THE BIG MOVE (Miami Hearts Book 2) (5 page)

              I felt a rush of sympathy as the reasons behind his awkwardness started to unravel. This customer had obviously just gotten out of a long-term relationship, and was new to the dating and partying scene. Why was he at our club in the middle of the day? Maybe it was some kind of desperation, some attempt at normalcy. I felt badly for him, and badly about myself that I was still interested in capitalizing off his pain. If he came out looking for a “rebound,” then maybe I could command a hefty price to fill that role for him.

              “Maybe we should start fresh,” I said. “I’m Sol.”

              I held out my hand and shook his firmly when he offered his own to me.

              “I’m Xander,” he said. “Nice to meet you — again. For real, this time. Here’s hoping I don’t screw it up again.”

              “It’s awfully hard to screw up here,” I assured him. “You know the rules, right?”

              “No touching,” he said immediately, holding his hands up. “Unless you touch me. Then, yes, touching.”

              I laughed. “Very good. You’re already an expert — sitting in VIP and everything.”

              Xander shrugged, taking his glass in his hand and swirling the ice cubes within it around and around.

              “My buddies recommended this place,” he said. “Said it had the best dancers in the whole city — and they weren’t lying.”

              He hoisted his glass to me in a clear toast, and I clinked my ginger ale with his cocktail.

              “I’m glad you found your way here — for whatever reason,” I said, and that was the truth. It looked like I was going to make some real money off of Xander, and I was happy for that opportunity. Maybe I’d be no closer to seeing Antonio, but at least I’d be doing something to save him. Time was crucial. I had to make the money as quickly as possible, but I couldn’t help resenting the fact that once I wired the money to Honduras, I’d have to start all over again with nothing just to try to get Antonio back to Miami.

              I was going to have to seriously revise my morals in order to get that money in any sort of a timely fashion.

              “How did you find your way here, if I may ask?” Xander wondered aloud, setting his glass down on the table a little too hard. Just how drunk was he? The club hadn’t been open long enough for him to get as lit as he obviously was.

              I paused to consider his question. For the most part, my general interactions with customers consisted of them wanting to know my measurements, wanting to know if I’d suck them off, and wanting to know if I’d go to bed with them. Very few men were interested in knowing anything beyond the sex.

              “It’s a good way to earn money,” I finally said, deciding to go with the most honest answer I could come up with other than “desperation.”

              Xander gave a bark of laughter. “Practical, then,” he said. “A businesswoman.”

              “What did you want me to say?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. “That it’s always been my dream to strip down to my sparkly underwear and dance for men?”

              He laughed again, toying with the small straw in his drink. “I like you a lot, Sol. You have all the right answers.”

              Again, not what I expected him to say. I was being borderline rude to a customer — a man I’d already targeted to be my paycheck for the night — and he wasn’t put off at all. Some girls used hard teasing as their method of flirting here — to varied results. I usually played a shy, blushing, naïve girl, fresh off the boat from Cuba and still getting used to the appetites of American men. It was usually a very, very popular mask to wear.

              And yet I wasn’t tempted at all to don that mask. The man sitting beside me at the table vexed me. Why was he taking me out of my game?

              “You look like you have plenty of answers, too,” I said, taking a gulp of my ginger ale. “A lot more than I do, anyway.”

              “You’d be surprised,” he said wryly. “Yesterday, I thought I had all the answers. Today, I have none of them. Nothing I thought was true is right. My world’s been turned upside down, Sol. Do you know what that feels like?”

              I nodded before my sense of self-preservation, of secrecy asserted itself. Of course I knew what it was like to blink your eyes and have everything be different.

              “I think everyone — or most everyone — knows what that’s like,” I said. “But life changes sometimes, I think. Or you change. Or someone you love changes. Whatever changes, you know that nothing can stay the same and that things are going to be different from then on. And you know what? You just have to deal with it. You can’t hang on to that thing that used to be something different. You have to embrace the new, Xander.”

