Tramp (Hush Book 1) Page 2

  Once she realizes I’m not waiting to be beckoned, she hurries behind me.

  Inez encourages her girls to indulge in services offered at Hush. She insists it’s good for business and good for our health. I only stop by once a week to deliver my fifteen percent—in and out. Naomi’s made herself at home, entitled enough not to treat the legit employees with politeness and swearing the receptionist is useless.

  “I liked the old girl better,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  The old girl now fucks rich old men for a cut. Receptionists see every face that walks in and out of Hush, so keeping them out of the loop is an ongoing battle. Sometimes Inez fires them before they catch on, and sometimes she offers them a more lucrative position. Until the day it affects my cash flow, I stay out of the politics. Much to Naomi’s annoyance, I’m on a higher level than she.

  Knocking twice on the office door, I don’t wait to be invited in before entering.

  Material possessions don’t move me, but the sophisticated design of Inez’s office makes my heart skip a beat. Decorated with strategic mirrors, unique light fixtures, and reflective surfaces, it’s a welcome reminder of how removed I am from the life my mother led. Her boss’ office was a sweaty closet-sized room at the back of the club with metal folding chairs and a broken desktop computer turned paperweight.

  “Excellent, you’re here, tesora.” Inez twists the top back onto a nail polish bottle and blows on her wet nails, standing to greet us.

  She’s a striking woman, short in stature but valiant enough to touch the ceiling with confidence alone. The sixty-five-year-old redheaded Italian woman wears tailored suits with long, straight creases to give an illusion that she’s taller than she is. She owns them in every color, texture, and fit. Today she’s dressed in chic gray slacks with a matching blazer, finished with a pair of black stilettos. And she’s just painted her nails metallic blue.

  “Please, sit here, my dear.” Inez guides me to the seat in front of her desk. “I know you don’t like it when I call you in unexpectedly, but this will be worth it.”

  Nodding in acceptance, I smile softly and cross my legs after I sit. Inez Ricci is the only person in this city I trust, so I take her word for it and wait for an explanation for why I’m here on my only day off this week.

  Perched on the side of her desk, she motions for Naomi to sit beside me, snapping her fingers. “Come on, girl. We’re wasting time.”

  The acidic scent of polish hangs in the air, a direct contrast to the soothing aromas from the rest of the spa. Drying lacquer carries me back to the days when I was a girl, sitting in a changing room with half a dozen naked women. As they waited for their turn to dance on stage, they fixed their chipped nail polish. Sometimes one of them would paint mine if there was time.

  “You’re going to spoil her,” my mother would say.

  Uncrossing my legs, I shift in my seat and lock the memory in a dark closet at the back of my mind.

  “We’ve been given an opportunity,” Inez starts. Naomi sits up straight with a shit-eating grin on her face. “Ridge & Sons is the most sought out private equity law firm in the state. Those boys are loaded, and I’ve wanted to get a girl in there for years, but they’ve proven impenetrable. Approaching them has never worked, and they don’t seem to be interested in recommendations from outside colleagues. Their reputation is pristine.”

  The entirety of California knows who Ridge & Sons is. David Ridge started his firm in a lowly downtown office space he shared with a check cashing store and a questionable accountant. Thirty years later, his building is the tallest in the city. David’s sons, Wilder and Talent, followed in their father’s footsteps while simultaneously earning the crown as Grand Haven’s most eligible bachelors.

  Not that eligibility has kept many from seeking out paid sex from a Hush girl.

  “Thanks to Naomi’s connection, we finally have a way in. After time spent with one of my girls, there’s not a chance in Hell they’ll be able to say no again. Their building is a gold mine, and I want a chunk of it.”

  “What does this have to do with me?” I ask.

  Naomi scoffs. If she thinks she’s going to get a pat on the back for deepening Inez’s pockets, she’s delusional. These day-to-day exploitations are no concern of mine. My clientele is full.

