The Truth of Yesterday (43 page)

     “I...we...I mean...we've only...I...” I stammered. I took a deep breath and managed to get a coherent answer out. “Yes!”

     Steve looked eminently relieved. “That's all I needed to know.” He pulled me into a sudden hug that caught me by surprise. “I'm sorry that was so...ghastly,” he said as he released me. “I've never had kids and I don't really know what I'm doing. It really shows at times like this.”

     “If you ask me, you've done a great job,” I said sincerely.

     “Liar,” he said with a grin. He ruffled my hair and gave me a gentle shove towards the stairs. “Now get on up to your man before he falls asleep without you.”

     “Not much chance of that,” I said with a wicked grin. “He's been promised something and he isn't likely to forget it.” With that bit of payback, I left a blushing Steve and took the stairs two at a time. Revenge is sweet.

* * *

     After all my assertions to the opposite, had
Amalie
decided to show up and do that Mexican Hat Dance in the middle of our bed like Micah had suggested, I think I just might have slept through it. I was so exhausted after I fulfilled my promise that I slept like a log, although I'm still stumped as to how a log sleeps exactly.

     It was a very nice feeling to wake up in Micah's arms and to feel his body pressed up close against mine. It was a feeling I thought I could get used to quickly. I just lay there for a while reveling in the unfamiliar comfort. When he started to nuzzle my neck, I realized he was awake as well. I rolled over to face him, tossing a leg casually across his body as I did.

     “Good morning, love,” he said with a warm smile.

     “A very good morning,” I agreed. “I wish I could wake up like this every morning.”

     Micah studied me for a minute, his eyes searching mine, before he broke into a wide smile. “If you think this is good, then you're just going to love what comes next,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. With that, he ducked under the sheet.

     By the time we showered, which took a lot longer than usual, and finally came downstairs, I was just about ready to go back to sleep. Steve was checking in the new couple, two women in their mid-forties, as we came down. He gave me a knowing smile before turning his attention back to his guests.

     “What was that about?” Micah asked me. As usual, his sharp reporter's instinct hadn't missed a thing.

     “Nothing,” I said as I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

     He accepted my evasion and moved on. “So, I'm going to go finish up this story and make sure my editor gets it. Do you want me to pick you up at the office or here?”

     “Call the office; you can just pick me up there if that's where I am. Otherwise, pick me up here.”

     “Ok. You're still not going to tell me this plan of yours?”

     “If it works, I'll tell you all about it. If not, you'll never know.”

     He laughed and gave me a quick kiss before heading out the door. I nabbed a leftover blueberry muffin and headed out the door to try out my plan. It wasn't anything elaborate. The only reason I was avoiding Micah's questions was because it was a little embarrassing to admit I even knew about these sources. I was planning on going into the
AOL
M4M chat rooms in the DC area and asking if anyone knew how to get in touch with the Top to Bottom Escort Agency. The rooms were nothing more than pick-up joints, a place for freelance escorts and dirty old men to try and pick up guys. I went to the rooms a few times when Asher and I were having problems, thinking I might be able to meet someone nice, but each time I'd just ended up leaving feeling slightly dirty.

     Once in the office, I logged onto my
AOL
account. I answered my email and then pulled up the list of available chat rooms. There weren't many people in the first one, and those that were there weren't interested in answering my questions. After being ignored for a few minutes, I moved on to the next one that looked promising. This one had more people and they were a little chattier. When I asked about the agency, however, all I got were a few lewd and suggestive comments along the lines of, “Why pay for it, sweetie, when I can give it to you for free?” I was about to give up when an IM window popped up on my screen.

     “Why are you looking for Top to Bottom?” someone with the screen name
DCEscortBoi
asked me.  

     I tried to decide how to play it. Should I pretend to be someone looking for an escort, which is what everyone in the chat room had assumed, or just be honest? It seemed that most escorts were a little wary so I decided I was in the market for an escort.

     “Someone recommended them to me,” I typed.

     “So you're looking for an escort?” they clarified.

     “Yes.”

     “I work for T2B,” they said. “My name is Brady.”

     “Hi Brady,” I typed. I wondered what the protocol for something like this was. Did you make small talk or get right to the details?

     “What's your name?” he asked after an awkward pause.

     “Travers,” I said, giving him my middle name. For some reason, I was hesitant to give my real name.

     “Have you ever been with an escort before?” he asked.

     “Yes,” I answered. It was a partial truth.

     “So you know the drill. What do you like?”

     
Uh oh.
I was getting in over my head.
“The usual.”
I tried to bluff my way out of it.

     “You'll have to be more specific than that. Do you like smooth or hairy?
Younger or older?
Top or bottom?
Do you like it rough? Are you into dungeons?”