              He was silent, staring at me for so long that I was sure I had screwed up, but then he exhaled in an enormous sigh and finished his drink in the next breath. He wiped his mouth with the napkin, balled it up, and rested his chin on his fist.

              “Sol, I had no idea that I was going to come to this club and get advice about how to deal with the problems in my life,” he said. “I swear, I came here to get drunk, yes, and to blow off some steam, and to get away from the things causing all the angst in my life to begin with. I didn’t mean to burden a stranger with my problems.”

              “It’s no burden,” I said quickly. It really wasn’t. I wasn’t sure what his issue was, yet, but surely it couldn’t hold a candle to all the problems I had come across and surmounted. All the problems I continued to endure.

              “You’re sweet,” Xander said. He made a move to touch my face but caught himself halfway, slowly withdrawing his hand. “Whoops. Almost forgot the rules.”

              “But you remembered them,” I said, a little shaken to realize that I’d forgotten them, too, looking forward to the feel of a man’s caress. It had been so long since I’d been with anyone, so long since I’d shared my body with my Antonio. I shuddered to think of the implications, dreaded the idea that maybe, just maybe, my willingness to usurp my morals in order to earn another percentage of the ransom was less about my love and more about my desires as a woman. Living alone for the first time in my life was a lonely endeavor. I wondered if my love would understand my weakness.

              “I almost wish I hadn’t,” he said ruefully, rubbing his fingers together. “Forgive me. Your skin just looks so soft.”

              I gently captured his hand with my own, then lifted it to my face, stroking my cheek with the pads of his fingers.

              “Is this breaking the rules?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to play it cool and confident even as just the simple movement of his fingers — which I controlled completely — across my face gave me goose bumps all the way down my back. Was it pathetic that such a simple touch could have such an impact on me? Was it telling that I’d gone that long without this kind of touch?

              “You’re the one who’s supposed to know the rules,” Xander told me, his voice a little accusatory as his eyes followed the motion of his own hand across my face.

              I tried to swallow, my mouth dry. “There’s a way we can get around the rules,” I said, suddenly nervous and tentative. I lowered his hand back to the table, studying it as if it was the most important thing in the world. Really, it was to avoid looking at those liquid brown eyes of his, like warm, melted chocolate.

              “I would love any tips on breaking the rules in this place,” he said, lowering his voice to match the secretive tone our interaction had taken. “You’re the insider.”

              “That’s the thing,” I said, look at him from beneath my lashes. “This isn’t something we can do inside of the club. Inside here, there are lots of rules. Too many, maybe. But outside of the club, well, we’re the ones who make up the rules, then.”

              His nostrils flared, and I knew he was mine. It was an intoxicating power, and one I could certainly get used to. But it still felt wrong. My love, my Antonio was counting on me, and this was the only way I could find to help him. Another part of me scoffed. Yeah, right. My love for Antonio had absolutely nothing to do with what I wanted to do with Xander right now.

              “My dear Sol,” he said, a grin creeping over his face. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

              I couldn’t help it. All that smolder I’d built up on so carefully, all the coquetry and slow burn, and I ruined it by bursting into laughter.

              “You can call it a date, sure,” I said, sniffling with mirth. “I’m sorry. We just don’t usually call it that. We call it an escort service.”

              “So, basically a date I pay for,” he said, nodding and seeming to mull the idea over.

              “Well, real gentlemen should always pay on the first date,” I said, giving him a flirtatious little pout. “If you have any questions about the specifics, I can have my boss come and explain them to you.”

              Xander smiled and shook his head. “I don’t want to get bogged down in the specifics,” he said, twisting his hand in the grip I still maintained so his fingers could dance over my palm. It made me shudder. “Of course I’d be honored to go out on a date with you — or to engage your service as an escort. Whatever you want to call it.”