  “You’re the best,” Inez says without a trace of humor in her tone. “Landing this date will take Hush to a new level, Cara. It will change how we conduct business and offer us a level of protection we can’t get otherwise.”

  “No,” I say.

  Inez inhales a deep breath in through her nose and slips off the desk to her feet. She’s not used to employees refusing her any request, but I’m not like her other employees. She knows it. “This isn’t usually your type of thing, but—”

  “Inez,” I repeat. “I said no.”

  She closes her eyes to pause time, like she can telepathically force me to agree if the world stops spinning on its axis for one moment. Tisk. Tisk, Inez. Millions of dollars are tied into Inez’s organizations, expectations from clients—legit and otherwise—and she has an image to uphold. I have a month-to-month lease on a two-bedroom apartment and no one other than Inez knows my real name.

  In a battle of wills, I win. That’s how it goes when one of us has nothing to lose.

  I can disappear tomorrow, and no one would remember me.

  “I have to be the one—”

  “Shut up, Naomi,” Inez commands.

  “Naomi delivered this opportunity,” I say. “She should see him out.”

  Shaking her head, Inez says, “No. It has to be you. You are the best.”

  “I’m not available.”

  Standing to her feet, she’s careful with her nails and pulls the lapels of her jacket tight. The promising glow in her eyes goes mean, and she straightens her spine, stretching her short stature further. If I cared enough, I’d laugh at the show of bravado. I give her no hint of my amusement, choosing instead to remain indifferent.

  “Get out,” Inez says.

  Rising from my chair, my intentions are already back at my apartment. Days off are precious to me—the one time a week I can be Lydia Montgomery instead of Cara Smith. There’s a carton of vanilla ice cream in the freezer I’ve been dying to indulge in.

  “Not you, Cara.” Inez drops into her seat behind the desk. She signals toward Naomi. “You. Go.”

  My ambitions are smashed, and the vanilla ice cream has to wait until next week. Inez permits me plenty of allowances, but our relationship is unique to us. I knew I was pushing it by snubbing her in front of another girl. If word gets out that one of us can make her own rules, they’ll all want to. It’s a chain reaction that will only be corrected when heads roll.

  Inez recruited me the same way she did most Hush girls. I was broke, alone, and desperate when she sat across from me at a café I couldn’t afford to even be at. The city was prepared to chew me up and spit me out, and I was out of options. I ended up in Grand Haven after spending two years on the streets, and it had nothing to offer eighteen-year-old me.

  Until she bought me a coffee and sandwich.

  That’s where the similarities between the others and me ended.

  “This isn’t fair,” Naomi replies.

  Inez rolls her eyes. “Life isn’t fair. Get out.”

  Naomi looks back and forth between the boss and me, mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish. She’s a foot stomp away from throwing a toddler-type temper tantrum because she doesn’t want to share her toys with the other sluts.

  “Oh, stop being dramatic.” Inez sighs. “Go home. I’ll call you later. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

  Drama Queen takes a hint and leaves, closing the door harder than welcomed. Inez stares after Naomi for a beat, and I know she’s committing the offense to memory to be dealt with later.

  “Your disrespect is contagious,” she says half-heartedly.

  “She’s rude to your staff. In particular, the receptionist
,” I counter. “That kind of disrespect has nothing to do with me.”

  “What do you think of the new receptionist?” she asks conversationally.

  “I don’t think anything of her,” I say.

  “I think Camilla has potential. She reminds me of you in some ways, but you…” Waving her pointer finger at me, Inez leans back in her chair and chuckles. “You’re one of a kind, Lydia. I wish I had twenty girls like you. If I did, I wouldn’t have to beg you to take the Ridge & Sons appointment for me. Yet, there’s only one.”

  “A blessing and a curse.”

  “How long have we been in each other’s lives?” she ponders.

  “Seven years,” I say, ending the charade.

  “You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. Finding you in that boujee café saved me just as much as it saved you. But it did save you.”

