CHAPTER TWO

The night air was thick with the smell of greasy burgers and stale cigarettes as I stood off to the side, watching Lora finish up with our regular dealer. My stomach growled, reminding me it had been way too long since my last meal.

"I got it," Lora said, joining me with a triumphant grin. "Two rocks. It's good stuff."

We started heading home, my feet already aching in these damn heels. "How much?" I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.

"Sixty," Lora replied, not meeting my eyes.

Shit. "Sixty? We still have enough for the rent."

Lora shrugged, trying to play it cool. "So we're twenty short. We'll make up the difference tomorrow."

I bit my lip, anxiety gnawing at my insides. "What if he hears us coming in? He's gonna be pissed."

Before Lora could answer, I heard the purr of an engine behind us. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw a sleek black Mercedes creeping up, all shiny and out of place in our run-down neighborhood.

"Look at that," I whispered, a spark of hope igniting in my chest.

The car pulled up past us and stopped, then backed up a bit. The window rolled down with a smooth electronic hum, and I was about to make my move when Lora grabbed my arm.

"Forget it," she hissed. "I want to get home."

I shook her off, my eyes locked on that gleaming machine. "Look at that car. We could make the rent and then some."

Lora wasn't happy, but she waited as I sauntered over to the car, putting an extra swing in my hips. I leaned over the passenger window, and holy sh*t, the guy inside was a total silver fox. Early forties, an expensive suit, and hair that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"You want a date?" I purred, flashing my best come-hither smile.

The guy looked confused. "How do I get to Wilshire Boulevard?"

I blinked, throwing off my game. "What?"

"I'm lost," he explained, all polite and proper. "How do I get to Wilshire?"

Annoyance flared in my gut. "What do I look like? A tour guide? Do you want a date or not?"

"Actually, I just want directions," he said, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"Directions!" I yelled back to Lora, rolling my eyes. "He just wants directions!"

"I told you only creeps come out after twelve!" Lora shouted back, impatient to get home.

I turned back to Mr. Fancy Car, giving him one last chance. I put my hand on my hip, opening my jacket to show off the goods. No bra tonight—gotta work with what you've got, right?

"Look, Babe," I said, my voice low and husky. "I'm not in the business of giving directions."

His eyes flickered over me, and for a second, I thought I had him. "I can see that," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But perhaps you'd make an exception."

I sighed, disappointment settling in my stomach. So much for an easy score. "Okay, I'll tell you how to get to Wilshire for five bucks."

"A bargain," he said, reaching into his jacket. My eyes widened as he pulled out a fat clip of cash. He peeled off twenty and held it out to me.

"All I have is a twenty," he said, trailing off.

I snatched it before he could change his mind. "I don't want to change," I said quickly. Then, seeing an opportunity, I added, "Listen, for a little more, I could show you the way personally, and maybe we could have a little fun together. What do you say?"

He looked uninterested, but I could see the wheels turning. "How do I get to Wilshire?"

"What are you, a homo, or am I just playing too hard to get?" I shot back, frustration creeping into my voice.

I saw him falter, his eyes traveling over me again. Got him, I thought triumphantly.

"You're a lovely young lady," he said carefully, "but I'm not in the habit of picking up girls off the street. Now..."

I cut him off, pulling out my Trump card. "Hey, I don't have AIDS or anything. Here's my card from the free health clinic. Got tested last week. I'm probably safer than you are. I got to be; I'm a pro."

I flashed my clinic card, and he actually looked at it, considering. I could practically see the internal battle playing out on his face.

"Ah! You're thinking about it," I grinned. "I can tell."

He sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're a very persuasive woman," he admitted. "It happens that I am alone tonight."

Yes! I had him hook, line, and sinker. "Great. I'm the best. A hundred bucks."

"A hundred dollars," he repeated, sounding impressed. "For the whole night?"

I leaned in closer, my voice a sultry whisper. "I'm growing on you already. Two fifty for the whole night. Not including the twenty you've already given me."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're quite a negotiator. Alright. I can't believe I'm doing this, but climb in."

"Wait a second," I said, holding up a finger. I jogged back to Lora, my heart racing with excitement.

"I'm going to go with him," I told her, trying to keep the triumph out of my voice.

"How much?" Lora asked, eyeing the car suspiciously.

"Two fifty," I replied, unable to keep the grin off my face.

Lora shook her head. "You could've got more."

I winked at her. "Maybe I will. He's not too bright."

"I'll save some smoke for when you get home," Lora said, her voice softening. "Be careful."

I patted her shoulder affectionately. "Thanks, I will."

As I climbed into the Mercedes, the rich smell of leather enveloped me. I caught a whiff of expensive cologne as the guy—Dante, he'd said his name was—put the car in drive.

Lora watched us pull away, and I felt a twinge of guilt. But as we merged onto the main road, the city lights twinkling around us, I pushed it aside. This was my chance to turn things around, even if just for one night.

I settled back into the plush seat, already planning how to squeeze a little extra out of my new friend Dante. After all, a girl's gotta eat, right?

Holy sh*t, this is fancy, I think. Don’t screw it up, Rosy.

Spotting the ashtray at the dash, I fumbled for my cigarettes, my arms betraying a mix of exhilaration and nerves. The flame from the auto lighter briefly illuminated my face as I took that first, calming drag. Smoke curled around me, a familiar buddy in this alien world.

