The Doctor's Fake Nanny(34)

Cassidy had no idea where her stories came from. They just popped out of  her head and flowed onto the pages of her notebook. That she couldn't  explain them rationally was exactly why she kept them secret for the  time being. They just were there, and she wrote them all down. She used  the people she met as story prompts. Look how a tall, tousled-haired,  fair-skinned man morphed into an Alabama teenager from home in the blink  of an eye. Mostly she was reality-based, and the stories just couldn't  be explained.

Suddenly the extra long day, the missed bus, and her late return caught  up with her. She was tired. She closed the notebook, turned out the  light, snuggled under the bed covers, and closed her eyes.

Then, bang! Her eyes were open, just like all the other nights lately.  Thoughts of the escort service flooded in and made her feel horrible. If  mom and dad knew about her second job it would break their hearts.  Their beloved daughter working for an escort service. There was no gray  area in their minds; it was prostitution and it was dirty. Cassidy would  do anything to get out of there, but she hadn't found another job that  paid as well. She really didn't have many skills for the corporate  world. She was a decent writer, yes, but didn't have a degree nor did  she have any of her work published.

At the escort service she primarily manned the phone, talking to the men  who were shopping for a makeshift companion. Was Emma's hair naturally  blonde? Was that a real picture of Cindy? Were Kate's boobs as big as  they looked in her photo?

She also did a small degree of data entry and filing. Everything was  electronic these days, so it wasn't very hard. It was just that,  somehow, working there implied that she condoned women selling their  bodies which she definitely didn‘t. She tried to imagine having sex with  a total stranger, especially one that wasn't physically appealing, and  she couldn't. She needed the chemistry.

With two jobs, she really didn't have time to pound the pavement looking  for another line of work, nor did she have the time to actively pursue  dating. Cassidy felt good that she could send a small but steady stream  of money home, but knew her parents would probably refuse the help if  they knew where she worked. It wasn't as if she were one of the girls,  it was just the fact that she worked there that would upset them. She  never, ever wanted them to be ashamed of her.

She was beating herself up again, as usual. Tomorrow, after working at  Ron's, vowed to spend at least thirty minutes looking for someplace else  that was hiring. A bit of time every day was better than nothing, after  all. She was sick of feeling guilty, and knew it was time for a change.  With that resolution made, she finally drifted off to sleep.

***

"Mornin‘, Cassidy," Ron greeted as she entered the door the following morning.

He always arrived earlier than his employees at the coffee shop. He'd  jokingly said that it was to keep the staff on their feet. He was the  proud owner of this small yet successful business and ran a tight ship.

"Thanks for taking the slack yesterday. The rain usually drives them in. What time did you close shop?" Ron asked.

"Around 8:30," Cassidy replied.

"Quite late, don't you think?" Ron questioned in puzzlement.

"Would have been earlier but some guy came in and begged me for a cup  just as I was cleaning up. Then we got to talking and I missed my damn  bus," Cassidy explained.

"You should really be careful who you let in at night. Some of these  vagrants can be quite violent," Ron warned with one raised eyebrow.

Cassidy knew Ron's concern was for all of their safety. He was okay  about giving vagrants a warm cup every now and then, but the recent  muggings, no pun intended, had made him understandably nervous.

"He wasn't a vagrant. His name was Tristan …  but I don't remember if he  mentioned his last name. He said he was a photographer and he showed me  some of his pictures. They were really beautiful," Cassidy explained  lengthily.

She remembered something and dug into her pocket.

"He left this for a tip, and I thought I'd put it in the tip box to share with the other employees."

Ron glanced at the bill in her hand and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"He left a $500.00 tip? Who did you have here last night? The king of England?"

"That's what I thought myself," Cassidy laughed. "I wanted to return it  to him, but he was gone by the time I went outside. If not for this,"  she said, holding up the money, "I'd think he was just a figment of my  imagination."                       
       
