“Mr. Ridge,” I had said teasingly.
Before the elevator doors closed, he said, “Nice to see you, Miss Hearst.”
My heart beats too hard and my stomach flutters full of butterflies when Wilder enters the meeting room, buttoning his jacket with a smile on his face that makes it hard to breathe. He’s prim and proper, with an edge that no one else in this room besides Talent can match. Heat blooms between my thighs, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth to keep from whispering his name.
“Gentlemen,” he says, greeting his guests. “Welcome to Grand Haven. I hope your flight wasn’t too long.”
David moves around the table, shaking hands, and Talent approaches Lydia, swiftly kissing her on the cheek. “I’ll see you at the hotel tonight,” he says in a low voice. “I’ll leave a key for you at the desk.”
“I look forward to it.” Lydia rests her hand on my lower back and leads me toward the door to make our exit. She mumbles, “My office.”
I can’t take my eyes off Wilder, and if we had gone around the table on Thanksgiving to say one thing we’re thankful for, I would have said I was most thankful for the glass walls around the meeting room. He’s a king commanding the room, spinning a pen around his middle finger like a baton. Before I disappear into the hall, he looks up and catches me staring, and he winks.
“I’m cutting your appointments in half,” Lydia says as soon as she sits behind her desk.
The sudden change in mood is jarring, and I fall onto the couch unceremoniously. “What? Why? Did someone complain? Was it the chiropractor? He offered to give me an adjustment, and I didn’t see the shame in it. I was already there, and I had this cramp in my neck…”
Bored hazel eyes blink slowly, her face a mask of disinterest. “No one complained. I’m not a fucking Yelp page.”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Her name is Vera Monroe. Inez found her right before—” A pause and a breath. “Before I gained control of Hush. I’ve had my eye on her for a while. She’s good. And I think now is a good time to bring her up, show her what we do.”
“What you did, Lydia,” I remind her. The first name is familiar, but I can’t put my finger on when I heard it. “Should I be worried?”
“No.” Lydia cracks a smile and says, “I’m about to give you everything you wanted.”
“My own corner office?”
“You wish,” she says dismissively. “Not only can I keep a better eye on you if you’re in the office most days, but I can’t deny that I haven’t appreciated the help. If you’re ready to shoulder more responsibility, then I’m ready to give it to you.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I lean forward, fixing my gaze on her, “but have you been kind of nice to me lately?”
“Figment of your imagination.” She spins her chair around as an evil mastermind contemplating how to take over the world does. “You’re about to find out how the rest of Hush operates. I hope you’re ready.”
I don’t know any of the other Hush escorts personally. The one thing I’ve known from the beginning is that I’m the only one who runs the way I do, just as Lydia did before me. I meet my clients in their private offices, one-hour appointments only. The other girls are often bought for days at a time, and anyone without a full-time clientele is sent to events similar to the gala we attended last summer or my birthday party. They’re pretty faces in the crowd, setting the mood and cashing in.
What I wasn’t aware of is that they are bought like attractions for private events, bachelor parties, club openings, and jobs such as entertaining unwanted visitors from New York.
They’re bounce houses that you sleep with.
“Ridge & Sons never partakes,” Lydia says as we walk through the hotel lobby. She smiles knowingly. “Their reputation is too pristine for the likes of Hush, but many of your clients, Benny Cros for example, often call us in to treat his guests. It makes an impression.”
Relief feels like changing out of wet clothes on a cold day. The thought of Wilder sleeping with any of Lydia’s girls eats me up, even if that makes me a hypocrite.
The Marquis Hotel in San Francisco was built for the rich. Everything from the finest crystal chandeliers suspended from the high vaulted ceilings to the black and diamond marble floors beneath our feet flaunts luxury and romance, coming in second to the couture design and artsy features in just the lobby alone. We didn’t have to open a door ourselves, wonder where to go, or say much to get the key to the suite Talent reserved for us.
When myself, Lydia, and ten other girls who rival the hotel’s beauty head toward the elevators, the staff doesn’t so much as blink an eye.
This hotelisfor the privileged, and the staff knows when to look away.
Lydia and I are the last to board the elevator, and we look upon our crew, counting heads like teachers on a school field trip. The elevator cab smells like citrus, flowers, peppermint, and lavender. We’re forward facing, and most of us use these last few minutes before the night starts to send last-minute texts to friends, family, or maybe their kids. The only two people Lydia and I care for are within the vicinity, so we stand shoulder-to-shoulder silently and watch the number display increase with the floors.
One girl chews gum with her mouth open, popping it between her teeth. Someone drops their phone, and another giggles as weightlessness tickles her stomach. Someone asks, “Should I expect to be here all night?” While someone else says, “I’m not leaving until these motherfuckers pay my rent.”
The elevator dings and opens to a hallway. Lydia motions for me to walk ahead of her, and a piece of the hierarchy falls into place amongst our band of renegades. We are not equal. I wear a crown.
Lydia presses the key card to the pad on the door, the lock disengages, and she holds the door open for everyone to pass inside the suite. The drapes are pulled back, and our view of the San Francisco Bay is a real-life painting. The sun set long ago, and the bridge is lit up, reflecting on the black ocean water beneath it. I’ve seen the Golden Gate Bridge before, but never at night, and never this close. The other girls regard the massive structure fleetingly before dropping their bags and unpacking to compare shades of lipstick and sets of lingerie. Luxury hotels in the city with views to die for are commonplace for them, but I’ve only seen a view this spectacular from Wilder’s office.
