Excerpt from Anything But a Wasted Heart (book two)

MALIBU - PART ONE

January 4, 2013

Beemer wants to take me to Geoffrey’s in Malibu tomorrow. He’s requested I wear the dress we bought in Hawaii. He had a real bee in his bonnet about driving up the coast together. But I don’t want to drive all the way to Hermosa, together to Malibu, back to Hermosa, then all the way home afterwards. That’s a big ass triangle with me being at the furthest point. In addition to all that extra driving, I don’t want to sit in the car with him that long. Plus, I knew he’d try to get laid if I came to his house. Now that I’m on a salary (and just spent over four days with him), that’s a hell no. He could choose one or the other, not both.

I told him I had a photo shoot that day—which was true—and therefore, I’d meet him at the restaurant that evening. I added that I’d give him a hummer in his Beemer to sweeten the pain. The pain. Men are such sensitive saps. He liked the offer (duh) but made a point to pout about wanting to reciprocate. He even suggested we stay in a hotel overnight in Malibu. Not a fucking chance. I said he could “owe me”. To which, he said, “You’re missing the point.”

I wanted to scream, No, motherfucker, you are!

He was already bugging me with talk about how horny he’s been since being back on the “mainland” (shoot me), and what did I slip him because he gets a stiffy every time he thinks of me (shakes head). I know all these men are just dying to hear how horny they make me, or how turned on I get when I think about them, but I can’t muster the strength. I’m not getting paid enough, and I’m not paid for the in-between-visit fuckery. Like I’ve said, I’m either the worst Hooker on the planet or the biggest tease and therefore, best Hooker.

You’d think someone in the sex industry this long wouldn’t be bothered by hearing about their client’s dick. Or maybe that’s why I don’t want to hear that shit. I’m jaded, and I don’t care about your erections. Perhaps these older gents are just so psyched to catch wood they can’t wait to tell someone. Honestly, I’m amazed a client could read my manuscript and still say this type of stuff. A testament to my acting skills and the power of hopeful thinking. Aggravated by the whole thing, I suggested we skip Malibu, that I go to his place after my shoot. I don’t give a fuck about Geoffrey’s, and I’d rather get the sex credit so I don’t have to deal with him bitching down the line. He declined, he really wanted to go to Geoffrey’s with me.

“Sounds good,” I wrote back.

STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO!