Chapter 1
The most interesting people usually checked in to The Preminenza
between six and eight o'clock or between ten and eleven. Twenty-seven year-old
Jennifer Brooks even had names for them: the Early Birds and the Nightingales.
The Early Birds were the regulars, men in their late fifties to early
sixties who had the same woman every time and checked in under monikers such as
Mr. and Mrs. Jones or the Smiths, but generally paid with their own credit
cards. These were the men whose wives knew about their mistresses but didn't
care, so long as the affairs were discreet. They tipped well and joked with the
staff, even did some friendly flirting.
Take Frederick Parker III. In the two years since Jennifer had taken
this job, he'd brought the same woman to room 418 every Thursday night. Based
on the staff gossip, the woman's name was Claire and she'd been Parker's
mistress for twelve years. When Jennifer had asked why he didn't just divorce
his wife and marry Claire, the head housekeeper had just chuckled and told
Jennifer that she just didn't get it. A man like Parker would never be able to
marry someone like Claire. Curiosity piqued, Jennifer had been trying to figure
out why ever since. The best she could figure was that Claire's profession was
less than desirable. Judging by the woman's build and graceful way of walking,
even in six inch stilettos, Jennifer was willing to bet Parker had met Claire
in a strip-club.
Then there was Ronald Lewis who'd married for money. He showed up twice
a week with his long-time mistress Leah, a woman at least ten years his senior.
He and his wife had been married for thirty-five years and stayed together even
after she'd finally come out a year ago. On occasion, he and Leah had even been
seen out with Miranda Lewis and her twenty-something girlfriend Jessica. Still,
he came to The Preminenza as if nothing had changed. He said that he and his
wife liked the routine.
That's when Jennifer had decided that rich people were strange.
Then there were the Nightingales. These were the men who always paid
cash and rarely showed up with the same woman, or man, twice. The Nightingales’
dates carried themselves differently than the Early Birds' mistresses. These
weren't women of the world – women cultured and refined at finishing schools or
taught the ways of money by an older man. These also weren't the high school
dropouts who prowled downtown in micro minis looking for their next score.
These were the high-priced escorts of the wealthy, with at least a high school
education, perhaps even some college.
Once, Jennifer had recognized a woman from her college writing class that she
had taken eight years ago. The woman hadn't recognized Jennifer, but that
wasn't surprising. When she was in college, Jennifer had dyed her naturally
nutmeg brown hair a honey color and wore glasses. Now, her hair was back to
brown and she wore clear contacts in her hazel eyes. She'd also lost about
thirty extra pounds. She doubted anyone from that time would recognize her now.
Well, except maybe Brad.
Jennifer shivered. She didn't want to think about Brad.
“Room 213, Mr. Smith,” she gave the couple a plastic smile and tried to
pretend that she hadn't recognized the CEO of one of the biggest companies in
the city. He and his wife had just publicly celebrated their twentieth
anniversary. His 'friend' had probably still been in diapers when he and his
wife tied the knot.
As she watched them go, not for the first time, she wondered what
prompted these women to choose this life. The mistresses made some sense in
that they were with men that they loved, even if the men weren't willing to
leave their wives. She understood falling for the wrong man better than most.
The escorts gave her pause, though. These weren't runaways with no job
prospects.
All right, so the job market wasn't at its greatest. Jennifer
understood that. She'd had six different jobs between graduating from
The most interesting people usually checked in to The Preminenza
between six and eight o'clock or between ten and eleven. Twenty-seven year-old
Jennifer Brooks even had names for them: the Early Birds and the Nightingales.
The Early Birds were the regulars, men in their late fifties to early
sixties who had the same woman every time and checked in under monikers such as
Mr. and Mrs. Jones or the Smiths, but generally paid with their own credit
cards. These were the men whose wives knew about their mistresses but didn't
care, so long as the affairs were discreet. They tipped well and joked with the
staff, even did some friendly flirting.
Take Frederick Parker III. In the two years since Jennifer had taken
this job, he'd brought the same woman to room 418 every Thursday night. Based
on the staff gossip, the woman's name was Claire and she'd been Parker's
mistress for twelve years. When Jennifer had asked why he didn't just divorce
his wife and marry Claire, the head housekeeper had just chuckled and told
Jennifer that she just didn't get it. A man like Parker would never be able to
marry someone like Claire. Curiosity piqued, Jennifer had been trying to figure
out why ever since. The best she could figure was that Claire's profession was
less than desirable. Judging by the woman's build and graceful way of walking,
even in six inch stilettos, Jennifer was willing to bet Parker had met Claire
in a strip-club.
Then there was Ronald Lewis who'd married for money. He showed up twice
a week with his long-time mistress Leah, a woman at least ten years his senior.
He and his wife had been married for thirty-five years and stayed together even
after she'd finally come out a year ago. On occasion, he and Leah had even been
seen out with Miranda Lewis and her twenty-something girlfriend Jessica. Still,
he came to The Preminenza as if nothing had changed. He said that he and his
wife liked the routine.
That's when Jennifer had decided that rich people were strange.
Then there were the Nightingales. These were the men who always paid
cash and rarely showed up with the same woman, or man, twice. The Nightingales’
dates carried themselves differently than the Early Birds' mistresses. These
weren't women of the world – women cultured and refined at finishing schools or
taught the ways of money by an older man. These also weren't the high school
dropouts who prowled downtown in micro minis looking for their next score.
These were the high-priced escorts of the wealthy, with at least a high school
education, perhaps even some college.
Once, Jennifer had recognized a woman from her college writing class that she
had taken eight years ago. The woman hadn't recognized Jennifer, but that
wasn't surprising. When she was in college, Jennifer had dyed her naturally
nutmeg brown hair a honey color and wore glasses. Now, her hair was back to
brown and she wore clear contacts in her hazel eyes. She'd also lost about
thirty extra pounds. She doubted anyone from that time would recognize her now.
Well, except maybe Brad.
Jennifer shivered. She didn't want to think about Brad.
“Room 213, Mr. Smith,” she gave the couple a plastic smile and tried to
pretend that she hadn't recognized the CEO of one of the biggest companies in
the city. He and his wife had just publicly celebrated their twentieth
anniversary. His 'friend' had probably still been in diapers when he and his
wife tied the knot.
As she watched them go, not for the first time, she wondered what
prompted these women to choose this life. The mistresses made some sense in
that they were with men that they loved, even if the men weren't willing to
leave their wives. She understood falling for the wrong man better than most.
The escorts gave her pause, though. These weren't runaways with no job
prospects.
All right, so the job market wasn't at its greatest. Jennifer
understood that. She'd had six different jobs between graduating from