The Escort

Chapter Two

            “SO, WHAT THE hell is your plan?” Janet says with a bored look on her face, sipping her cold lemon tea idly. A few days after grandma has dropped a ticking time bomb, Janet stays in my place for a while because a) her next big shoot is near my penthouse and b) she cannot wait for the details behind my plan in finding the fake boyfriend (aka the escort). She is more ecstatic to be planning this whole thing out than I do, and I badly wish I share her enthusiasm.

            For the past few days, all I’ve ever done is lie down on my bed and stare towards the ceiling blankly. I cannot come up with any decent plan in finding my fake boyfriend, especially I do not know any decent guys to pick. I have this urge to even look at my university, searching for any college classmate who may still be single. The unfortunate part about it? Majority of my male classmates are married, engaged or they are not interested in the opposite s*x. And the ones who are still single barely reach my standards while some of them are homophobic, which is, a big fat no for me.

            “I honestly don’t know,” I say in defeat, slumping my shoulders in acceptance. If I cannot find the perfect fake boyfriend in less than a month, then I may be married off to some Chinese businessman who’s probably only after for my parents’ money. I will have to accept my fate sooner or later, in this case. “I can’t even think of anyone who is the perfect candidate.”

            “You think way too much,” Janet comments, typing something in her laptop furiously, her pencilled brows drawn together in a line. “Here,” she continues, turning her laptop screen, showing an online ad with the most embarrassing title using a cutesy curly font. It says: Escort for Hire, Money for ya xx.

            I shriek, shooting my younger sister a glare who is unfazed by my deathly look. “What the hell is this?!”

            “An ad. This way, you won’t have to worry in reaching out some nasty guys in your university. They shower once a day,” she replies. “You’ll thank me later.”

            “What did you even put in that disgusting ad?” I ask, a bit calmer as my mind processes my sister’s actions as rational as possible. Even if her actions are reckless and puts me in an embarrassing situation, it seems like the whole deal can work. I won’t have to reach out to my college classmates who are still single but the trouble will arise in entertaining these candidates.

            Still a piece of work. But it’s better than nothing. I’ll have to thank Janet in the future, once her ego deflates. “Well,” she clicks her tongue, “your contact details doofus. How will they reach you if your contact details are not provided?”

            “Okay.” I scroll through the stupid ad Janet sets up and below the title of the ad is a more embarrassing paragraph which contains explicit language. My mouth parts at the horrible combination of words Janet has used, my almond-shaped eyes widening as I shot her a deadlier glare. “What the actual heck Jan. It’s supposed to be PG-13, at least.”

            “Gosh, don’t be so uptight,” she reprimands, grabbing a slice of bread from the table and spreading it with strawberry jam. The strawberry jam reminds me of the days when our family goes to business trips in Baguio City, the cold weather helping the strawberries grow beautifully. We’d have an activity where we pick strawberries in the strawberry farm, and after we finish, we’d eat a perfectly homemade strawberry ice cream sold near the farm. “You’re almost twenty-nine. Sounding like a virgin on that ad, no one would take you seriously.”

            “I’m not like you Jan, I have a reputation to uphold or else our family’s company will end up in shambles,” I retort, slightly pissed. If our parents see about this ad, we’d be dead meat. My parents are always keen on upholding Roman Catholic values on us which includes, not engaging in pre-marital s*x as well as in malicious activities such as this.

            “And I don’t?” She looks hurt by my response and does not wait for me to say something else. “I’m just trying to help your prude ass.” She stands up, stomping her way to the guest room of my penthouse. I don’t follow her, too ashamed of even making an apology. Great, I’ve already ruined today’s mood.

            I shut Janet’s laptop and place it inside her laptop case. My feet take me to the guest room. Raising a fist mid-air, I exhale a breath, placing her laptop on a table near the guest room. “In case you want to use your laptop, it’s just on the table. I’m sorry for my selfish words Jan. I know you’re trying to help so thanks for that,” I say solemnly and decide to take shower to ease my mind off of everything.

            The secretary shoots me an e-mail, saying I have a meeting at 4 o’clock with a Swedish businessman. The parents my company built has gone international, and foreign investors are interested in buying a share from our company. She sends me another e-mail which contains I have an important personal meeting with my parents at 6 o’clock in the evening. My stomach curdles like milk at the message but I still reply to my secretary I’ll be present on the two meetings.

            After taking a long peaceful bath, I ready my corporate attire which my house help has pressed for me. The sophistication screams and my body slumps at it. Ever since I graduated from college at twenty-one, I’ve been working for my parents. Eight years and yet, my body is still not used to wearing a blazer and a pencil skirt.

            Janet lasciviously eats two boxes of pizza as she quietly scrolls through her laptop. Before I head to the main door, she calls my name. “Tilda! You gotta look at this.”

            I oblige, guilty of my ignorant selfishness. Five guys responded to the ad, which is overwhelming and surprising that someone will take up the offer, leaving their contact details. I take a deep breath as Janet squeals, happiness filling her eyes. She doesn’t wear makeup and yet she looks gorgeous, her face free of blemishes. I guess her dermatologist is good.

            “You know what this means? You’ll meet your potential fake boyfriend! Ahhh!” she screams, jumping up and down in the air which is unladylike but she doesn’t seem to care. “You can finally ditch that arranged marriage!”

            I chuckle, tucking the stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I hope it will be that simple,” I say softly. “I’m not sure if ma and pa would agree to this.”

