Straightening my spine, I walk confidently past the other women waiting. If nothing else, I canlooklike I belong, even if they obviously think I’m below them.
The office I enter is opulent in the extreme. I feel a spike of annoyance as I look around. Whoever this woman is, she has exquisite taste. It’s the kind of space I would long to have for myself if I had the money.
The walls are lined with cream wallpaper, with birds fluttering upward toward the ceiling. Gold trees and branches stretch around me like I’m in some kind of fantasy forest, and my heels sink into the carpet with every step as I walk forward.
I sit down, and her eyes move slowly over my face, my breasts, and down to my waist. I hope she didn’t see the hole in my tights when I walked in.
She clicks her mouse and glances at her monitor. “I’m Pippa Grooman. Nice to meet you, Jacqueline.”
“Everyone calls me Jax.”
“And you live in Irving, right?” she asks, her eyebrows rising. Irving isn’t a good neighborhood, and I would bet she has no one else working for her who lives even close to that part of town.
“That’s right,” I say and curse inwardly as my voice comes out just as defensive as I feel.
Don’t fuck this up, Jax. Play nice for the snob.
“Uh-huh,” she says, clicking through my application, her bright blue eyes scanning over the form with a less than enthusiastic expression. “And what brings you to Sterling House?”
“It was recommended by one of your… members,” I say lamely, and her eyes dart to me and back to the monitor.
“Oh, yes? Which one?”
“Bethany.”
“Bethany who?”
She waits, her lips twitching up at the corner, and I stare at her. She’s enjoying humiliating me; that much is obvious.
“I didn’t get her last name,” I say, attempting to salvage this, but I have a feeling she’s already mentally thrown me in the trash.
“And where did you meet Bethany?” Pippa asks.
“At the nightclub I run.”
She turns back to the monitor, and it’s as if the room gets colder by degrees the longer the silence stretches.
I feel like punching something, preferably her, and telling her to stuff her fucking job. But Scott needs me to get cash fast, and from what I read online about this place, you can earn some serious bonuses if you make their clients happy.
“You know what it is we do, right?” she asks, glancing at me. “You certainlylookthe part. I could see some of our clients being very satisfied with you.”
“Yes, I know what you do,” I reply. “I’ve looked into it; you have an impressive reputation.”
“Yes, and I’d like to keep it that way,” she mutters, not looking at me.
I fidget in my seat, waiting for her to tell me to get out. Instead, to my surprise, I see her scrolling through her client list on the monitor.
That has to be a good sign, right?
But as the silence continues, my mind begins to whirl with different possibilities. I’m clearly not their usual type—so why hire me?
Then a potential explanation occurs to me.
I’ll bet they have a variety of packages. Maybe, for a reduced rate, they offer cheaper women to their less-affluent clients…
I clench my jaw, and hold my hands in my lap, so I don’t start throwing things. There’s a cup on her desk that has a crown painted on it, and the words ‘Pippa knows best’beneath it. I bite my tongue, watching her look at her screen.
There’s a small mirror behind her desk, and in the reflection, I can see pictures flitting past as she clicks through. I’m surprised when I recognize one of the men.
