Tailored for Trouble: A Romantic Comedy (Happy Pants) (11 page)

The entire way through customs and immigration, Taylor’s mind itched with curiosity. What would Candy tell her? Was Bennett really just some closet old-fashioned gentleman?
Come on…gentlemen don’t ask women if they “fucked last night” in the middle of a meeting.
Which was why Taylor really wanted to hear Candy’s story.

Together they checked into the Ritz Carlton Tokyo, and Taylor found herself feeling very uncomfortable with the room Robin had booked for her. The check-in form she’d been asked to initial had a room rate of one hundred and twenty thousand Yen per night.

“But don’t you have anything more—” Taylor leaned a bit over the counter toward the reception clerk “—modest?”

“Ms. Reed,” the young woman said with impeccable politeness, “this is your room. We are all booked up. So sorry.” She bowed her head.

“But this is too much. Maybe one of the other guests would—”

The clerk slid the key across the marble counter and then snapped her fingers for the bellhop. “Your dinner reservation is at eight. Your after-dinner massage is at ten. That may be done in your room if you so desire, or in our members-only spa.”

Taylor blinked. “Massage?”

Candy, who stood at Taylor’s side also checking in, quickly interceded, “Ms. Reed, that’s standard procedure when you do a long trip with Mr. Wade. He likes everyone well rested and feeling their best.” She glanced at her watch. “See you at eight for drinks and dinner?”

“Uh…sure.” Taylor nodded. She understood that this was Bennett’s way of doing things, but she didn’t feel right taking a room that cost one thousand U.S. dollars a night or a massage that likely cost a few hundred.

She looked at the clerk. “Thank you. But please cancel the massage. I’ll be going to bed early tonight,” she lied. She was wide-the-hell-awake, but no way could she take a perk like that.

Taylor made her way to the nicely appointed room with a view of the Roppongi district, and the bellhop arrived shortly after with her enormous suitcase. She’d been to Tokyo once before on a client visit, so she wasn’t a stranger to the no-tipping rules. That said, it still felt unnatural simply thanking him with a bow so she just gave him a stupid little wave.

After he left, she went to use the bathroom and ended up staring at the toilet. “You again.” She’d forgotten about the talking contraptions.

She poked a few buttons before sitting down, but this one seemed only to speak Japanese.

Oddly, though, the toilet’s voice was female and sounded mildly submissive. That sort of bothered her, considering what people did in the toilet. Why couldn’t the toilet have been male instead? It also played music and had ten electronic features including a seat warmer and bidet function.
I wonder what the other eight buttons do.
She’d have to play around with it later.

She then made a quick call to check her voicemail. There was only one message from Jack, which left her dialing back the moment the recording ended.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping with that sleaze bag Wade! He’s
engaged
to Victoria Preston. What the hell are you thinking, Tay?”

What in the world was he talking about? And Bennett was engaged again? But hadn’t he just gotten out of a relationship with some woman named Kate?

Of course, Taylor’s return call went into voicemail, and she was left skimming the online gossip magazines—Jack’s secret little addiction that he claimed was for keeping up on the latest fashion in rhinoplasty and breast augmentation, even though his expertise was facial reconstruction for accident victims.

Sadly, it didn’t take her long to find what had riled her brother up: A picture of Bennett and the actress Victoria Preston—big boobs and pouty lips—with her face glowing and hand extended toward the camera. The caption read:
Bennett Wade and the glamorous Miss V to tie the knot this summer?
The article went on to quote multiple “close friends” of the couple as being very excited about their upcoming nuptials.

However, the worst part came when Taylor toggled down to the next article highlighting a photo of her and Bennett kissing in the back of the car at Ms. Luci’s ranch.

“Who. The fuck! Took that picture?” It wasn’t that Taylor had done anything wrong, but her privacy had been violated. Big time. As she studied it, it became clear from the angle that the driver had done the dirty deed.

The caption read:
Bennett Wade, slumming it with the help only two months away from his wedding.

Where did those fuckers get off calling her “the help” and insinuating she was trashy?
A-holes! Wait.
She suddenly felt nauseous as the other information sank in.
Bennett is engaged. Bennett is engaged. Oh my God.

