Selling Satisfaction (11 page)

"You too, sir."

Making it back to the
apartment, drenched in sweat but just in time to take a shower. Emily comes out of the bedroom, yawning as she stretches her arms over her head. "You're bed is so comfy," she states.

"Sure is. Need to use the bathroom before I jump into the shower?"

"No, that's fine. Shower, I'll grab coffee." As she starts to walk past me in the hall, her nose scrunches up. "Ew, yes, shower. You reek. What did you do this morning?"

"Went for a run."

"Since when?" She questions.

"I guess since this morning." I shrug while heading into my room to grab the clothes I need for today.

I have to be quick in the shower, and with getting dressed. Once I'm finished with getting ready for the day, I head back into the kitchen. Emily hands me a coffee to go. "Thanks. You sure you'll be fine here by yourself all day?"

She lifts a brow. "Yeah, I'm positive. I'll probably go out onto the beach at some point."

I give her a pointed look, concerned with if that's healthy being pregnant. Before I'm even able to say anything, she places her hand snug on her hip, ready for me to attempt in arguing. "Yes, I can go on the beach," she states. This is how it was growing up with her, too. She knew everything I was going to say before I said it.

"Fine, there is sunscreen... uh..." I try to think where I unpacked it.

"In the bathroom. I put it under the sink. Now get to work, stop being such a big brother."

As I reach the door to head out, I tell her, "I am your big brother." She chuckles as the door latches closed.

Jeff is sitting in my office when I get in there. "Tomorrow is the big day," he announces- like I didn't already know.

I give out a grunt in response before taking a seat. Turning on the computer, I look at the packet of paperwork placed on my desk. "What's this?" I ask him, opening the folder at the same time.

"I had some extra time to spare yesterday while you took the day off, so I put together our info we gathered last weekend in Tampa."

"Have you given it to Chief yet?"

"Not yet, figured you could go over it, add any notes you had."

"I can get that done after I check my emails. I need to prep for tomorrow with Mona."

Grabbing for his cowboy hat, he stands to leave. "If you need me, I'll be down at the station doing more interviews. You know the number."

"Sure do, thanks man."

After lunch, I head into Chief’s office. He had asked me to come into brief over the details for tomorrow. He stands when I walk in- his mustache shaved. I'm not sure if it looks better or not, to be honest. I smirk when he runs his hand over his face out of habit for the facial hair he had there.

"Loose a bet?" I ask with humor.

"The wife said all or nothing, and to be honest, I can grow a damn good mustache but beard? Not for the life of me."

"Damn, that sucks." I can grow a beard well- I only know this because I've had to twice for investigations. Otherwise I only leave a hint of hair on my face. I can't stand the itch of anything more.

"It is what it is. Now, about tomorrow. Re-brief me."

"Mona will already be in the room at Coral View Hotel. I'll suggest drinks, act like I've already had a few, then I'll break down about the break up I had recently with Mandy, whom I have been dating- and planned on marrying- for nearly three years. I need a companion, rather than someone to score with. Before my hour is up, I'll ask questions about her past relationships, try to compare things with her, see what is consistent in her stories, see if she hints towards anything that is evidential."

"What time will you be meeting her?"

"Six sharp."

"I expect notes on my desk Thursday morning. Is your second date already scheduled?"

"Not yet, Kandy wanted me to wait until after, in case Mona wasn't the
one
for me."

He nods, accepting my answers. "Maybe you should deny that she was, that you would like someone that looked more like Mandy. She had brown hair, correct?" He flips open the folder to see the details about my fake girlfriend. "What color hair does Mona have?"

"Red," I snarl. I have nothing against redheads, I simply don't find them attractive. Which will make it easy for me to
not
be turned on by anything she attempts to do- not that I except to be anyways. She is an overused whore in my opinion, which is all I'll be able to envision with her- all the chicks that work for Kandy actually. "Mandy has dark brown hair. There is one other woman that works for Kandy with brown hair, and one with black, according to everyone we've interviewed so far. Kandy didn't go into as much details as that, but I can easily let her know that red isn't my choice of hair color after tomorrow."

