Lucas Kingston II (part one)

My first man was the typical prince charming type. Smooth talker, nice suit, tall, dark, and handsome. I guess he didn’t realize his wife only married him for his money. Poor bastard! They met at an embassy ball. He dazzled her panties right off. Literally, the wife was a big ole slut-slut. You would think that this would end with a happily ever after. How did I meet wifey? She hired me as a PI because she thought he was cheating on her. It turned out, she wasn’t a crazy jealous wife, she wanted to catch him and get half. When I couldn’t find anything on him, she lost her shit. She broke a chair and she threw one of her shoes. It stuck in the wall, heel first. All she wanted was half of his empire. Honestly, she appeared to have been constructed by haute couture designers. Eccentric is a boring term to describe her, maybe just plain ‘wow’ is more accurate.

The first one is the one that you learn the most from. The one where the mistakes are made and where you need to take notes. Well, I knew his weird quirks because I had been doing PI stuff and following him for a while.  I almost tried to get hired as an intern for his company. Bonus points, that would have been a terrible idea. The wife, who between you and me, was totally doing their pool guy. How cliché is that? Sorry off topic.

Any ways, he was a pretty regular guy with a major addiction to cigarettes. Yeah, those killers and you guessed it. I started smoking, how else would we have met? Well, he would go outside for a smoke every half an hour. It was better then a Swiss clock. I would appear to come out of the next building over and stand outside smoking packs and packs of cigarettes.  Generally, I would just wait outside for hours. I didn’t actually work in the next building. One day I asked him if I could bum a smoke. From then on we would do small talk and puff away our lungs.

He had this weird fantasy his wife told me. He had the hots for dirty blondes with glasses. She, of course, had vibrant red hair. But the topper was if they could sing. You know the hit me baby one more time Britney, pop singers? Well, my alias Sasha worked for a pop label had big black rimmed Buddy Holly glasses and dirty blonde hair. I wore two braids everyday and that seemed to get him going. I thought it gave my look the school girl affect. After we started talking, it didn’t take him long to ask for my number. He wanted to grab dinner. He kept saying it was innocent dinner. He had dinner with clients all the time. I made a snarky replied, “So I’m a client now?” And so I rejected him then I rejected him again. It was fun playing hard to get. The game is aways fun when they are trying desperately to get what they want. When I said yes, he was so shocked that he lit his cigarette at the filter. And I know he has been smoking for at least half his life.

The first date was well a funny story. Instead of going to a big fancy restaurant, we went to a family diner. Yeah, it was like combination of all the fast-food breakfast sit-down restaurants. Really not what I expected since I had been almost stalking him for the last year or so. He always went to the flashy new restaurants where paparazzi waited outside the door. You know the ones where the hot stars go to and get free food. Anyways, we were at this family restaurant and I was wearing a skin tight black gown, clearly over dressed. And feeling very self-conscious, then I thought pull it together Kennedy. He kept talking about random stuff. It ranged from work to his dog. The waiter looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. He was Australian. I remember thinking nice accent. But that was just a fleeting thought. My focus was on the man across from me. I needed him to fall in love with me, dammit. Otherwise, I would be very broke.

So I did what I saw other women do. Laugh at his jokes and slightly stroke his arm. Inside I tried not to roll my eyes. I never wanted to be that girl who flirted like that but here I was laughing flipping my hair and touching his arm. He of course ate that shit up. He was what most women call a gentleman when he walked me out to the car. He drove. He opened my door. We didn’t talk much as he drove me back to “my” apartment. I wouldn’t let him upstairs just yet I hadn’t had it set up with cameras yet. Little did he know his wife was paying the rent on that penthouse apartment. She was redecorating it and making sure it matched my new identity. My actual apartment was about 10 miles in the opposite direction. My two options were to either walk or take a taxi. Either way I had to wait a couple of hours to make sure he wouldn’t see me. It took him a good month and a half to call me his girlfriend. Our next meet up dinner he called it a date.

That’s all you’re going to get out of me today. Sorry, but I’m tried now…going to bed.

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