In Harmony (Fenbrook Academy #2)(33)
Author: Helena Newbury

She clinked her coffee mug against mine. “And now for my favor.”

I was still grinning. “Go for it.”

“I want you to help me choose an escort agency.”

The smile died on my face.

She bit her lip. “Come on, you promised….”

“I know, I know. I’ll do it, I just…Jasmine, are you sure? Is this really the only way?”

She shrugged. “It’s either this or pimp myself to my landlord. If I’m going to do it, I might as well get paid top dollar, right?” I could hear the tension under her bravado.

“And there’s really no chance,” I asked gently, “that you could move in with your brother?”

She sighed. “Karen….” She picked up a pain au raisin and started picking the raisins out. “I spent a long time trying to get away from my family. They’re a…curse. You touch one of them, even for a second, and you pay for it for years. I am not going to wreck my life here by reconnecting with them.”

I nodded. “Okay. Sorry.”

She had a shortlist of agencies saved on her USB stick, and we went through them one by one. “I like this one,” she said, showing me a garish site with pictures of escorts posing in lingerie. “I’m pretty sure I could hold my own against those girls.”

I shook my head. “You like that because you can see the competition, because they’ve got photos. Do you really want a photo of you up there, with your face showing? What if somebody you know sees it? What if your acting coach at Fenbrook sees it?”

Jasmine shuddered. “Yeah, good point. Next.”

We went through about ten sites, and my screen gradually filled up with pop-ups. I’m going to have to disinfect my laptop when we’re done, I thought sadly.

“This is nice,” I said. It was a tasteful site with moody black and white pictures of the escorts. A breast here, a stockinged thigh there. Faces were never shown.

“It’s very…tasteful,” Jasmine said doubtfully. “Do you think I’m tasteful?”

“Absolutely! God, Jasmine, look at yourself! You’re gorgeous and eloquent and confident and men would love to….” To pay money to have you spread your legs for them, I finished silently.

Jasmine beamed. “You really think so?”

Sometimes she really confused me. She was so confident, but just occasionally I got a hint of a scared, insecure girl underneath. “Yes,” I said firmly. “I really think so.”

There was a number to call if you wanted to apply. Jasmine typed it into her cell phone and then stared at it.

“Wait,” she said. “Got any booze?”

I looked at the clock. “It’s ten in the morning.”

She gave me a look. “I’m about to sell my body. It’s kind of a big deal.”

I dug out a bottle of chardonnay and poured her a large glass, which she drained. Then she hit “Call.”

“They’re probably not open,” she said hopefully. “Not at ten in the—Oh, hi! Um. I’m calling to apply?” I listened as she gave her height, weight and measurements, her hair color, eye color and age.

And then the questions turned to sex. I could only hear Jasmine’s end of the call, but they seemed to be asking what she was prepared to do. “Yep. Yep. No problem. Oh yes. Oh! No. Um, I haven’t before, but I would. No. Nope. No!”

Her eyes went wide at the last one, and I wondered what on earth they’d asked that would have shocked even her. She went quiet for a while as she listened to the person at the other end and then said, “Okay, that’s fine. Okay. Thanks. Bye.”

She hung up. “I have to go for an interview on the fifteenth. If that goes okay, I could be getting bookings the next day.”

We looked at the clock: it was five past ten. Going from actress to prostitute had taken a little under five minutes.

“That was scary easy,” said Jasmine. “Will you come with me, to the interview?”

My stomach flipped over at the thought. “Of course,” I told her, and we hugged.

“You realize I want a full report on what happens tonight?” said Jasmine as she retrieved her USB stick and prepared to leave. “You’re my protégé now. Don’t let me down.” And then she drew me close. “And don’t let the bastard break your heart.”

***

When she’d gone, I stood there for a moment enjoying the spring sunshine soaking through the room. I was nervous about the date with Connor, but I was happy, and it was the first time in months I’d felt that things were going to be okay. We still had a struggle on our hands with the recital and Connor’s grades, but as long as nothing went wrong, we could pull it off.

I’d been so focused on just graduating that I’d deliberately put all thoughts of the New York Phil out of my mind. But as I basked in the sunlight, I dared to hope. I had no idea how the scout would react to a duet as weird as ours, but if we aced it there was always a chance. Maybe, just maybe, I could get my dream back.

My phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

Syrupy-sweet words given a kick by the heavy Irish accent. “Karen! I’m not interrupting your practice, am I? Connor told me how hard you two are working.”

Ruth?!

“No, it’s…fine.” I could feel my toes curling in response to the woman.

“When can you meet for coffee? I want us to be friends.”

My brain shorted out. She wanted us to be friends?! “Er…great. Noon?”

“Perfect.” She almost purred as she said it. “Let’s do Harper’s. Okay?” She made it sound like she was in a hurry, so I couldn’t think about it for long.

