So Sweet Read online

  This went on for most of the afternoon. Adler would try to include me and somehow I’d manage to sweep myself to the side. Yeah, I needed the money, but if this was going to work I was going to need some kind of connection to the man I was going to link myself to.

  Eventually I excused myself to go to the restroom and on the way back I hid. The dining area gave you a good view of the dance floor, but it was poorly lit. No one would miss me. I sat down, wishing I’d thought to grab myself a glass of water before I’d made my escape.

  “Not your scene?”

  “Oh my god!” I almost screamed when I saw the man sitting in the dark booth across from me. How did I miss him? It was dark, but not that dark. My cloud of self-pity must have been pretty thick. Extra thick, ’cause the man was cute. He was a sexy Jesus of sorts, white guy with thick, long black hair past his shoulders, and a thick salt-and-pepper mustache and beard. I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but he was casually dressed in jeans and a blue or black gingham shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Full lips, all-round nice face. No watch, but he had two cell phones stacked on each other on the table. He was looking over at me.

  “I’m sorry.” I moved to stand up, trying not to choke on my thudding heart.

  “Nah, you’re good. Have a seat. Stay awhile.” His voice was kinda sexy too, deep, but with a kindness to it. Inviting. Sincere.

  I eased back into the booth. “You sure? I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Whatever private meeting he was having with the glass in his hand.

  “Yeah. It’s nice to get away from the crowd.”

  “You work here?” He had a California bar owner way about him. Maybe he was Monica’s contact at Peak, holding the place down so a sugar-coated orgy didn’t break out.

  “Nah. I’m with the party. Just observing.”

  “You’re a sugar daddy? I mean—sorry.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not wrong. I, uh—I run the company that owns Arrangements.”

  “Oh.” Not what I was expecting.

  “Decided to come through, maybe find a nice girl of my own, but nah.”

  “Not your scene?”

  “Not at all, but I figured I’d hang out. Stick around to catch the match-making, watch some love connections spring eternal.”

  “I gotcha. It’s not my scene either.”

  “Why not just leave?” His eyebrows came together, not in anger, just concern. “You know you don’t have to stay or leave with any of these guys.”

  “Oh no, no. I know. Sorry. My roommate’s here too and we drove together. She’s gonna find someone for sure. I just want to make sure she gets home okay at this point.”

  “Did she drag you here?”

  “Kind of. I—we both need money. She’s been out of work and I just lost my job, and that rent check’s due. You know what I mean?”

  “I do. I have been there.”

  “And now you own a sugar daddy website.”

  “Among other things. So you need money, but this is not your scene.”

  “I thought I could do it. I’m a people person. I love people. I used to work in human resources before I got let go. I resourced the humans. I can do people, but I thought about it—”

  “The sex?”

  “Yeah, mostly the sex.”

  “They don’t all want that. Some of these guys just want companionship. Someone who’s better at socializing to make them look good at parties. Someone to take out on the boat.”

  “I’ve heard, but the sex is all I can think of. It’s what most guys want from me anyway. I mean have you seen this body?” I joked. “I’m a damn fertility goddess.”

  He didn’t laugh outright, but I saw a small smile peek out from under that mustache. “I will not argue with that.”

  “I just—I need a connection. We don’t have to be in love, but I have to like you a little bit. Or at least be attracted to you.”

  “And none of these guys are working for you.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Hmm. But rent’s due.”

  “In three weeks.” The tightness came back to my chest. I hoped he couldn’t hear it in my voice. “I’m resourceful. I’ll think of something.”

  “We’ve only been talking for a bit here, but I don’t doubt that for a minute. I’m Michael.” He reached across the table and offered his hand. It was warm when I shook it. Warm and dry, but soft.

  “Kayla.”

  “Well Kayla. I know I said I wasn’t seeking, but I seem to have found.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. I tried to process what he was getting at as he wrote another number on the blank back.

  “If you change your mind about this whole Arrangement arrangement, shoot me a text.”

  He handed me the card. It just had his full name, Michael Bradbury, and a number on the front in smooth black lettering. It said “personal cell” next to the number on the back.

  “Are you even old enough to be a sugar daddy?” I asked.

  “Yup. Fifty is right around the corner.”

  “No way.” The beard was graying for sure, but he didn’t look a day over forty.

  “Trust me. I wouldn’t lie about that.” He stood and when I looked up I could see that little hint of a smile. It was more in his cheek this time. The slightest hint, but I liked it. It felt honest.

  “Text?” I asked.

  “I’m in meetings most of the day. I can respond to texts right away. It’s hard to tell a business associate to stop talking while I check a voicemail.”

  I glanced at the card again and somehow found my nerve. “And what if I don’t like you enough for the sex?”

  “I’m hoping you won’t text me unless you do.”

  And then of course I wanted to jump him.

  “Have a good one.” He touched my shoulder lightly, and then headed for the door.