  Inhaling a large breath through my nose, I ask, “What’s your point?”

  “The funny part about our story is, and I don’t know if I ever told you this, but that was my very first time visiting that particular establishment. As a creature of habit, I ate the same salad from the same café two blocks over every single day. They were out of my dressing, and it ruined the entire thing. I left angry and hungry and just started walking. That’s when I found you, with long ratted hair and a dirty face. I adored you the moment I saw you.”

  The right side of my mouth curves up and I say, “You bought me food, offered me a place to stay, and a job at the front desk of Hush.”

  “I offered you a brand-new life.”

  “We both know how the story goes, Inez. Why are we talking about this?”

  “Fate brought us together, Lydia. Do you think I don’t want more for you than appointments with the simple men you insist on?” She waves her arms around the office. “This office is so beautiful, but we’re destined for more. I’ve offered you partnership multiple times.”

  Opening my mouth to object, I stop short when she continues.

  “We do everything on your terms. I respect your boundaries, and I’ve never troubled you with my struggles because you’re like a daughter to me.”

  Dropping my eyes to the floor, I blink slowly before admitting, “I feel the same way.”

  An outsider might think we’re crazy. How do a madam and a prostitute feel anything but contempt in a world like ours? I was born among the dark side of society. Beyond the dirt, gluttony, and secrets are real people who get by the only way they know how. We’re still human beings with human feelings and emotions.

  Inez and I are villains—cut from the same cloth.

  “Nailing Ridge & Sons will carry Hush to a new level. The money in that building can make us unstoppable and offer protection you can’t imagine. We’ll own this city, Lydia, and no one can stop us.”

  “You’ll own the city,” I say.

  She has an annoying habit of treating me less like a worker and more like a successor, set to inherit her estate once she’s gone. To her dismay, I’ve yet to accept her proposal. Hush has a good thing going, but I’m not ready to commit to it for the rest of my life.

  “The rebel princess.” Inez laughs.

  “The sinful queen,” I retort.

  “I’ve never asked you for anything.” The smile slips, leaving her lips in a straight line. “My intentions are not to make you feel guilty. Everything I do to help you comes from affection. You’re a gift. You are my favorite girl. But I do need your help now. Hush needs your help now.”

  Sighing, I drop my head back and close my eyes.

  “Only once. Only now,” she pleads.

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  Aside from their success, Ridge & Sons are a private family, filthy rich, and gorgeous. How a family that ridiculously good-looking stays scandal-free is beyond me, but if one of them booked a date with Hush, they’re not as innocent as the public believes.

  “Talent. The younger of the two boys.” Inez opens a drawer and retrieves an electronic tablet, swiping her finger across the glass screen until an image appears. “He’s twenty-eight years old. Unattached. Although, he does date regularly. His father is David Ridge, and his mother, Pamela Ridge, died eight years ago.”

  This detail nails my attention. My focus dashes from the image of Talent to Inez.

  “I didn’t know that.” I stand to my feet and join Inez on her side of the desk to peek over her shoulder. She smells like lilacs and cedar, and I lean in closer to inhale the scent. “How did it happen?”

  A few clicks, swipes, and taps later, an old news article about the death of Pamela Ridge emerges. Mrs. Ridge was remarkably ordinary, with shoulder-length brown hair and high cheekbones. According to the news source, her family has deep ties to the area. The caption under the photo states she passed away from heart disease at the age of fifty-four.

  I didn’t count on having anything in common with a person as prestigious as Talent Ridge.

  “There’s no time to submit the full background check typically required, but he seems to be transparent. His net worth is plenty enough to cover any future dates he may book. Obviously, avoid conversation about his family and his dead mother.”

  “Conversation will be avoided altogether,” I say. Taking a seat on the edge of the desk, I submit. “I’m breaking my own rules, Inez. Don’t ever ask me to do this again.”

