Catch Your Breath (21 page)

Never good at making decisions, she decided she could have both. She turned on the
TV and slid the disk in. While it started, she chugged her coffee.

She liked it when she got everything she wanted. Something to remind Liam of.

Later that evening, Moira felt accomplished. She’d not only done an hour of yoga,
but she’d managed to go to the reception and interview people about the new collection
at the library. Between the leftover calm from yoga and the quiet peacefulness of
the library, she thought her conversation with Liam had a real chance of being civilized.

She drove to Porter’s and pulled into the lot. Before leaving her car, she carefully
considered her approach. With Ryan or Colin, she always had to run headfirst into
a confrontation with all of her weapons drawn. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with
Liam because she couldn’t recall a time when she’d had to fight him.

Too bad Liam wasn’t married. If he was, she could call her sister-in-law and get the
scoop. Moira realized how lame it sounded that she was wishing for a fake in-law because
she didn’t know what to do with her own brother.

Planning her argument wasn’t going to work in this case. She needed to confront Liam
and take her cues from him. Inside the restaurant, she asked the maître d’ to seat
her near the kitchen. When her waiter approached the table, she asked him to get Liam,
and then braced herself for Liam to be pissed off. One thing he demanded from the
family was that they never bother him at work.

But Liam worked crazy hours and she wasn’t about to let this sit until they had dinner
again as a family.

Her waiter brought her a glass of water and told her Liam would be out in a minute.
While she waited, she looked around the restaurant. She’d been here before, not long
after Liam had gotten the job. It was a high-end steakhouse with a nice atmosphere,
but that was it. Nice was adequate.

Maybe she’d spent too much time eating and drinking with Chicago’s high society. She
didn’t want nice; she wanted relaxed and fun. After walking in heels and a formal
gown for hours, she’d much rather have gone to Colin’s bar and bowling alley to relax.
That is, if Colin didn’t own it.

She never had too much fun with her brothers around. Which brought her full circle
to her mission for the night. Liam.

“What’s up?” he asked as he took the seat across from her. “You never come here.”

So he wasn’t pissed off. “I needed to talk to you, but I wasn’t sure when you were
off.”

“You could’ve called. Then you’d know I’m off on Wednesday.”

“This couldn’t wait.” She toyed with her fork and spoon. “Ryan called me today. He
asked about me and Jimmy.”

Liam said nothing. Figures.

“Why did you tell Ryan you were worried about me dating Jimmy?” She spoke quietly,
hoping it would help Liam respond.

“Because I am.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“We talked yesterday and you were okay with it.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You were!” Her voice jumped and she swallowed to calm herself. “Maybe you weren’t
excited about the prospect, but you certainly weren’t demanding that I not see him.”

“I know better than to demand anything when it comes to you. You’d continue just to
spite me.” His voice and his posture were filled with steel.

“What’s wrong? Jimmy’s your friend, and everyone agrees that he’s a good guy. Why
wouldn’t I want to go out with him?”

Liam leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. “I’ve known Jimmy most of my
life. He’s a great friend, but you’re not what he’s looking for and he’ll end up hurting
you.”

“What do you mean, I’m not what he’s looking for? I’m a woman. I have a pulse. And
I like him. What else could he want?”

Liam’s face turned scarlet. His voice became a harsh whisper. “Obviously, he’d like
to bang you. Long term, you can’t be what he wants. And if you were, you’d never be
happy.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re talking in codes and mysteries. Spit
it out, Liam. What’s Jimmy looking for that I can’t be?” Her chest tightened as she
waited for the anvil to crush her. For Liam to be this upset, Jimmy must be hiding
one hell of a secret.

“He wants to marry a doormat, Moira. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let him turn you into
one.”

Moira opened her mouth to argue, but Liam’s hand shot up. “I have to get back to work.
I don’t have time for a stupid argument. You need to trust me on this. He wants someone
he can control, and that will never be you.” He stood and carefully pushed in his
chair. “I don’t want to know what it would take for him to make you be that way.”
Liam kissed the top of her head. “Give me a call later this week and we’ll have lunch.”

Her mouth dried and the ability to form words fled. She dropped two dollars on the
table for the waiter and left. No way could Liam be right about this.

But how could he be wrong? Liam and Jimmy had been friends since elementary school.

She drove home without thinking about anything. Her mind was like snow, a fuzzy, white
blur.

Moira woke the following day not feeling any better than she had when she’d crawled
into bed. Instead of restful sleep, she’d been plagued by thoughts of Jimmy having
ulterior motives. Liam said Jimmy was looking for a doormat, but he’d never treated
Moira with anything other than respect. If anything, he was too . . . polite. Damn,
she didn’t even have an adequate word for him. It was more than courtesy.

If he viewed her as a doormat, wouldn’t he have exhibited those tendencies? Granted,
they’d only been on one real date, but she’d known him most of her life.

While she’d been at the reception and fighting with Liam, she’d forgotten to turn
the volume up on her phone and she’d missed a call from one of the escort services.
At least she assumed that’s who they were. A very polite woman left a cryptic message
about available appointment times and an address. No need to confirm.

