Page 111 of Say My Name

But it’s no use.

There’s no getting out of this awkward and unwanted meeting.

Devereaux lights up. “Well, who is this?” he asks me.

I fidget with the strap of my handbag, fighting the urge to flee and never be seen again. “Devereaux, this is my mother, Sharon.” They shake hands.

“And this is my sister, Ashley,” I tell him.

He shakes my sister’s hand. “You look familiar,” he says to her and I smooth my sweaty palms on my hips.

“I don’t know why,” Ashley says, her eyes looking to mine for help. She knows this impromptu meeting is not good.

“So, how do you know Chloe?” my mother asks Devereaux.

“I’m her boss,” he says ever so charmingly.

I feel like I might get sick right here. At least that would end this meeting.

“Oh, you’re a—”

“Yikes! Sorry to be rude,” Ashley cuts in, “but if I’m not back at work, they’ll fire me.”

“What?” Mom says, completely distracted. “They’d never fire you.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it in the car.” Ashley drags her away. “Nice meeting you, Devereaux. I’ll call you later, Chloe,” she throws over her shoulder.

“Chloe,” he whispers, and chills skate through my body at the sound of Devereaux saying my real name for the first time.

“Hi, that’s me.” My cheeks flame hot, and I feel naked now that he’s finally seeing the real me.

“I like it.” He repeats the name a few times, letting the syllables roll off his tongue.

My mother turns around, waving at us from across the street. I want to hide. Seriously.

Devereaux waves goodbye. “So, that’s the family, huh?”

I’m so nervous about my cover being blown, but I keep my voice steady. “Yep. That’s them. My mother doesn’t know I work at a sex club, so Ashley took her out of here before she finds out.”

Devereaux accepts my answer. “We still have time to eat. The cafe is just up here.”

I’m no longer in the mood for food, but I follow Devereaux to the little cafe.

After we’re seated and order our lunch, Devereaux stares at me.

“How old were you when you lost your father?” he asks.

“How did you know I lost my father?”

“Just putting the clues together.”

I sigh. “I was twelve. He was in a car accident. Drunk driver.”

He reaches a hand across the table. “I’m so sorry.” His voice is tender with a degree of warmth and concern.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” I try to fight back the tears that always appear when I think about my father.

“I was a little older when I lost my mother.”

---