My Gigolo (2 page)

Snickering, Mike stole one last hug. It was only two and a half hours to Joplin from Kansas City, but Highway 71 was notoriously iffy. Too many semis. Too many construction zones. She always worried.

“Call me when you figure out what we’re doing for Lily. I don’t want to leave it to the last minute.”

“Will do. Love you, little sister.”

“Love you, big pain in the ass.”

“Hey!”

She practically shoved her sister outside, smiling until she closed the door. Sometimes, watching Gabe go was like watching one of her own leave. It hurt a little, even as it made her proud. Growing up confident and independent after being abandoned as a child proved that Gabe was far stronger than she looked. Mike had always known that.

But she still worried. She didn’t like that her little sister preferred to be alone.

So, frowning, she sat down at her bills desk and opened her checkbook register. A few quick calculations showed that she could probably put back ten dollars a week without her husband noticing. Between now and February, she could surely save up enough and maybe add a little more at the end if necessary. Nodding, she smiled down at her register. It just might work.

Now, all she had to do was find a reputable man-pimp by February.

“Happy birthday, dear Lily, happy birthday to you!”

Amidst much clapping and cheering, one of the two most beautiful nieces ever conceived blew out the candles and made a silent wish. With aplomb born of her weighty four years, Lily smiled for pictures and determinedly did not demand her presents. Gabe couldn’t be more proud, even as she cursed the grease paint that would play merry hell with her complexion for the next week.

Making balloon camels and puppies and dinosaurs for ten shrill four-year-olds was not how she planned to spend the majority of her Saturdays, but she stoically bore the burden this once. After all, she had heard her beloved niece tell not one but two of her little friends that “my Aunt Gabidell is
way
cooler than that stupid clown from Mamie’s party”.

She’d wear all the grease paint in the world for compliments like that.

“Need a break, Bozo?”

Sighing and mentally cursing the foam clown nose that made it impossible not to mouth-breathe, she handed down yet another balloon kitty and turned beseeching eyes on her sister. “Make it a beer and you might have a deal.”

“Sorry, but this is a non-alcoholic gig. Try playing a bar next time.”

“I did, but the balloon animals didn’t go over so well there.”

Mike chuckled, patted her on the back and left to shoo a snot-nose away from the entertainment center. In another half-hour, parents would arrive to pick up the young’uns. She might yet escape with her sanity intact.

Even her brother-in-law stopped by with an encouraging word. “One more juggling demonstration oughtta do it, Gabe. You got these kids eating out of your hand.”

Beaming, she struck a victorious pose. “Just call me Super Aunt, queen of the kiddie parties.”

Darren laughed. “Don’t you need a cape to be Super Aunt?”

“Nope, just a handy phone booth.”

Another rugrat ran over, all tears because Bobby So-n-such had popped her horsie, and she lost track of time in a seemingly endless series of squeaky twists and the occasional pop and shriek. A wedge of cake appeared out of nowhere, and she chowed it down with grim determination, hoping the sugar would perk her up a bit.

Finally, after an endless conga line of wee ones and harried-looking parents, the family found themselves alone. Heaving a unanimous sigh, they slumped into chairs and onto the sofa, little Ivy so tired she fell asleep against Lily’s side.

“Next time, I insist on the right to get blind, slobbering drunk beforehand.” Gabe tugged off her oversized bowtie and scowled at it. “If one more kid asks me if I can make a snake, I swear I’ll commit hara-kiri.”

Mike groaned. “Don’t even start. Some kid asked me if I used organic ingredients in the cake. Organic! I mean, she could barely recite the alphabet, but she knew what organic was.”

“Kayla kissed Tommy in the bathroom.” Lily yawned. “She said it was gross.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Mike rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to know these things, Lil. Not until you’re doing them, and then you’d better tell me beforehand.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Darren grunted as he shoved to his feet. “I think it’s time for the birthday girl and Little Sister to take a bath to get the frosting out of their hair.”

Gabe stood, too, stretching. “That’s my cue, folks. I think I’ll wash off the worst of the white and head on home.” She elbowed her sister. “Where I can have a beer in peace.”

