Chapter Three

Jesse stood at the doorway, feeling a little nervous. "Ahmmm...I'm here for Miss Lane?"

Thank God.

His voicebox still worked.

The brunette was still staring unnervingly at him. He tried clearing his throat quietly, which was impossible in this heavy silence between them. His mind was now speeding a mile a minute. Maybe there had been a mistake? It had to be. Because this lady standing in front of him right now would never, ever need the Trebles services. Ever. She was famous. There must be, like a thousand guys the world over who would...

"Lane?" She had snapped the name out so loud it made Jesse jump.

"Errr..yes. I have an appointment with..umm..Miss Lane," he stammered back. Smooth, Jesse. Could you please stop stuttering? He resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck in nervousness. He was sure he looked flustered as it was.

The brunette rocked back on her heels, still staring up at him. She tucked her hands into the pockets at the back of her jeans, the movement making her rather impressive rack jut out in that low cut tank top. "I'm the only one here," the lady drawled out, shrugging her tiny shoulders, making her creamy cleavage rose up against her burgundy top. To his credit, Jesse kept his eyes where it should be. On her face.

"I'm sorry. I must have the wrong address," Jesse backed down. He'll sort this out with Bumper. They must have sent him the wrong one. He smiled apologetically, his cheeks dimpling. "Sorry to waste your time."

He had already turned away when he heard a barely muffled, exasperated sigh from the doorway.

"No...you've got the right address."

Jesse turned back and the brunette had a tiny scowl on her face. Everything about her was delicate and tiny. You couldn't really tell from all the posters and the banners, the album covers and the photos in the press. She was miniscule.

He was staring again. Jesse knew that.

"Come on in," she continued, stepping aside to let him in.

She closed the door behind them and walked further into the suite. Jesse hesitated for a second before following her. The suite was incredible, with cream and gold furnishing, fresh flowers on every available surface. They passed by the bedroom on the way in. The door was ajar and Jesse saw the king size bed, strewn with papers and sheet music. A sleek, top of the range Macbook was opened, perched on top of a pillow. They were now in the livng room and the brunette turned round to face him and for the second time in as many minutes, Jesse was at a loss. She seemed to expect him to do something by the way she was looking at him and Jesse mentally flailed about thinking what he should say next.

"Umm...I should introduce myself -" Jesse started. Yeah, that was a good start. Be friendly yet professional. Now if only he could stop stuttering. "I'm Clark and I'm yours for the next two hours."

She was gazing at him blankly. Wow, she was tough one.

"So -" Jesse continued valiantly. "The brief did not exactly mention what you will require. Perhaps we can start with -"

"What did you say your name was?" came the waspish question.

Jesse stopped short.

"Clark. My name's Clark." he answered. He watched as a hundred different expressions crossed her face, all of them thunderous. She was muttering various swear words underneath her breath and Jesse quickly spoke up, "Umm.. you can call me anything you like; although nothing insulting, please. You don't have to call me Clark."

"No, it's fine," she answered, rubbing her temples like she had a headache. "My friends have a sick sense of humour."

Jesse mulled over that and then the penny dropped. He tried not to grin because she was still looking quite put out but the more he tried not to, the harder it became. The lady noticed it. She was trying hard not to smile too.

"So Lane?" Jesse hazard a guess. "As in Lois Lane?"

"Just Lane, please. For this meeting, I'm Lane," the lady said. "Please don't tell me your full name is Clark Kent. I don't think I can bear the cheesiness of it all."

Jesse chuckled, feeling a little less nervous now. "No, just Clark, he answered. "I thought you would have known my name since you've made the booking."

Another exasperated sigh came out from her. "I didn't choose you. My friends did," she explained. "That's why I don't know how you looked like. Sorry for just now."

"It's fine," Jesse shrugged.

So her friends put her up to this. That would explained the animosity at the door. It was not the first time some well-meaning friends had done the hiring. Usually it was for a birthday party or hen night and it involved a strip-o-gram and some lap dancing.

"What would you like to do?" Jesse asked. Now that they had broken the ice, he felt more confident slipping into his professional mode. "Would you like me to fix you a drink? Maybe we can sit down and talk?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head decisively. "I've got work to do."

