Callboys Read online

  Love in the future is impossible.

  Girls offer themselves up on dating sites by the dozen, eligible guys are endlessly “liked” and “poked,” and sex for both is always just a drunk text away. In a world connected, we’re alone together, and it’s only getting worse.

  But when Atlanta twenty something Marissa Frost hears of a scandalous new Tinder-like app known as “Netflix for boyfriends” that promises to provide single girls with insta-boyfriends for less than the price of a new cell phone, no questions asked, she thinks she’s finally found her shot at cutting through the white noise and making a connection. All she has to do now is press Download…and delete everything she thought she knew about morality.

  That is, if she doesn’t get caught first.

  CALLBOYS

  Table of Contents

  I – Bones

  II – Convictions

  III – Ghosts

  IV – A Life So Grand

  V – Guts

  VI – The Edge

  VII – The World Alone

  VIII – Head

  IX – Complications

  X – Bravado

  XI – Hands

  XII – Two Souls

  XIII– Skin and Flames

  XIV – Boom

  This is dedicated to everyone who ever left swiped me on Tinder, and left swiped me in real life, too. Thank you for giving me the inspiration – and the motivation – to write this book.

  “…And I can tell you that, when the lights come on, I’ll be ready for this.”

  – Lorde

  ACT I

  THE PROPOSITION

  I

  Bones

  To the casual observer, Marissa Frost looked like any of the other perfectly normal diners at Cecconi’s Steakhouse on that ordinary Wednesday night. A crisp blue dress, shoulder-length burgundy hair, a pair of sensible black heels that obviously weren’t department store quality, but hadn’t exactly been fished out of a thrift store bargain bin, either. Yes, Marissa Frost looked so unassuming that no around her would have guessed that she was only minutes away from becoming a multimillionaire.

  But then again, neither would she.

  At precisely seven forty-five Mr. Cohen appears across the room, right on time. Dressed in a long navy overcoat, his beard was whiter than the fresh coatings of snow that sometimes shut down the entire city of Atlanta in January. He arrives at the table without fanfare, sets down his briefcase, and takes a seat. His twinkling brown eyes and grandfatherly demeanor make Marissa like him immediately.

  “Miss Frost,” he says by way of greeting. “First of all, let me just repeat how nice it was of you to come on such short notice tonight. You’re looking gorgeous, just as your father always described you.”

  Marissa smiles, but inwardly she rolls her eyes at the lawyer’s lie. It was a good lie, told by a good liar, but still, it was a lie.

  “Thanks. And thanks for inviting me here. Can we start, if you don’t mind?”

  Mr. Cohen fumbles with his briefcase. “Oh, sure, just let me prepare a few things first.”

  Marissa watches her father’s lawyer take out a small stack of papers. It had been four months since her dad had died, just keeled over while waiting in line to pay for a Dr. Pepper in a terminal newspaper stand as he left for business in Tel Aviv. Marissa had seen the paramedics rushing into the airport as she exited the parking garage after dropping him off and had thought nothing of it, and by the time she hit the freeway and got the call, the heart attack had already killed him. Marissa guessed that this meeting had something to do with his death, but then again, she had no way of knowing for sure.

  “Alright, the paperwork is all finished,” Mr. Cohen says a moment later, his eyes gleaming, “and I’ve been instructed to get your signature and finalize a few things. After, of course, I fill you in on some recent news.”

  “News?” Marissa asks. Mr. Cohen takes a breath and leans forward.

  “You are aware, of course, that your father had just settled a messy divorce with Candi when he died?”

  Marissa sighs. How could she forget? Her father’s second wife, Candi, the twenty-eight year old Pilates teacher with silicone curves and dollar signs in her eyes, had been the bane of her existence for years.

  “Yeah. What about it?”

  “Well,” Mr. Cohen says, “in light of what I just mentioned, it should be understandable that your father had some things…tucked away at the time of his death. But as of yesterday afternoon, all of his assets- hidden and not so hidden- have been liquefied, and are ready to be split between you and your sister. All we need now is a signature.”

  “Wait, what?” Marissa asks. “Hidden assets? What are you talking about?”

  Mr. Cohen’s eyes suddenly pull away. “I’m sure your father wouldn’t have wanted you to be angry, Marissa, he just didn’t want Candi’s hands getting on anything, and so he…neglected to mention a few things to you and your sister before he died. But he knew how much the divorce battle weighed on you two, and so he designed his will accordingly, and, well…he’s throwing you a bone from beyond the grave.”

  “A bone?”

  “A bone,” he repeats with a knowing smile.

  So Dad was lying about money, Marissa thinks as she looks down at the tablecloth. She waited for the anger to come, but it didn’t. She could handle a little lie; after all, isn’t that what men did? She’d already gotten fourteen thousand dollars, a few pieces of furniture, and a sapphire necklace from her father’s estate, and she’d figured that would be all. Besides, she was fine on her own, with the five hundred dollars a month her mother gave her to make up for being World’s Worst Parental Figure. None of it even mattered, anyway, since nothing would ever bring back her dad, the only man in her life who had ever given her the time of day. Just another blow in a long, winding line of them in the disaster called Marissa’s life.