“Sure,” I said, and she hung up.

I had to run through the conversation in my head a few times before I realized that she hadn’t given me any choices at all, apart from choosing the time. But hey, this was a good thing, right? I’d assumed exes were always evil and to be avoided, but Connor considered her a friend and his friends should be my friends. Maybe that’s just how it worked—everyone was just mature and sensible and friendly about exes. It wasn’t like I had much experience to go on.

I had to scramble to get ready because I needed to go shopping before I met Ruth. She’d managed to throw out my entire day, turning what should have been a fun trip into a mad dash.

When I hit the stores, I spent most of the time searching for the perfect dress. I eventually found something I thought would work—a black jersey number that came down to just above my knees and had a neckline that was just the right side of my comfort zone. I grabbed some hold ups and a bra and panties set, bought some new makeup and then found a drugstore.

I stood at the condom display comparing different sizes, thicknesses, textures and colors for so long that someone actually came over and asked if I needed help—at which point I grabbed four different boxes, paid and ran.

***

When I got to Harper’s, Ruth had already made herself at home. She was sitting there sipping a black coffee and browsing through a Fenbrook newsletter. For some reason, it made me angry; I didn’t want her in Harper’s, or around Fenbrook, or anywhere near Connor and me. It felt like she was going to pollute our beautiful, clean future with his past.

I took a deep breath and told myself not to be childish.

As I approached, Ruth stood up and pulled me into a hug and cheek kiss, as if I was an old friend she hadn’t seen in months. She was taller than me, and seemed to be made entirely of bone and muscle, intimidatingly stylish in a white blouse and black leather jeans. She looked—my stomach flipped over—she looked like the sort of girlfriend Connor should have.

“I’m so glad we can be friends,” Ruth told me, as if we already were. “Tell me all about Connor and you.”

It was like being quizzed by an evil stepmother. She was the same age as me, from what I could tell, and yet somehow managed to make me feel like a child. I told her about the recital, and Dan, and how Connor had helped me. I told her about working together, and how we’d fallen in love.

When I’d finished, she nodded. “I understand, luv. When you’re working together all hours, it’s easy to start having feelings for each other.”

That threw me. She made it sound like it had happened by accident, like it was all a mistake, and it wasn’t. Was it?

Ruth leaned in as if about to share a secret and I leaned in, too. “I was a bit surprised, to tell you the truth,” she said. “You don’t seem like his type.”

“What’s his type?” I asked quickly, before I could stop myself.

She blinked at me. “Less…studious. More…worldly.”

More you, I thought viciously.

Ruth tilted her head to one side. “Oh, luv. I haven’t upset you, have I?” She stood up to leave, and then leaned down again and kissed the top of my head in a way that made me squirm. As she turned to go, the point of her shoe knocked over my bags. Lacy lingerie and four boxes of condoms spilled out across the floor.

“Oh,” she said as I scrambled to pick everything up. “Tonight’s the night, is it?”

I went beetroot red, unable to speak. I was just about to grab the padded, push-up bra I’d bought when her toe pinned it to the floor. “Wise move,” she said, as if offering friendly advice. “Try not to worry about it though, luv. Some blokes go for small ones.”

There was some tittering from the tables around us. I kept my eyes firmly on the floor.

“This has been fun,” said Ruth. “Facebook me.” And she was gone.

Chapter 22

I should have been in the practice room, waiting for Connor and warming up with something easy, but instead I was standing outside and staring at the wall.

I’d chosen a poster to stare at, just so that I didn’t look weird, but I wasn’t even aware of what it said. My mind was back in Harper’s, going over and over what Ruth had said. There had to be some truth in it. He was used to more experienced women—had to be, given that pretty much anyone qualified as more experienced next to me. What if I was lousy in bed? What if I made a total fool of myself?

Warm lips kissed me just behind my ear and I leaped a clear foot into the air. I landed and found Connor standing behind me, grinning. I punched him on the shoulder.

Part of me was nervous—aside from the things Ruth had said, it was the first time I’d seen him since he’d said he loved me. I had some crazy, instinctive worry that maybe it had all been a dream, or a horrible mistake.

But he took my hand and drew me in close, and then he was leaning down to kiss me, warm and slow, my lips flowering open under his as his hands slid through my hair. For a second, I was worried that someone would see us kissing…then I switched to hoping they would. Screw Ruth, I decided.

Connor turned me back around to face the wall, grabbing me around the waist and nuzzling my neck.

“What are we reading?” he asked, looking at the poster over my shoulder.

For the first time, I focused on it. Most of the posters around Fenbrook were lurid colors, to try to catch your attention. This one was white, the sign of officialdom. I read it and sighed. “The Fenbrook Improvisation Challenge. A Timed Composition for Extra Credit. Even I’m not hardcore enough to enter that.”