"Ok. I'm here for two hours so I'm happy to wait until you're done."

"No, dude," she stressed. "I really don't want to do anything. I just need to get my work done."

Well, that was... unusual. He had never been in a job where the client did not want to do anything. They usually have a pretty clear idea what they want. She must have seen the uncertainty on his face because the brunette took charge.

"Hey, don't take this the wrong way. I'm just really busy," she said. She picked up a remote from the coffee table and tossed it to Jesse. He caught it but fumbled the catch, nearly dropping the remote. That earned him an eye roll from the brunette. "Why don't you watch tv or pay-per-view?" she suggested. J"ust..umm...no porn, ok? And order anything you want from room service."

Jesse nodded. The brunette was already stalking past him towards the bedroom but she stopped at the doorway.

"No porn," she reminded him.

"Yeah. I got it," Jesse said, turning slightly, smiling at her. She just scoffed and went into the bedroom.

Jesse stood for a minute, trying to figure out what was the deal with the woman. Obviously her name was not Lane but if that was what she wanted him to call her, that was fine. She was the client after all and his job was to make the client happy.

She also asked him to watch tv.

Jesse sat down on the comfy sofa and switched on the tv. There was no other noise coming out of the bedroom but he could not help feeling a little edgy. This was just so weird. Maybe she was one of those really weird ones? Oh, he knew very well it takes all sorts. The Trebles sometimes swapped stories amongst themselves and he had heard of the weird things they've been asked to do. Maybe he would be just innocently sitting here and she would swoop in and attack?

Get a grip, Jesse - he told himself sternly - If she tries to be funny, you are much bigger than her. She's like a hobbit.

And with that thought, Jesse chuckled to himself and surfed through the channels.

Beca Mitchell didn't even know why she let Stacie and Aubrey talked her into this.

What the hell was she doing in this hotel suite with a...a..manwhore sitting outside? That was what he was, right? How on God's earth did they convinced her this was a good idea? There must have been copious amounts alcohol involved and relentless nagging.

It was the nagging, Beca decided. It had to be the nagging.

Both Stacie and Aubrey and to a degree, Amy and Chloe. They all nagged her for working too hard, for not meeting new men, for not...ugh...dating. Lily didn't say anything much but she only had to whisper some really random thing and that was enough to freak Beca out. The girls seemed to have made it their mission to make sure she was having some male company; it was tiresome.

She knew they were worried that she was practically a hermit. But she had work to do. So much work. And no, she was not trying to drown herself in her work after that broken engagement. As far as Beca Mitchell was concerned she was over it. It didn't work out with Luke. She knew it. He knew it. Especially when she caught him balls deep in her slut of a PA. She even amicably returned the two-carat diamond ring. By throwing it into the nearest river and burning all his designer clothes and football shirts. But she was done. Done and over with, and she was not adverse to meeting new people.

Beca suddenly scowled.

Ah, shit. The girls knew her too well. They knew Beca would not make any effort to meet new guys. Hence this stupid, elaborate scheme of actually hiring someone to be with her. They were not taking any chances. Well, the joke's on them - Beca thought smugly. She was just going to use all these bookings to have more time to work. They didn't need to know what goes down. At least, it will stop them nagging and she can work in peace.

Oh, Beca knew exactly what Stacie was playing at. She could almost hear the tall brunette chastising her about not 'feeding the hunter." In this case, the hunter being her hoo ha and feeding meant...Ok, never mind.

Was that why they hire a man whore?

They told her that his time was paid for and he'll be happy to do anything she wanted. Be it some dinner, or talk or... sex? Ugh. Beca irritably tapped on her keyboard, trying to concentrate on her work but the thought of a sex worker sitting right outside was not helping. What if he tried to... you know, be sexy? Or come into the room and started to strip and thrust his junk in her face? That would be horrifying. Oh God, maybe she should get up and lock the door, just in case?

As if they could sense her freaking out, Beca's phone started ringing. Aubrey's ID flashed up on the screen and Beca picked up the call.

"Beca? You called?" Aubrey's voice came through the receiver.