“So long as you don’t have one until you get there, it’s fine with me.”

She took her clown kit downstairs, thanking God for cold cream and moisturizer even as she dreaded the scrubbing ahead. She didn’t know what had possessed her to take Clown Class, as her friends had dubbed it, but she couldn’t help but be glad for it. She earned a few extra dollars here and there performing at parties for friends and co-workers, and the absolute joy on Lily’s face when Aunt Gabidell first stepped through the door in bright silks and floppy clown shoes was worth every minute of torture from the foam clown nose.

Freshly scrubbed and dressed comfortably in her favorite jeans and Chiefs shirt, she headed back upstairs to grab a sandwich and a Coke for the drive home. Mike never failed to make sure she had caffeine on hand, though Gabe had made the long drive home too many times to count. She knew her sister worried, so she accepted the mothering without argument.

“I wrapped you up some cake, too.”

She switched her kit to her stupid hand and took the brown bag supper in her right, stepping forward for a bear hug.

“Thanks, Sis. Turkey?”

“Would I pack you anything else after the roast beef fiasco?”

Grinning, she stuck the bag in the crook of her left elbow so she could dig her keys out of her pocket. Mike walked her to the door, frowning softly.

“Something on your mind? You know I’m good to go, so long as I have a Coke.”

Her sister managed a distracted smile. “Oh, it’s not that. I just…was wondering…”

When she didn’t continue, Gabe decided to pry. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “I just…are you seeing anyone?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not this again—”

“No, no, no.” Mike rarely interrupted, mostly because she hated being interrupted herself. Very unusual. “I mean…well, I was hoping you
weren’t
seeing anyone.”

Gabe blinked, lost for words.

“Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

“You’re right about that.” Wary, she nudged her sister with her elbow. “But since when do you admit it?”

That got a ghost of a grin. “Get outta here, runt. All that grease paint is stinkin’ up the place.”

“There’s gratitude for ya.” But she smiled, glad that whatever strange mood had darkened her usually smiling sister’s eyes had passed. “And no, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Good.”

She was halfway home before it occurred to her to wonder why her sister had pulled such a one-eighty in the seemingly endless relationship stand-off.

January

Two hundred and forty-three dollars.

Mike had scrimped and saved and added a few extra dollars here and there, and she still had over three weeks before Gabe’s birthday. Things looked great, except for one little detail.

“Why is it so hard to find a good male prostitute in this town?”

Tucking her birthday nest egg into her wallet’s back pocket, she scowled up at the supermarket’s garish, neon sign. She didn’t want to shop right now. She wanted to find a disease-free tomcat and get this all over with. She simply didn’t know the right kind of people to set up something like this, to contact a reputable professional to travel to Joplin and sex up her younger sister. She didn’t even know where to start.

“You might try Briggs’ Escort Service.”

Blushing to the roots of her hair, she debated if she should turn around and face whatever stranger had overheard her damning complaint or walk on as if she hadn’t heard.

“They aren’t quite what you’re looking for, but if you schmooze the receptionist, she might be able to give you a name for an…independent contractor.”

Biting the bullet, Mike pasted on a smile and turned to face her unexpected helper. A middle-aged lady in a casually elegant slacks-and-silk-blouse combination met her forced smile with a considerably more realistic one.

“Don’t be embarrassed, dear. We all have our needs.”

Nearly groaning with mortification, she squinched one eye shut. “I didn’t mean to say it quite so loud.”

The lady gave a motherly chuckle. “You didn’t. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time.”

She managed a real, if sheepish, smile. “Is Briggs’ just in the phone book?”

“It is. It’s a perfectly legitimate business, renting lovely people out to escort the unfortunate or date-weary among us to the various weddings and reunions and parties that plague us. There’s nothing illegal or even under-the-counter involved.” The lady dipped one eyelid in a disturbingly knowing wink. “But if you are very polite and ask just the right questions, Regina has been known to drop other names and phone numbers.”

