra to be sympathetic, but she just sat there with her arms crossed, looking pissed. “Come on, Sweetheart, say something,” he said, hoping for her forgiveness.

“I'm going to need some time to digest this.” Terra couldn't help but think of the press. Starring in a major motion picture would shoot her right to the top of the list of aspiring actresses, and her private life would be dissected more closely now than ever. If the tabloids got wind of her boyfriend operating an erotica club, it would be spread all over the headlines, and her career would be overshadowed by the scandal. She loved Mason, but wasn't ready to sacrifice a lifelong dream that had just come to fruition. “Mason, I think it's best if we cool it for a while.”

He was devastated. He didn't think that Terra would end their relationship over his job. It wasn't like the Black Door was illegal, but on the other hand he realized that a woman of her stature couldn't be associated with a profession that could easily be vilified in the press. As he stood up to leave, it occurred to him that if she was putting the breaks on their relationship over his involvement in the Black Door, she would have probably cursed him and ended their relationship flat out if he had told her about Rico. He was grateful that he didn't have to tell her about the blackmail scheme. Maybe in due time he'd have a chance to salvage their relationship. “I understand.”

He ambled toward the doorway with his head hung low, but before he left, he turned around, raised his head, and said, “Terra, just know that I love you, and a love this strong doesn't come along every day.” With that said, Mason walked out of her apartment, but prayed to the heavens above that he wasn't walking out of her life for good.