Page 18 of Wicked Player
“But why… would you give a false name?” he asks, confused.
“Because I didn’t want my real name to be associated with your tawdry parties.”
His brows straighten. “Oh, I see,” he says, his words clipped.
“Sorry,” I offer, sheepish. I really don’t enjoy offending people.
“It’s okay. I get it… and I think Clara is a much prettier name.”
I smile. “Thank you."
“What was your mom like?”
I smile, remembering her. We’re not very close these days, but she was still a good mom. She did the best she could. “My mom… Julia… she’s a bohemian type, you know. She lives for the day. No worries, no responsibilities. She’s into pot and wine and music. I watched her growing up, and never wanted to be like her, which is why I stayed away from that stuff. Well, until tonight.”
He laughs. “Yes, until you indulged a little tonight.”
“Well, it's not really the same,” I argue. “It's not like I smoked up.”
“Ha, yes, yes.”
“Anyway,” I go on. “It was just us, and my mom's café. And now I still work at Antoinette’s Café.”
“It must be nice to work at something you own, that you made.”
“Well, I didn't really make it. I sort of inherited it, like my mom did. But yes, my grandfather made it I suppose, and he named it after my grandma. And yes, I'm not working for some big for-profit corporation.”
“And your sisters? What about your sisters? Are you good friends?”
“Surprisingly not. They both moved away. They didn't want small-town life I guess. My sister Caroline is in New York, and my other sister lives in Boston.
“So you're not close to them at all?”
“Not really. When I was young and our father left us, I was the oldest one. I’ve always been like a mother to them, because our mother could never really be a mother.”
“Interesting,” he says. “And where exactly do you live, Miss Scott?”
I smile. “On Windy Bay. Nearby.”
Yes, everyone knows the bay. On this side of the bridge are the multi-million dollar homes, and on the other side, are the shacks, small bungalows and weedy docks. I live on the wrong side of the tracks.
On the right side of the tracks is the Rossi mansion, and this is where we are now. I see this place almost every day in the warmer months. Every time I boat or kayak under the bridge and around the bend, there it is, the most stunning home I’ve ever seen. “I've seen your place a million times,” I tell him, “from afar. I’ve always dreamed of going in one day.”
“You did?”
“Yes, of course I did. Like so many others I'm sure.”
He smiles. “You’re seeing it up closenow. The dream finally becomes reality.”
“Yes, the dream becomes reality… or will it be a nightmare?”
He laughs. “Well, let's hope not. It will be what you want it to be.” He lays a soft hand on my thigh. It feels exhilarating, and I’m shamed to admit to myself that I want more. And he knows it. I can tell just by looking into his eyes. He definitely knows it. His devilish smile tells me he’s up to something.
“What if nothing happens tonight?” I ask.
He takes my hand in his. “That’s perfectly fine. I don't expect anything, Clara. As you said yourself… you are not a high class escort. I don't expect anything from you, just your company.”
I lie back against the headboard, and close my eyes. I’m very relaxed and loose. I hit the jackpot tonight; eleven thousand dollars and a great night. Yet, I know if I go further I won't respect myself in the morning, despite the fact that I really want to go further. I haven't had sex in forever, and I miss it. I shake my head.
