to see me again. I started to believe it wouldn’t happen and this distracted version of myself is my new normal, until yesterday when she asked if I was free to meet Talent this evening. The only plans I had were the half marathon I now run each night before bed.
My legs have never been stronger.
Judging by Talent’s reaction when I told him I was a paid escort, the idea of meeting him in public for our talk seemed out of the question. Dramatic scenarios of abandoned parking garages and pat downs for listening devices crossed my mind. What I definitely didn’t expect was a coffee shop in the middle of town. The concept is bizarre. I’ve never had coffee with a man in my entire life. I’ve never sat across a table from a man in this capacity—just to talk.
I pause in front of the shop, inhaling the rich chocolaty scent of fresh brewed coffee. Ten or twelve people gather inside, some waiting in line to give their order, others at tables and on couches in conversation or buried in their laptops. The evening sky is the color of sherbet, deepening the warm light coming from inside through the large windows. The scene is utterly average, straight out of a movie or book, and entirely brand new to me.
My public outings are limited to my weekly visits with my clients, Hush, and the grocery store. I’ve pulled my hair up, with a natural palette of makeup on my face, and left the heels at home not to stand out should I run into someone who pays me for sex. Which has never happened before because I don’t leave my apartment.
“Welcome,” the young girl behind the register says when I enter.
A few customers look up upon my arrival. Their eyes hang on for a moment before returning to their discussions and work. Little do they know the highest paid escort in the city just arrived.
I’m twenty minutes early and Talent isn’t here yet, so I stand in line and scope the menu. Growing up on fast food and vending machine snacks, coffee, unless charred at the bottom of a pot that had been on all day, is another thing I don’t have much experience in. Everything looks amazing and smells even better, like cinnamon, vanilla, and warm bread.
“What can I get you, hun?” the same girl who greeted me asks.
“Something with caramel drizzle,” I say.
She smiles and says, “You got it.”
Releasing my bottom lip from between my teeth, I add, “And one of those cake pops.”
My drink tastes like a dream topped in a mountain of whipped cream and river of salted caramel. It’s cold, velvety, and unlike any coffee drink I’ve had before. I feel like a kid in a candy shop, and it takes real effort to use the straw instead of gulping the entire thing down. Looking to make sure no one’s watching, I swipe the whipped cream with the tip of my finger and lick it off. Then I behave.
I contemplate devouring the cake pop when the chime above the entrance door rings and my heartbeat wavers. I know it’s Talent without looking. It’s in the way the coffee shop shushes for a split second, and by the way my skin hums as it remembers his nearness. The entire place does not stand and applaud his arrival like I imagined—baddest lawyer in town, everyone. If you want to purchase a billion-dollar company for half its worth, Talent Ridge is your man.
What I need to do is stop watching so many movies during my time off and get some real-world experience. This amazing coffee and my ignorance to normal human interaction are enough to convince me.
“Good evening, Mr. Ridge,” the barista says with a beaming smile on her face. “It’s nice to see you again. Will you be having your normal order?”
Talent pulls a brown leather wallet from his back pocket and nods. “Please.”
Twinkling lights strung up around the perimeter of the shop grow brighter as the sun inches lower, reddening the exposed brick walls. Old bicycles hang on industrial pipe brackets next to black and white photography featuring must-see spots around Grand Haven. Ferns droop from the ceiling, their vines stretching toward the ground. And an indie rock band plays on the stereo, loud enough to drown out the customers typing on their keyboards, but quiet enough not to be distracting.
Talent waits for his coffee with his hands in his pockets. I expected him to show