     
Dungeons?
I shuddered at the thought. “I'm definitely not into dungeons,” I typed. “Just nice normal...” I couldn't bring myself to say it. “Just nice and normal,” I finished up.

     “Vanilla,” he said.

     That sounded safe so I agreed. You can't go wrong with vanilla, right?

     “Top or bottom?” he asked again.

     “It doesn't matter.” This was getting a little more involved than I had planned.

     
“Versatile, huh?
I think I'd be a good match for you.”

     “Great,” I said jumping at the chance to get out of the question and answer portion of our program. “How do I make an appointment?”

     “You have to make one with the person who does the schedule. His name is Neal. You can ask for me.”

     I was relieved that after all that I was at least going to get what I was after.

     “How do I get in touch with Neal?” I asked.

      “I can give you an email address or a phone number.”

     “Both?” I asked hopefully.

     “No problem.” He provided me with the information. I jotted both down in my trusty notepad, thanked Brady, and closed the IM window. I wrote Neal a quick email, telling him who I was and requesting an appointment to talk to him about Paul. I didn't have much confidence that I'd get an answer, but thought I'd try that first and hold the number to use as Plan B.

     Micah showed up at the office much earlier than I had expected.

     “I have a surprise for you before we head for DC,” he said with an anticipatory grin.

     “What?” I asked suspiciously.

     “I'm not telling you. Come on and you'll see.”

     “No, I want to know,” I insisted. I didn't really like surprises; I preferred to know what I was doing and what was expected of me. If I know there is a surprise, predictably, I obsess over it until I know what is going on. Blame it on my insatiable curiosity. That's why I'm an investigator.

     “If you just cooperate you'll find out a lot quicker,” he reasoned.

     “I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on,” I said obstinately.

     “Fine, we'll do it the hard way.” He was grinning as he said this so I knew he was enjoying every second of it. He walked calmly around my desk and before I knew what he was doing, he grabbed me around the waist and tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Have I mentioned lately that Micah is a lot stronger than he looks? I struggled, but it was cursory at best. He carried me through the door just as Novak was coming in.

     “I won't even ask,” he said as he squeezed by and went into the office without even looking back.

     “It's nice to know I can count on you if I'm ever in trouble,” I yelled after him, mustering as much dignity as one can muster while hanging over someone's shoulder with their rump in the air.

     “I didn't ask to be included in your sexual peccadilloes,” I heard him call back.

     “What?” I gasped. “What did he say?”

     Micah just laughed and carried me outside.

     “Now,” he said, setting me down in the parking lot next to his car, “We can either do this the easy way, namely you get in the car and quit being a pain, or I stuff you in the trunk.”

     I had a feeling he would do it too. I made a show of smoothing my clothes, then turned coolly towards the car and climbed in. I was buckling my seatbelt as Micah slid into the driver's seat.

     “There now, that wasn't so bad was it?” he asked.

     “Just drive,” I said. He chuckled and started the car.

     He drove a short distance to one of those small strip malls that are scattered prevalently around any good-sized community. The one boasted a Chinese restaurant, a sporting goods store, a
Kenpo
studio, a framing gallery, and a bridal wear shop.
An eclectic assortment and one that told me nothing about why we were here.

     “So, are we here to take self-defense classes or have some moo
goo
gai
pan?” I asked.

     “Neither,” he answered. “Follow me.” He got out of the car and strode purposefully to the bridal shop. I had to give him this; he had succeeded in surprising me. I clambered after him wondering the whole time what the heck was going on.

     He held the door open for me and ushered me inside with the grave dignity of an English butler, following close behind. The clerk inside, a small, rather effeminate looking man with a receding hairline and twinkling blue eyes, seemed to be in on what ever Micah had up his sleeves. He was positively beaming at us, which only served to increase my unease.

     “Ok, I'm here. Now what's going on?” I demanded. Then a terrifying thought occurred to me. “This better not be another surprise wedding,” I yelped. The bewildered expression on both their faces was almost enough to make me laugh.
Almost.

     “Surprise wedding?” Micah asked in confusion.

     “Whoever heard of such a thing?” the clerk asked with a dismissive wave of his limp wrist.

     “Will someone please just tell me what the hell is going on?” I interrupted, a little louder than I had intended.

     “The ball,” Micah said quickly, apparently deciding he had pushed his little game far enough.

     “Huh?” I responded cleverly.

     “I told you I would take care of the tuxedos for the ball,” Micah explained. “We're here to get fitted.”

     I looked at him blankly. “You mean to tell me all of that was just to get fitted for a tux?”

     “Yes.”