  Sometimes Marissa felt like asking for a refund on her twenties. She had envisioned a wild decade of partying and self-discovery, and in the end she’d gotten barely any parties and even less self-discovery. She’d been raised up in the boom-boom nineties, when she was promised a bright and good and golden future, and then all that fell away with the two towers and she entered a world that had become dark and shifting and uncertain. Futures stalled and internships fizzled and nobody knew what the hell to make of anything anymore. She longed to be nineteen forever, happy and carefree and weightless, riding shotgun in her sister’s car with her hand out the window in the cold clear wind, killing the beautiful time. But her teens were over, her early twenties were bleeding into her not-so-early twenties, and all she could think about was how in-between she was. Between adolescence and adulthood, between living under her mother’s wings and paying her own mortgage, between having a family to fall back on and having to face the world on her own. It was sad and strange and confusing and just a little exhilarating, because she could end up anywhere, and the choices she was making right now were going to put her there. But all the grown-ups told her to love her twenties because these were the times of her life, and so she tried to smile anyway, like she wasn’t lost in the forest with no map, no light, and no clue.

  Marissa sighs and looks up just as Mr. Cohen utters a sentence that will change her right down to the bones forever:

  “Miss Frost, your father left you over six and a half million dollars.”

  II

  Convictions

  To the casual observer, Nathanial Henry looked like any of the other perfectly normal customers at Cecconi’s Steakhouse on that ordinary Wednesday night. A clean-cut sports coat, a close-cropped haircut, a pair of khaki slacks that obviously weren’t department-store quality, but hadn’t exactly been fished out of a thrift store bargain bin, either. Yes, Nate Henry looked
so unassuming that no around him would have guessed that he was only minutes away from beginning his career as a male prostitute.

  But then again, neither would he.

  At precisely seven forty-five the man appears across the room, right on time. He cranes his head around the restaurant a few times before spotting Nate, making recognition flash in his eyes like a spark from a gas station lighter. Nate couldn’t have been sure, but he thought the man looked pleased for some reason. Nate waves him over and studies him as he saunters up to the table, deciding that he looked more like some fancy tech millionaire from the movies than someone who would spend his time hiring part-time local models. So why was he here?

  “Nate, right?” the man asks as he extends a hand.

  “That’s me.”

  “Nice. Ryan Meehan. Great to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  After they shake hands and settle into their seats, a waitress appears to take their drink orders.

  “And are you ready to order your meal, too?” she asks Nate. “I’ve seen you sitting here for a while now.”

  Nate stares down at his menu with wide eyes and discovers that he can’t even afford the cheapest thing on the kids’ menu. For a moment he looks around and asks himself why he is even here in the first place. He didn’t belong in places like this and never would. Why not get up and leave before he embarrasses himself?

  He blushes and looks up at the waitress. “Uh, sure. I’ll have a glass of tap water and some bread sticks. Thanks.”

  He hears laughter and looks over at Ryan. “Forget that,” Ryan tells the waitress. “He’ll have the lobster ravioli with your finest white wine. I’ll have the same.”

  The waitress flashes a knowing smile and leaves.

  “Are you sure?” Nate asks. “That ravioli was, like, forty dollars.”

  Ryan holds up a shiny credit card. “Trust me, I’m good for it. I’ve got company plastic tonight.”

  “Oh. Well, thanks, man.”

  Nate leans back in his seat, studying the man who had called him here. For a casting director, he was young- almost too young. The lines of his coat suggested that it probably cost more than Nate earned in a month, and something in his eyes hinted that he was far more intelligent than any casting person had the right to be. So who was he?

  “Shall we get started?” Ryan asks, and Nate nods. “Okay, well, first, I have a confession to make. I know I said we called you here to interview you for a local ad campaign, but that wasn’t entirely true.”

  Before Nate can say anything, the waitress returns with a bowl of bread sticks. His stomach growls just at the site of the warm, rich starch, as he hadn’t been able to afford food all day. But Ryan seems hungry and starts gulping down the rolls without abandon, so Nate ignores his appetite and waits his turn.

  “Just to make sure, you are a male model, right?”

  “Eh,” Nate shrugs. “It’s nothing I take seriously. I’m in school part-time, and I do construction work whenever I can. But a model scout came up to me one day and gave me her card, and ever since then I’ve been doing modeling jobs on the side for extra cash. It’s easy, and the money’s good. It’s whatever.”

  “Great,” Ryan says through a mouthful of bread. “Like I said, technically I am a casting director, just not exactly for the job you had in mind.”

  “…Go on.”

  Ryan takes a swallow. “We call it ManCard,” he begins. “We’re basically an…adult-related technology company. We created an app that…takes care of certain needs that women might have.”

  “What kinds of needs?”

  Ryan leans back and rests his hands on the back of his head with his elbows in the air. “Look, I’m sure you’re familiar with the ways of the world these days, Nate. Everything is getting outsourced. If someone wants a movie, they open up their Netflix app and pick something out. If they want food, they open a food service app and order takeout. But ManCard works in the one area that hasn’t yet been outsourced to technology, and yet it’s one of the most basic human needs there are. Love.”

