Mr. Big Shot Read online

  Mr. Big Shot

  S. E. Lund

  Acadian Publishing Limited

  Copyright © 2017 by S. E. Lund

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-988265-19-3

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic content. It is intended only for those aged 18 and older.

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  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  S. E. Lund’s Newsletter

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Alexa

  * * *

  The email dropped into my mailbox about nine thirty on Tuesday night.

  The little ding caught my attention, drawing me away from the dry journal article in front of me titled, "Confidence Building Measures and the Cold War" by Professor someone from somesuch think tank. It was required reading for my comprehensive exam for the International Relations MA at Columbia.

  I ignored it at first. I hadn’t used that email address for almost two years. It had to be spam.

  Candace, my BFF from my high school years back in Oregon, my constant partner in crime and the one person who could talk me into almost anything, sat beside me at her own desk, one knee tucked under her chin. Her dark hair was tied up into a messy bun, and she wore black horn-rimmed glasses that exposed her as the geek that she was. To top it off, she wore a Watchmen t-shirt, tattered grey sweatpants and old slippers that had seen better days.

  I wasn’t much better in my own Bucky Barnes t-shirt and pajama shorts, finished by fuzzy purple socks. In high school, people called us the Nerd Twins, and we were, except that I had fair hair and was short while she was dark and tall. Other than that difference, we were two geeky peas in a pod.

  We had been inside all week, drinking coffee by the gallons, eating takeout food instead of cooking, because cooking required shopping, preparing and cleaning. In comparison, the remains of a takeout meal went right into the refrigerator for later consumption or into the trash.

  I should have ignored the email. It had been so long since I used that address, I was surprised that the email service hadn’t cancelled it. But my OCD got the best of me and I just had to open the email to get rid of the bold button. Besides, I needed a break, so I clicked on the mailbox and checked out the subject line in the preview.

  Re: Emergency

  "That's strange," I said and checked the date, wondering if it wasn't one of those ghost emails that show up months or even years after they were sent due to some mix-up with the server.

  Candace glanced over at me. "What is it?" she asked, crunching on a Cheeto.

  "It's an email sent to my old 9-1-1 address."

  "Whoa," she said, her brown eyes wide. "What's it been – almost two years since you worked there?"

  “Yep.” I opened the email even though I'd promised myself I wasn't going to check my email for a full two hours. First off, pretty much all the email I received was spam. Second, everyone I knew used texts, and finally, everyone who mattered knew I was busy studying for my comp for my MA, and was not to be bothered – not even on a Tuesday night. The comprehensive exam was the following week, and I was still studying.

  So, when the email notification sounded, I thought it must either be a real emergency or spam.

  I was wrong. Well, not technically. But it was neither.

  * * *

  To: [email protected]

  Reply-To: [email protected]

  Re: Emergency

  * * *

  Hey, is this Sexy Lexi? I got your email from John. I have a 9-1-1, and need your services. Big family dinner on Saturday at the ballroom, Cipriani Wall Street, and will be surrounded by family and business associates. John said you were really high class and brainy. In other words, not your usual escort. If you’re available, wear something amazing but conservative. John showed me the menu. I’ll take a standard date with no add-ons. The usual conditions apply. Cheers, MBS

  * * *

  “Oh, my God…” I was in awe that anyone could write an email like that and use an email address like that.

  "What?" Candace scooted over next to my desk in her rolling desk chair. She craned her neck and squeezed even closer.

  “It’s from – get this – Mr. Big Shot 69. You won’t believe what this jerk wrote.”

  “What does it say?”

  I read it out loud.

  "Mr. Big Shot 69?" She laughed derisively. "What -- is he a freshman in high school?"

  “I can't believe he actually chose that email ID and added a 69. Is he a total asshole?”

  “Must be."

  I read it again in disbelief. "He thinks I’m an escort and wants me to attend a family event with him.”

  “He wants an escort to go to a family event with him?”

  “He thinks I’m really high end and brainy.” I wagged my eyebrows at her. “He’s right, of course.”

  Candace laughed out loud at that. “But of course you are! You should play along. Pretend you’re Sexy Lexi. Come on – you always wanted to be an actor. Write him back. Lead him on.”

  I glanced at her and bit my lip.

