Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 37751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“Congratulations on this amazing milestone, sir.” Mindy joins me seconds later, holding out a coat.
“Thank you, Mindy,” I say. “I could’ve sworn that I gave you the day off.”
“You did, but that was so I could celebrate this momentous occasion with you, right?”
No. “Right…”
“I’ll handle a few measures downstairs to mark this occasion, and then I’ll head home if you don’t mind.”
“Thank you.” I pull a red envelope from my pocket. “This is for you to open later. Enjoy your holiday, Mindy.”
Her eyes widen as she takes it and rushes back inside.
I know damn well that she’ll open my one-hundred-percent raise and bonus letter the second she’s alone.
“Okay, when does the real celebration start?” My best friend Paul steps outside and shuts the door. “And what time will the strippers arrive?”
“This is it, Paul.”
“You better be shitting me.” He crosses his arms. “You finally become a billionaire and you’re marking the moment with a stale ass champagne toast and old people?”
“I also have this Cuban cigar.” I puff an “O” toward him. “It’s pretty damn good.”
“You’ve really changed over the past year, man…” He shakes his head. “If this is the type of guy you’re trying to be, don’t bother showing up to my promotional party next month.”
“That hedge fund is finally making you a manager?”
“Hell no.” He hands me a business card. “I started my own business.”
Mr. Pauly “Big D” Pullman
A Man Who Can Please You In & Out of the Bedroom
No Limitations on Reservations
No ‘Office Guest’ Fees
(But I’m Still on that App if you want me)
“So, you’re a gigolo?”
“No, I'm a man who provides exceptional physical services for his clients.”
“That’s literally the definition of a gigolo.”
“Don’t be so close-minded.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m earning my own money and living the life of my dreams while helping the women who desperately need me.”
“How does your wife feel about this?”
“She filed for divorce six weeks ago.”
“She doesn’t seem like the type who would mind a random side hustle. It’s not sexual, right?”
“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands in a slight surrender. “I may have kissed a few clients’ pussies here or there, but the money benefitted us both. I even bought her a damn Range Rover, so I don't see why she was so mad.”
“I’m sorry I asked.”
“Don’t be. Now that you’ve brought it up, I actually need a business favor from you.”
“I’ll pass.”
“You owe me, Dominic.” He steps closer. “I’ve killed countless media stories about Amy’s crazy ass for you this year, and you know those thirsty reporters are just going to keep knocking.”
“Fine,” I say. “How much do you need?”
“I don’t want your money.” He shakes he head. “I need you to set up a quick profile on The Office Guest and agree to take on a job for me.”
“The Office what?”
“I’ll explain it later,” he says. “I got greedy and overbooked myself for the holidays, and I can’t afford to be a no-show with the insane rates these women are paying.”
I puff another “O” toward him.
“Both of the ‘dates’ are extended engagements during the same week, but one is here in Park City, and the other one is somewhere in Colorado. I figure you’re the only person who can get to the latter on short notice.”
“Why the hell would you book something like this in another state?”
“Because I didn’t know where it was at first.” He sighs. “I just saw the rate of pay and accepted it. I’d already agreed to all the details when it finally clicked, you know?”
“No,” I say. “What’s the other date option?”
“It’s a simple ‘meet the family’ thing, but first you need to show up at seven o’clock and say, “I know you’re my stepbrother, but I’m still in love with you, Rita” in the middle of some live TV broadcast so she can break up with her on and off again boyfriend.”
“I’ll take the other one.”
“I thought so.”
TWELVE
DENVER, COLORADO
GEORGIA
The baggage claim area at Denver International is standing-room only. I’m standing near the escalator with a sign that reads, “Office Guest Pickup Username: GRB,” and silently rehearsing my list of lies.
My short red V-cut dress and matching stilettos aren’t the slightest bit comfortable, and I regret not wearing jeans and a simple T-shirt.
As a new horde of passengers comes down the steps, my phone buzzes with a familiar 800 number.
“Hello, may I speak to Miss Georgia Grey?” a woman asks.
“Yes this is she.”
“Miss Grey, I’m calling from The Office Guest,” she says. “I have some updates regarding your reservation.”
“Has his flight been delayed?”
“Not exactly…”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing to worry about, Miss.”
I wait for her to elaborate, to say something—anything, but I only hear other people chatting in her background.
“Um, hello?” I say. “Are you still there?”
“Oh, yeah sorry! Um…Who am I talking to right now?”
YOU called me! “You’re speaking to Georgia Grey…”