"About time!" Beca scowled. "I called an hour ago."

"I was just in a meeting with Scully. It ran late," Aubrey explained. "But it's good news. He's happy with the deal and we got what we wanted. They are amending the contracts and will send them through."

"That's good news," she replied. "Email those through once they arrive. I have, like a hundred different things to do but I could -"

"Hang on, what time it is? Aren't you at The George already?" Aubrey asked suspiciously.

"Umm..yes, I've checked in." Beca said guiltily.

"Hold on," Aubrey said and Beca heard her talking off the phone. "Stacie, what time was the appointment?...what?..that's like half an hour ago...I don't know. She's still on the phone... Beca?"

"Yup?" Beca answered.

"Your appointment. Did he arrive?"

"Errr..."

"I knew it!" Aubrey yelled down the phone, nearly deafening Beca in the process. "He didn't send anyone! Professional, my ass. Get off the phone now, Beca. I'm going to call that Bumper Allen and tell him he could go -"

"Whoa! Whoa, Bree. Calm down." Beca quickly piped up.

"- and shove that stupid Treble iPad - "

"Bree! It's fine," Beca nearly yelled, trying to get a word in edgewise. "He's here."

" - up his snooty...what? He's there?" Aubrey stopped her tirade. And after a moment of suspicious hesitation, Aubrey began to grill her. "What are you doing on the phone? Aren't you - isn't he - Wait..are you working?"

"Umm.., no?" Beca said tentatively.

There was silence on the other end and Beca could almost see Aubrey's nostrils flaring. She was going to blow up; Beca knew it. At that very dangerous moment, she was saved by the very person they were talking was a knock against the open door and Beca looked up to find the guy, poking his head round, smiling at her. Hastily, Beca s poke into the phone, "Bree, someone needs me. Gotta go!" She heard an indignant squawk from the other end but Beca was already cutting the call.

"What is it?" she said testily, tossing her phone onto the bed.

"I was about to order room service," he drawled, still with that cute smile.

Wait. What? Did she just thought his smile was cute? What?

"Do you want anything?" the man was saying. "Maybe a light salad and some cold Pelligrino?"

Oh. He noticed the opened Pelligrino bottles. That was pretty observant. Beca's tummy suddenly rumbled quite loudly, much to her embarrassment. He kindly didn't comment about it although Beca did not miss the way his smile got just a little bit wider.

"No salad," Beca said. "Burger, medium rare, wagyu beef if they have it. And fries."

"Ok," he said. "Burger with fries."

"And onion rings. Lots of onion rings. And a sweet pickle."

"Ok."

"Heinz ketchup. And bacon."

"Anything else?"

"Diet coke with ice." Beca said. "And Kraft singles with the burger. Don't judge."

His grin was far too cheerful.

"Not judging," he replied, raising his eyebrows. "I'll call once room service is here."

He backed out from the doorway and a minute later, Beca heard him on the phone to Room Service. She could almost make out the conversation. He was speaking in a low, husky tone, politely relaying the order and thanking the staff.

Huh. Quiet and polite and pretty tame.

She could work with this.

She was deep into her work, headphones over her ears that she nearly missed the rap on her opened door. Beca looked up to find him waving at her. "Dinner's here."

She took off the headphones, rubbing her ears to get rid of the slight numbness and rose from the bed. Beca moseyed out of the bedroom and as soon as she reached the dining area, the delicious smell of grilled burger with melted cheese and tonnes of fried stuff hit her. Her saliva glands went into overdrive. Oh man, she was so hungry. Beca nearly ran to the dining table, wanting to scoff the food down this instant but she remembered herself at the last minute.

Be cool, Beca. It's just a burger - she reminded herself.

The guy was also fussing over the dining table, laying out the plate and cutlery properly; even going so far as pouring out the Diet Coke in a tall glass with lots of ice. Just the way she liked it. That was rather...nice. He looked up to find her hovering.

"Dinner is served," he pronounced with an expansive arm sweep over the table. It could have been so cheesy the way he was acting except he did it with a mocking smile it was almost funny. And now he was drawing the chair back, gesturing with a nod of his head that she should sit down.

