Page 38 of How We End
“Right, that was stupid of me to ask.I suppose you’re not married either.”
“No.”This poor man.
“Do you have a boyfriend or is that also frowned on?”
“No.This line of work makes relationships very difficult.”I tried it once.I dated a blackjack dealer at the Sands.But he couldn’t handle that his boss was also fucking his girlfriend.So he ended it.
“I suppose not.Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you are a very beautiful woman.I cannot understand why you would need to be in this line of work.Did you fall on hard times or did your parents abuse you?”
It was because of my looks that I ended up in this line of work.There was probably a joke out there—something about beauty queens turning into strippers or escorts.I had been a beauty queen.I hadn’t been abused.No tragedy to blame.Just a pretty girl who never paid attention in school because she didn’t need to.Pretty was supposed to be enough.
Girls like me made it big in New York or LA.They didn’t tell this pretty girl that those cities were already filled with beautiful people.Most prettier than me.
Turns out, pretty doesn’t get you as far as they promised.
“I’m sorry, I’ve said too much.”Gabe’s brown eyes softened.He looked like someone’s dad.The type of dad who proudly wore his child’s college name on a sweatshirt or hat.Had photos of his family on his desk and one of him with a large fish.
“No.You’re fine.”I smiled warmly and touched his arm.Gabe was shorter than me.He apologized for not being in better shape.For not being handsome like Richard.Richard wasn’t handsome; he was rich, and money made people look different.
“So… um… what happens if this runs past the six hours?”Gabe asked.“Do I send you another two grand or something?”
“You really want to be here for longer than six hours?”I asked, looking around.Dinner would be served at seven.Then there were some awards, and my night would either end alone or with Mr.Callum, who would probably cry.
“I have to,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.“I’m an executive.”
“Then yes, but it’s only one for each additional hour.”I brushed the lint off his shoulder.
“Okay.Should I take care of that now?”He checked his watch.
“Gabe.”I touched his wrist.“It’s been forty-five minutes.I will not get up and walk out when the time is up.”I stepped closer to him, adjusting his tie.“Now please relax.I know what I’m doing.Okay?”
“Okay.I didn’t want to do this.Hire you.But I’m getting older, and people think that I’m past my prime.Richard thought if I showed up with you that people would see I’m still relevant.That I can still do my job.”Gabe touched his balding head.
“I know the feeling,” I mumbled, taking another sip of champagne.Age seemed to be the reason everyone lost their value.The rich, the poor, even the powerful.
“Shit,” he cursed as a couple made their way towards us.“Those are the Smiths.He works in finance.His wife and mine are friends.She’s the one who told me about the tennis instructor.What do I do?”
“First, relax, then tell me their names,” I said while taking a sip of champagne.
“Barbra and Barry.”He said their names loudly as they approached.“So glad you could make it.I know it’s not LA.”
“Nonsense.We flew over with the Craigens.It was, like, an hour.”The man I assumed was Barry scoffed.“Las Vegas is such a fun city.There is so much to do if you know where to look.”He raised his brows in a suggestive manner.“We found a couple of secret bars.Little hidden gems a couple of locals told us about.”
I tried to keep my eyes from rolling all the way back into my head.Those “locals” were probably hired by the “hidden bars” to lure tourists in.Vegas truly was a mirage in the desert.
“And who is this?”Barbra asked, looking me up and down.
“This is Cassandra,” Gabe said.“She… uh, she’s…” If anyone was going to blow this, Gabe would.
“His date.Gabe, we talked about this.He didn’t want to embarrass me.”I caressed his arm.“My friends call me Cassie.”I smiled, offering my hand to either of them.
“Cassie?How come this is the first we’re hearing about such a beautiful woman?”Barry took my hand.Barb snorted.
“A little young, isn’t she, Gabe?”Barbra sneered.
Gabe flushed and cleared his throat.“She’s thirty-five.”
I tried not to laugh.He was my only client that wanted me to be older.