  She was right about the always wanting to be an actor. I'd even enrolled in a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree when I first went to college in Oregon, but that was years ago in another life. Stuff happened that changed the course of my life and I decided to move across the country and start a new life completely different from the one I left behind.

  Now, there's something you should know about Candace. She was the one who always got the two of us in trouble back when we were in high school. She was the instigator of all the bad things we did, from egging houses at Halloween (Everyone does it, Alexa, honest!) to driving around with boys who were older than us and who were drinking (They can drive, Alexa, honest!) to stealing cigarette packs from the display in the corner store (Just stick it up your sleeve. No one will notice, Alexa, honest!)

  How many times had the girl gotten me in trouble? Luckily, I emerged from my teenage years alive, unscathed, and without a criminal record, but only barely.

  So, I should have known to trust my own gut.

  But I didn’t…

  “There must be a Lexi911 who’s an escort. One tiny typo…”

  I read over his email once more and considered. Should I play along, pretend to be the infamous Sexy Lexi? Part of me said no, because that would be unethical, but the other part said he was likely a real jerk to use an escort service. I mean, who pays women money to go out with them? Who pays for sex? It was unethical – immoral.

  “Are you going to reply?”

  I chewed a nai
l. “You think I should?”

  “Do it.” She moved closer, her chair almost crowding me out. “He’s probably a real jackass.”

  “He deserves the best I can give.” I smiled as I pressed reply. “The very best.”

  And so, I sealed my fate and started writing.

  I mean – Mr. Big Shot 69?

  What kind of lame email address was that? What kind of lame man thought up an email like that? It was arrogant and crass.

  I tried to keep up.

  * * *

  To: [email protected]

  Reply-To: [email protected]

  Re: Re: Emergency

  * * *

  Hey, big fella. Are you Mr. Big Shot with the emphasis on big? Or Mr. Big Shot with the emphasis on shot?

  * * *

  I know a lot of men named John, as you can imagine. Saturday is kinda short notice for a busy gal like me. I usually book two weeks in advance. Just so we’re on the same page, how about you confirm the conditions and rates? They may have changed.

  * * *

  Later, SexyLexi911

  * * *

  I should have immediately sent him an email that he had the wrong address and left it at that, but there was something about his message that had me intrigued.

  "There," I said. "Sent."

  “Oh, my God.” Candace and I stared at each other, huge grins on our faces. “Way to go!” She held up her hand for a high-five, and I dutifully responded, our palms slapping. “You did it!”

  “I did, I did,” I said but I didn't feel triumphant. I felt this vague sense of Oh, my God what did I just do…

  I knew the moment I sent my response that I’d made a mistake but I had no idea how to recall an email sent through Yahoo and so I took in a deep breath and waited to see how he’d respond.

  I turned back to the screen, wondering if he’d reply. I bit my lip and watched my screen, thinking he’d most likely catch on and realize he was being played. I actually hoped he’d reply in all seriousness. It could turn out to be a good laugh.

  After about five minutes, Candace and I returned reluctantly to our books. I figured he backed out of responding, maybe realizing his mistake. Then my computer chimed once more and sure enough, an email appeared in my mailbox.

  * * *

  To: [email protected]

  Reply-To: [email protected]

  Re: Re: Re: Emergency

  * * *

  Sorry about the short notice but I broke it off with my former girlfriend and I can’t go alone or there’ll be speculation about my ability to keep a woman interested in me. I realize that the very fact I'm contacting you suggests that's reality, but seriously, it isn’t. I want to rub you in someone’s face, so to speak. As to the terms, I understand that it’s $1000 for the evening and more if I want any dessert. To be negotiated. I will likely not be asking for anything besides the date.

  * * *

  Oh, and emphasis on big. *EG*

  * * *

  I laughed out loud at his response. “I don’t know how many times I can say Oh My God.”

  Candace rolled her chair back to my desk and read it, turning to me with the biggest grin on her face.

  “Can you believe it? What a dick!”

  “You can say that again.” At the same time, my mind went to more venal thoughts. Mr. Big? I’d watched practically every episode of Sex and the City several times and Mr. Big had a permanent place in my sexual fantasies.

  MrBigShot69 was willing to pay some call girl $1000 to go to a fundraiser with him so he could rub her in someone’s face?

  "Who is he? Whose face does he want to rub – me – in? The ex-girlfriend? She must have broken his heart and not the other way around."