Beca frowned. Was this guy for real?

She sat down and he made a big show of shaking out the starched napkin that came along with the cutlery. He was about to place the napkin on Beca's lap when she snatched it away. "Watch it, dude," Beca scowled. She could do that herself, thank you very much and ugh, she didn't want his manwhore hands near her.

"Ok," he said blandly in response. "Enjoy your dinner."

And with that, he went off, back into the living room.

Beca was halfway demolishing her burger when she realised that she was eating alone. Specifically, the meal order was for one. Did he not order something for himself? He did say just now he was getting something. Beca had enough pathetic dates to know when given carte blanche, most guys will order expensive stuff like lobsters and Moet on her account. She could well afford it, of course, but she found it quite irritating all the same.

Beca popped an onion ring in her mouth and chewed slowly.

She was curious now. What did that guy ordered? And was that popcorn she smelled?

Taking one final bite from that yummy burger, Beca wiped her mouth and hands before rising up from the dining table and making her way to the living room. She stood at the doorway. He was sitting on the sofa, the back of his dark head towards her and he was tossing popcorn into his mouth.

Beca glanced at the tv.

Some sort of 80s movie was on. She racked her brain to remember which one it was. But gave up after two seconds. Movies wasn't her strongest suit. She could never made it to the end. He seemed pretty into it though; not even noticing she was standing right there. Beca cleared her throat loudly and the guy jumped a little and quickly turned round. He had a slightly guilty look on his face.

"Hi," he said brightly. He stood up in one fluid movement and simultaneously put the volume on mute and perching the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. "Do you need anything?" he was asking now, his brow furrowing a little "Was the burger ok? Do you want me to get you something else?"

"Dude. Chill. Burger's fine," Beca answered. "What are you watching?"

The guy glanced at the screen. "The Breakfast Club."

Beca lifted one eyebrow. Of all things he could watch, he chose some old movie?

"Do you have supersonic hearing, Mr. Clark?" Beca said. "The volume's pretty low."

"Didn't want to disturb you," came the grave reply. He was smiling that half crooked smile yet again. The one she thought was cute. "Besides it's one of my favorites. I practically committed the dialogue to memory."

Ok, nerd alert. Beca came nearer to the sofa, taking in the massive bowl of popcorn now half empty and wait, were those juice pouches? "I smelled popcorn."

"Yeah. Well," he answered almost deprecatingly.

"Is that your dinner?" Beca said, picking up the bowl and frowning into the popcorn. "Why didn't you get something to eat?"

"This is plenty, really," he answered.

"Juice pouches? What are you? Five?" Beca said, picking up one empty pouch, examining the back closely.

"Don't diss it," he responded. "Best beverage ever."

That sealed it. He was a weirdo, with a taste of a five year old. Beca shook her head in mild despair. Yep, this guy was way beyond borderline weirdo.

"Would you like to join me?" he suddenly asked. "It's just coming to the end."

"What? The movie? Nooooo," Beca quickly said.

"You sure? It's the best part."

Ok, he shouldn't be smiling at her like that and using those eye s like that. He looked like a freaking puppy and any girl would probably be mad to refuse that look. But Beca Mitchell was made of sterner stuff.

"Dude, no. I'm not really into movies."

Ok, why did he looked like she mortally wound him?

"You don't like movies?" he choked out in disbelief.

"No, not into them." Beca confirmed. "They are just so predictable. Guy gets the girl. They live happily ever after. The end. Life's not like that. The guy gets the girl but before you know it, he was chasing any pretty face that pass by. Life fucks you over most of the time."

Shit, where did all that vitriol came from? Beca shut her mouth before any more bitterness came out. Easy, Beca.

"So what are you into then?"

Beca looked up at him, unsure what to say next. He still had that easygoing expression on his face. Her unexpected outburst didn't seem to faze him the slightest.

"If you are not into movies..." he prompted.

"Music." Beca replied. "I'm into music."

"Well, Miss Lane, you've come at the perfect time," he piped up. The guy picked up the remote and turned up the volume. "You have to see this ending."

Happy New Year everyone!