I sneaked glances at the man riding—Dante, he’d said his name was. With a crisp suit and ideal hair, he radiated money and energy. But his jaw became clenched tight, and I may want to practically see the wheels delivering his head. He turned into having a second mind. Time to show at the allure.

"Damn, that is one candy experience," I purred, flashing my most disarming smile. "You need to be rollin' in it."

Dante's eyes flicked towards me, a touch of leisure cracking through his businessman facade. "It’s rented, definitely," he answered, his voice as dry as wilderness sand.

"No shit?" I leaned in, interest piqued. "Well, Mr. Moneybags, you purchased a call to go along with that fancy condo?"

He hesitated for a beat earlier than answering, "Dante."

"And you're...?" He asked, eyebrows raised in a manner that made my stomach do some flipping.

"Rosella," I grinned. "But you can call me Rosy if you’re feelin' friendly." I threw in a wink for exact measure, earning a low snicker from Dante.

Stretching languidly, I asked, "So, Dante boy, in which we headed for our little rendezvous?"

Dante cleared his throat, searching uncomfortable again. "I actually have a room at a lodge in Beverly Hills."

I let out a low whistle. "Fancy pants! You’re not from around here, are ya?"

"New York," Dante replied, his voice clipped.

"No manners!" My eyes widened with proper exhilaration. "I’ve constantly desired to move there. What’s it like? All bright lights and Broadway indicates?"

For a second, Dante's face softened. "It’s... Extraordinary. Faster-paced. More severe."

"Sounds first-rate," I sighed dreamily. Then, noticing Dante's uncertain expression, I quickly said, "Oh, make a left up there. That’ll get you to Wilshire."

Dante nodded his thanks, and I pressed on, curiosity getting the better of me. "So, what brings a New York hotshot like you to our sunny beaches? Business or pleasure?"

"Business," Dante spoke back tersely.

Undeterred, I probed further. "Ooh, mysterious. What form of commercial enterprise? Are you a massive shot lawyer? Or perhaps a Wall Street type?"

I watched as Dante's grip on the guidance wheel tightened. "You virtually ask a number of questions," he stated, glancing at me sideways.

I shrank my lower back slightly, taking an extended drag from my cigarette to mask my embarrassment. "Just trying' to be friendly," I murmured.

Shit. Too a whole lot, too quickly. Dial it lower back, girl, I chide myself silently.

As we cruised through Beverly Hills, I pressed my face against the cool glass of the window, mesmerized by the sprawling mansions and perfectly manicured lawns gliding by. It’s like an entire other international, I marveled.

The silence stretched among us, damaged only by means of the smooth hum of the engine. Just as I was about to try some other stab at the verbal exchange, Dante cleared his throat.

"There’s an overcoat within the back seat," he said, gesturing together with his head. "You would possibly want to position it on."

I frowned, stressed. "Why?"

Dante shifted uncomfortably. "Let’s just say you’re a little... overdressed for this inn."

"What, they don’t like hookers?" I shot back, a protective facet creeping into my voice.

"It’s not the form of vicinity that rents rooms with the aid of the hour," Dante defined cautiously.

I snorted. "Every region has hookers. They simply don’t admit it."

"Perhaps so," Dante conceded. "But if this hotel has any hookers, they don’t appear like they’re..."

"Off the Boulevard?" I finished for him, my tone sharp.

"Exactly," Dante agreed, having the grace to look slightly ashamed.

I bit my lower back with a stinging retort. Instead, I reached for the coat, wrapping it around myself like armor. The fabric became smooth against my skin, and I got a whiff of highly priced cologne. For a moment, I allowed myself to assume an extraordinary lifestyle—one where I belonged in locations like this, with men like Dante.

As we pulled as much as the resort, my breath caught in my throat. Thousands of tiny white lights sparkled alongside the walls, and vivid flags fluttered in the nighttime breeze, illuminated via cautiously positioned spotlights. It turned into something out of a fairy tale.

A valet appeared as if through magic, beginning my door. I stepped out, unexpectedly feeling very small and out of the area despite Dante’s coat. As Dante passed over the keys to another valet, I tugged the coat tighter around myself, looking to disappear into its folds.

A doorman swept open a large glass door, ushering us inside. I hesitated for a breakup a second before following Dante into the lobby. The plush carpet muffled our footsteps, and the air was heavy with the fragrance of sparkling plants and cash.

My coronary heart raced as we approached the front desk. This is it, I think. The second fact. Either I pull this off, or I’m again on the road earlier than I can blink.

I plastered on my maximum assured smile, channeling each romantic comedy heroine I’d ever seen. Just act as if you belong right here, I told myself. You’ve got this, Rosy.

As Dante started checking in, I let my gaze wander around the opulent foyer. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, casting a heat glow over everything. Well-dressed human beings milled about, their voices a smooth murmur of wealth and privilege.

A group of women approximately my age caught my eye. They had been gathered near a seating place, sipping champagne and guffawing. Their clothier dresses and perfectly coiffed hair made me acutely privy to my very own look, even hidden underneath Dante’s coat.

For a second, an acquainted wave of disgrace and inadequacy washed over me. But then I squared my shoulders, lifting my chin defiantly. So what if I didn’t match in here? I was nonetheless taking walks through the front door of this fancy-ass hotel, wasn’t I? That needed to matter for something.

Dante’s voice pulled me lower back to the existing. "Ready?" he requested, keycard in hand.

I nodded, flashing him a spectacular smile. "Lead the way, Dante," I purred, slipping my arm through his.