Sugar & Salt by Pavarti K. Tyler Read Free Book Online Page B

perfectly.
    “Fine.” The man drops his hands to his sides, and bunches them into fists. “I had an
appointment
with that little whore Juliette last week. I was with her for less than an hour—barely even got to know the bitch—and now no one is returning my calls.”
    “I’m sure there’s a reason for this, sir. Perhaps there’s a note in your file. Why don’t you come in and sit by the fire, warm up, and dry off while I check.”
    “Are you trying to manage me? I’m sure you know perfectly well. Do you people even deliver what you promise, or do you just take money from the idiots you cock tease and then count on them never doing anything about it?” He steps around the desk, close enough to touch her if he decided to.
    Jackson tenses, ready to step out, but Portia’s eyes flick to his and she shakes her head. She’s got this.
That’s my girl.
    “Sir, I can assure you nothing like that is happening. If you’d like to sit down, I’ll look into it for you. Now, what’s your name?”
    “Mr. Teal.”
    “Thank you.”
    She reaches for his jacket, shakes off the rain and hangs it on the coat rack as if he were just another client, come to trade his hard-earned wealth for pleasure—any brand he requires. She passes him on the way to Miss Necia’s office.
    Jackson watches as the man sizes up Portia’s assets before wandering the room. One of the best parts about remaining hidden until absolutely needed is the ability to observe clients when they believe they are alone. People are never what they seem—the persona they present to the world rarely proving genuine when social constraints are removed. Even here, in a place where their business is to provide men and a few women with ways in which to fulfill their unfulfilled desires, social norms rule.
    Mr. Teal paces the room, checking over his shoulder to see if Portia’s still out of the room. He approaches her desk and tries a few drawers. All locked. He wiggles the mouse to bring the monitor to life. Password required. He paces from the desk, to the fireplace, to the heavily curtained window, to the back of the room where the door to the kitchen is hidden. He tries the handle. Locked.
    Jackson grins.
That’s right, clowndick. This place is locked down.
    He approaches the foyer and eyes the stairs, peering up to the balcony.
    Not a good idea, buddy.
    Before he reaches the bottom step, Portia re-enters the main room.
    She blanches for a moment upon seeing Mr. Teal in the foyer by the stairs, but smiles in Jackson’s direction. “Sir, if you could please come back into the sitting room?”
    Mr. Teal glances up the stairs again, sighs, and returns to Portia. He assumes an expectant posture, as if entirely certain of his vindication.
    “Mr. Whitmore.” She gestures to the couch for him to sit before settling into the high-backed chair across from him with grace and composure. “You’ll notice I am using your real name. The reason for this is you are no longer a client of The Sugar House.”
    “What? This is unacceptable.” He stands, face flushed.
    She simply stares at him until he sits back down.
    “I paid my money. You have no right. I paid and I want to see Juliette.”
    “Sir, when you came to us, you were told we would be conducting a thorough background check. At the time you paid, you were cleared as a client. However, you were also informed of our intention to periodically check on you. Any resulting information could give us cause to remove you from our client list at any moment and your money would be confiscated.”
    “Fucking ridiculous.” He leans back in his chair, his shoulders hunching over—an admission of defeat before Portia even explains the situation.
    “These accounts of you lurking around your daughter’s school during the day are disturbing. Even more disturbing is the fact you’ve been spoken to about this by the school administration, as well as the father of one of your daughter’s friends. Marcie, I