"Then once you finish up your notes, you're good to go."

Standing, I tell Chief to have a good evening, then head back into my office.

Arriving home, I'm shocked to
see how much different the condo looks than when I left this morning. I'm certain every box is unpacked. The home is clean, smells delicious, and is even pretty well organized. Along with being impressed and appreciative, I'm a bit pissed off that Emily over exerted herself the way she obviously did.

Walking through the place, I land in the bedroom to see she isn't passed out like I had assumed, in fact, she isn't even in here. Nor is she in the spare room, which has a small cot folded out, and her bags next to it. How in the hell did she have the time today to do everything she did? A power that women seem to possess.

When I realize she is nowhere in here, I look out the kitchen window. It's after four, but being mid-summer the sun is bright in the sky, sending its ray straight for the shore line. I spot her walking along the edge of the water in her bikini, spite the fact that her stomach is round. I'm glad she has confidence to not care what people think- plus, truth be told, she is probably the most beautiful pregnant person on the face of the earth.

I can picture my mother pregnant with one of us, looking just as elegant and blessed. She had told us once that I made her deathly ill for over half her pregnancy, throwing up day in and day out, to the point she lost more weight than she had gained. She would tell stories about attempts of washing dishes, where she'd project everything she ate the previous two days, or how she'd try to empty the trash while Dad was at work, only to start crying because it took too much effort to get past the smell, no matter if it actually stunk or not. After she hit the five month mark, it all went away, and she said she had never appreciated anything more than when I kept her up until midnight kicking away at her stomach, Dad curled up to her, singing songs to the womb.

I loved hearing those stories, and I've always wanted something like that with someone else. I want to feel the connection and love that two parents share over a child. I'm happy that Emily has that with Sebastian- there is no person more deserving of any of it than her.

Putting on a pair of board shorts, I head out the door to join my sister in the gorgeous Florida evening. She grins when I walk her way, and I immediately hug her, thanking her for all her hard work today. "Not a problem," she mentions.

"I don't see how you did any of it. You're not exhausted?"

"I took a nap," she says, shrugging her shoulders. Playing off the fact she busted her ass today. "I'm fine."

"When the hell did you find the time to nap? I didn't even think you'd have the time to get everything done that you did."

Ignoring everything, she points out to where a few others are swimming, a good distance from the shore. "I want to swim, but don't you think there are sharks? I keep picturing them being gobbled alive."

I look to where she is talking about, and now that she mentioned it, I feel the same way. I try to play it off, like the idea doesn't terrify me, but honestly it kind of does. I'm supposed to be the man, so I don't say that part out loud. "I'm sure they've lived around here long enough to know. I can't imagine they'd be that far out if it were too dangerous."

She nods, agreeing silently. "Maybe I could take a dip then. I've never swam in the ocean before."

"Just... don't go out that far. You know, in case."

"You're not coming with me? You've never been in the ocean either. It'll be a first for the both of us."

"That's okay," I tell her. "I'll walk in a ways, but I'm not swimming."

"Scared?" She calls me out.

Shaking my head back and forth, I tell her, "Nope. Don't feel like swimming, that's all."

"You're scared." Emily breaks out in a smile while she teases me.

"No, don't feel like swimming."

"Scaredy-cat."

"I'm not fucking scared."

She backs up, walking slowly without looking, further into the sea. She wants me to admit that I'm scared- basic banter between the two of us. Basically since we were toddlers. "Fine," I say, stopping her. "Fine, I don't like the idea of being shredded apart by sharks."

I no more than say this when a child starts screaming and crying. "Daddy, the man said there were sharks!" He cries. "He said they're going to shred us apart."

Emily covers her mouth, more to keep her laughing silenced. I turn quickly to face the father. "No, sir, that isn't what I was saying at all."

The man comes strutting over, reaching for his son. "No, Stanley, there aren't any sharks around." The snarl he gives me while turning to head back to the sand is probably more threatening than a shark roaming the waters. The boy continues to cry against his dad's shoulders, leaving me feeling three inches tall.