              I’d have been lying if I denied the fact that calling it a date was infinitely better. It made me feel like a jerk, but it was true.

              “Would you like anything else here before we leave?” I asked. “Another drink? A dance, perhaps?”

              The rules still applied as long as we were on the property, but something tantalized me about the idea of giving Xander a private dance. Maybe I’d set the hook even deeper. I thought briefly back on Jennet joking that she’d hook her Prince Charming through his stomach — after she stole all of my delicious Cuban recipes. How was I hooking men? Through sex — pure and simple.

              “Here’s what I’d like to do,” Xander began, leaning closer and smiling at me in a way that made my toes curl a little. He was really a very handsome man. “I want to spend as much time with you as you’ll tolerate, but on one condition.”

              I blinked a few times, surprised. He wanted to spend as much time together as I wanted? Did he have any idea how expensive that would get? He said he didn’t want to be bothered with specifics, but I felt like someone needed to tell him.

              “What’s the condition?” I asked.

              “We do whatever you want to do.”

Some of the dancers told stories about the kind of men they crossed paths with. A lot of men liked to dominate. Maybe they were subordinates at their jobs, always having to say “yes, sir” to men they loathed and envied, always having to clean up after other people. When they got to the club, though, they could be anyone they wanted to be. That was the magic of it. As long as a customer had money, he could be the CEO of the company. However a customer behaved, a dancer was there to act as a counterpoint. If he was demanding, she’d demure. If he asked her to do something, like sit on his lap or give him a dance or fetch him another drink, she’d hop to it. If she did what he fantasized about correctly, the tip would reflect his appreciation.

              Other girls gossiped about the men who were polar opposites. These type were often the men in charge in the real world, the ones who had to make decisions all day and give orders and never had the opportunity to be told what to do. This game was a whole different animal. These men came to the club to relax, and they often liked for the dancers they chose for company to dominate them. It was nothing freaky, nothing in the way of whips and chains and hot wax and safe words. But the girls ordered the men around, demanding expensive drinks, obedience, slavish loyalty.

              They were two sides of the same coin, these games, and what Xander had just asked of me was a whole other form of currency.

              “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I said. “Most escort jobs —”

              “Let’s call it a date,” he said. “If it’s all right with you, of course. You’re the boss today.”

I bit my lip. Was this him wanting to be dominated? Would I be in control for as long as I wanted?

              “Okay,” I said slowly. “Most, um, ‘dates’ kind of depend on where the customer wants to go, what he wants to do.”

              “I think you’ll find this to be unlike most dates you’ve been on,” he said smoothly, taking a melting ice cube from his drink and crunching it between his teeth. “I’ve been out of the game for so long that I don’t know what people even do on dates anymore. That’s why I’m going to have to depend on you to show me a good time, to take me on a date, to renew my faith in human beings again.”

              I swallowed. That was kind of a tall order. Renew his faith in human beings again? What had happened to the poor man?

              “So you don’t know where we should begin?” I asked hesitantly. “There’s nothing in particular you want to do? Are you hungry?”

              “It all depends on you, Sol,” he said happily, putting his hands behind his head. “You need to know where to begin, what to do. Are you hungry? That’s the real question.”

              I felt my forehead wrinkle in a way I was sure wasn’t sexy in the least. I tried to puzzle out Xander’s request, tried to figure out what, exactly, it meant for me.

              This was a game. This was a business transaction and this was a game. How was I going to play it?

              Realization — troublesome but offering some kind of insight — dawned on me.

              “I suggest you close out your tab,” I said. “I’m going to go slip into something a little more comfortable and grab my bag, and I’ll meet you right back here in no more than five minutes.”

              “A woman with a plan,” Xander said. “I like that, Sol. Perfect. Let’s do this.”

              I practically dashed in the direction of the dressing room, making a quick pit stop at the DJ booth.

              “Parker,” I called up, not wanting to chance climbing the stairs with my tall heels. “Would you take me off rotation? I’m going to escort.”

