Fauxmance

  Julian motioned me forward. “Come along. We met while I was holidaying in Fiji last year. The woman is a delight.”

  * * *

  By the time the night was through, Julian had introduced me to so many celebrities my head was fit to burst. I was on a buzz as we climbed into a cab to head home. I’d be high off the adrenaline of that party for months. And the fact that they all believed Elodie was a real person? So exhilarating.

  It was a victimless crime. Well, except for Suze. I was still trying to figure out what to do about her. Maybe it would be best if Elodie just ghosted her, but the idea of letting her go hurt. I’d come to like Suze a lot.

  When we arrived at my house, I turned to Julian. “Do you want to come in for a little while?”

  His smile was teasing. “I never sleep over on the first date.”

  I swiped him on the shoulder. “Not what I meant! I just…I still feel too excited to sleep. Tonight’s been amazing.”

  His expression was tender. “It was certainly a lot of fun painting the town red together.”

  I opened the door to the cab. “So…”

  Julian pulled out some money to pay the driver. “Fine, I’ll come in for a little while, but I’m warning you, if you get handsy I’m gone.”

  The cab driver chuckled quietly in the front. I rolled my eyes. “Trust me, your virginal body is safe with me.”

  We stepped out of the cab and Julian gave a loud hoot. “This body hasn’t been virginal since the Monica Lewinsky scandal.”

  I slotted my key in the door, chuckling. I wasn’t tipsy since I’d only had two drinks. I’d been too busy taking it all in. The party. The people. The thrill of pretending.

  Rainbow and Skittles chirped in their cage when I came in. “Hello, my babies!” I greeted jovially, high on life. Julian walked into the kitchen behind me as I opened their cage. Skittles flew out and perched on a wood beam close to the ceiling, while Rainbow came to sit on my shoulder, fascinated by my wig.

  “Vocal little things, aren’t they,” Julian commented as he took a seat by the table.

  “Yep. This house wouldn’t be a home without them.”

  “How long have you had them?”

  “Almost six years. I got them soon after I moved to London. But lovebirds can live for up to fifteen years, so they’ll be around for another few years yet.”

  “Will you be sad when they die?”

  “Of course! It’s like losing any pet. They’re my best friends.”

  Julian’s expression softened, and I realised how sad that sounded. My closest friends in the entire world were my pet birds. I grimaced.

  “It’s not as pathetic as it sounds, I promise.”

  “I don’t think it sounds pathetic at all. Look at this beautiful house and those wonderful birds. You’ve got it made.”

  “Yes, well, I could stand to try for a little more human interaction.”

  “You’re already doing it. Tonight, you were charming celebrities like you’d been doing it your whole life.”

  I held up a finger. “Correction. Elodie charmed them. Ellen would’ve hidden under a table and waited for it all to be over.”

  “You do realise that you are Elodie. She’s right there inside of you. You just need to dress up in order to let her free.”

  I petted Rainbow’s head and placed him back in the cage before he decided to poop on my wig. It was often a hazard of letting your pet birds sit on your shoulder.

  “Yes, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be like her while I’m…me. This is going to sound confusing, but when I’m Elodie, I’m more myself than when I’m actually being myself.”

  Julian was quiet a moment, thinking. I pulled two bottles of water out of the fridge and handed him one. He took it and silently unscrewed the cap. “What if you try a slow progression? You could keep being Elodie until one day you feel comfortable not to wear high heels. Then, maybe a couple of weeks later you’ll wear jeans instead of a dress, and so on.”

  I exhaled. “You’re making it sound simpler than it is. This is a psychological block. It’s not so easily overcome.”

  “Well then, you just keep going out as Elodie and see where it leads. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I could suffer the ultimate mortification of being found out. Oh, wait, that’s already happened,” I deadpanned.

  Julian smiled. “Exactly. And did the world come to an end? No, it didn’t. If pretending to be Elodie makes you happy, then you keep on pretending. Lots of people have alter egos, just look at drag queens. You’re no different.”

  I pointed my water bottle at him. “It’s funny you should say that. Elodie actually began when I won a makeover at a drag show I went to with Bernice and Felicity.”

  Julian slammed his hand down on the table. “Shut up! I love that. So, you got made over and just decided to keep doing it?”

  I nodded as I swallowed a gulp of water. “I met Suze that same night. I think I was just so excited that someone like her wanted to be my friend that I kept up the ruse. Now I’m in too deep.”

  “Not necessarily. You can always come clean when you feel ready. I’m sure Suze will understand. Besides, you’re more comfortable to be yourself as Elodie, so Suze still knows you, Ellen. She just knows you with more makeup and different hair.”

  I worried my lip. “Yes, but…I’ve lied to her about so many things. All the stories I’ve told her about my adventurous love life, they’re all fake.”

  His expression sobered. “If Suze isn’t willing to forgive you for lying, then there isn’t much you can do about it. You made a mistake, but you’ll move on from it.”

  My chest deflated at the idea of losing Suze. “I guess you’re right.”

  Julian levelled me with a sincere look. “My philosophy in life is to do what makes you happy. So long as you’re not hurting anyone else, there’s no reason to feel shame.”

