“He . . . might be a little confused,” I finally admitted.
“Well, if he’s not your boyfriend, and he’s a little confused, send him my way. I’d love to help him figure it out.”
A disgruntled sound came from the back of my throat, and the guy’s eyes shot wide open. He held up his hands. “No offense meant.”
“Thanks,” I said, snatching the keys from his hands and turning back to my car.
“What did he say to you?” Kit asked, pinning the man with a glare.
“Oh, nothing,” I lied. “You wanna follow me out to Salt Lick?”
Kit ripped his eyes from the previous owner. “I love me some Salt Lick. Race you there.”
“You’re on.”
I jingled my keys at him before taking off at a dead sprint for my pretty sky-blue Ford. I was definitely going to hafta figure out a name for her, something I hadn’t even considered for the Porsche. Jumping in, I punched the start button and giggled as the engine roared to life. I’d miss the speed of the Porsche, but this was higher up and had space in the back to store a massage table along with all the things I’d need to make my new venture work. This car, plus the extra money in the bank, felt like freedom.
Prior to the sugar baby lifestyle, I’d been rich. Well, my parents were rich, and they’d cut me off ‘due to my sinful lifestyle.’ I had to sell some of my nicer things and work multiple odd jobs to put myself through college, but I did it because fuck them. Pathetically, I spent my scant free time window shopping, salivating over luxury items I could no longer afford.
One random Saturday, an older gentleman passed me as I eyed the expensive bag I’d been stalking for months.
“I’ll buy you that bag, sweetheart, if you accompany me to this boring work event.”
I didn’t believe him at first, of course, but then he actually bought the bag and gave it to me.
“You know I’ll need the right clothes to accompany you.”
“Then let’s go shopping.”
I blew off my pizza gig, spent the rest of the day being dressed and primped with his money, then had a mediocre time making him feel like the king of the world in front of his colleagues. We didn’t even kiss, but when I opened the bag the next morning, it was stuffed with cash. And just like that, my future was set.
It’d seemed like easy money at the time. I’d considered quitting college, but one of my professors convinced me to stay the course. I never did more than PRN—substituting in for sick ortho professionals as needed—but in this moment I was glad I’d listened to my professor and had kept up with my license.
I may have been late to the party, but I was finally done with feeding into the delusion that I’d have my Pretty Woman moment, that one of those fancy rich guys would find me irresistible and beg to wife me up. As it happened, most of them had already wifed someone up and I was the expensive arm candy to make their friends jealous. Good money and gifts if you can compartmentalize that shit, but I never could.
Honestly, I couldn’t explain why I let it go on as much as I had.
Well, that’s not true. Any therapist worth their salt could tell you this had mommy and daddy issues all over it. The less said about it, the better.
Instead, I focused on the road in front of me. The view from here was way better.
Despite the weekend traffic, we made it out to the restaurant in decent time. The back lot was crammed full of cars, but we found two spots close to one another. Before I could gather my things, Kit was at the door, opening it for me. He held out his hand, and I took it, electricity shooting up my arm at the work-rough texture against my soft palm.
“I can exit my car without assistance, Kit,” I said as I let him help me out. “I’m not a damsel in distress, you know.”
He gave me one of his rare half-smiles. “I do know that. Just felt like the gentlemanly thing to do.”
Ah, jeez, cowboy.
“Well, then, thank you.”
Not many people know this, but when the Salt Lick has a huge waitlist, you can order the food to go and eat it out on their patio. So, we placed our order, staked out a small picnic table under a pair of massive oak trees, and enjoyed the good weather while we waited for our food.
Even with the loud chatter of people around us, it felt like we were the only two out here. Whenever I’d go out to eat with a sugar daddy, I was never the focus. There were always business associates, or even if we were on our own, the phone was always on the table, perpetually buzzing, its notifications always taking priority over my presence. Kit had several businesses on his books, but his phone stayed in his pocket the entire time.
If he didn’t stop being so considerate, I was going to do something foolish. Like revisit the kiss he’d given me when he was drunk on mezcal and pain.
Down, boy.
