Oh bugger. It was him! It was Milo… or someone that looked the exact spitting image of him. Maybe it was a brother? A twin brother, maybe? He’d never mentioned having siblings when we’d first met, but why would he? After all, we’d only ever met each other once before this. Surely it couldn’t be Milo?
My mouth gaped open slightly as I stared back at his awestricken face. He gave me the impression that he recognised me but couldn’t quite place it. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. Why me? Why him!? I should have worn more makeup.
“Nice place,” I told him, turning away from him and eyeing his apartment. It was modern and well furnished, just like the club downstairs. It was him, I knew it was; he’d said he lived above the club. Oh my God, it was him, “lived here long?”
“A couple months.” He answered quietly. I daren’t turn back to face him in case he really did recognize me and the game would be up. If it was him, and he found out who I was and what I was, everything would be over. Any dream or fantasy of any kind of impossible future with him would disappear. Why him!?
“I bet it gets pretty noisy, though,” I continued, walking along the back of the sofa, trailing my gloved finger along the edge, “what with there being a night club downstairs.”
“I suppose so, but I wouldn’t know. I work there… I own the place,” he responded. I closed my eyes and held back tears. It was definitely him, “I’m always downstairs at peek time so it’s never affected me, personally.”
“Oh, I see.” I murmured, turning around quickly. I nearly leapt right out of my skin when I saw his face right in front of my own. His eyes were questioning behind his rimmed glasses. I felt my heart melt, as it raced a marathon; the last time we’d been this close when he’d kissed me.
“I, err, I have your money,” he stammered, handing a brown, stuffed envelope, in my direction with both hands. I looked down and smiled at him sweetly, “they said that I should pay first before, erm…”
“Thank you.” I answered, retrieving my advanced payment nervously. Roxy would never let her emotions get the better of her. She was strong and carefree. She wouldn’t let the fact that she, somehow, cared deeply about the man stood inches in front of her or the fact that she felt cheap and filthy clad from head to foot in a tart’s wardrobe or that she was actually taking his money for sex. I couldn’t do this!
“Can I get you anything?” he asked me, just as I was about to go against everything I’d ever been told by Leticia and ruin my career, “a drink of some kind?”
“Oh,” I stammered, “yes… yes please. I wouldn’t mind one actually.” Maybe a drink would help? Steady my nerves…
“What would you like?” he continued, moving away from me and heading towards to kitchen, just off the main living area. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply before turning around to face the direction he’d left, smiling as if nothing was the matter.
“What have you got?” I asked.
“Just about everything,” he called out to me. He was at a counter with his back turned to me and was retrieving various glasses from a cupboard, “I do own a bar, after all. So, what can I get you?”
“Martini.” I answered, without even thinking. As soon as the word left my lips I bit down on my tongue hard, regretting it instantly. The chink of glasses hitting against each other silenced from the kitchen as he turned to face me fully, his eyes wild. It was over. He knew.