What am I doing?
I promised myself I’d never go back to this kind of life. Being hustled and then trying to cover up the hustle. It makes my chest feel tight, cracking a part of my soul that was already starting to harden.
My phone buzzes in my dress pocket.
Eliza: How’s it going?
Meg: I’ve got it under control.
Eliza: I’m so sorry about this. Just shows how much I know about men.
I’m right there with you, sister.
We’re not actual DNA, but we’ve known each other for twenty-four years, since second grade to be exact.
Meg: No sorrys needed. I’d do anything for you because I know you’d do the same for me.
Eliza: Let me know what happens and stay safe. I wouldn’t trust any of the Zervas brothers.
My stomach drops out. Henry seems so honest and almost innocent. But clearly that’s what Eliza thought of Hayden, too.
Meg: I’ve got this. Promise.
I grab the mustard from the fridge, catching my reflection in the mirror. After reapplying my fuchsia colored lipstick, I straighten my dress, adjusting the ladies to give a nice valley into the tight top. My costume emulates the sassy Megara from Hercules. It isn’t what I would have picked out, but it’s what Eliza had in her closet. Considering I’ll be home and back in my yoga pants and sweatshirt before the clock strikes midnight, my part of this whole fiasco over, I can stand the discomfort for a few hours.
Hell, I could stand it forever, if it gets Eliza out of this mess.
I straighten my back and grab the mustard.
It’s time.
3
Henry
She delivers the mustard and walks off without a word. Her whole body posture stiff and her smile gone.
I want to ask her what’s wrong, but my duties call me away and before I know it, a couple hours have passed and the younger guests file out and the older crowd mingles. I’ve barely had a moment to think about anything, but for some reason, the mysterious Meg never leaves my mind.
I occasionally saw her and at one point, I paused to watch her face painting, helping to get through the long lines of kids excited for the activity. Her butterflies were sparkly and her unicorns magical.
“Thanks for coming.” I put extra candy into the final child’s bag, admiring another of Meg’s creations. “Love your butterfly.” I point to the pink and yellow artistic creation and the child lights up with a sweet smile.
I stand and see Meg across the room, talking to a couple of donors who haven’t committed this year to another round of funds. Mr. Lincoln’s head lists back with a long laugh and Mrs. Lincoln catches his king crown before it wiggles off. She seems to agree heartily with whatever Meg said. Their costumes are a little too on the nose for me. But considering I’m a gladiator and feel like I’m fighting for my life, maybe theirs are fitting. And at this event there is a feeling of local royalty, the haves and have-nots, and it digs a pit into my stomach.
If we only had a little more funding, I could do so much for the community.
I mingle, doing my best to find common ground with the richest of rich in the city. I know I should be able to connect with them based on my upbringing, but I feel like I’m an outsider now. I’m not begging for money, but I’m trying to appeal to their humanity. I’m just not sure they’re buying the compassion I’m selling.
Soon, I’m at the door with Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln, saying our goodbyes.
“Thank you for coming tonight.” I shake their hands. “I hope you enjoyed the evening.”
Mrs. Lincoln’s time-shadowed green eyes flash to Meg. “Had a lovely time. That young lady is quite frank and I appreciate that.”
Mr. Lincoln smirks. “She’s to the point and I think the point was well taken. Expect a check double what we gave last year in the mail next week.”
I almost can’t believe what I heard. My gaze tracks to Meg, but quickly comes back to Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln. “Thank you so much. This is going to mean so much to so many.”
Mr. Lincoln wraps an arm around Mrs. Lincoln, pulling her close and she melds into him. I’ve never been jealous of a seventy year old man…until now.
“Sometimes it takes someone to point out what’s important to make you understand what’s not.” He kisses her temple and she sighs and speaks his name on a breath. “Let’s go home, darling.”
Mrs. Lincoln looks me in the eye. “Meg’s a keeper. Hope to see her next time we’re here for an event.”
Me, too.
I escort them out, locking the door as I dismissed all the staff thirty minutes ago. Hayden left with the mermaid on his hip hours ago. I’m left to clean up. Before I enter the large hall, I hear the brush of a broom. All the decorations are organized in piles on tables.
I slide to a stop. I watch her hypnotic hips sway as she rocks her way across the floor, the broom flicking to the beat of the song over the sound system.
Uma Thurman by Fall Out Boy echoes through the empty room. I chuckle as the song continues. The song reminds me of her. Meg has a give-no-shits vibe about her. Something that I find hard to pull off most days, but maybe that’s a good thing.
I lean back against the wall and although I’m trying not to gawk, I’m definitely enjoying the scene.
My cock pulses imagining gripping those generous curves while sliding into her body, imagining her cries of pleasure as we find a zenith together. It’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman and every ounce of me says I need to get to know this one. I don’t normally do one-night stands, but I never say never.
“You don’t have to do that.” I near her and the scent of cherry blossoms invites me closer.
“I know, but I want to.” Her eyes come up and in the sparkling orange, black, and purple holiday lights her eyes glow a neon violet.
“I saw you doing the face painting. You’re really talented.”
She only shrugs and keeps her head down. The brown curls falling in front of her face and I crave to be trapped by those unique eyes.
We both squat to grab a candy wrapper on the floor, our fingers touching at the tips sending sizzling anticipation runs down my arm. Her tongue darts out to brush over her bright pink lips, glistening and shining in the lights.
I lift the wrapper and her fingers still clutch the piece of plastic. Our fingers tangle as the wrapper falls away. I slip a hand behind her neck and my lips claim hers. She tips her head and I ask to be let in, but she draws away. Standing quickly, she crosses the room, her dress flowing behind her.
“Meg?” I call out, but don’t follow.
That kiss was raw and honest, but in the flash of a camera she tensed at my touch.
She darts to the hallway and into the bathroom.
Fuck, I misread that. Great. The first girl I’ve kissed in a year and she literally ran from me.
The one time I follow my gut, my gut betrays me.
I finish cleaning up and when I look up from sweeping the piles into the dustpan, she’s leaning back against the wall near the hallway.
After depositing the dust, I near her, but not close. “Meg, I’m sor—”
“No, don’t be. That kiss was wonderful. It’s just…” Her gaze comes up and her eyes almost the color of my mother’s lilacs now. Not purple, not lavender, just a striking blend of perfect.