  "Must be the one who broke up with him. She's probably going to be there and he wants to have some hot babe on his arm to make her jealous. Typical male."

  "He's probably some rich computer geek working on Wall Street, most likely."

  "Most likely…"

  I should have stopped at that point, but it was too much fun so I decided to keep playing along.

  * * *

  To: [email protected]

  Reply-To: [email protected]

  Re: Re: Re: Re: Emergency

  * * *

  I like to know with whom I’m getting involved. You’ll have to reveal more about yourself before I rearrange my week and say yes. Don’t want to end up in the Hudson with cement shoes. ;) Send me a pic and your real name, and your cell number so I can text you. Email is so 90s and leaves too much of a paper trail for a bright business woman like me.

  * * *

  Later, SexyLexi911

  * * *

  “I can’t wait to see him,” Candace said. “He’s probably five feet nothing and weighs a hundred pounds, with a pencil neck, thick glasses and a pocket protector.”

  “You mean like every other geek we know?”

  “Exactly.” She patted me on the back. “We attract only the best.”

  I grinned at that and wondered what he looked like. I couldn’t believe a truly handsome man would have to take an escort to a fundraiser. If he was a half-decent person, he’d probably have a friend or even his sister who could go with him in a pinch. The fact he was ready to hire an escort didn’t speak too well of him as a person.

  I waited to see if he was going to send me a photo of himself, give me his real name and his cell. If he did, I’d be shocked. He must be desperate if so. I felt bad for him, but seriously. He had to be more careful with personal security. Emailing some woman he didn’t know out of the blue? Some high-priced call girl whose number he got from his friend?

  My inbox dinged and I opened the email, noting several attachments.

  "Oh. My. God… He's that desperate?" I turned to Candace. "Doesn’t he have a female colleague he could ask to this function? I'm afraid to open the email, for fear of what I'll see."

  I hesitated only briefly before I opened the email and clicked on the icon for the attachment. The software scanned the image and finding no virus, the image opened immediately. My jaw dropped to the floor when I saw what he sent.

  A screen cap of his American Express Black Card beside a bill with the unlimited credit limit displayed…

  At least that was gorgeous…

  “What an asshole.” I showed Candace. She peered at the image.

  “He sent a credit limit pic?” She turned to me, a look of incredulity on her face. “That’s an all-time new level of pretentiousness.”

  We both bent over with laughter. “What a dick…”

  Then I opened the next image. It was a picture of a watch.

  It was a Rolex Sea-Dweller. Black.

  "The dick sent a picture of his watch." I showed it to Candace.

  "A Sea-Dweller?" She frowned. "What's that?"

  I opened a browser window and googled Rolex Sea-Dweller.

  "It's a diving watch." My eyes bugged out when I saw the price. "Holy cow, it's worth $25,000."

  She stared at me, her eyes wide, her mouth open. "Oh, my God, what a jerk!"

  We both turned back to the screen to read his email.

  * * *

  To: [email protected]

  Reply-To: [email protected]

  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Emergency

  * * *

  Real name is private until you sign a non-disclosure agreement, but you can call me Mr. Big Shot – just kidding. Text me at the number in my sig. That’s a burner so don’t try to trace it. Please, don’t wear anything too revealing as far as dress for this event. In addition to my family, there will be an elite crowd of business and political people. I need you to smile, look pretty, be attentive, and not talk too much. John said you’re smart, so the story will be that you’re a student doing your masters in something or other. You can make up the rest, but nothing racy or scandalous.

  * * *

  I sat open-mouthed.

  “He wants me to sign a non-disclosure agreement?”

  I stared at the
email and the pic of his Amex limit and Rolex. Then I responded.

  * * *

  To: [email protected]

  Reply-To: [email protected]

  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Emergency

  * * *

  I’m pretty picky about my dates. How old are you and what do you look like? I’m not going to waste my time with a fat old loser no matter how high your Amex limit. As for your watch, my dad was an Air Force pilot and always said 'Big Watch, Small Cock' so that's not going to impress me. Show me something of your face or body, at least. You must have a pic that won’t identify you or are you that much of a celebrity that I’d know who you are?

  * * *

  Later, SexyLexi911

  * * *

  Another email popped into my folder. I opened it and read the single line of text.

  * * *

  To: [email protected]

  Reply-To: [email protected]

  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Emergency

  * * *