For One Night

This was easily one of the nicest hotels she’d ever been in, she thought to herself, adjusting her bra. Her dress was a size too small, but she felt good in it anyway. She stopped at a mirror and leaned forward to check her lipstick. She stood back up, smoothed out her mid-thigh cocktail dress, and flipped her hair once. This wasn’t her first client, but it certainly was her first time in a place where she couldn’t even afford an hourly rate.

“Room 1823…Room 1825…” She looked at the small piece of paper molded to her palm. “1827.”

She knocked gently three times. She did a quick wiggle to reposition her dress and tried to stand as seductively as she could. After a few seconds of hearing nothing from the other side of the door, she knocked again.

“Looking for someone?” a voice asked from down the hall. A tall, sharply dressed man walked towards her. He was older than her for sure but handsome with striking green eyes and dark brown hair slightly grayed at his temples. He was clean-shaven and smelled like cedarwood and bergamot.

“Um, yes?” she said, not interested in drawing too much attention. “I was supposed to meet someone here.” She pointed to the door.

“And you were right,” the man said with a smirk, reaching for her arm and tucking it under his. He started down the hallway.

“Wait, you?” She stopped, getting flustered. “Are you not staying here?”

“In this room? No. In this hotel? Yes. I’m one floor up.”

She hesitantly started walking with him to the stairwell a couple of doors down at the end of the hall. She took a deep breath.

“You can walk behind me if that would make you more comfortable,” he said, reading her expression.

“I just…I feel like I’m getting put on, you know? Like a joke. That or you’re going to kill me,” she said, more honestly than she anticipated. The man smirked again and gently kissed the back of her hand.

“My name is Julian Ruchard. I was the one who called and hired you. I often give a false room number because I like to keep a level of anonymity when booking my company.”

She nodded, still slightly unsure of the man but feeling comfortable enough to take a chance. After all, he was awfully charming. Then again, she thought, so was Bundy.

She dismissed her mind and started up the stairs, eventually following Julian to the most extravagant suite she had ever seen in her life. Her audible gasp when he opened the door made him laugh.

“Quite homey, isn’t it?” he joked.

“Yeah, but whose home?” she asked, looking around in awe.

She studied the intricate features of the ceiling before looking back down at her companion, who had sat down on the black tufted sofa beyond the foyer. He was writing in a small black notebook.

“Making notes for the evening?” she asked, leaning against the wall.

“Just figuring out how to frame someone for murder,” he said, winking at her.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. He definitely has the eccentric part down, she thought. Her focus caught the black and white print of an orchid framed on the wall next to her. Her fingers traced the outline of the flower.

“So,” she said, turning back to Julian, who had finished writing. “Where is it that I’ll be accompanying you this evening, Mr. Ruchard?”

Julian wrinkled his nose at the formality of her address.

“Please, call me Julian,” he said, gesturing for her to join him. “And we’re actually not going anywhere tonight.”

She felt her chest tighten and quickly glanced at the front door.

“My goodness, I bet that sounded quite ominous. I promise you. No harm.” He put his hands up in the air.

“I still don’t understand, Mr. Ru…Julian,” she said nervously. “I don’t…I mean, I’m not used to getting hired just for that.”

Julian smirked and nodded. “I can’t say I’m surprised by that.” She was beautiful, no question, but her anxious naiveté gave her away. “It’s fairly clear that you haven’t been in the escort business long, but I would have to imagine that a few of your nights have ended…that way,” he said, kindly teasing her turn of phrase.

“Some, but it’s just the side piece of it,” she said in a small voice. She felt less confident and less sexy with every passing minute. She shifted side to side as the top of her heels dug deeper into her foot.

“Please sit down,” Julian said, standing and stepping away from his seat. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She slowly made her way to the sofa and slipped her shoes off. That feeling alone was a relief. Julian came back around with two glasses of water. She realized how thirsty she was and took a big gulp immediately.

“I’d like to offer you $20,000 to stay with me until sunrise.”

She almost choked on her water.

“$20,000?” she asked, staring at him in disbelief. “What would I have to do?”

“Nothing,” he said coolly. “Talk to me until daybreak. Then the money is yours.” He pointed to a small duffel bag sitting on the coffee table across from them. “You can count it if you’d like.”

She had no idea how to react. She looked at the bag and then back to him.

“If you just want to talk,” she said after a beat, “I’m sure you can find better quality company for a much lower price.”

Julian set his glass down and leaned back on the sofa, his hand resting just under his chin.

“My wife was an escort,” Julian finally said. “That’s how we met.”