Taylor could not believe that the rat bastard had had the nerve to kiss her.

She fumed for several moments and then decided to take a shower to cool her head. Not like she could do anything at this moment anyway.

After all, Bennett was with his business partners, and she wouldn’t see him until morning. But once again, she found herself wondering how she could let such an unscrupulous man off the hook. Liar. Cheater. User. Womanizer. Every time she felt like taking the high road, something like this popped up and told her that Bennett was the sort of man who gave penises all around the world a bad rap.

Wearing her favorite all-occasion little black dress and heels, with a white cardigan thrown over her shoulders, Taylor sat at the small table for two in the elegant steakhouse slash sushi bar in the hotel, surrounded by men in suits having business dinners.
Oh, look. An ocean of little multicultural Bennetts.
Of course, no one could compare to him on any level—looks, size, success, arrogance, or man-whoring.
Yep. He’s cornered the global market.

The odd part for her was knowing that so many of these men probably aspired to work for a man like Bennett. Or be him.

“Taylor, honey!” Candy’s sugary-sweet twang rang out through the restaurant, drawing more than a few heads. She wore a green skirt and blouse that made her red hair pop like the flame on the tip of a match.

“Hi, Candy,” Taylor made a little wave as the woman strutted forth, shamelessly owning the room.

“Thanks for having dinner with me.” Candy took the seat across from Taylor. “I travel so much, it gets old having room service or dinner alone.”

The waiter, a young man wearing a red apron, came over, greeted the two in English and gave them both menus.

“I’ll have a vodka tonic. Make it a double,” Taylor said.

“My my. Are we drinking to something special tonight?” Candy asked.

Taylor opened her menu and grumbled, “Yeah, I’m drinking to men being pigs.”

Candy ordered her drink in Japanese. She sounded impressively fluent.

“Where’d you learn to speak the language?” Taylor asked.

Candy made a little shrug. “I picked it up. You know us flight attendants. So…is it your boyfriend or fiancé you’re trying to forget tonight?”

“Neither.” Taylor stewed for a moment and then leaned in to whisper. “Did you know that Bennett’s engaged?”

Candy smiled and leaned back in her seat. “So you
are
interested in Mr. Wade. I knew it.”

“No,” Taylor replied defensively. “Why would you think that?”

Candy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because you looked like you wanted to claw someone’s eyes out when you said the word ‘engaged’?”

Taylor looked away. She was making a fool of herself, wasn’t she?

Candy slid her hand across the table and gave Taylor’s wrist a light squeeze. “Like I said before, the man doesn’t get involved with women who work for him. So do yourself a favor and accept he’s off-limits. You’ll save yourself a huge amount of heartbreak.” Candy looked down at her menu. “Besides, you’re not his type.”

Taylor laughed. “Well, thanks. Not that I care.”

“No, no, honey. I meant that as a compliment. You’re much too brainy. And I can tell you don’t take lip from a man,” she said with a little extra southern sass. “He only dates superficial airheads. I keep warning him to raise the bar, but he won’t listen.”

“Apparently, he does more than just date them.”

Candy folded her menu and set it down. “Mr. Wade doesn’t discuss his relationships with me, but the tabloids make stuff up about him all the time.”

But the Victoria woman had a giant rock on her hand and had been holding it to the camera.

She continued, “All I can tell you is what I know. And this girl,” she pointed to herself, “knows sleazy men. Mr. Wade isn’t one of them. He just hasn’t found the right woman yet.”

“Is that what happened with his ex, Kate?” Taylor asked. “She wasn’t good enough?”

“Honey, I have no clue what went on between him and that woman, but the moment I laid eyes on Kate, I knew the innocent schoolteacher thing was an act. That woman was anything but innocent.” She shook her head and sighed. “I
triiied
to warn him. But, let me tell you: he was
not
happy when that one ended.”

That made Taylor wonder if Bennett had been dumped and not the other way around.
No. No way. He’s not the kind of guy who girls dumped.
Of course, what did she know? “So, you were going to tell me how you met him, right?” Taylor asked.

The waiter showed up with their drinks and took their orders. Taylor wasn’t that hungry so she ordered the sashimi salad. Candy ordered a teriyaki chicken-something with rice.