  Two

  Adler was so proud of me for getting a number she didn’t give me any shit for disappearing in the middle of the party and not coming back until I could tell she was ready to leave. Her adventure in Sugar Daddy Land had turned up mixed results. There were a few guys she thought she could work with, but no straight up negotiations had kicked off. I wasn’t worried about her though. Now that I’d seen her in action there was no doubt in my mind that she’d find someone soon. Besides, neither of us were looking for Mr. Right or Mr. Forever. She was looking for Mr. 90 Days Max and I was looking for Mr. Hold Me Over Until I Find A Job.

  The minute we got home, after picking up some celebratory items off the dollar menu, I Googled Michael Bradbury. He’d undersold himself a little. He didn’t just run the company that owned Arrangements. He ran ICO, the mega corporation that owned nearly every popular dating site and app, five media outlets, and FiveStars.com, the most popular consumer opinion site on the planet. He was also on the short list to be the next owner of Los Angeles’s NBA franchise. He’d started AskCupid.com with a college buddy and things had just blown up from there.

  Michael was forty-nine, he wasn’t lying about that. And, according to his online info, he was single. I went through all the images available, with the charming bonus of Adler’s commentary. Most of the pictures were of him court-side at various basketball games, a few pictures of him walking down the street. There was one picture of him in a suit, a fashion shot from an issue of Forbes. The hair was still long and the beard and mustache were still thick, but he cleaned up real well.

  His eyes were blue with hints of green.

  When I couldn’t search anymore, I sat back and sighed. What was I going to do about Michael Bradbury?

  “Okay. I’m not gonna pressure you. But. I think. You need. To call him.” She said it just like that, all dramatic emphasis.

  “He doesn’t take calls. All text.”

  “Then text him,” she said, like that business card was burning a hole her pocket.

  “And say what?”

  “Hey boy. Give me some money?”

  “No, but can you be serious for one seco
nd.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. What do you want to do?”

  “I want to text him. He was cool, like really easy to talk to. There was a little flirting, but he didn’t come on strong at all. Just matter of fact and cool. Totally my type. And you’ve seen his face.”

  “Stone-cold fox. So what’s the problem?”

  “Okay, I text him. He wants a sugar baby and I want—”

  “All the dick you can handle?”

  “No. I want a real relationship. Clearly he’s busy and has no time for one or he wouldn’t be looking for an arrangement of his own. What if I end up catching all the feelings and all he can give me is one weekend a month?”

  “And spending money.”

  “And that.”

  “And what if you met at a bar. A different bar, and he just worked in an office and you liked him, but he wasn’t giving you the time you wanted ’cause he was too busy hanging with his friends? Or because he had another girl on the side? Or his mom hated you? Do you see what I’m getting at here? Any guy can break your heart. Any guy.”

  “Ugh, you’re right.”

  “I say text him, but be up front. Tell him that feelings are a thing for you.”

  “He knows that.”

  “You told him that?”

  “It was like the first thing out of my mouth and then he gave me his card. After he kinda hinted that if we got together sex would definitely be on the table.”

  Adler grabbed my arm and almost pulled it out of the socket. “Kaaaaylaaaaa! Text him right now!”

  My laughed was a little rattled. “No.”

  “He knows you’re a big softy and he’s okay with that, and you know that he wants to dump his cum on you and you’re okay with that.”

  “Am I though? Am I really? With the cum dumping?”

  “Yes. You two are practically engaged. But all jizzing aside, he’s clearly a smart guy who makes great business decisions. If he didn’t want to see you again he wouldn’t have given you his personal cell number.”

  Adler had me there. There was no doubt in my mind that Michael was at least a little bit interested in me. I knew I kind of owed it to the universe to give him a call. Or a text. I wanted to wait at least a few days. Four hours would make me feel a little desperate.

  “And don’t even think about waiting three days or whatever stupid dating rules I know you live by. I don’t think he’s gonna hook up with someone else right away, but he’s definitely not gonna play games. The good ones don’t. If you want him, text him. Tonight.”

  “Fine. I’m going to get changed. We’re going to watch the best Saturday night TV movie cable has to offer and, sometime before I go to bed, I will text him and let him know I am interested in getting to know him better.”

  “Good. And I’m going to email Ronald Leinhertz and ask him if his hip is good enough for golf tomorrow.”

  “The old, old guy?”

  “Oh the oldest.”

  “Well good luck with that.”

  My night went exactly as planned. In my pajamas on the couch watching a teen pregnancy somehow turn into a double murder-suicide. Adler hassled me about texting Michael for a good hour, but once she was distracted by the shiny things the internet had to offer I snuck and sent Michael a text. Or two.

  Still on the fence about an “arrangement”.

  But I am interested.

  In you.

  I put my phone on vibrate on the off-chance he actually texted me back. I didn’t want to alert the fiend on the other end of the couch.

  His response time was less than two minutes.

  At a fundraiser right now.

  What’s your day like tomorrow?

  I did my best to hide my smile as I texted him back. Adler was something of a smile detective. She could sniff out guy-related giddiness at fifty paces.

  Free. Free Monday too. And Tuesday. Still unemployed. Free forever.

  Hopefully he thought I was as funny as I did.

