Continued from Tell Me What You Came Here For.
She continued to stare at me, carefully; watchful eyes never leaving my face. I waited patiently on her answer to my question. My signature question for all clients were told so many times; however, I’ve managed to make each one feel equally special.
That line was about as tired as I am. There are only so many ways you can say a particular line. It’s not just for doing my job; it’s who and how I am.
Before I could open my mouth again, Genevieve speaks up.
“Like I had mentioned, Kevin will take excellent care of you. He comes highly recommended. You will be taken wonderful care of. Have fun!” Genevieve explained to this medium-build woman who refuses to utter a word since they walked up to me. She left us with a concerned expression and a smile that didn’t quite reach her amber eyes.
The woman intently watched Genevieve leave for a moment, turned to me, and said,
“Well, Kevin, I’m sure you live up to the name they called you here.” Oh, what name? I wondered. “I’ll feel more comfortable once we’re upstairs and away from prying eyes and ears.” Oh, so she do talk.
“Sure.” I see what she meant. Genevieve and her guards are watching us… too carefully. I nodded their way. Genevieve raised her glass, her usual of gin and tonic. She forked an arched eyebrow in question, and I slightly shrugged.
“Would you like a drink now or prefer to have one in my room?” I asked the woman, noting how she kept watched on Genevieve from the corner of her left eye. There was a passing glint that nearly nerved me as if she detested Genevieve for something I couldn’t quite place my finger on.
“Oh sure, in your room. Thanks for asking.” She blinked, and started walking towards the stairwell. I grabbed her bags and lead the way.
In my room, she glances around at the decor. Hues of reds and beige colors filled the room with an ambiance of romance and warmth; even so, with an overall cozy feeling.
“Very impressive!” She said, moving over to the cherry oak armoire.
“Thanks.” I told her. “Here you go.” I handed her a pineapple and vodka concoction she mentioned on the way up here.
She mumbled thanks and wrapped an arm around her slim waist. She appeared out of place the way she stood rocking from foot to foot, shaking her glass to the point the liquid was sure to spill out. I reached out to take it from her.
“Can’t have you ruining such a beautiful outfit nor a new carpet,” I told her. She grins sheepishly.
“Tell me about yourself.” I asked, pouring a drink for myself. I turned around from the wet bar and saw her checking out the bed.
“Plenty of time for that later,” I joked to make light of things. When she didn’t laugh, I let out a low sigh. There was something odd about her. It wasn’t for the fact she was nervous for being up here with me and what’s going to take place. No, she strikes me as if she was an undercover agent, or something. I’m determined to get to the bottom of it.
She eyed me in a way that spoke of confusion… and disgust, maybe. While she collects her thoughts, I busied myself with my mixed music playlist, setting it to smooth jazz. Acoustic Alchemy’s Jamaica Heartbeat serenaded through the Bose speakers.
Now, that I’ve gotten her attention, I reached for her hand, inviting her to dance with me. She hesitated at first, then place a small hand in mines. We sway, spin, and gyrated our hips, slightly bumping into each other. She laughs, then suddenly, pulled away.
“I-uh… I need a bath. It has been a long day.” She says, looking somewhat embarrassed. I watched her grabbed items from her bag like she was mad at it, and dashed into my walk-in closet.
“The bathroom is this way,” I pointed towards the left, to a door that was slightly ajar, trying not to laugh.
She avoided looking at me as she went inside. I chuckled softly at her embarrassment, but it was cut short when there was a loud knock at my door.
“Kevin! Open up, now!” Genevieve yells through the door.
“What is it?” I asked. She had her bulldog of a guard with her while the other stood back near the stairs.
“Where is she? Something’s up with her, and I’m not leaving until she answers my questions.” Genevieve stood tall with her arms crossed and chin high in the air.
Before I could protest, her guard pulls out his .45 semiautomatic Glock in my direction. Damn!
Stay tuned for Part 3 next week. Thanks for reading.🌹
By: Pamela E. Hester ©2017