              Her head popped into view, and she studied me for so long that I was afraid she hadn’t heard me over the music blaring.

              “I’m escorting,” I called again, raising my voice even higher.

              “I heard you,” she replied coolly. “Who’s the lucky gentleman?”

              “Table six, VIP,” I said, jerking my chin in the direction.

              I breathed easier when Parker directed her piercing gaze toward Xander, and was gratified, even, when the corners of her mouth quirked up a little.

              “Good for you,” she said. “Check in once it’s done, or if you have any issues.”

              “All right, thanks,” I said, scooting off to the dressing room. What had Parker seen when she’d eyed Xander? What had made her almost smile? I hoped it was a good sign, and not a bad one — though I could hardly imagine Parker taking delight in the misfortune of anyone. Parker was lots of things, but cruel wasn’t one of them.

              In the dressing room, I wiped off most of my makeup, flung my dress off, and wriggled into the jeans and camisole I’d worn when I first arrived at the club this morning. Xander was asking for a first date, and I was going to give it to him. I balled up the dress and shoved it into my purse, along with a pair of heels that could very nearly pass as normal evening wear shoes. I wore plain leather sandals, fretted a little at my chipped toenail polish, and gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror.

              I looked like a normal woman, not a dancer, and that was somehow gratifying while still intimidating. The costume, the heels, the makeup, the perfect hair — those were all elements to the mask, to the role that all of us dancers played for men here. A lot of the girls who worked here used pseudonyms — simple names that somehow embodied the persona they sought to be while they worked here. When they exited the building, they could stop being the person they became when they were at the club.

              I’d never had much of a reason to take on a stage name, and Faith had never done so, either.

              “It’s confusing enough to be myself,” I’d overheard her tell another dancer about it before. “I don’t think I could keep up with two completely different people.”

              But now, in street clothes, I was just Sol, the woman I always was. This was going to be a lot more difficult than I imagined — to escort Xander and just be myself. I wouldn’t have a mask or a persona to fall back on, nor the atmosphere and safety of the club to lean on.

              It would be just me and him, out in Miami for the day.

              How was it that dates were so intimidating? How did people do this normally, in real life? Even Antonio and I had kind of fallen together — schoolmates, first, then friends, then lovers. It was a natural progression of a relationship, and every feeling we had for each other was genuine.

              Dating, to me, seemed unnatural. You tried out a person much like you tried on a pair of pants. Did they fit? Would they chafe you after a time, or grow too restrictive? Would they lose their shape, stop making you feel as good?

              Dating was a complicated tryout, a situation doomed to fail, a painful coupling of two strangers trying to find the love that so many other people already had.

              I’d agreed to do this for as long as I could stand Xander. I hurried out of the dressing room — and away from my building dread — and rejoined the man in question at his table. He blinked at me several times before his smile lit up his face again.

              “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he exclaimed. “I was about to ask a gorgeous woman if she was lost and needed my help.”

              I flushed and giggled. “Oh, stop. This is just me in my street clothes. It’s a little too early in the day to look as fancy as I normally do here at the club out in the city.”

              “Can I tell you something?” he asked.

              “Uh oh,” I said, lightly mocking him. “This is how you get in trouble. This is how you get a girl upset with you, and you don’t want to ruin our date, now.”

              “Okay,” he said, putting his hands up. “It’ll be my little secret, for now. But I’m pretty sure you would’ve liked it.”

              “Enough fooling around,” I commanded jokingly. “Let’s blow this joint.” That was one of the expressions I was proudest of, having picked it up in a movie Antonio and I had watched together at the library. I knew what it meant, knew it was a way to make myself sound like I had more of a command of the language than I actually did, and it usually put people at ease.

              Xander immediately popped up from the table, offering me his arm gallantly. “I live to make you happy,” he announced. “Just tell me where we’re going.”

