Page 30 of Hitch
Reggie
Michael’s cologneseeps through the door before he even opens it. To think, he used a vibrator on my belly button. How did I avoid passing out from the fumes?
“Look at that sexy girl,” he says, opening the double doors. “Come in. Come in.”
He winks his big green eyes, his polo shirt crisp and clean, his head topped with silver hair, and I wonder if I trulyneedhis help. Can I figure out how to install hidden cameras on my own?
But Michael owns a video security company. It would be stupid not to take advantage of his expertise.
“Hi Michael,” I say politely. For good measure, I ruffle his hair, and he blushes like the flirting means something to him.
Over the scent of his cologne, citrus washes through the air. All the furniture is new and in woods, and the floor-to-ceiling windows highlight the scenic landscaping in his backyard. California is a wash of browns and dull greens, but you’d never be able to tell in Michael’s home. Growing up in Oakdale, between the cattle ranchers and the factory workers, when I saw Michael—rich, older, sophisticated—I saw him like a lighthouse on a lonely shore, thinking he could save me and my mom, and give us the break we deserved.
“I like what you did with the place,” I say, gesturing at the new furniture.
“I owe it to my girl,” he says, tipping his head toward the back of the house. The door to the guest bathroom is closed; she must be in there. I need to work quickly before she comes out. “But we both know you didn’t come here to compliment her interior design skills.”
I swallow a gulp,hatingthat I have to do this, and withhim,of all people, but I clear my throat.
“I need help with security,” I say. “Like a button camera. Something like that.”
He brings his brows together. “Why?”
I shrug. The request is obviously weird, but I don’t want to explain myself to him.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I just want it, okay? Can you help me or not?”
“All right.” He runs his fingers through his silver hair. “I can help you. For a price.”
I gag a little, but swallow it down. He scoffs at me.
“Jesus, Reggie. What kind of monster do you think I am? I don’t meanthat.”
I knewthat,but his words came out full of sexual innuendo, and now that I’ve had exactly what I want—a man who makes me feel like the most irresistible woman in the world—the idea of lying back while Michael pretends to know what he’s doing, is unthinkable to me.
“Sorry,” I mumble. I need to stay on his good side. “I’ve got some magic mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms?”
“Didn’t you used to do them?”
I pull out a vacuum sealed packet of caps, the stems tinted with hints of blue and yellow. Michael’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping.
“How the hell did you get this?”
Michael told me that I had no skills, and that I would never make it beyond him. When I threatened to become a stripper and use that to pay for the fees to become a real estate agent, he laughed in my face.
Of course, you’d become a stripper,he had said.You need all the attention you can get. Good luck trying to get anyone to take you seriously.
I’m sure drug dealing doesn’t fall far from that tree, but I almostwantto brag to him now. To prove that I may not be a hot-shot company owner like him, but Iamdoing it by myself. Maybe I’ll even make more money than him one day.
But I don’t say a word, because the best things are left unsaid. I’d rather wait and show him that I can walk all over him.
“I guess I know the right people,” I say.
He holds the bag up to the light, licking his lips as he scrutinizes the contents.
“How much do you have?”
