2. Cole

Almond-shaped green eyes.Pouty red lips. Long, spun-gold hair. Pinup curves.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her in Technicolor.

Water poured over my back as one hand flattened against the tile wall. My other hand stroked my cock up and down as I imagined those full red lips wrapped around the tip. Those emerald green eyes staring up at me. That hourglass figure on her knees before me as my fingers fisted in that silky soft hair.

My release built in me as I fantasized about the breathtaking beauty sucking me hard, her tongue licking my shaft. She sucks me harder, faster. Her hands grip my hips. The sting of her nails digging into my flesh as she takes me so deep my crown hits the back of her throat. My muscles tense as I feel myself about to come in her sweet, pretty mouth.

Just as I was about to let myself go, freezing water erupted from the showerhead, soaking me. The extreme change in temperature had the effect that cold water had on men. I went from rock-hard to half-chub and lost all my momentum.

"Shower!" I called out.

This building was over a hundred years old, and the plumbing was finicky. You couldn't run the dishwasher or washing machine and take a shower with hot water.

"Sorry!" my sister shouted.

I glanced down at the sorry excuse for a boner in my palm. My shoulders slumped in defeat, but I knew I had to rally. I didn't have the luxury of privacy in this household. The prospect of bringing someone home when I slept on the couch in a two-bedroom, one-bath, 800-square-foot apartment that I shared with my sister, my eleven-year-old niece, and my five-year-old twin nephews was not exactly appealing to me as a single man. Because of that, I was seriously backed up. So backed up, I'd started having wet dreams like a horny preteen. Nocturnal emissions were bad enough on their own; add the fact that my nephews regularly woke me up on the weekends watching cartoons—made them a nightmare.

As much as I'd love to abort my mission, I knew if I didn't jack off now, I'd have to risk waking up with wet shorts.

Closing my eyes once more, I pictured those green eyes. Those full red lips. That long golden hair. My balls had just begun to tingle when there was a rapid, loud knock on the door.

"Fuck!" I groaned beneath my breath as I rested my head against the tiled wall.

"Uncle CJ, I gotta go!" One of my nephews called out.

"Just a minute!"

I shut the water off, dried off, and slid my boxer briefs and black suit pants on before opening the door. "It's all yours, little man."

Luke rushed past me doing the pee-pee dance.

"Aim for the toilet," I instructed as I walked a few steps to the hall closet—my clothes closet—where I hung up the empty hanger that my slacks had been on before putting my arms through a button-down white shirt. I thumbed through my ties, reading the post-its denoting their color, and grabbed a blue one to match my balls. Kidding. Sort of.

Today's suit was charcoal gray, and I'd been told that the blue matched it nicely. Not that I'd be able to tell. I started going color blind when I was my nephews' age, and by the time I was eight, my entire world was black, white, and shades of gray. But about a year ago, I started dreaming in color again.

Green eyes. Red lips. Golden hair.

I put the small end of the tie through the loop I'd made as I walked into the kitchen. Sara, my sister, was seated at the round kitchen table that sat in the corner folding laundry. Dark circles lay beneath her eyes, and I might not be able to see color, but I could definitely see that there was a distinct lack of it in her face. She was as pale as Casper.

Sara suffered from various health issues, including, but not limited to, two auto-immune diseases: rheumatoid arthritis and lupus, epilepsy, and hypertension. She had good days and bad days—sadly more bad than good.

When she saw me, she cringed. "Sorry about the dishwasher."

"No worries." I smiled as I grabbed an energy drink from the fridge.

"You look nice," she observed as she sipped her green smoothie through a glass straw. "You have a date tonight?"

"A job," I corrected her. I wasn't sure why my sister insisted on calling them dates. I was a plus one for hire. This was work, not pleasure.

"Who is she?"

"Her name is Jenna. Her sister Holly is getting married; she's been in four of her cousin's weddings the past two years and she doesn't want to show up to another one alone."

Sara nodded and pursed her lips. Whenever she did that, I knew she had more to say on the subject.

"What?" I prompted. "Just say it."

"I'm just worried. You started your ‘service'"—she made bunny ears with her fingers—"right after you and Linds broke up. I just…I just worry that you're doing this to avoid a real relationship."

"Why the air quotes? It is a service. It's my business."