              “Not a chance,” I said, grinning at him as I led him out the door, into the bright sunlight that made us both squint after the darkness of the club. “Every part of our date is going to be a surprise. You won’t know what we’re doing until we get there.”

              “Fair enough,” Xander said, jingling his car keys. “You just tell me where to turn.”

              “Wrong again,” I said, snatching his keys. “You, sir, have had quite a lot to drink. You will not be driving.”

              Xander scowled briefly, and I raised my eyebrows, wondering if we were about to have a standoff. Would this grand dating experiment end before it even began?

              “You’re right again,” he said finally, jamming his hands in his pockets. “I have had a lot to drink. If we’re being honest, here, I probably shouldn’t have driven to this place. There’s no
probably
about it. I shouldn’t have. That was pretty stupid, Sol.”

              “You’re here now,” I said, patting his back. “You’ve acknowledged your mistake. No reason to beat yourself up over it any longer. We’re going to focus on our date and we’re going to have a good time. Understand? That’s a rule.”

              He smiled at me even though I could tell he was still upset at himself. “Rules? I thought the rules went out the door as soon as we left the club.”

              “I remember quite clearly that I said we made up our own rules once we were outside the club,” I reminded him, emphasizing the point with a few more taps on his back. “The first rule is: You must have fun.”

              “You can’t command someone to have fun,” Xander laughed. “You have to show me a good time. If you make fun decisions for the date, I’m sure I’ll have fun.”

              “Excuse me,” I said, putting my shoulders back and jutting my chest out. “Who’s in charge of this date?”

              “You are.”

              “Then I say you’re going to have fun,” I declared. “I will do whatever it takes to make you have fun. That’s an order. I’m in charge.”

              “You want me to have fun?” he repeated.

              “That’s right.”

              “And you’ll do whatever it takes?”

              “That’s what I seem to remember saying, yes.”

              His kiss was sudden, swift, wholly unexpected. It took my breath away, made my eyelids flutter closed, made me clutch at his shoulders even as he steadied me with his hands on my waist. It was everything I’d been missing, every hole that had just been getting deeper and lonelier in my life filled suddenly. It was shocking.

              It was wrong.

              And yet I didn’t push him away, didn’t shove him off of me and tell him he was in violation of a rule I hadn’t even planned on setting. I stood there, rooted to the cracked pavement in the parking lot, and I let him kiss me.

              Then, I kissed him back, widening my stance, pressing my front against his and parting my lips, letting his tongue into my mouth as I tried to push mine in to explore his. He tasted like liquor, but I didn’t mind much. I was sure I tasted like ginger ale to him — ginger ale and lipstick. There were worse things — such as the leftover sausage I’d had for breakfast, but I’d been careful to brush my teeth twice before I left my apartment this morning.

              When we finally ran out of breath, we parted — almost regretfully. Both of our chests heaved, and if I stood any closer to the man, he’d have had to been carrying me in his arms. It struck me that, to passersby, we probably looked like two lovers, caught in an embrace. We studied each other — me, wary of this new development, and Xander’s brown eyes, a little distant, on the defensive.

              Did he regret kissing me?

              Did I regret it?

              “Our date’s just beginning,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I think maybe we’re taking it a little too fast.”

              “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “It’s just … I don’t think you know how beautiful you are.”

              That statement made me snap my mouth closed and blush. “Beautiful enough for strangers to be making out with me in the middle of a parking lot?”

              Xander smiled softly. “That and more. I’m sorry. You’re right. This is taking the date a little too fast. I’ll slow down. I’ll behave myself. You’re in charge. Your rules.”

              I swallowed hard. Would it come off as weak if I didn’t want to rule out another kiss? I didn’t want to send the wrong message — even if I couldn’t deny the way the air crackled between us. There was something real there, something powerful, and I’d already given myself the go ahead to leave my morals and principles at the door, to do whatever it took to earn the money to secure Antonio’s freedom.