Feeling low and a little dirty, Mike thanked the elegantly dressed and uncomfortably helpful lady and all but ran into the market, half-wishing she’d just kept her big mouth shut. Who asked a question like that aloud in the grocery store parking lot, for heaven’s sake? And who on earth actually
answered
it?

But she at least had a name, and that was one step further along than she’d been before her unfortunate bewailing. She had a place to start.

Grumbling and hoping the blush would fade by the time she got home, she tackled her grocery list. “One less thing, at least.”

Prostitution wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he moved to Kansas City. Seven years ago, Jack Savage—Blade to his clients—had been a graduate student at the prestigious Mid-Missouri State University. Well, MMSU was prestigious for the middle of the country. If he’d wanted Ivy League, he would’ve stayed in Boston.

Instead, he’d picked somewhere halfway to the other side—far enough away to not have to visit, but close enough that no one could say he was running away. Plus, MMSU had one of the best graphic arts programs in the Midwest.

And instead of a master’s degree he could parlay into a comfortable salary anywhere in the country, he’d gotten a surefire quick buck doing what every red-blooded, heterosexual man in America loved. Somehow, he didn’t think his mother would approve. Luckily, he hadn’t spoken to his mother in three years.

His cell buzzed at his hip, intruding on his runner’s high, and he slowed to a jog as he squinted down at the unfamiliar number. His breath puffed out white clouds in the frosty air, and he idly walked in place to keep his heart rate up a while longer. He always felt strange when he saw a new phone number. An escort never knew what he’d get when he answered on a new client. Before he’d told everyone but Regina to stop giving out his name, he’d come across some real oddballs. Women wanted strange things sometimes.

But he had long since learned to trust Regina’s intuitions, so he swiped rapidly cooling sweat from his upper lip and dropped onto a nearby park bench to take the call. He hoped whoever was on the other end wouldn’t get the wrong idea from his breathlessness. Women had the bizarre tendency to freak out if they thought he was having sex with someone while talking to them.

“Blade Savage, at your service.”

The line hummed quietly for a long moment. Just as he was about to ask if anyone was there, a hesitant voice ventured, “Um…Regina gave me your number.”

A first timer. He could always tell.

Drawing on his silkiest voice, he smiled and plied his trade. “And I couldn’t be happier that she did. What can I do for you?”

It wasn’t so much what he said but how he said it. The emphasis on
do
. The intimate,
sotto voce
tone. Worked every time.

“Oh, it’s not for me.” Yeah, he’d heard that before. “I want to…uh…contract you…well, your services, anyway…for my sister’s birthday.”

He’d heard that one, too.

“And does your
sister
have a name?”

An embarrassed cough. “Really. She
is
my sister. She lives in Joplin. Is this enough lead time for you to drive there in a couple of weeks? I’ll pay ahead of time and cover your travel expenses. Even for a hotel room, in case, you know…she turns you down.”

His forehead creased in something like a frown. He didn’t know if he should be insulted or intrigued. “You’re serious?”

A sigh. “Do you not go outside Kansas City either?”

He grinned at the near-irritation in the question. “I didn’t mean that, though I usually don’t have to go that far for a call. I meant to ask if you’re serious that this is for your sister.”

“Oh!” He could almost see her blush. “Of course it is. Good grief, I’m a happily married woman.”

He’d
definitely
heard that one before.

“Look, Mr. Savage, I have no idea how to go about this. I don’t know if you charge by the hour or by the night or what. Can you help me out a little?”

Caught between laughing at being called Mr. Savage and a twinge of irritation that he hadn’t been Regina’s first choice, he dropped some of his charm and skipped to business. It didn’t look like he was talking to his prospective client, after all.

“So you want me to drive to Joplin and show your sister a good time?”

“Well…” There was the hesitation again. “I guess I want you to try.”

He frowned. “Is there something wrong with her?”

“No! Good grief.”

This was going nowhere.

“Then why would I not be able to show her a good time? I’m a little confused, miss.” And he would have to read Regina the riot act for giving his number to this crackpot.

Another sigh. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m not very good at this. Let me start at the beginning.”