A few years ago, I'd started bartending as a second job to help make ends meet with the medical bills, rent, groceries, and just life in general. I'd worked at the bar for a few months when a co-worker asked me if I'd be a plus one at her cousin's wedding. She said she'd pay me five hundred bucks if I'd go with her. I said yes. A month later, she told a friend who was in her sorority, and I booked four weddings that summer, each one paying more than the last.

Once I saw there was a demand for it, I hired a tech guy on Fiverr to make me an app, and The Plus One Professional was born. I was able to stop working as a bartender, and moonlight as a plus one. Technically, TPOP was an escort service, but since I had a strict no-sex policy, calling it that seemed misleading.

"Sorry. I know, it's your business, and your business is none of my business. It's just…I worry about you. I know that you loved Linds and?—"

"It's been three years. I don't even think about her anymore," I lied.

I did think about her, but not in the way I knew Sara would assume if I told her that I did. I thought about how I was so convinced I'd known her. We'd been together since we were in middle school. I thought we'd be together forever. I thought she'd be with me through thick and thin. I'd been wrong.

Thankfully, she'd shown her true colors, and I'd dodged a bullet. I was grateful she'd shown me who she was before I'd got on one knee and committed my life to her.

"I just feel responsible, and I'm so sorry?—"

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." I cut her off.

Stress was bad for any auto-immune disease, but it could be catastrophic when you add the fact that Sara had seizures that were brought on by, you guessed it, stress.

"Yes, I do. I'm ruining your twenties."

"Yeah, and I made yours a real party."

Sara got custody of me when she was eighteen, and I was twelve. We'd both spent our childhoods in and out of foster care thanks to having two parents who were addicts. If it weren't for my sister, I would have spent my entire teens in a group home. I owed her everything.

"That was different; I had Carly, too. I was already a mom and married."

"You're right. You were a teen mom, a newlywed, and you took custody of your brother. Like you didn't have enough on your plate."

She shook her head and bit the inside of her mouth. "This isn't fair to you."

"And your life has been so fair."

Besides her childhood being shit, Sara had gotten pregnant when she was seventeen. She'd married Peter, her high school sweetheart, and we'd all lived together pretty happily for six years. Then, the month before my eighteenth birthday, Peter was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. A week after Peter's diagnosis, Sara found out she was pregnant with the twins.

The next year was sort of a blur for me. Peter went downhill fast. He was in the hospital for the last three months of his life and passed away a week before the twins were born. We didn't really get a chance to breathe before there were two more little people to take care of. Then, six months later, Sara ended up in the emergency room after a seizure.

I should have seen what taking care of the twins was taking out of her, but I'd been trying to help by taking care of my niece Carly, who was six at the time. I noticed that Sara was tired and wasn't really eating or sleeping, but I just assumed that was normal with twins—and even more so since she was dealing with the grief of losing her husband.

I'll never forget the day my life changed forever, and I thought I'd lost the most important person to me. After I got off work, I came home with Carly, whom I'd picked up from an afterschool program and found Sara unconscious on the floor. I called 911, and she was rushed to the hospital. She spent two weeks there, while doctors tested her for everything under the sun. It turned out she'd contracted a virus that spread to her brain, and it was causing her seizures. The next year, she was in and out of the hospital. There were countless doctor's appointments and tests. Finally, we were given answers. She was also diagnosed with RA and lupus.

The medical bills piled up from both her and Peter. She wasn't able to work anymore, so she was put on disability and on Medicaid. Half the prescriptions and treatments that she needed weren't covered by her insurance. So, if she had a chance at any quality of life, we had to pay out of pocket.

Which was why my construction job didn't cut it and I'd started TPOP.

"It doesn't matter if my life has been fair or not." She put the basket of clothes she'd just folded on the floor. She winced as she sat back up slowly. "You shouldn't have to do this, and I know that you are only doing it because of me." Tears filled her eyes. I had no clue if they were from the physical or emotional pain she was in.

I smiled, hoping she didn't see just how much I worried about her. "I know, it really sucks going out with a different woman every week and getting paid for it."

It actually did, but I would never let Sara know that. I hated having to monetize the only social life I had. It fucked with my head—not that I'd ever let her see that.

She stood and threw her arms around my neck. "You are the best brother in the entire world."

