Page 48 of Envy

Even though the sun was shining, and the club is buzzing with endorphin releasing hot people, I feel a sense of impending doom as I follow Nanette into that cafeteria.

We slide into opposite sides of the booth in the corner of the atrium-like room. There’s a quiet hum in the air, and for a restaurant located in a busy gym, it’s very elegant. The air is even perfumed in here. I sit across from her and before I have a chance to speak, she asks, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one, ma’—Nanette.”

“That’s such a great age,” she says, and without taking her eyes off me, lifts a finger into the air.

A waitress in a white button-down shirt and a royal blue bow tie fastened around her neck appears in a matter of seconds, and Nanette rattles off her order before the young woman can even finish her greeting. Her blonde head bends over her notepad as she writes down Nanette’s very complicated soup and salad order.

“Do you want anything?” Nanette asks me.

“No, I’m okay,” I say and am grateful that my stomach doesn’t growl its protest. A week ago, I wouldn’t have blinked at ordering lunch here.

“It’s my treat.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll just have a burger.”

She nods at the waitress who scribbles on her note pad. She gives me a quick, small smile before she disappears again.

“So, what’s the business you mentioned?” I get straight to the point.

She puts her glass down and dabs her lips and smiles slyly. I pick my glass up, my throat suddenly dry as I wait for her to speak.

“Very simply, Graham, it’s sex.”

My water sprays out of my mouth at her words. I grab a napkin off the table and stand up. I wipe the water from my shirt.

She picks hers up and dabs her brow, but when I look down at her, she’s smiling.

I had to have heard her wrong. I smile back and sit down.

“I’m sorry about that, the water went down the wrong way. For a minute, I thought you said sex.” I laugh, but it dies when she doesn’t join me.

She tilts her head to look at me. Her stare is pointed, and she doesn’t speak.

I stare at her, my relief and humor giving way to surprise and a tingle of panic.

“I didn’t misunderstand?” I ask, hopeful that she’ll contradict me.

She doesn’t. “Our clients, the ones who come every day and stay all day. How do you think they can afford to pay memberships when they don’t have jobs?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I figured they maybe had money from their family, like … I don’t know…” I trail off when she starts to shake her head slowly.

“No, no, no.” She shakes her head in disapproval. “You need to start paying attention to the way the rich and famous are structured in this town, Graham.” She tilts her head and gives me a stern look. “Not all money is equal. Old money wouldn’t be caught working out. Sweating anywhere but a golf course, tennis court or racquetball club is gauche.” She says this as if it makes perfect sense.

She sweeps one of her hands in a circle over her head. “Here, we cater to the spouses, mistresses, boy toys, and lovers of men and women who have more money than time. So, while our clients are cash rich, they’re otherwise deprived.” She says the word like it has significance. Realization dawns like a dark cloud on a clear horizon. She can’t mean … Surely not …

“Deprived of … sex?” I ask, reluctant to have my worst fear confirmed. “Exactly,” she says cheerfully.

I’ve stepped into the twilight zone because this can’t be real.

“We offer a service. Discreet, safe sex with the best-looking men and women in Los Angeles. Your annual salary will double, and if you and your client choose to see each other outside of the club, any gifts you receive during those encounters is yours to keep. And you get a company car, just like my 5 series, membership to the California Polo Club. Everything you could ever want, and as your agent, I get fifty percent of what they pay you.”

“Fifteen percent?” I ask, sure that I’d misheard her.

She lifts an eyebrow. “No, I said, fif-ty.” She enunciates so there’s no mistaking.

“That’s a lot … isn’t it?” I don’t much about stuff like that, but all three of my best friends have agents, and I know they only get a fraction of that.

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