“How much did you pay him?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.” I didn’t want to be indebted to anyone. I only took this opportunity because it was a high-paying job. He wasn’t just giving me all this shit. I was about to risk my ass for him to do whatever he insisted on keeping a top secret from me.
“Twenty thousand.”
“You’re bullshitting me.”
“I’m not. He insisted you were worth every penny.”
“Surely, you know that’s not true. You could’ve gotten someone else for far less.”
He made a sound at the back of his throat but didn’t respond. Why hadn’t he opted to find someone else?
“How good are you at memorizing things?” he asked.
“It depends on what. I’m usually horrible with numbers, and sometimes I mix up things up, but I’m good in social situations. Why?”
“You’ll have to process details quickly about each client. Their habits, their likes and dislikes.”
As he drove, he talked more in depth about the job I had to do. My ears were ringing with all the information my brain was trying to process. He brought us to a pleasant neighborhood with a sign that welcomed us to Mallory Gardens. The houses were identical, each nestled on its own fenced property with a small yard at the front, but the back seemed to extend somewhat. Each house was the same brick colonial-style construction with a block foundation and asphalt roof.
It looked adorable.
“This is it.” He pulled into the driveway and opened the garage. A black Audi was inside, but there was enough space for him to park next to it.
“Who else lives here?” I jumped out of the car before he could walk around to get the door.
“No one.”
“Then whose car is this?”
“Yours.”
“Umm.” I licked my lips. “I don’t drive, remember?”
“We’ll teach you. In case you need to drive the getaway car.”
He unlocked the door and disappeared inside the house. I ran after him. “Sully, you’re not serious, are you?”
“You have to be prepared for anything.”
I scanned over the small alcove with an office desk and chair and a door to the right, which gave me a peek into a half bath. I hurried to catch up with him. The small hall opened up to an open-concept kitchen and living room space. A huge TV hung over the mantel, and in front of the glass coffee table was the most interesting modular sofa I’d ever seen.
“There are two bedrooms,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d need more, but if you do, just let me know. Of course I can’t prevent you from entertaining, but I’d advise you to keep it to a minimum or do it outside the house.”
“Are you telling me I get to live here but can’t have a fuck buddy over?”
He winced and turned to me. “For your safety, it’s best if you have a limited number of people coming in and out of the house. It has nothing at all to do with who you want to sleep with. It also goes for friends unless you absolutely trust them, and even then—”
“I can’t tell them about what I do.”
“Exactly.”
We walked along a hall to the right. He gestured at a door. “This is the bigger of the two bedrooms, but of course you can choose which you prefer to use.”
I held my breath as I turned the knob and pushed. I stopped in the doorway so suddenly he ran into me. Another time, I might have made a quip about him rubbing up on me, but my eyes misted with tears. The bedroom was plain—with a bed, a dresser, and a TV—but it was the most beautiful room I’d ever seen. When was the last time I had a room of my own?