"I know, right? You hit the little brother jackpot," I teased as I kissed her on the top of her head.

"I did!" She took a step back, looked me up and down, and then tugged on my tie. "You look good."

"Thanks." I glanced down at myself. The clothes I wore were hand-me-downs from our neighbor Arthur Reynolds, who had lived in the building decades longer than the fourteen years we'd been there.

Four years ago, on his eightieth birthday, he decided to spring-clean his life, which included paring down his wardrobe. Arthur, who was regularly mistaken for actor Billy Dee Williams, had been quite the dresser in his day. He owned bespoke suits from Armani, Ralph Lauren, Hugo Boss, Tom Ford, Yves Saint Laurent, Burberry, and more.

I was lucky enough to be the same height and measurements as him, and I'd inherited not only his vast collection of suits, ties, shirts, and shoes, but also most of his casual wear. As a twenty-year-old, color-blind construction worker my wardrobe had only consisted of white T-shirts, jeans, work boots, sweats, basketball shorts, and athletic shoes.

If it weren't for Arthur's wardrobe, I don't think I would have had the confidence to accept the first date with my co-worker, much less start my business. Arthur was an unwitting investor in TPOP.

"So, do you think you'll see her today?" Sara asked as she sat back down and sipped her green sludge.

"Who?" We'd talked about Lindsay earlier, but she lived in New York, so I doubted my ex was who she was referring to.

Her eyes twinkled with delight. "The wedding planner."

"What wedding planner?" I knew exactly what wedding planner. The one with green eyes, red lips, golden hair, and an hourglass figure that defied gravity.

Sara's head tilted to the side as her mouth twisted in a grin. "The one that you mention when you don't realize you're doing it. The one who puts a smile on your face that stays there for an entire week after you see her."

"I always smile," I argued.

"Mmm, hmm."

"Uncle CJ! Can we go to the park?" Leo ran into the kitchen carrying a football.

"I have to go to work, little man."

"Mom, can we go to the park? Please?" Leo begged, holding the football up like he was Rafiki and it was Simba in The Lion King.

"It's warm outside," I explained to my nephew. The heat was not good for my sister, and I didn't want her wearing herself out any more than she already was. "But, we'll go to the park tomorrow. I promise, little man."

I ruffled Leo's hair. His arms fell and his shoulders slumped, as he turned and shuffled out of the kitchen. Sara watched her son go, and I could see the guilt she felt about not being able to go to the park.

"Hey, instead of tuna over rice, how about pizza tonight?" I'd made the tuna dish earlier today because it was easy to warm up, but we could have it tomorrow night. My nephews weren't huge fans of the dinner.

Leo spun around on his socked heels and threw the football down like he was spiking it after a touchdown. "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

I grabbed two twenties out of my wallet and handed them to my sister.

"You didn't have to do that." She smiled weakly.

"Yes, I did."

After grabbing my jacket from the closet, I stopped by my niece Carly's room and knocked on the door.

"What?!" she shouted.

I knew that her irritation was not directed at me. Her twin brothers nagged her incessantly. I pushed the door open, "Hey, Carly-Q, just checking to see how the book report is going."

She had a paper due on Monday, and as of yesterday, she hadn't even started to read it. Her response was to give me a dirty look as she lifted Little Women in the air.

"Nice. When I get home, I'll take you over to Riley's."

She nodded and returned her attention to her book. I closed the door. Carly was spending the night at her friend's house tonight, but I'd asked her if she'd wait until I got home from the wedding, just for my peace of mind. I always felt better when either Carly or I was home with Sara and the twins.

I knew it wasn't fair for my niece to have to take on so much responsibility with her brothers, and one day I would make it up to her. One day, I'd get us out of this apartment and into a bigger place. One day, I'd be able to afford all the treatments that weren't covered by insurance and not have to decide between new shoes for the kids or acupuncture for my sister. Today was not that day. Today, I needed to pretend to be someone's date who I had never met before and make small talk with a bunch of people I would never see again so I could pay for one or the other of those things. Did I want to go? No. Did I have to? Yes.

The only silver lining was that maybe, just maybe, the wedding planner would be there. Just the thought put a smile on my face. Holy shit. My sister was right. I did smile when I thought about her.