Chapter 139: A Different Kind of Sugar Date

Chapter 139: Chapter 139: A Different Kind of Sugar Date

Chapter 139: A Different Kind of Sugar Date

The moment Cyrus Calder asked how much Rhea Maddox intended to pay him, the last traces of sleep vanished from his head.

She was absurdly generous.

Rhea did not merely quote a number over the phone. Before Cyrus had even gotten out of bed, a two-thousand-dollar deposit had already appeared on his account. According to her, that was only one fifth of the total. If she was satisfied with the date afterward, she would send the remaining amount.

Cyrus stared at the transfer for several seconds.

He really had not wanted to go.

Unfortunately, she was offering far too much money for him to maintain that position with any conviction.

Besides, Rhea was an active detective. Even if she had questionable personal interests, Cyrus doubted she would knowingly drag him into anything blatantly illegal. More importantly, he had never offered that kind of service in the first place.

A paid date was still only a date.

That distinction mattered.

From answering the phone to reaching the location Rhea had given him, Cyrus needed only about half an hour. Most of that time was spent traveling.

He had dressed quickly in one of the new outfits from yesterday, fixed his hair into the appearance he used outside school, and left before he could reconsider the effect money was having on his principles.

Even with the rushed preparation, standing there turned out to be inconvenient.

The weekend crowd was heavy, and his revealed appearance attracted attention almost immediately.

During the ten minutes he spent waiting, an unreasonable number of women approached him to ask for directions.

Cyrus answered the first few politely.

By the time another woman asked whether he knew where the nearest coffee shop was while standing directly beneath a mall directory, he began to suspect the questions were not entirely about navigation.

So this was what happened when he went outside on a weekend without hiding his face.

He had always assumed he looked difficult enough to approach.

Apparently a crowded shopping district contained enough bold people to overcome that problem.

Cyrus was about to take out his phone and ask Rhea where she was when he sensed someone approaching and raised his head.

Rhea walked toward him through the crowd.

Her outfit was nothing like the professional clothes he normally associated with her. She wore a short beige jacket over a light top that looked far less useful against the cold than Cyrus would have chosen, along with fitted white pants that emphasized her height.

The colors were gentle.

Rhea somehow made them look brisk rather than soft.

When she reached him, her attention moved over his new clothes before she smiled.

"Sorry about that. Have you been waiting long?"

"Not very long."

Cyrus lied without hesitation.

She was paying him today.

A paying customer deserved a slightly nicer version of the truth.

"That is good. We should get going."

Rhea immediately started walking.

Her pace was quick enough that Cyrus would have been left behind if his legs were any shorter.

He fell into step beside her.

He had no idea where she intended to take him, but he did not ask yet.

A detective whose actual job involved protecting people probably would not openly harm a member of the public in the middle of a shopping district.

At least, Cyrus hoped that principle remained relevant outside working hours.

Rhea was the one who started asking questions.

"What did you and Helena do yesterday?"

"She had me try on clothes for something she was working on."

Cyrus saw no reason to hide it. Nothing improper had happened.

Rhea nodded once.

"Do you want to try on more clothes today?"

"I would rather not."

After changing eight or nine times yesterday, Cyrus had no desire to see another fitting room anytime soon.

"Then we will go to the arcade."

Cyrus looked toward her.

He had heard of arcades.

He had never been to one.

The place where they met happened to be close to a medium-sized mall. Rhea led him inside, took the escalators up several floors, and eventually brought him into a large entertainment area filled with machines, bright displays, electronic music, and shelves of prizes.

Cyrus resisted the urge to look everywhere at once.

Instead, he kept his attention mainly on Rhea.

His peripheral vision handled the rest.

Many of the machines seemed to require tokens or credits before they could be used.

Cyrus checked his pockets.

He had not brought coins.

Before he could ask how the system worked, Rhea disappeared toward a counter and returned carrying a tray filled with arcade tokens.

One hand remained in her jacket pocket while the other held the heavy tray.

Cyrus had to admit the image suited her surprisingly well.

Several people nearby had clearly reached the same conclusion.

A few lingering looks followed Rhea across the room.

Then those people noticed Cyrus walking beside her.

Most of the attention faded with impressive speed.

Apparently an attractive woman accompanied by an equally noticeable man was less approachable than an attractive woman alone.

Cyrus followed Rhea to a claw machine.

Then he watched her feed token after token into it.

The prize was a stuffed animal that looked as though it would cost maybe thirty or forty dollars in an ordinary store.

Rhea spent far more than that trying to catch it.

The claw dropped.

Missed.

Dropped again.

Slipped.

On another attempt, it managed to lift the toy before dropping it halfway to the chute.

Rhea continued without displaying even a trace of financial pain.

By the time she finally succeeded, Cyrus had watched at least half the tokens disappear.

He congratulated her aloud.

Internally, he was horrified.