            Janet shoots me an incredulous look. “Why not? I don’t think they’re that senseless and cruel in forcing you into something you don’t want.” She munches on her pizza and my stomach growls just by the sight of it.

            “You won’t understand, Jan,” I answer. Our parents have never given me a choice. The burden on running their company has been there ever since I went to college. While Janet is enjoying her college life by joining to different parties, sleepovers and club hopping, I’m left holed in my room doing our parents’ company’s books. Taking a business-related program is not a coincidence, they have planned it all along.

MY FOUR O’CLOCK meeting is a mess. The Swedish businessman, whose name I don’t even want to try to remember, keeps flirting my way, as if this business transaction we’re currently making is not as important as his hidden agenda. The lust is prominent in his green eyes, his pupils dilating. He wants to sleep with me and disgust curls at the pit of my stomach.

            The good thing is, my secretary, Joan, has been interrupting his flirtations towards me by keeping a calm and collected tone. She states the initial payment the business man shall give and his face scrunches, probably disliking Joan’s unwelcomed interruption. I shoot a grateful look her way. As we finish the four o’clock meeting closing a successful deal, ma is standing at the lobby with her perfectly crisp red dress. Her hair is in a bun, highlighting her sharp cheekbones. She still looks in her early forties, even if she’s pushing to her sixties.

            “Hija,” she says, a warm smile gracing her lips. She proceeds to open her arms and gives me an unprecedented hug, my cheeks flaming in embarrassment. I feel like everyone’s eyes are on us.

            “Ma, what are you doing here?” I ask, almost crassly. She ignores the harshness of my tone and proceeds to raise a brow. I do not like where this is going, my stomach curling in knots.

            “I’m your six o’clock,” she replies briefly. I grimace. Right. I purposely tried to forget I have an appointment with my parents.

            “It’s not even six o’clock yet,” I give a sarcastic reply, my jaw tense. Ma ignores the technicalities.

            My eyes skim the lobby and speak of the devil, pa appears in his best Sunday clothes—as if he’ll be a bearer of some good news.

            However, behind him is a man I’ve never met before. He stands approximately six feet tall, his jet black hair gelled neatly to look presentable, and his ivory skin paling against the chandelier. He looks neat with his getup, wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of khaki pants. I send ma a confused look in which she does not respond.

            “Tilda, you’ve grown more beautiful since the last time I saw you,” pa greets, a dimple marring his cheek. The last time I saw pa is during the New Year’s, which passed by six months ago.

            “No s**t, pa,” I reply in sarcasm and he laughs, as if he finds my sarcasm humorous.

            Pa clears his throat, and the guy he’s with steps in front of him, his height almost covering pa’s physique. He raises his hand mid-air for a handshake, but I only stare at it with wide eyes. I study his facial features. A small stubble grows underneath his chin and I wonder if he’s trying hard to grow one, or if he forgot to shave it. His eyes are a bit a mixture of almond-shape and round, as if his Chinese genes are crossed with Hispanic blood. His eyebrows are thick and triangular, and he smells nice, which probably makes up for everything that may happen. I may have an idea of who he will be in my life.

            “Tilda, this is your fiancé, Robert Go,” pa introduces, his voice sickeningly sweet. I almost have to vomit. I cannot believe this total stranger is my fiancé. We haven’t even had a proper date for Christ’s sake.

            I raise a brow, daring my parents. They don’t cower at my intimidating stare. Most of my co-workers would’ve ran the other way by now.

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Matilda,” Robert announces, gently taking my hand on his without permission. I freeze at his touch, not knowing if I should wave his hand away or accept a sweet gesture such as: planting a sloppy kiss at the back of my hand.

            Dread settles quickly at the pit of my stomach.

            “Nice to meet you, too, Robert,” I stoically reply, retracting my hand as quickly as possible. I dislike the way his lips touched my skin, a burning feeling that makes my heart beat rapidly—in the least romantic way possible. “I’m busy, can this meeting be moved to next week?” I ask ma and pa, my eyes harder than intended. Pa shies away from my stare but ma holds my gaze for a moment and momentarily, breaks away.

            “Fine,” she concedes. “At least you already met your potential partner.” She matches my cold tone but it gives shivers behind my back.

            “Thank you,” I say formally, walking past my fiancé and my parents, fighting the tears at the corner of my eyes. The bridge of my nose stings and everything around me swirls in a haze. I almost trip at my footing as I walk at the uneven sidewalk, forgetting I drove to work in the first place.

            I collide to a biker at the sidewalk, the tears slowly falling. He yells, “Watch where you’re going missy!” I almost laugh sardonically and I have the biggest urge to retaliate but I ignore him. He’s the one clearly in the wrong but it’s not a fight I’d rather get myself into. My phone rings, Janet’s caller ID popping. It’s like she can read my mind, or maybe ma and pa texted her to call me.

            I answer the phone call without even saying hello. “Mom and dad are royally pissed,” she reports, disappointment laced in her voice. Everything in the world suddenly weighs heavy, and my shoulders are too tired to lift it.

            “I don’t care,” I lie. My gut lurches to my throat.

            Janet gives me a tsk. “You do care. Come back to your penthouse. I found a client who is willing to take your offer,” she says formally. I almost say no, but if I do, then I’ll probably be married to Robert. He’s not bad at all, but I don’t want to be married—or associated—to someone I hardly even know.

            I stupidly nod, and realize that Janet cannot see me through a phone call. So I say, “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Janet ends the call without even saying goodbye.