Facing Emily, I narrow my eyes. "See what you made me do?"

She falls back into the water, ignoring my remark as she cools off. I stand sort of close by- in case anything does lurk in the water, ready to attack- but I don't swim. I've always had a protectiveness over her, even more so since our parents passed.

An hour or more later, she finally descends from the water. By then I'm sitting at the shore line, cooled off and ready to head in. She grabs for a towel that is covered in sand, wiping herself off. "I'm starving," she mentions. When I stand to head inside with her, she mentions in passing. "Oh, and I came up with the perfect grand gesture."

              "You couldn't have mentioned that when I first came out here? You know, rather than getting me in trouble with some kid's dad."

              She grins. "Oops." Laughing, she walks ahead of me towards the building.

Finally the bruising has faded
enough that concealer will hide what remains. I look more myself than I have all week. If anything I look skinnier, which wasn't planned- I assume the amount of alcohol I've been consuming has a lot to do with that. It helped though, with my mind that is. It loosened me up, relaxed me, made me question every aspect of my life, and what is worth risks and what is not.

When it all boils down to the cold, hard facts, well... I like where I am in life. What happened last week was merely a hindrance. An obstacle to get through. I'm ready to look past it the best I can. I've been through worse, far worse. Nothing will ever compare to walking in my parent’s bedroom, blood splattered everywhere. The echoes of the bullets being shot still scare me in my sleep. So when it comes down to it, being roughed around by a man- well, the lack of one that is- is nothing in comparison to my life at only eight years old.

I became who I am, what I am, by my past. Foster parents who hit me more than once, or the ones that would go days without giving me more than mere scrapes of food. The clothes I wore with holes in them to school four days in a row because no one would do the laundry for me, or wouldn't give me access to do it myself. The drugs I had tried and hated, the men I slept with that didn't call the next day. The one person I thought I loved, the same one who ripped my heart out by sleeping with my supposedly best friend, at the ripe age of fifteen.

My life up until three years ago sucked. In fact, I can't think of an adequate word to describe the way my teen years went. What I do now, getting paid to entertain men, is what I live for. Because feelings aren't had, lines aren't crossed, and I'm never going to be subjected to wearing clothes from Goodwill again. My life is far from perfect, I came to terms with that a while back, but it's perfect for me.

Therefore, last night when I was purging into the toilet, I remembered why I stopped drinking more than a cocktail or glass of wine in a single night. I remembered why I hated drugs and other things that altered my body and thought process. I remembered that I was strong, independent, and that I enjoyed what I did more days than not.

So today I stand before myself in the mirror, completely rid from any clothing and undergarments. My hair is done, my makeup on just right, and I examine the remainder of myself. Happy... content... with what I see. People pay money for my body, sometimes hundreds, sometimes thousands. I should feel like a million dollars each and every day for this reason alone. Then to look into my closet and drawers, my car, throughout my entire condo.

Twelve years ago, when I curled up to the side of my stilled, bloodied mother, I never imagined that I'd turn out quite like I have. I thought I was destined to be doomed for eternity- in fact, I didn't even know if I wanted to live this long.

How could a child live without her parents, I used to think. It was a tragedy, a heartbreaking reality. I met at least a hundred other children who were orphans- some by poor chance like myself, others because their parents gave them up. I never knew which one was the worse of the two. Some turned out to be lawyers and doctors, others became foster parents themselves, too many became addicted to any and everything, a handful killed themselves, and the remainder... well, I couldn't even tell you. All I know is that we all took what happened in our past and allowed it to form us, either for the better or worse.

Although my choice of profession is frowned upon by many... despite what happened last week with Mr. Belvidere... beyond the fact I have hardly any friends, no children, and no family that cared enough about me to take me in... I think I took a turn for the better.