“Cheers.” Candy held up her glass of white wine and Taylor toasted with her large cocktail.

They both sipped and then Candy set her glass on the table and folded her hands. From her body language, Taylor sensed the conversation was about to go down a serious path.

“I met Mr. Wade here in Japan, actually. I used to be a call girl of sorts,” Candy said.

Taylor tried to keep from spitting her mouth full of vodka across the table. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘call girl’?”

Candy lifted her chin. “Well, really more like a ‘paid’ companion, but yes. My life is a horrible cliché, right down to my name.”

Wow. Taylor didn’t want to be judgmental, but this was not what she’d expected to hear.

“So how does one…” Taylor sipped her drink to clear the shock from her throat, “end up a call girl in Japan?”

“Another damned cliché, honey. That’s how. I was eighteen and stupid and from a small town in Arkansas. We didn’t have any money growing up so when a friend of mine, who had an older sister living in Los Angeles, invited me there for a weekend of partying, it was like breaking out of prison. I never went anywhere except church and school.” She leaned in. “And honey, someone shoulda kept me there. One night we were out at a bar drinking and I ended up going home with two guys. They introduced me to drugs. I never went home. One thing led to another, and a year later I was stripping for money. I was a mess.”

Taylor’s eyes went wide, and she hardly knew what to say. “Oh my God. That’s…awful.” It sounded like the plot of a sad Lifetime movie.

She took a big sip of her drink, attempting to understand how something like what Candy was saying was even possible. Candy looked so…well, she didn’t look like an ex–drug addict, that was for sure.

Candy went on, “Like I said, I was young and stupid and I didn’t want to listen to anyone who tried to help me. I ended up getting involved with a wealthy Japanese businessman—Mr. Ito—who was a customer at the club. He liked redheads, and he promised me anything I wanted. It was fine for a while, but then he charmed me into coming back to Japan with him. It seemed glamorous—a fun adventure. And frankly, better than stripping. But when we got here, he started pimping me out to his rich friends.” Candy said the words lightly, but her mouth was hard. “He said he’d kill me if I tried to leave.”

Oh crap
. Now her story sounded like a horror movie. “But…but why didn’t you go to the police?” Taylor asked softly.

“I tried. Trust me, I tried. But I lived in a compound with several other women, all in the same situation. The doors were locked. The walls were high. And there was a guard who made it very clear that we would be killed on the spot if we so much as spoke or whispered an improper word. I watched him kill one girl, just to make his point.”

Taylor froze in her seat, hanging on every word. She just couldn’t wrap her head around it. How had Candy survived it? “You must’ve been completely terrified,” she whispered.

“I was too drugged-up to care, actually. But then one night, Mr. Wade came for dinner, to discuss buying up some factory Mr. Ito owned. Mr. Ito thought Mr. Wade would enjoy my company. But he took one look at me, made some polite excuse, and left. Barely an hour later, the police showed up, and just like that, it was over.” Candy shrugged, but Taylor could tell it wasn’t exactly easy for her to confess all this.

“Wow. I just…don’t know what to say.” She reached out and squeezed Candy’s hand. “What did you do after that?”

Candy shook her head. “I basically thought my life was over. I didn’t have money, I was a basket case, and too ashamed to go home and face my parents. They were the kind—God rest their judgmental souls—who thought anyone who strayed from the good Lord’s path, for any reason, was just givin’ in to the devil.”

Taylor noticed how the more Candy drank, the more her drawl came through. Frankly, it was really, really endearing.

She went on, “Mr. Wade, for whatever reason and sweet man that he is, took pity on me. He set me up with an apartment in San Francisco, rehab, therapy, even helped me get back into school. I kept thinkin’ that he’d come one day demanding payment for his generosity—I mean, that was what I expected from men—but he never did.”

“Did you ever ask why he chose to help you? I mean—you’re obviously a very special person who was worth saving, but he didn’t know you.” Taylor couldn’t help feeling so intrigued by this.

Candy bobbed her head. “Yes, years later I finally asked. He just said, ‘You can’t save everyone, but there’s no bigger crime than not trying.’ ”

Taylor took a mental step back. That was such an un-a-hole, un-pompous-billionaire kind of thing to say.