  Nate stares at Ryan blankly. Why in the world would this guy have tracked him down and asked him to meet about love? Was he coming onto him or something?

  “Listen,” Nate says, “I have no problem with gay guys, but I only like women. So if you’re trying to-”

  “No, I’m not trying to pick you up,” Ryan laughs, shaking his head. “Just hold on. First, I need to ask you a few questions. What is your life like right now, besides work and school?”

  Nate clears his throat. “Well, um, I’m in school at Gwinnett Community College, and I also wash dishes at the restaurant down the street from my house when I’m not doing construction.”

  “And how much do you make?”

  Nate glances out the window into the darkness. “Like thirty bucks a night, maybe.”

  Ryan’s lip twitches. “What if I told you that, working with our company, you could make ten times that much for just one hour of labor?”

  Nate jerks up in his seat a little. Three hundred dollars an hour? What kind of pay was that? He’d be able to cover his rent in one night, with beer money leftover to boot.

  “Let me just ask you flat-out,” Ryan says quickly. “How would you like to get paid good money to go out with women?”

  “What?”

  “Before you freak,” Ryan says as Nate’s head starts to spin, “let me explain. Times are changing, Nate. Women are overworked, overstressed. They have work parties to attend, weddings to go to, school functions to sit through, all that. They don’t have time to go out and look for guys anymore. They’re out in the world all day making names for themselves, and sometimes they just want to come home and have someone waiting for them. Or have someone take them out, maybe take the pressure off, let them blow off a little steam. That’s where you come in.”

  Nate looks up at the ceiling, trying not to laugh. “You’re kidding me, right? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Not in the least,” Ryan says. “You’d basically be getting paid very well to be someone’s boyfriend. This isn’t some sleazy sex service- we’re literally putting the power back in the hands of women. With one app on their phones, they can select any guy they want and have him show up at their house within the hour. It’s revolutionary, man.”

  Nate finally lets out a chuckle, still in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here listening to this right now.”

  “I’m totally serious, Nate. You’d be a perfect hire, after you audition, of course.”

  Nate snaps his head back at Ryan. “Audition?”

  “Yeah. We’ll need to make sure your skills are up to par. You’ll do a demonstration in front of our real casting director, Lena.”

  “Wait- you’re serious?” Nate asks, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You expect your new employees to…fuck someone? In front of people?”

  “Just once.”

  Nate looks down and shakes his head as he studies his glass. At least he’s getting a free dinner out of this freak show.

  “Listen,” Ryan says. “Before you say no outright, we did a little background research on you. Is it true that you’re single-handedly supporting your deceased brother’s young daughter?”

  Nate looks up immediately. “How the hell did you know that?”

  “And is it true that the child’s mother is an addict who spends all of her rent money on drugs, and that the townhouse you all share is currently four months behind on rent, and that you are all about to be kicked out on the streets any day now?”

  Nate looks around, searching for cameras. “What’s going on? Is this a TV show? Have you been stalking me?”

  Ryan leans forward, letting the professional veneer crack a little. “Dude, we weren’t stalking anyone. We were just investigating a potential acquisition. Hedging our bets, if you will. That’s all.”

  “Acquisition?

  “Yes. And from what we hear, you’re the best in Atlanta.”

  “Huh?”


  Ryan motions at a girl waiting by the door to the kitchens. “See that waitress over there? The brunette with the nice ass?”

  “I guess. What about her?”

  “Don’t you recognize her?”

  Nate stares at the waitress, and soon the memories come flooding back. Hazy, but still, they’re there. A chance late-night meeting at a bar; awkward laughter over cheap beers. A request for a ride that really meant something else; a nod that meant she didn’t care anyway. And finally a blurred car ride that led to trembling hands tangled up in sheets and sweaty legs intertwined in the moonlight. Oh, he remembered.

  He looks back at Ryan. “I think I slept with her. How the hell did you know that?”

  Ryan smiles. “Lena has a few moles out there, giving her reports on prospective hires. If she hears a good sex story from a girlfriend, she tracks down the guy immediately and investigates. There’s a reason Lena picked this restaurant for us to meet at, you know. She has a bit of a sense of humor.”

  Nate bites the inside of his cheek and considers asking for his check and bolting. “You’re stalking me, dude. This is weird.”

  “Calm down,” Ryan says. “We do this with everyone. Just come by The Compound tomorrow and see our lesbian fairy godmother; she’ll answer any questions you might have.”

  “Your what?”

  “Lena, the girl I was mentioning,” he smiles. “Our employees are welcome to live at our headquarters in Buckhead, but it’s sort of turned into a frat house, so we hired Lena to come in and keep order- but lately she’s become more of a mother hen for everybody. A house mom, if you will. When she’s not focusing on hiring new employees she’s helping with schedules, breaking up fights, and generally just keeping everybody on their toes. She’ll watch you and grade your performance during your evaluation. If she likes what she sees, she’ll hire you on the spot. The better you do, and the more you work, the more money you’ll make.”