Reaching into the closet, I take out a mini black skirt, a red blouse, and reach into my drawers for matching black bra and underwear. Tonight, I'm taking Hillarie's advice. Even though I
don't want
to like Everett, I have to admit that I enjoy his friendship- or at least what was beginning to be one. I still have my rules, I'm still not allowing myself to fall for him, but I agree that it's nice to have him as a friend. So I get dressed, probably perfecting myself far more than I should.

Red lipstick line my plump lips, a squirt of perfume has me smelling like a swirl of vanilla and Jasmine, and my black Louie Vuitton’s make me three inches taller. I look myself over once more in the full length mirror, this time fully dressed. Maybe a bit over the top, definitely more than a
let's be friends
attire, but confident and beautiful are a definite.

Grabbing my purse as I head out the door, I lock up and go straight towards the elevator.

When I'm down on the first floor, I feel something inside my stomach willing me to walk away from this. Warning me that things are going to get complicated if I listen to Hillarie, if I apologize and make up with Everett... If I tell him I
do
want to be friends again... If I give him details to the story Hillarie helped me perfect. My life is going to crack open, it's going to get mixed up.

Maybe I could go to the store first. Make it look like I'm not dressed up for him. After all, I certainly do not look like I just walked out of my apartment, I look like I'm ready for a date. For work. For anything other than
friends
.

I'm really starting to regret this.

With a sigh, I head for the front door. I realize as I walk outside that Everett's truck isn't here anyway. Looking down at my phone, it's only four. He must still be at work. I forgot that real people have real day jobs. I get into the car and head for the store to pick up some groceries, calling Kandy on the way for a distraction. I don't need much, since I didn't exactly eat a whole lot this past week.

I'm not at the store long, and when I return it sits there- his lifted white pickup truck. It makes me want to know where he is from, what he likes to do for fun besides go to random concerts, listen to country music, and fish. I'm curious if he is all about country living, and how he likes living on a beach. I hate that I want to know so much about him, I hate even more that it's not easy to ask him these things- not because we haven't established each other as friends, but for the reason that I can't have him asking things about me in return.

It's my own fault, and maybe in time I can be more honest with him. As of right now, it's hard, which makes me take my precious time getting out of the car. I'm able to bring all my groceries up in one load, and when I'm back down stairs, my nerves become more so than they were before.

I keep my shoulders straight, my head held high, and with confidence I walk towards his place. My fist stands still in front of the door for a few seconds before I finally give myself the courage to knock. My ego stands on thin ice, wanting to walk away- not wanting to apologize, or make up a story to Everett, or to make anything right. Then it deflates altogether when no one answers.

I try to knock once more but when I'm left standing here for several agonizing minutes alone, I decide that he must not be ready to forgive and forget. Not wanting to be alone in my big home, feeling small and useless, I decide to go get fresh air out back.

The air is humid today, but there is a delicate breeze in which I love about the shore. I sit on a bench, since I'm not exactly in the right kind of clothing to plop down on the beach. Crossing my ankles, I look around, watching people mindlessly enjoying themselves, as they do more days than not around here. Then I see a smiling pregnant woman, laughing and joking, splashing around the in the water. Something about her is appealing- even a bit familiar. Eyeing her, I envy the confidence she has. The ability to carelessly play around in the ocean, her pregnant belly curved between her bikini pieces, an addicting smile that somehow makes you want to be happy, too.

Until you see who is causing her to smile and laugh the way she is... Everett.

My heart fills with ache, ripping through my chest, throwing itself down to the ground. It then bee lines for the concrete wall behind me, ready to annihilate its entirety.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm being a bit melodramatic about the whole ordeal. However, I hadn't quite realized how much it would pain me to see Everett with someone else. Someone he obviously has an insane love for, you can see it in the way he grins back at her. No wonder he hasn't tried to make things right with me.

Even with the aching pain, I sit and watch the two of them. This is what I need, I tell myself. A reminder that Everett isn't for me... dating, relationships, future babies- that part of life isn't anything that my future holds. It can't and it won't. So to watch as Everett passes
her
a towel when she gets out from the water lets me know that everything is right in the world. They obviously belong together, and I never had a chance. Not even for a second.