  “More people should have that philosophy.”

  “That’s what I say but who listens to me?”

  “I do.”

  A flash of affection. “Well, you’re special.”

  Something in his tone made my heart beat faster. I drank more water then finally asked a question that had been nagging at me. “Julian, what do you do for a living?”

  His face clouded. “Why do you ask?”

  “Tonight, when I was dancing with Warren, he said you two were in the same business. I realised I still haven’t asked what you do.”

  Julian stared at the table, then his magnetic eyes flicked up. “Do you promise my answer won’t change our friendship?”

  “Of course it won’t.”

  He still seemed unsure. Nonetheless, he held my gaze as he answered. “I’m a male escort.”

  Chapter Nine

  Ellen

  “I’m a male escort.”

  I blinked at him, not sure if I heard correctly. He’s a…a male escort? At the back of my mind, I’d worried he might be a drug dealer or some sort of criminal. There was just something a little bit sinister about Warren Gold. He was too glossy, too polished, like he was trying to hide something. When he told me he and Julian did the same thing, it set off warning bells, but prostitution didn’t even enter my mind.

  Perhaps I was jumping the gun. Being a male escort didn’t necessarily mean he was being paid for sex. He would’ve said he was a gigolo if that were the case, and okay, yes, that was wishful thinking because ‘escort’ was merely a fancy term for a gigolo but…

  “You’re freaking out,” Julian said.

  “No, I’m just…a little shocked.”

  “Shock is expected. It’s not a commonplace profession. At least, I doubt you’ve met someone such as myself before.”

  “I haven’t. It’s a lot to take in.”

  “Have I scared you off?”

  I shook my head. “Of course not. It’d be rich of me to judge you for what you do when you haven’t judged me.”

  His tone was teasing. “I may have judged you,
just a little.”

  I gave a quiet laugh. “Well, I still refuse to judge you back. Your job is something I know nothing about, so how can I make assumptions?”

  “Do you have questions?”

  “Yes, but you don’t have to—”

  “Nonsense. Ask me whatever you like. I’m impervious to offence.” He paused then added, “Mostly.”

  I screwed the cap back onto my almost empty water bottle. This conversation had given me a case of perennial thirst. “Well, in that case, what’s the difference between a male escort and a…a—”

  “A prostitute?”

  I cleared my throat, cheeks heating. “Yes.”

  “There isn’t necessarily a difference, though what I provide is more a holistic experience than just offering sex. I entertain my clients, take them out and do the things that they want to do. I get to know them on a personal level. Sometimes that leads to sex, sometimes it doesn’t.”

  Huh. That all sounded very civilised, and he spoke about it so casually, like it was any normal job. I still wanted to know more though. When it came down to it, Julian had sex for money. I had a real-life male escort sitting at my kitchen table, ready to answer any questions I had for him. All of a sudden, I felt like my fictional character, Sasha, conducting an interview for journalistic research. It was like a scene right out of the first book in my series. Reality mirroring fiction.

  “And how do people hire you?” I went on.

  Julian smirked. “Are you interested?”

  “No,” I sputtered, then blushed. Even though I was still dressed as Elodie, I’d shaken off the act. Talking with Julian right now was too enthralling to pretend to be anyone other than Ellen. “I just mean, like, how does it all work? Do they find you online? Fill out a form? Or do you have an agency that manages everything for you?”

  “I don’t have an agency. I operate on word of mouth, friends passing recommendations on to friends and such. I vet all potential clients myself before agreeing to a date.”

  “You vet them? Like a detective?”

  His lips twitched. “Something like that. I have to ensure they are who they say they are, but also decide if we’re compatible. Some women are not emotionally stable enough to handle the experience of dating an escort.”

  “You mean, they might develop feelings?”

  “Or imagine that what we are doing is a real relationship. Don’t get me wrong, I feel something for every client I take on. We develop a connection, but it’s not the same as a real-life coupling. I look at myself as a stepping stone. I provide comfort and company until a client is ready to move on and find a real relationship. Sometimes a woman might be lacking in confidence, so I build her up. Other times she’s simply too busy and I am a convenient way to experience physical contact without a long-term commitment.”

  But what about you? I wondered. Did the sex affect him psychologically? I met his gaze. “So, you can separate your emotions from the actual sex act?”

  Julian shook his head. “That’s something I used to tell myself when I was younger. The truth is, I fall a little bit in love with every person I sleep with. Or at least, something akin to falling in love. I know that sounds very fanciful and romantic, but it’s a finite sort of love.”

  A finite love. But that sounded so depressing. Then again, maybe Julian didn’t feel sad because when one love ended, another began.

  “It’s an odd way to put it, I know, but it’s the only way I can think to describe what I share with the women who hire me. I enjoy guiding people, bringing them out of their shell or helping them discover new things about themselves. I also value making connections with people, understanding them. It’s a big source of fulfilment in my life.”

  Was that what he was doing with me? Well, perhaps not, since I didn’t get the sense he wanted to sleep with me. Even though he was one of the most beautiful men I’d ever met, this thing between us definitely felt platonic. I guess Julian didn’t need to pursue me sexually, since sex was so plentiful for him. Maybe a platonic friendship was something he needed.