  The scent of lavender swells from the water’s surface. Wisps of hair stick across my damp forehead, fallen from the bundle tied at the top of my head. I’ve soaked in a bath for close to an hour, draining and refilling it as the temperature cools. Soft music plays from a small radio in the corner of the bathroom, and candlelight flickers against the walls.

  I rest my foot on the side of the tub and smooth a velvety layer of shaving cream from my knee to my ankle. Water drips from the heel of my foot to the tile floor. The song transitions to something older with a beat, taking me back to the murky club I grew up in.

  “Fetch me the razor in my bag, Lydia,” my mom had said. A cigarette hung from between her lips with an inch of ash on the tip. Cricket’s wavy blonde hair was split at the ends, and she had glitter smeared across her eyelids. She took the razor and swiped it over a spot on her knee. “That would have been embarrassing.”

  She dropped the razor into a metal trash bin, adjusted her bra, and left me in the dressing room to watch as she left for the stage.

  Warm baths, good razors, and nourishing shaving cream are taken for granted by most, but I know what it’s like to live without these privileges. Mom and I moved a lot—crashing with friends or boyfriends. We stayed in motels, and sometimes we’d sleep at the club. Cricket shaved my legs for the first time when I was eleven years old in an Oregon strip club’s bathroom with four other girls standing around. She used soap, water, and a single-bladed razor.

  My skin was irritated for a week.

  As an adult, my razor is gold-plated and has a strip of moisturizer across the top. It slides slowly and precisely over the curve of my knee, not missing anything. I shake it clean in the water before continuing, shaving every inch of skin until my legs are sleek.

  My rituals are strict, and my intentions are deliberate. I won’t ever be the girl who shaves her legs in a public restroom or doesn’t know where she’s going to sleep at night again. My mother’s life served as a personal what not to do tutorial.

  “Lydia, I was just thinking about you, sweetheart,” Inez says. Her voice echoes through the speakerphone.

  I sit at my vanity after my bath before an expansive spread of designer makeup and hair products. White light reflects around my pupils and showcases every freckle across my nose. I cover them with concealer and roll my green eyes at Inez.

  “You’re thinking about your payday,” I say with a smile.

  “How are you?” she asks. She doesn’t say I’m wrong. “Is there anything I can help with?”

  Sweeping blush across my cheekbones, I ask, “When will the car be here to pick me up?”

  “In one hour. You’re sc
heduled for Talent’s last appointment of the evening. He’s on the top floor, and from what I’m told, the rest of the office should be relatively empty.”

  “How did you manage that?” I ask.

  Inez laughs. “Naomi assures me everything’s taken care of. You have nothing to worry about.”

  My stomach drops, and I lower my gaze from my reflection to the phone. This situation keeps falling deeper and deeper out of my comfort zone. “That doesn’t make me feel better, Inez. Do you trust her, because I’m not sure I do?”

  “Don’t concern yourself with anyone but Talent Ridge until tomorrow, Lydia. He’s our only concern.”

  “I’m keeping my cut on this one,” I say.

  “Of course, you are. I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she says. I knew I could get away with such a demand, because the money I’ll make from my appointment with Talent today is pennies compared to what she predicts to earn in the long run. “But you will call me after for a full report.”

  I smirk. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

  Talent Ridge’s reputation precedes him. He’s Grand Haven royalty, crowned not only for his accomplishments and charity, but because he’s drop-dead gorgeous and single. I spent most of the night finding out what I could about the younger Ridge son online. The man’s rich and good-looking, but that’s not news to anyone. What I wanted to see is the type of girl he’s interested in.

  He dates within his circle, seen out in public only with other wealthy heiresses. From what I gather, Talent doesn’t stay involved with one person for long. The internet wonders when he’s going to settle down, who it’ll be with, and if the death of his mother somehow left the poor man emotionally damaged and afraid of commitment.

  The internet is stupid.

  Talent is a twenty-eight-year-old millionaire with the entire world in the palm of his hand. Why would he choose to settle down with one woman when he can have them all?