I traced the rim of my glass with the tip of my finger, the condensation gathering just enough to slick the motion. I nodded absently at whatever Kenzie had just said. Honestly, she could've asked me to help bury a body and I would've agreed without hesitation. My thoughts were elsewhere.

I brought the whiskey to my lips and let it burn down smooth.

Love Bingo Night. What the hell even was that? The picture Ava posted had shown a table with a red linen cloth, some glittery pink sangria half full in a wine glass, and a heart-shaped sugar cookie set at a charming angle. A little heart cut-out marked the table number, and front and center was a bingo card with prompts like "Met someone who owns a cat." It was so stupidly cute I almost laughed.

Too much pink. Too many hearts. It looked like Valentine's Day and a craft store had an affair. But I kept looking at it anyway.

I should've been thinking about the woman in front of me. But instead I was wondering who Ava talked to first. If she'd won her little gift card. If she found someone she liked.

"Jackson, how did last weekend go?" Kenzie asked.

I nearly choked. Not on the drink, but on the memory.

Ava's voice, soft against my shoulder. Her fingers brushing mine. The curve of her ass in my hands. The way her laugh had hooked something deep in my chest.

"It was fine," I said, clearing my throat as I thought back to my actual client. "Client didn't ask for anything extra... I mean, he might've tried to get me drunk, so there's that."

Kenzie made a face. "We'll put him on the list for an upcharge."

I shook my head. "No need. He was just lonely. Wanted someone to listen. I guess I told him what he wanted to hear and he thought it meant something."

It happens.

People pay for a fantasy, and sometimes they start believing it's real. Feelings don't always know the difference between fiction and fact. I can't blame them for that. Not really. But I can draw the line when they try to make it more than what it is.

Kenzie slid a black leather folder across the table toward me and sipped her wine. "I've got another one for you. Two weeks from now."

"How much?" I asked.

"Six grand for the weekend. She's covering the hotel and will reimburse you for any wardrobe you need and mileage."

I opened the folder and flipped through the paperwork. The client was mid-forties, elegant. She needed a plus-one for a wedding. Sick of being asked when she was getting married.

"She wants me to play the hopeless romantic who's proposed three times and keeps getting turned down by his workaholic girlfriend?" I raised an eyebrow, half amused. "That's kind of cute. She's got a sense of humor."

Kenzie rolled her eyes. "She just wants people to think she's unmarried by choice. Not because no one wanted her. Which is bullshit, but hey—her money, her performance."

I thumbed through the last couple pages, then shut the folder. "I'll take it."

"I figured you would." Kenzie smiled as she stood, smoothing her skirt with a practiced sweep of her palms. Her blonde hair slipped over her shoulder as she grabbed her purse and slung it in place.

"We'll be in touch, Mr. Reyes." Her heels clicked away, sharp and steady against the tile, fading with distance.

I tipped the last of my drink back and let the glass rest empty on the table. Then I pulled out my phone.

The screen lit up. No new messages.

"Did she forget about me already?" I muttered, thumb hovering above the app icon.

I'll admit it—I've got a bit of an ego. Comes with the job. Comes with being me. I know what I do and don't bring to the table. I thought I gave her what she wanted that night. But maybe I wasn't close enough to the type of guy she writes about. I wasn't flawless that night—God knows I let too much of the real me slip through. It wasn't my cleanest performance. Not by a long shot. But forgettable?

Nah. No way.

She was soft, sweet, and so fucking vulnerable. And maybe that's why I couldn't be one of the polished, practiced versions of myself. Maybe that's why I didn't try to play a part.

——

Story Update: Sorry this is a short one, but a little more insight into Jackson. His feelings regarding the hookup and a peep at what he does for a living 😌 yes, he’s a male escort.