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“I’ll take the counter,” I announced, pulling myself to my feet.
Might as well.
Chapter Two
Jasmine
Pausing outside the door to the club, I tugged on the hem of my dress. When I’d made the plan earlier that evening, I thought it would actually be fun to dress up for a change and come out for the evening, but now I just felt ridiculous.
And as difficult as it had been to be here during the day without Henry, when the club was being used just as a party venue, standing outside the entrance without Henry by my side was unbearable, and I was pushing back tears with every deep breath I took. Henry would’ve loved the dress, even as awkward as I felt in it. He’d have been proud to have me by his side, and his pride would have erased my insecurities, which were currently running rampant.
This thing, a black sparkly scrap of fabric I'd borrowed from my friend Chrissy, clung to every curve and barely covered my ass. I might have been able to pull it off back in college, but that had been a long time ago. I was a mom now, for God's sake, and I had the body to prove it. The little fupa flap of skin above my cesarean scar, the stretch marks on my lower belly, the flabby bits on my upper arms. I tried to take good care of myself, and I wasn't in bad shape exactly, but having one kid changed your body forever, and I had three. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. What was I even doing here?
But deep down, I knew the answer to that question. I needed what Nyla had found with Bas. Not romantically, of course—I wasn’t ready for that—but the accountability and companionship. I needed someone to care about me, to take care of me, and to teach me how to take care of myself before I collapsed from taking care of everyone around me while barely keeping my head above the grief-riddled waters. No, I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and I certainly didn't have time to kiss a bunch of frogs hoping to find another prince. Henry had been the one for me, and since he was dead, so was my love life. I’d made peace with it.
Dating these days was too scary, and in my case utterly pointless. This—the Penthouse and Club Rent-A-Daddy—was scarier in some ways, but at least it was a safer bet, a surer thing. I knew the owners of the club, had gone to college with them a lifetime ago, and trusted that they would be vetting the potential Daddies, and knew that their so-far-stellar reputation hinged on it. There was a security in place that I wouldn't find on a dating app.
With one more deep breath and a mental pep talk, I tugged on my dress once more and pulled the door open, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dark lighting in the club.
Thank god for long weekends and school vacations. The club was empty, as I'd known it would be. I'd come on a Thursday night right after opening to ensure that fact. There was a dark shadow of a figure behind the bar—a well-dressed man wearing all black. That was all I could tell at first, but as I got closer and my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, my stomach flipped over and I almost bolted. The well-dressed and well-built man working the door was none other than the one I’d been hoping to avoid: Augustus Weston Bainbridge the Third. The same man I’d recently sworn off of, the same man who’d been my husband’s friend in life, then slept with his wife the second he was dead and I was drunk. And the truth was, my history with Bain went back much further than a few years—further than my history with Henry.
In college we’d had several classes together, and unlike now, our backgrounds hadn’t been that different. While I’d grown up in upper-crust suburbia with parents who were well-off, but not rich, Bain had been your typical yuppie preppy rich boy, skating through college with daddy's money, picking up a degree at his parent’s alma mater. He was the kind of guy you wanted to hate on sight and principal, but then you got to know him, and you couldn’t. That was what had happened to me. In our junior year English I'd been paired with him on a project. I hadn't been surprised to learn that he skated by without a lot of effort and expected things to be handed to him just because of who he was, but I was pleasantly surprised to learn he was a lot smarter and nicer than I'd assumed. And of course, that just made him hotter. When the project ended with us both getting an A from a professor with a rep for grading harshly, we’d gone out to celebrate. One thing had led to another, and we’d ended up in bed together. It had been just one time, a mistake we wouldn’t repeat for another ten years. But the fact that it had happened twice made him someone I wanted to avoid at all costs.
That was exactly why I’d been hoping for: an unknown bartender, or even Lennon or Archer to greet me, but of course it had to be Bain. I’d tried not to look at him when we had our encounter a few weeks prior, but now I couldn’t help myself. He looked exactly as he had in college, except his preppy khakis and designer polos had been replaced with a tight-fitting, custom-made suit and a Rolex watch. There were a few extra crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his face had filled out, making his dimples less pronounced. He definitely gave high Daddy vibes and looked like one of the heroes on the romance book covers I’d recently started to read when I needed a little self-love inspiration.
His back was turned when I finally reached the bar. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I cleared my throat and waited.
He promptly spun on his heel to face me and walked the few feet to my side of the bar. A smile played on his lips as he looked me up and down. It made me feel even more self-conscious than I already was, and I almost bolted.
"Yes? Can I help you, Jasmine?" he finally asked.
The suggestive way he said my name sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine, and once again, I almost bolted. I knew that I couldn’t, though. I needed to do this for my kids, for myself, and for Henry, because he would want more for me than what I’d become in the wake of losing him. Clearing my throat, I licked my lips and took a step forward. "I'm…I'm here to fill out an application. I'm interested in your Rent-a-Daddy program."
Bain
Jasmine Keene wanted a Daddy. That was the only thought running through my head as I turned on my heel and made a mad dash to the owner’s lounge, where Bas, Nyla, Archer, and Lennon were still congregating, and poked my head in the door.
"Hey guys…we’ve got a new client inquiring about Rent-A-Daddy services."
"So?" Archer spoke up first. "Give her the forms and conduct the interview. You know what to do."
I clenched my fists at my sides. My heart was racing, and I was torn between wanting to jump at the chance to daddy Jasmine Keene for once and for all, and wanting to run screaming in the other direction. "I gave her the forms."
"Okay, then what's with the announcement?" Lennon asked.
"Because… It's Jasmine."
They all turned to stare at me, their jaws dropping open as they processed this new tidbit of information.
Nyla was the first to recover. "Jasmine… Jasmine Keene? My Jasmine?"
"That's the one." We'd all gone to college with Jasmine, and most of us knew her and her deceased husband Henry from their occasional club visit, but Nyla was the closest with her. They'd recently reconnected when Nyla had moved back to town in the middle of a messy divorce.
"Dude… does she…." Lennon trailed off. "Like, I know she came to the club with us a few times back in the day, but I don't really remember her ever playing. Is she even kinky?”
He directed his question at Nyla, who shook her head and threw up her shoulders in a wide shrug.
I, of course, knew the answer, or I thought I did. What went on privately between the couple I had no idea, but I’d been mentoring her husband Henry when he’d died. However, if nobody remembered that, I wasn’t going to clue them in, just like I wouldn’t remind them that Jasmine and I had a one-night stand during our junior year of college. I didn’t want anyone getting any ideas, though, so I kept my mouth shut and let Nyla take the question.
