I sip tea and nervously realize I’m on a date with Jack Hunter. I gulp tea and scald my voice box. I gasp, and Jack cordially hits me on the back a few times to make sure I’m not choking. The chef gives me a concerned look, but Jack waves it off.
“Why?” I gasp.
“Why what?” Jack looks to me, icy eyes piercing.
“Why did you take me here?”
“You’ve never been on a date.” He says it like a fact, not a question. I glower.
“Duh.”
“So. This is your first date. Consider it a learning experience.”
“What am I supposed to do? Talk about my hair? Ask you about your job? My hair is flawless and I already know what your job is!”
“Normally, a male and a female on a date will talk about whatever comes up naturally.”
“Uh, right, but you and I ain’t exactly natural.”
“An immovable object meeting an unstoppable force,” Jack says lightly.
“Two unstoppable forces crashing and careening off a cliff to their untimely deaths,” I correct.
“Oil and water.”
“Oil and firebombs.”
He raises an eyebrow in partial agreement and takes a sip of his tea. The sushi arrives, and octopus and eel and tuna melts in my mouth. Everything is so fresh and delicious I can barely stand it. I wiggle my butt and make contented humming noises. Jack looks at me.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m happy! It tastes awesome.”
“So you squirm and make tuneless little noises when you’re happy?”
I frown and become conscious of it. I eat with more decorum, but Jack scoffs.
“I didn’t mean – it’s fine. It’s just…interesting of you. Almost cute.”
I feel an electric surge crawl up my spine and settle in my brain, buzzing. Cute. Cute. Jack just called me –
“In a deranged puppy way.” He adds. The electricity leaves and I realize how stupid I was for thinking anyone would willingly call me cute. I’m not cute. Loud, sure. Rude, yup. Not cute. Never cute.
The sushi goes quickly, so we order seconds and wait.
“So, I mean,” I start. “How did you get into, um. You know.”
Jack sips tea thoughtfully, then puts the cup down.
“There’s a surgery. It’s expensive, and experimental. But it’s got a decent success rate and it would give Sophia years to live. Maybe even get rid of the thing for good. I’ve been taking on double shifts to make the down payment on it, and I’ve almost got enough. The two hundred you gave me for Kayla will put a nice dent in what’s left.”
“That’s…great. That’s really great news.”
He sighs and leans back. “I used to work tables. Waiting at a French restaurant in Columbus. It was good money, and it kept her bills afloat, but then Sophia started getting worse. The surgery came from Sweden. My money was good, but not enough to pay for that. And then one night, I waited the table of the founder of the Rose Club. Blanche Morailles. She gave me a much better option, with higher pay. High enough to make the money for the surgery in a year and a half. I didn’t know if Sophia would last that long, so I –”
Jack shakes his head. “She’s been doing well so far. I’ve got another month to go, and then I’ll have enough. She just has to hold on for another month.”
I stir my drink, and Jack frowns.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Doubtful,” I say.
“You think I shouldn’t escort. You think it’s bad, or unlawful, or whatever.”
“You…you have to sleep with people –”
“Sleeping with people is easy,” He says tersely. “It means nothing. It’s a simple, mechanical action. It requires nothing of me I am hesitant to give. The women are usually considerate, and well-spoken, and gracious. Sometimes they’re difficult, or into darker things, but I adapt.”
“They use you.”
“And I agree to it. So they don’t really use me. If anything, I am using them equally. It’s not all one-sided. It’s a mutual agreement. And as far as escorting businesses go, it’s a good one. No men. Blanche doesn’t make me take male clients, and for that I’m grateful. It’s a good deal. A good, easy job that can save Sophia. So I’ll keep doing it, for however long it takes.”
His voice finishes with a hard, determined edge. Our next round of sushi arrives. We eat in total silence.
“Are…are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” He says, face icily passive.
“Yes, well, it’s a little hard to tell considering I’ve seen constipated rocks display more emotion.”
“I don’t need a moron asking how I feel.”
“I’m just trying to be nice! You’re such a fat doodoo shitbaby!”
“Occasionally I have fantasies of intellectual conversation,” He sighs. I’m so angry I start up from my stool only to bump into Fujiwara, who’s behind me carrying a tray of tea. Boiling tea. It spills all over me, drenching my jacket. I yelp and unzip it quickly, throwing it to the ground.
“Oh, Isis-chan, I’m so sorry!” Fujiwara cries. “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t see you, it’s my fault –”
“It’s okay!” I assure her. “It’s okay, really, I was the idiot who didn’t look –”
“No, no, it’s all my fault –”
Jack stands, and together the three of us pick up the tea cups and help Fujiwara mop up the mess, even as she refuses help and apologizes in an endless stream. She mumbles something about ‘making up for it’, and disappears into the double-doors of the kitchen. Jack and I sit down, and the bar settles, and it’s only thirty seconds of having my jacket off before I realize what a horrible mistake it is.
The pink blouse. I’d forgotten all about it. It shimmers and quivers with my every movement. My shoulders are exposed. You can practically see through the translucent material to where my polka dot bra is. I look stupid. I can feel everyone looking at me and I know they think I look stupid, and ugly, and that it doesn’t suit me.
Jack’s gone still, frozen halfway between raising his tea cup to his mouth. His eyes are on me, on every part of me as he looks me up and down with a slow, deliberate gaze.
I start to pull my jacket back on, but Jack’s hand stops me.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s not right,” I hiss. “I didn’t mean to – I wasn’t supposed to take it off. It looks stupid on me –”
“No.” He interrupts. “Not at all.”
“Just –” I reach for my jacket.
“It’s beautiful,” He says softly, then clears his throat. “You look…beautiful.”
An iron fist squeezes my heart, my throat, my stomach, and then lets go, a bittersweet burn spreading through my body like fire. I savor it one moment, and then suspect it the next, and then I realize what’s really happening.
“I get it!” I smile. “You’re still in escort mode from all that time with Kayla! It was only a few minutes ago your guys’ date ended, after all.”
“What? No, I –”
“It’s okay, really! You just forgot to flip the switch back from escort you to regular you. Totally understandable. Work and life are hard to compartmentalize. Thanks for the compliment though! I bet I’d have to pay at least ten bucks to hear it if I was a client, huh? But I got it for free. Score!”
“Isis – ”
Jack’s cut off by Fujiwara crowing apologies as she comes between us with a tray of tiny tea cakes, cookies, and a few scoops of green tea ice cream. I pull my jacket on and zip it all the way up to my chin. I chat with Fujiwara excitedly the entire time I eat dessert, talking about how good the sushi was, and where she gets her fish from, asking the best tips for getting green tea stains from jackets, and thanking her for the sweets. Jack’s silent, picking at the cookies, and Fujiwara brings him the bill.
“I’ll pay half,” I offer, leaning over to look at the price tag. My eyes practically bug out. Jack waves the envelope I gave him the money in.
“You already have.”
We drive back to the Red Fern parking lot in silence. I busy myself with my phone, trying not to see the white knuckles Jack has on the steering wheel.