  “You sound like some sort of hippy guru,” I teased.

  “Well, it took a long time for me to get here. My work wasn’t always so fulfilling. When I started out I was young and desperate, taking any job that would put food on the table. I didn’t have a choice and selling myself was a last resort. Now it’s morphed into a lifestyle I enjoy and love.”

  Thinking of a young Julian in that position, with no other choice but to sell his body, made me immeasurably sad. And like anybody would, I wondered if there was a little bit of bluster in his speech. I wondered if being an escort really made him as happy as he was trying to make out. But maybe that was just the cynic in me. Popular culture teaches us that anyone who resorts to prostitution does it because they’re at their lowest ebb. That nobody would choose such a life. But like many things, that could be wrong. Maybe Julian truly did find fulfilment in his work.

  “You don’t look convinced,” he said, like he’d read my mind.

  “It’s just a lot to get my head around.”

  “And…?”

  I took a deep breath. “And I like spending time with you. What you do for a living doesn’t change that. So, I’d like for us to continue being friends, if you do too, that is.”

  He reached across the table and took my hand. “Ellen, I would be absolutely honoured to continue my friendship with both you and Elodie, and for us to keep on tricking celebrities and socialites at fancy, upscale events.”

  I laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

  * * *

  Late on Sunday evening, there was a knock on my front door. I frowned and went to the window, wondering who it was. I didn’t normally have visitors at this hour, or any hour for that matter. When I spotted my brother, Cameron, standing on the doorstep, I grimaced and remembered I’d agreed to let him stay with me this week.

  Wonderful.

  Now I got to listen to his grumpy ranting about how awful London was every evening when he got home from work. I opened the door and plastered on a brittle smile.

  “Cameron, hi.”

  “What took you so long?” he complained as he stepped in by me. As usual, his gaze wandered to my wall mural and he shook his head, like a school teacher might shake their head at a fanciful child.

  “How was your train journey?” I asked quietly and followed him into the kitchen. He didn’t ask permission when he opened the fridge and pulled out a can of iced coffee.

  “Awful. I was sitting behind a family with three children under five. They didn’t stop yapping for the entire trip.”

  “Well, at least you’re here now.”

  “Did you buy a new mattress for your guest bedroom yet? The last time I visited I barely got a wink of sleep on that springy old thing.”

  “Yes, I got a new mattress,” I said, then murmured under my breath. “Wouldn’t want his majesty suffering any discomfort.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Anyway, I’m going to take a shower. I’m convinced one of those children on the train had a cold. I need to wash off the germs.”

  “Sure, go ahead,” I replied.

  As soon as he left the room, I turned to Rainbow and Skittles and rolled my eyes. They’d met Cameron before, so they knew the drill. My brother was only thirty-two, but he had the personality and tolerance of somebody much older. He was like a cranky old grandad in a young man’s body. He had a way of dragging down your mood. Perhaps that was why Nick was so happy and cheerful. He needed to counteract Cameron’s gloominess.

  I went about putting together a meal, since I knew he’d be hungry and would complain if there wasn’t anything to eat. He’d call my dad to gripe about what a terrible host I was.

  No wonder he was still single.

  Cameron wasn’t a bad looking guy. In fact, some might even consider him handsome, before he opened his mouth. Any girlfriends he’s had have eventually gotten tired of his ways and left him. You’d th
ink he’d take the hint and try to lighten up a little, but no, that never happened.

  As I put together a cheese and ham omelette, my mind wandered to Julian. His revelation last night still had me reeling. I felt this pang in my chest for him and I didn’t know why. I was glad he found fulfilment in what he did, but to me, there was just something terribly empty about having sex with woman after woman after woman.

  Of course, that was my own sheltered experience of life colouring my judgement. I’d only had sex with one person, and that barely even counted. I’d been eighteen and steaming drunk. I lost my virginity to John Simpson, one of Nick’s close friends, something he still didn’t know about to this day. It had been messy and fumbling and my memories of the night were vague. I drank an entire bottle of wine and came onto him during Nick’s twentieth birthday party at our house. I had a crush on him for years, but I was pretty sure John barely noticed me up until that night.

  So yeah, when it came to sex, I knew very little. All the love scenes in my books were ‘closed door’. People enjoyed the stories because they were fun and entertaining. Sasha lived a fast-paced life, had great banter and was always on the hunt for a new article. I could write scenes of flirting and sexual tension for days, but when it came to actual sex, I left that to the reader’s imagination. Mainly because my own imagination didn’t have any real-life experience to draw from.

  I was mostly okay with it. Sure, deep in my heart I yearned for a partner, someone to spend my life with. It had just always been so hard for me to put myself out there. When I considered going out and trying to meet people, it was like there was this invisible forcefield preventing me. One time, I’d decided to go for a drink at a pub down the road. For a full twenty minutes I stood outside, willing myself to open the door, sounds of chatter and joviality coming from within. When a man approached, about to go into the pub, and asked if I’d like to join him for a drink, I’d mumbled some incoherent excuse and ran home.

  Cameron walked into the kitchen, his hair damp and wearing a T-shirt and lounge pants.