Tempted - First & Forever Stories

The squishy ping pong ball with its radish hat and tiny salad with spit dressing was whisked away, and the next course was presented. This time, it was served in a huge, shallow bowl with a wide rim. It contained a tiny square of fish in a pool of liquid, topped with feathery green fennel fronds. A sharp, diagonal line of some kind of white powder cut across the dish. Combined with the round bowl, it looked exactly like the universal symbol for “no.”

I fought back a laugh. I really wanted to snap a picture of the dish, label it cocaine trout, and send it to my brother. He’d find it funny. My “date,” on the other hand, would not.

As I poked at the fish cube with the tines of my heavy fork, I started forming an exit strategy. What if I excused myself to go to the restroom and pulled the fire alarm? Okay, so it would be a lot less dramatic to just slip out the back. That wasn’t a bad idea, actually. I glanced over my shoulder toward the kitchen.

That was when I became aware of a murmur running through the restaurant. My mind went straight to a rat sighting in the kitchen. I quickly put down my fork and glanced at my companion. He was droning on about a recent trip to Italy, totally oblivious to what was happening around him.

We were seated at the very back of the restaurant. The place was dimly lit, but I noticed a tall figure moving among the tables. Someone seated behind me asked her dinner companion, “What’s going on?”

I was startled when the tall figure moved closer and I realized it was Eden. He was dressed in his police uniform, and he was scanning the crowd as he systematically worked his way through the restaurant.

My heart started racing, and my napkin fell off my lap as I got up. I had no idea what he was doing here, but it couldn’t be good.

As soon as I stood, Eden turned toward me. His jaw clenched when he met my gaze. I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry.

He strode over to me. I knew at a glance he was furious about something. I didn’t understand what was happening or why he was here, but I knew better than to question it when he growled, “Come with me.”

I immediately started heading for the exit, but then the dumb-ass at my table stood up and demanded, “What’s the meaning of this?”

Eden whirled on him and snapped, “Do you want me to arrest you for soliciting a prostitute? Because I can make that happen. Just say one more word.”

The man instantly shut up and sat back down while Eden’s words rang in my ears. Soliciting a prostitute.

Oh god. He’d found out.

Chapter 5

Everyone was staring at us as we left the restaurant, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was Eden, and somehow making this right with him.

His police car was double-parked out front. He opened the passenger door and said, in a low voice, “Get in.” At least he wasn’t sticking me in the back like a criminal. Maybe that was a good sign.

He got behind the wheel, and as he started the engine and began driving, a muscle worked in his jaw. Several long moments passed in a heavy silence. Finally, he asked, “How long have you been doing this?”

“About six months.” I took a breath and glanced at his profile. “How’d you find out?”

He pulled a stapled packet of copy paper from beneath his seat and thrust it into my hands. It was folded back to a screen grab of my webpage, with my URL printed at the top.

“I stopped off to talk to a friend in vice on my dinner break,” he muttered. “The chief of police is on one of his semi-annual pushes to eliminate prostitution in the city. They’re doing a sting operation, going through and contacting these websites, then setting up meetings and arresting them when they offer sex in exchange for money.”

When I exhaled, it sounded shaky. I flipped through a few other pages in the bundle. They were all from websites like mine that claimed to be for escorts—which was legal, as long as sex wasn’t involved—but that were pretty obviously actually prostitutes. I tore out my page and stuffed it in my pocket before dropping the packet onto the floor. There were bound to be plenty of other copies floating around the police station, but I wasn’t about to leave this one with Eden.

“My name and face aren’t on my website,” I said. “How’d you know it was me?”

“I recognized your fucking tattoo, Seth!”

I’d never heard Eden raise his voice in anger, not once in the fifteen years I’d known him. It showed me just how upset he was.