She stood before her bathroom mirror and tried to make herself look presentable for
an escort service. She wanted sexy business. Like the secretary every CEO wanted to
fuck. A black pencil skirt and a tailored white blouse showing a hint of cleavage.
And of course, a pair of fuck-me pumps. She had no idea what an interview would entail,
so she texted Kathy the address where she’d be just in case.

It was a system they’d developed when they went on dates in college. Always let someone
know who and where. She got an immediate response.

An afternoon date? Go you!

She debated whether she should burst Kathy’s bubble. Neither of them had been having
much luck dating as of late, but she didn’t like lying to her friend.

No date. Just a work interview that’s a little shady.

Too bad. I’ve got your back, though. Can’t wait to hear about the shadiness.

Moira finished primping and headed out. She rehearsed her story as she drove and prayed
she didn’t end up sounding like an actress spewing lines. She parked and hoped they’d
validate because this story might eat her rent money. Suite 509. Nothing on the directory
named the business located in 509.

The elevator zoomed up to the fifth floor and her stomach plummeted. Maybe her nerves
would work in her favor. On five, the doors pinged open and she faced a small reception
desk. A young woman greeted her with a wide smile.

“Hi, I’m Moira Donnelly. I have an appointment.”

“Hi, Moira. I’m Lisa. I called and left you the message. Follow me, and I’ll give
you a quick tour.” Lisa stepped from behind the desk. “We have a small office, but
some girls come in to hang out and chat over coffee.”

Moira wanted to see the coffee room. A good place to meet her interviewees, but she
couldn’t ask yet.

Lisa led the way down a short hall. She pointed to one door. “That’s the conference
room. We hold meetings there occasionally.” At the next door, she stopped and knocked.

“Come in.”

Lisa pushed the door open and said, “Your one o’clock is here.”

Moira followed and swallowed her surprise to see an older woman, maybe around sixty
years old, sitting behind the desk. For some reason, Moira never considered anything
other than the images of young, beautiful women working here.

The older woman stood. “Hi, I’m Billie.”

Moira felt like she was being put in an x-ray machine. She gulped and pushed out,
“I’m Moira. Nice to meet you.” She led with her hand extended.

Billie shook briefly and sat, so Moira followed.

“How did you get our number, Moira?”

“A friend.”

“Does this friend have a name?”

Moira’s lips tightened. She hadn’t thought they would ask about how she found out
about them. “Yes, but I’d rather not say.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Billie because she settled back into the chair. “What
do you know about what we do?”

“Not much. All I know is that you’re an escort service for selective clientele.”

Billie gave a short nod. “Why would you want to work here?”

“I just moved to Chicago. I followed my boyfriend here against my family’s advice.
After a month, he dumped me. I’ve tried working different jobs, but it’s hard. A friend
suggested I consider being an escort because I have the right attributes.”

Billie leaned forward on the desk. Her sickly red lipstick smudged unevenly on her
mouth. The wrinkles around her mouth didn’t suggest happy laugh lines, just the leftovers
of a hard life. Billie’s gaze raked over Moira’s body again, as if the first look
hadn’t been enough. “When was the last time you read a newspaper?”

“I read the online versions every day.”

“So you can carry on an intelligent conversation with a man? Something beyond tabloid
headlines?”

Moira nodded. On this, she was sure of herself. “Give me a topic.”

Billie flicked her finger over her mouse and glanced at the computer screen. “Syria.”

“That’s a pretty big topic.” Moira inched closer, balancing on the edge of her seat,
and launched into a monologue about the Syrian uprising.

Two minutes in, Billie held up a hand. “Okay.”

Then she just stared at Moira.

Moira felt like she was sitting in front of her mother after breaking curfew when
she was sixteen.

“Do you have any questions?”

“Yes.” Moira’s mind raced with ideas, but she knew she couldn’t push it. “Is everything
here legal?” She paused for a half second and then rushed on with, “I don’t mean to
imply anything, but we all hear stories and I don’t want to do anything that will
land me in jail.”

“We provide a legal service.”

That wasn’t much of an answer. If everything they did was legal, why the secrecy?
“How do you find your clientele? Do you vet them? How do you know that the next Craigslist
killer hasn’t just hired you?”

Billie let out a raspy chuckle. “There are no guarantees in life. People discover
us the same way you did: word of mouth.”

Moira played with her hands in her lap and hoped the next question wouldn’t ruin it.
“What am I expected to do on a date?”

“You’re expected to dress appropriately for the date, usually on the formal side.
These men are not looking to go to the movies. It’s the theater, opera, et cetera.
You need to be able to hold up your end of the conversation. You’re more than arm
candy; you’re an actual date. In addition, there will be times when we’ll have you
attend a party or reception with a few other girls to work the room. Beyond that,
anything else is up to you.”

“How do I get paid?”

“The price is based on the length of the date and what the client expects. After the
date, you’ll receive payment from me.”

“How often will I work?”

“You let us know when you’re available, and as dates are needed, we’ll contact you
with the pertinent information. Some clients will specifically request you, and we’ll
do our best to accommodate that, if you’re available.”