When he said he wanted to be strictly friends, I see now that he truly meant it.

Then what about when he held your hand?
My mind starts to argue.
That was only so we didn't get separated after the concert.
I have to remind myself.

My ridiculous mockery within myself almost gets me caught. I realize that both Everett and his lady are heading this way to go inside. Quickly, I make a break for it. Before I make it three steps, my shoe slides across the sanded tar causing my legs to separate- I envision I probably look something like Bambi on the ice for the first time. I catch myself seconds before face planting, not without feeling a searing hot pain against my knee as it hits the asphalt.

"Dammit," I hiss out, taking an intake of breath between my teeth. Turning my body, I sit on the ground to examine damage done.

There is far worse damage done to my ego when I hear, "Are you okay?"

Looking up, I realize that Everett saw the whole thing unfold. His girlfriend holds a hand over her mouth, attempting to cover a laugh. "Yup," I answer bitterly.

He reaches for my hand but I don't take it. It isn't easy to stand in my choice of clothes, but I manage to do so, attempting to look as casual as can be. I have to wipe sand from my legs and ass, while straightening out my skirt. When I'm finished, I stand with my head held high once more.

"I was wondering how things were going," he continues like nothing just happened. "I wanted to stop in and see you, but I didn't think you'd want the company."

Eyeing his girlfriend for a quick moment, I say, "It appears you've been busy anyways. I'm fine. I've been fine." When I hear Hillarie’s voice telling me that I need to ease up a bit, that I need the friends, that I need to stop pushing people away, I decide to add in... "But thanks for asking."

It seems to trigger something in him but he doesn't say as much.

He can't anyways, because his pregnant girlfriend- maybe it's his wife- peeps up. "Hi. I'm Emily, you must be Brenna." She steps up next to Everett, smiling way too kindly.

"I am. Nice to meet you." I probably could smile too, but I choose not to. Something about her doesn't make me feel envious anymore, instead I feel... bitter. "Well, I should head in," I tell Everett. Hurrying, I try to think of any excuse as to why I need to rush back inside. "Snuggles needs her litter box changed."

I have a feeling my face is a bit pink from my lame excuse but I don't give any other signs I'm embarrassed.

I can tell he tries to hold back a laugh, but he doesn't comment on the topic. Thankfully. "Well, um..." He pauses, glancing over at Emily before looking to me once more. "Want to join us for dinner tonight?"

It shocks me that he'd even ask. Apparently he didn't have any feelings for me at all. I'm honestly disappointed in myself for assuming he did- and even more so for enjoying the idea of it all. Either way, now that I've confidently convinced myself that how I've lived my life, and the lack of future I want with any other person, is enough for me, I decide that maybe I should simply apologize for the last week and cut ties.

"Listen, I honestly want to say I'm sorry about last week. I shouldn't have snapped at you the way I had when you were simply trying to help me. Looking back at how I reacted, I realize I was entirely out of line. You were being neighborly and concerned, and I do appreciate it. I can’t make it tonight, but I do hope you have a nice dinner tonight with your..."

Before I can say anything, she corrects my assumption. "Sister. I'm his sister."

"Your sister." I nod my head, trying once again not to feel embarrassed. Apparently that's all I can do for myself. "Enjoy dinner with you sister. I need to head in to Snuggles."

"To change her litter box?" Everett asks with a shit eating grin. This time I
know
my face is pink- it heats up in an instant.

"Among other things."

He chuckles under his breath. "I'll see you around then."

"It was nice meeting you," Emily says. "I've heard a lot about you, I've been wondering when I could put a face to the name."

Everett's eyes get big- the same time my stomach does a flip. Something it most certainly shouldn't be doing. I play it off, the best I can. "Oh, well, yeah, you too."

"Oh, you've heard about me?" She asks innocently, but when I realize that I haven't in fact heard anything about her, I know that I have to tell the truth, which in return is only going to bring on more embarrassment. I couldn't possibly have failed this entire thing anymore than I have up to this point.