“Were you equally as cryptic with her?” she asked, still shocked, her body pressed against the back cushion with her now half-empty glass resting on her leg.

“Oh, no,” he laughed. “I was a waiter for an event she was at with a client. She was easily the most stunning woman I had ever seen, and she must have been taken with me as well because we spent the whole night flirting and talking. I remember she had to calm the jealousy of her date when he caught on. He was harmless, though. The stories she would tell me of bad johns would make my stomach turn.”

Julian drifted off and looked out the window into the darkness of the evening.

“We were inseparable after that night,” he continued, still gazing. “I had nothing to offer her, and yet she loved me anyway. For our wedding, I gave her a sterling songbird pendant with a blue glass eye. She wore it every day, no matter what other jewelry I bought her. When I made my first million, I replaced the eye with a large sapphire. And you know what she said. ‘Thank you, but I liked the glass better.’”

Julian smirked again, only this time it was sadder. She took a sip from her water glass and smiled back at him.

“And she’s ok with the fact that you still hire escorts to talk for $20,000?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“She died,” Julian said, clearing his throat. “About six months ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking into her glass as the ice cubes clinked together softly.

“When I’m lonely or when I miss her the most, I hire a young lady like yourself to occupy my time. I like to think that I’m saving you from at least one potential night of absolute shit,” he said.

She looked up at him, and his eyes were locked on her. She smiled.

“But why the money, Julian? Had you said all that from the start, I wouldn’t have even batted an eye saying yes.”

“I have no children, no extended family left. With my wife gone, who else is it going to?” he said, shrugging.

She looked back at the bag on the table.

“I have to admit it will take me a long way from needing to work this job as much,” she said.

“Hopefully, it will help not have to work this job at all,” Julian said.

The moment hung in the air, her mind racing.

“I hope you take this in the sincere and heartfelt way that I mean it, but you are probably the most unusual yet interesting man I’ve ever met.”

“I take that as a very high compliment, regardless,” he said, smiling.

For the next several hours, the two talked about everything from her childhood in Minnesota to what eventually brought her to the city. They talked favorite foods, sports, books, and movies where the dog doesn’t die. She had never felt so comfortable talking to another person before, even considering how the night started. She didn’t even notice when the sun began peeking over the horizon.

“I feel like I’ve been filling out an extensive dating profile,” she said.

Julian smiled and stretched his arms up.

“And we’ve found out that you are much more interesting than I am,” he said, squinting as the morning light beamed into the room.

“You say that because we spent most of the night only talking about me,” she teased back.

“All the same, your obligation to me is up.” He reached forward to grab the duffel bag and placed it next to her. “All yours as promised, along with my gratitude for an enjoyable evening.”

She glanced at the stacks of $20 bills assorted in the bag. “I could stay longer if you wanted,” she said, pushing the bag aside.

Julian smiled and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “A very sweet and tempting offer, but I, unfortunately, have a flight that I absolutely cannot miss.” He cupped one of her hands between his. “Otherwise, I’d have you stay all day.”

Julian walked her to the elevator and placed the duffel on her shoulder as they reached the doors.

“You know,” she said, turning towards him. “I think I could easily fall in love with a man like you.”

“It’s easy to fall in love when someone’s time is for sale,” Julian said, kissing her cheek again. “But thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed him passionately as the doors opened behind her.

“Call me if you want to talk again. No charge,” she whispered in his ear. As she stepped onto the elevator, Julian caught her hand.

He smiled as he slipped something into her palm. The doors closed as she turned over the most exquisite songbird pendant. She slipped the necklace on, making her way out of the hotel in last night’s dress. She ran a finger across the bird’s eye and felt good about the day ahead of her.

She stopped a few doors down at a small diner for a quick breakfast before heading home. She sat at the counter, laid her bag across her lap, and took a sip of the coffee she ordered. Besides the waitress, she was the only one there, so the restaurant was quiet save the television situated above her.

“Human remains believed to be those of missing socialite Jennifer Ruchard were found late last night in a shallow embankment grave in the Elmhurst area,” the morning news anchor said.

She felt the color drain from her face as she looked slowly up at the television screen.

“Ruchard was last seen in December at a charity gala with estranged husband, Julian Ruchard, who remains the primary suspect in the case.”

She felt the tears sting the corners of her eyes as she stared at the photo of the smiling woman. Her gaze was fixated on the songbird pendant with the sapphire eye draped around the woman’s neck as she touched her own.

Her thoughts yelled at her, drowning out the rest of the broadcast. Eventually, she heard nothing but the growing sound of sirens as they roared down the city streets.