Billionaire's Escort

“There’s probably not going to be a totally perfect time to go back to school, you know,” Caroline said. “There’s always going to be some sort of challenge. And so maybe you have to take out some loans. Most of us do.”

“I’d consider it if it was for something a little more concrete. If I go get an MFA, the most I could reliably hope for is some teaching position, but then again, who knows since I’ve only published a few short stories in completely obscure literary journals?”

Caroline frowned, trying to come up with something to dispute me with. She started to say something but then stopped, took a sip of her wine.

I could hear my phone ringing. I was tempted to ignore it, but decided at the last second to at least look and see who was calling. It was a number, not a name, that appeared on the screen, but I recognized the number: Ian’s. It was the number he had just called me on.

“It’s Ian,” I said.

“Pick it up,” Caroline said immediately.

I hesitated as the phone continued to ring in my hand.

“Pick it up!” Caroline said again. “Before it goes to voicemail.”

I didn’t want to pick it up, though. I’d felt bad enough talking to him the first time; I didn’t want to have to talk to him again. There was something unnerving about the way he had of looking at you. Jonathan had prepped me before the interview: Ian’s a great guy. He can be a little intimidating if you’ve never dealt with him before, but he’s a really good guy. And since Annie left the office has been a mess, so we REALLY need someone. You’ll be perfect. The way he’d said it made me feel like I’d been a shoe-in for the job, yet obviously, that wasn’t the case.

What I hadn’t been prepared for was how good-looking he was; Jonathan hadn’t mentioned that part. Though I suppose he wouldn’t have. Guys probably didn’t talk about that sort of thing the way girls did. So I had felt totally nervous and was probably talking a little too much to try to cover up my nervousness, but his looks and the way he had of gazing at you did not make me feel entirely comfortable.

“It’s good news,” Caroline said, reaching over to snatch the phone out of my hand. She answered. “Hello, this is Caroline. Did you want to talk to Daisy? Hold on one sec.”

She held the phone out to me. Caroline could be kind of psychic sometimes—though not all the time; she had encouraged me to go to Amanda and tell her what Rosie had been doing, saying that everything was going to work out if I did, she just knew it. Reluctantly, I took the phone from her and put it up to my ear.

“Hello?” I said. “This is Daisy.”

“Daisy, it’s Ian Roubideaux again. Sorry for the bombardment of calls. Listen, I’d like to offer you the job if you’re still interested. If not, I understand.”

“Of course I’m still interested,” I said, and Caroline’s eyebrows shot up and she grinned, giving me a thumb’s up. “But . . . what happened? Did the other person not work out?”

“Something like that,” he said. I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “So, if you’d like to pick a time in the next couple of days to come in, that’d be great. I’ve been the one manning the office for the time being, so things are a bit chaotic. Which is where you come in. And I did like what you had to say about organization. I think you’ll be a good fit here.”

“Well . . . thank you so much. I really appreciat

e it. Is tomorrow okay? I can come in tomorrow.”

“You’re a go-getter, aren’t you?” he said. I couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a compliment or not.

“Um . . . yes,” I said. “I can be. Is eight o’clock good?”

He coughed, or maybe he was trying not to laugh. “Eight? No. If you come down here at eight, you’ll be waiting around for a while. We don’t get things started in the office until nine, nine-thirty. Why don’t we say ten o’clock, just to be on the safe side.”

“Ten,” I repeated. “Sure. I’ll be there at ten.”

When I got off the phone, Caroline was looking at me, a big grin on her face. “Was I right?” she finally said. “That sounded good! That sounded like you’ve got a job!”

“You were right.” I nodded and looked at the phone, wanting to feel as excited as Caroline was. She held her wine glass up to me.

“Well, cheer up then, buttercup! You’ve got a job! That’s fanfuckingtastic!”

I forced a big smile, because she was a right—this had been a rather unexpected turn of events, and for once, it was good. I should be happy about it. I held up my own glass and we clinked them together.

“Cheers,” Caroline said. “I knew this would work out for you.”

I took a sip of my wine. I hoped she was right.

I was up early the next morning before the alarm even went off. Way earlier than I normally was, but I hadn’t really been able to sleep the night before. I was too nervous. Ian had changed his mind. But why? What had happened? I couldn’t get that thought out of my head, and all the possibilities that went along with it. I knew I just needed to focus on doing a good job and handling my responsibilities, but the way everything had gone done, I was already doubting myself.

I got up out of bed when it became clear that I wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep. I kept the light off and went over to the window and peeked out. No Rav4, no person lurking in the doorway across the street. I exhaled and stretched, then went out to the kitchen to make coffee. I’d poured the water into the machine but then remembered I was out of coffee filters. I could go out now and get one, or I could just stop on my way into work. I decided I’d just get one on the way in; I didn’t want to leave the apartment now and then come back to get ready.