Page 4 of Billionaire Retreat

Chapter 2

I was having a racy dream that involved a certain man in a three-piece suit, except in my dream he was stepping out of a pool wearing nothing but a smile, when my phone woke me up abruptly. I felt around for it, knocking it onto the floor.

Opening one eye, I stuck my hand out and searched for it blindly. The ringing stopped but as soon as I had the phone in my hand the ringing began again. Whoever it was, they were persistent.

I answered with a sleepy, “Hey, this is Nina.”

“Hi, Nina. Sorry to call so early in the morning, but we have an opening at the resort and I was wondering if you would be interested. Sorry for the short notice, but we had a last-minute cancellation.”

“Who is this? I’m sorry… I’m just waking up,” I said. I’d gone out drinking with Kenny and Cyril the night before. I was a light weight, I only needed a couple of beers, but I felt as if I had had a whole case by myself.

“I’m sorry. This is Richard. You gave me your portfolio…”

“Oh yeah, the guy with the cranky old lady,” I said sleepily and then immediately slapped my hand over my mouth and was suddenly wide awake. I couldn’t believe I’d just said that out loud.

But apparently, Richard wasn’t in the least bothered. In fact, he laughed at my faux pas.

“Yep. I guess she made quite an impression.”

“You can say that again. So, can you tell me more about what you need me to do? Is this for the entertainment specialist position?”

“Yep. The entertainment specialist keeps the guests happy and attends to their needs. Think of it as a glorified hostess meets babysitter, but for adults.” I laughed at his description and he continued, “We’ll need you for seven days. Would that be a problem? And I assume you have a passport, right?”

I nodded and then realized that he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I have one. Never been used.”

“Well, great. Now’s the chance. So, I’m going to have my assistant, Gertrude, get in touch with you. She’ll go over all the logistics.”

“Ok. Great. Before you go, I forgot to ask. How much does it pay? And when would I need to be there?”

“You’ll need to leave today, as soon as possible actually. And we pay one thousand a week and, of course, we provide you with free food and lodging while you’re on the island. Top of the line accommodation. Every specialist has her own room and an extensive wardrobe, so you don’t even need to pack a lot of clothes.”

I was speechless for a second. In my hometown, working at the local movie theater, I barely made $1000 a month as the manager.

“Nina, you still there?”

“Yes, so let me get this right… One thousand for a week? And I leave right away?”

He must have taken my hesitation for uncertainty, as he rushed to reassure me saying, “I understand it’s short notice, so I can up the rate to fifteen hundred if that works for you?”

“Sure. I mean, that’s great. Thanks for that.” I was now standing and pacing the floor, super-excited at the prospect of earning $1500 in a week. My luck was clearly turning around.

“Excellent! I think this will be a wonderful opportunity for you. Gertrude will call you in about half an hour.”

“Ok… great… great…” I couldn’t stop saying “great”. I felt like such a dork. “Thanks, Richard. I really appreciate the opportunity.”

“No, thank you, Nina. I’m sure you’ll be the perfect companion for our guest.” He thanked me again before hanging up.

“Perfect companion?” I said to myself, curious about his last statement. He made it sound as if someone was renting me for the night.

I paused. Oh, God. I hoped I hadn’t just signed on to be an escort. I groaned, feeling stupid. But then I thought to myself, surely that old woman with pretentious sensibilities wouldn’t be interviewing people for an escort position. Unless she was some sort of pimp. I giggled at the thought and made a note to ask Gertrude for more details when she called.

* * *

Six hours later, I found myself sitting with a group of five other women. We were all chatting excitedly. Well, I wasn’t chatting, but I was excited even though no one was actually talking to me. I noticed that I was the only girl with dark hair in the group. Everyone else had long blonde hair and light-colored eyes. There were a few dirty blondes, but I was the only one with straight jet-black hair, dark brown eyes and slightly tanned skin. My mother was Turkish and my biological dad was Colombian, at least that’s what my mom told me. She hadn’t been too sure since she had only talked to him for a few hours in a bar before conceiving me in the back of his car, a story only made known to me after my Aunt Akila got drunk one night and blurted it out at a family get together when I was about twelve.

My mother had been furious, and Aunt Akila wasn’t invited to another family gathering ever again. I hadn’t known my high-achieving mother had such a colored past. After all, Mom was a pillar of the community, having become a well-respected doctor in our hometown. She had met and married David Charles, a nice business consultant from Atlanta who was a sarcastic, no-nonsense type, but nevertheless, he’d been a great dad to me. He’d even adopted me and given me his last name once he and my mom got married. I’d been about five at the time. My parents were pretty laid-back and open minded, but I knew my mom and dad would not be happy to know my first job in L.A. was as an entertainment specialist, whatever that meant.

It was still unclear to me what I would be doing on the island. Gertrude didn’t seem to know any more than I did. She was a jolly person, which had surprised me. For some reason, I thought she was would be more like the cranky old woman I’d met. The only bad thing about Gertrude was that she was so efficient that just talking to her made me feel inept at life. Within 15 minutes of being on the phone with her, I had my direct deposit set up, room and food preferences noted and all the transportation to and from the island arranged.