  Again, a response in less than two minutes.

  You’ll hear from me tomorrow. And maybe you’ll be with me on Monday. And Tuesday. Maybe forever.

  I covered my mouth and managed not to squeal loud enough for Michael to hear me across town. But, of course, I played it cool.

  I don’t hate that idea. Talk soon. Night.

  The text bubbles were bubbling before I even hit send.

  Goodnight Kayla.

  Adler couldn’t tell from where she was sitting, but I actually died. My ghost was floating somewhere above the couch, squeeing at the top of her lungs.

  ✶

  Adler was gone when I woke up on Sunday morning. Probably out hiking with her friend, Sienna, or at brunch with Sienna, spending money she didn’t have. I made the cheapest breakfast I could make—let’s hear it for eggs—then went for a walk of my own. I read on a blog that it’s good to get out of the house when you’re unemployed. Keeps the mood slumps away, or from getting worse.

  I sent up another prayer of thanks for our in-unit washer and dryer, thankful as hell that I didn’t have to drag my ass to a crowded laundromat on Sunday. The job boards were waiting for me, but I couldn’t focus. I wanted to hear from Michael. So I cleaned and cleaned and then organized and cleaned some more.

  When Adler came back I realized how tense I’d been. I was too happy to see her, like it was Michael coming through the door. I knew then that I was already banking too much on this non-existent relationship. It wasn’t even the money. It was the emotional distraction of it all. The idea of just hearing from Michael made me so happy it took my mind off the painful horror of applying for every HR position I could find. That realization was all I needed to get my butt back in front of my laptop.

  Adler brought enough dinner leftovers for us both and swore up and down that Sienna wouldn’t let her pay.

  “Hey your phone is ringing!” She called to me while I was waiting for the microwave to chime. “It’s him! It’s him!” She ran into the kitchen and practically threw my phone at me. Sure ’nuff Michael Bradbury’s name lit up my screen.

  “Hello?” You could hear how nervous I was.

  “Hi. Did I get you at a bad time?”

  “Nope. Still unemployed. Still massively not sure how I feel about this.”

  “Can I swing by and pick you up? I have to fly to New York tonight, but I thought we could talk on my way to the airport. My driver will bring you home.”

  “Oh, um yeah. I’ll text you my address.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.”

  “’K, bye.”

  I threw my phone back at Adler and ran to my room. I had to de-hobo.

  “He’s coming to pick me up so we can talk.”

  “What did he say?!” Adler stood in my doorway asking me stupid questions for thirty seconds before she realized this was not a fucking game and I needed to get ready. “I got outfit. You do make-up and hair.”

  I was sweating by the time I pulled it together, but when Michael called to say he was outside, I looked effortlessly fabulous, yet Sunday relaxed. Tight ripped jeans that highlighted my curvaceous thighs and my oversized white top that dipped low in the back showing off the new-ish black lace bra I had on. Some black wedges and I was power walking for the elevator.

  A shiny black Suburban was waiting right there at the curb. The driver came around the side and opened the door for me. Michael was inside, but he wasn’t alone. I tried not to look disappointed as I climbed in. His hint of a smile took care of that though.

  He leaned over and brushed my cheek with his soft lips. “Hey,” he said quietly.

  “Hi.”

  We started moving. Michael gestured to the guy sitting in the row behind us. “This is my assistant, Ruben.”

  Ruben was a very tiny white guy with a shaved head and the sweetest smile. He reached forward and shook my hand. “Love the top.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So,” Michael glanced at his phone, checking the time. He did have a flight to catch. “Le
t’s discuss this. In the strictest terms, you would be a girlfriend for hire. What does that mean to you?”

  “Wait. You have to back up. I have questions.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that. Shoot.”

  “One, why are you single?” I turned around and glanced at Ruben. “Are you just consumed by your career or are you really an asshole in disguise?”

  “Huge asshole,” Ruben said, but there was a cheeky smile.

  “I’ve dated, plenty, but I have been consumed with work.”

  “So why now? Why me?”

  “I think you touched on something important when we met. I’ve dated a lot, but no one has really brought that something special to the table that made me think a relationship was worth pursuing. I’ve had fun but, as you said, I have to feel something.”

  “You want to pursue a relationship with me? You feel something with me?” I asked, trying to ignore the irrational romantic in my head that was running around in circles, screaming.

  “I do. I think you’re beautiful and you appear to be honest and upfront. All things that I think are very important.”

  I shifted on the seat so I was facing him. “And in your forty-nine years, you’ve never met a girl who fit that criteria?”

  A little smirk appeared on his lips. “I have, but timing matters too. On both our parts.”

  “So you feel good about this timing?”

  “For myself, I do. Yes. And you?”

  “I am unemployed. And there have been people before, but the timing was off. We’ll go with that.” I chewed my lip, trying to think of what else I wanted to say. He was making sense, I still wasn’t sure. I didn’t love the sound of girlfriend-for-hire. Michael waited patiently. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never done this before so I have no idea how it works and I don’t know if it would work for me.”