           



       

"Tell me everything …  don't spare on the details," Ron urged, his curiosity fully roused.

She happily obliged, and when she finished Ron flashed her a strange look.

"You must have made quite an impression on him," he teased.

Cassidy shook her head, not wanting to be drawn further into it. She was  embarrassed to admit she'd hardly slept a wink last night. She'd never  been that way before. The image of those grey-green eyes, the chiseled  face, and the way he moved haunted her.

She was certain Tristan didn't mention his last name, but she didn't  want Ron to think that it was anything but a casual incident. Men never  impacted her the way he did. Not even with Ray, her high school  sweetheart who qualified as a jock back at Central High.

"I'm sure he was just being overly generous. Maybe he's not really a  photographer. Maybe he's a drug dealer or something," Cassidy said  dismissively.

Ron's attention was caught by a florist truck that slowed down and parked by the sidewalk fronting the shop.

Cassidy scurried off to the back in search of her ubiquitous green  apron. She tied it around her waist just over her boot-cut tan pants and  black shirt.

"Cassidy!" Ron hollered from out front.

She was hoping to get a bite to eat. Ron normally handled the early  birds before the morning rush hour. She usually didn't let a man affect  her so much that she didn't eat, yet she'd skipped breakfast at home  after her restless night.

"Coming!" she called back as she made a dash to the counter.

Her boss was by the door, signing a delivery form before handing it back  to the guy holding a huge basket of mixed long-stemmed, white, pink,  and red roses.

"These are for you," he said, with a sly smile on his face.

"What? There must be a mistake. Who would be sending me flowers?"  Cassidy asked, eyeing the bunch doubtfully. They looked very expensive.

"Read the card, silly, and we'll know who they're from."

With trembling fingers, Cassidy pulled the card out from the small white  envelope that had her name scrawled on it. She had a feeling she  already knew who they were from.

In the card she read,

Late night coffee + your company = a perfect way to end the day.

There was no signature, but Cassidy didn't need to be a detective to know who they were from: Tristan.

She looked up to see Ron watching her intently.

"He sent me flowers." Her face suffused with heat.

"Uh-huh …  and left you a $500.00 tip. Sounds like someone is a tad smitten with you, Cassidy."

Cassidy wanted to protest. Guys like Tristan typically didn't enter her world.

"I'll go put these in a vase. They'd look nice here by the counter," Cassidy offered shyly.

"Oh no you don't!" Ron insisted with the wave of his hand. "You're  bringing them home with you tonight. And that tip? It's yours. You were  here alone last night. You deserve it."

"Thanks," Cassidy mumbled, unsure of exactly how she felt.

Incredulous …  apprehensive …  expectant …  ecstatic …

Perhaps more than anything, she was feeling unwilling to succumb to an  overwhelming optimism that there was something more. She was reluctant  to put herself in a situation where she would just end up disappointed  if she never saw him again.

Still, as the hours passed, she couldn't help the slight fluttering of  her heart each time the bell chimed announcing the arrival of another  customer. She hated herself for feeling disappointed, a lump forming in  her stomach every time it wasn't him.

She was tempted to extend her hours until closing time. Maybe he would  come again at the same time he'd wandered in the previous night.  However, she didn't want to appear too keen. Besides, her fellow workers  had already been ribbing her about the mysterious admirer.

Clutching the basket of flowers, she felt silly as she said her goodbyes to them only to be followed by playful catcalls.

"When we gonna meet this guy, Cass?"

"Do you have a date? Are you meeting him tonight?"

"If he has a twin brother, toss him my way!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah … " Cassidy remarked with a chuckle as she headed for the door.

"God, I hope he doesn't come in after I'm gone," she mused as she slowly exited the café.

Cassidy remembered where she had to be tomorrow and the thought almost  gave her a panic attack. It also broke her from her giddy cloud and sent  her hurdling back to Earth. She had to fight the urge to run back to  the café and wait …  just in case her mystery man showed up again tonight.