This seemed extremely wasteful.

Put a cheap stuffed animal behind glass, attach a weak mechanical claw, and suddenly people were willing to spend more than the object itself was worth.

Was making money really that easy?

Cyrus was beginning to understand why businesses liked entertainment.

Rhea turned with the prize in her hands.

Then she pushed it directly into Cyrus’s chest.

"You can have it."

Cyrus caught the stuffed animal.

"You do not want it?"

"My apartment already has plenty."

Cyrus accepted the explanation and tucked the toy under one arm.

After that, Rhea continued moving through the arcade while Cyrus followed wherever she went, carrying the oversized prize like an unwilling mascot.

The novelty wore off faster than he expected.

Compared with the outdoor exercise equipment he had tried before, most of these machines felt less interesting.

Rhea noticed his lack of enthusiasm after they had made a large loop around the floor.

"You are not going to play anything?"

"I do not think this is really my thing."

"Then we can go somewhere else."

She did not insist.

Rhea glanced at the few tokens remaining in her tray and then noticed a photo booth near the wall.

Her expression changed.

Before Cyrus could ask anything, she caught his wrist and pulled him toward it.

The booth was narrow enough that standing inside together immediately reduced the available space.

Rhea adjusted the screen settings.

Then she looked at Cyrus.

"Can you smile for the picture?"

"If I force it, will that count?"

Rhea studied his face.

"Actually, keep your normal expression."

"That seems easier."

The booth flashed several times.

A strip of warm photo paper came out afterward.

Cyrus picked up one copy while Rhea kept the other.

He barely had time to examine the pictures before she asked another question.

"Are you hungry yet?"

"I could eat, but I am not starving."

"Then we should have lunch first."

Rhea made the decision with the same confidence she used when directing an investigation.

They left the arcade.

Cyrus followed, carrying the stuffed animal and wondering whether this strange outing qualified as easy money or unusually tiring customer service.

His stomach decided it was easy enough once food became involved.

Neither of them had eaten breakfast, so the fact that it was slightly early for lunch made no difference.

Rhea chose a nearby restaurant.

Cyrus ate well.

Afterward, they wandered through the shopping district without any particular destination.

Rhea seemed less focused than she had been at the start of the day.

Cyrus noticed because he was not exactly focused either.

The arcade had not interested him much, and he had spent part of lunch calculating how much money she was paying compared with what they were actually doing.

Rhea finally spoke while they walked.

"Now that we ate, do you want something to drink?"

"The Full Moon Lounge is not open yet."

It was not even eleven.

Malcolm would not begin normal business for quite a while.

If Rhea insisted, Cyrus might be able to arrange something privately through Malcolm, especially considering the corrupting power of the payment waiting at the end of this date.

Rhea shook her head.

"I have a liquor cabinet at home."

Cyrus turned slightly toward her.

Before he answered, something across the street caught his attention.

A young woman with twin ponytails was clinging closely to the arm of a shy-looking older man. Through a storefront window, she pointed excitedly at an expensive outfit while pressing herself against his arm with an intimacy that looked deliberate.

The man appeared both pleased and embarrassed.

Cyrus had heard about arrangements like that.

Sugar dating.

An older person spent money on a younger companion. The younger person provided company, attention, and whatever else the agreement happened to involve.

It was supposedly one of the easier ways to make money quickly.

The catch was that the person earning the money often had to sell far more than their time.

Cyrus looked at the couple again.

Then he looked at Rhea.

She had paid him an enormous amount of money to spend the day with her.

She had taken him to an arcade.

She had bought lunch.

Now she was suggesting going back to her apartment because she had alcohol there.

Cyrus’s expression became complicated.

Did this make him some kind of sugar baby?

More specifically, was this an older-woman version of the arrangement he had just witnessed?

Rhea noticed where he had been looking and followed his attention toward the couple.

She did not understand why Cyrus suddenly seemed conflicted.

Cyrus thought about it seriously.

He was a bartender.

If he went to Rhea’s apartment, he could simply make her a drink.

That was all.

He would not drink anything himself.

Absolutely nothing.

And as long as he refused, Rhea could not exactly hold him down and pour alcohol into his mouth.

Probably.

That condition seemed manageable.

Cyrus finally nodded.

"All right. We can go to your place."

Rhea moved quickly once he agreed.

She opened her rideshare app and requested a car before Cyrus had time to rethink the decision.

Several minutes later, the two of them sat together in the back seat.

Cyrus held the stuffed animal against his lap while watching the city pass outside.

Rhea sat beside him, unusually quiet.

Neither of them spoke.

Cyrus was thinking about money, alcohol, boundaries, and whether ten thousand dollars was enough to justify walking voluntarily into Detective Maddox’s apartment.

Rhea had thoughts of her own.

The car continued through Grayhaven in silence, carrying both of them toward the same destination for entirely different reasons.