Page 7 of Stay Baby Stay

“I think you might be the prettiest peach in the room.”

I instruct my eyes not to roll as I finally look up at him. My pulse picks up speed. The old man smiles, and his teeth are blindingly white, like he had them bleached this morning.

“That’s very kind of you,” I tell him.

He takes the empty seat beside me. I feel the sweat start to build under my arms and behind my knees. I wish he’d go away. Choose someone else, someone who actually looks excited to see him and his money.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at one of these things before,” he says. “Are you a virgin?”

I nearly choke on my champagne. He chuckles, a croaking frog-like sound. I am probably one of the least experienced girls here, but I’m not about to advertise that fact. Having sex means letting people get close to you, and I don’t let very many people get close to me.

“Excuse me,” I say, rising to my feet. “I need to...reapply my lipstick.”

“Aw, I was just joking, sweetie. No need to play hard to get.” He grabs my hand and pulls me onto his lap. My limbs freeze up as his bony arms cinch around my waist. “Though I must say, the deer-in-headlights look is really doing it for me—”

“I believe you’re in my seat, Mr. Treasurer.”

I crane my neck to get a look at the face of the man staring down at us. I instantly recognize him from before, when I first walked in.

Ice-blue eyes. Sandy brown hair, shorn close to the scalp, yet still long enough to comb your fingers through, if you were interested in doing that sort of thing. He’s younger than most of the men here, though that still places him firmly in his late thirties.

His gaze meets mine, and even though I’m seated on a creep’s lap, I immediately feel...safer.

“I don’t see your name on it,” the old man—Mr. Treasurer—says.

“Trust me, it’s there. Now let the young lady stand up so I can claim what’s mine.”

Mr. Treasurer narrows his gaze at the younger man, who makes no move to step down or back away.

“I didn’t realize you’d made a down payment. My apologies.” The old creep lets go of me. I practically leap from his lap. He stands up and waves his hand at the chair. “All yours.”

The younger man takes the empty seat without a word.

“Name’s Jack,” the man says, holding out his hand to me. “Forgive me if I’ve just pulled you away from the geriatric of your dreams, but you looked like you could use an emergency exit.”

“God, yes...and thank you.” I shake his hand. He doesn’t pull or try to convince me to sit in his lap, but I find myself mysteriously drawn to him.

I sit down on the arm of his chair, granting me a front-row seat to his face. He’s handsome, but not flawless. There’s a faint scar on his forehead, and his nose is slightly crooked; he probably broke it as a kid. The dusting of stubble along his jaw makes him look rugged, which is hard to pull off in a suit.

He has to be rich if he’s here tonight. I wonder how he makes his money.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Mia,” I say, using the fake name Kenzie helped me come up with.

“Where are you from, Mia?”

“All over,” I say with a shrug. A stock answer for strangers, but Jack doesn’t feel like a stranger. I feel like I’ve known him for ages.

“What brings you out into the country on a Saturday night? Shouldn’t you be partying with your friends?”

“I don’t really like parties,” I say.

“In that case, why’re you here?”

“My friend wanted to come. She thought we could make some easy money.”

The light dims behind his smile.

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