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“I don’t have a price. I know this is hard for you to believe, but everyone can’t be bought.”
“Oh, but everyone needs something, and from what I gather, you’re out on your tail—living with your best friend.”
“If I’m living with someone, I’m not out on my tail, then am I?” I try to pull the door open again, but his hand is pressed against it, preventing me from getting it open.
“Move,” I tell him.
Completely unbothered and ignoring my request, he asks, “How much did Dominion offer you?”
“Enough, now move so I can go.”
He smiles. His white teeth are brighter than my future. He says, “A place like this would probably pay about seventeen dollars an hour for entry-level accounting. So, I’ll pay you thirty-four dollars an hour. You’ll get three weeks of vacation and sick leave. You’d be foolish to turn that down, Ms. Bailey.”
Instead of thinking about why this man tracked me down and is willing to pay me so much, I’m standing here thinking about all the things I could do if I made that kind of money. I would have my own apartment within a month’s time – maybe even a couple of weeks. I could save money instead of living paycheck-to-paycheck, travel, go to concerts and live comfortably like I used to but ten times better.
I say, “I’ll think about it.” If I can get away from him, I can give this proposal a rational, unbiased look, but the more he talks, the more my intuition is telling me to run for the hills.
“I need an answer right now.”
Of course Mr. Instant Gratification needs an answer now…
Now, I’m curious about him and his demeanor. I take my hand from the door handle and crossing my arms, I ask, “Why do you need an answer right this moment?” Besides the fact that you’re a control freak…
“Because I’ll need you to start in the morning.”
“In the—”
“Morning, yes,” he says, cutting me off and finishing my question. “You don’t have to repeat it. Do you want the job or not?”
Don’t do it, Quintessa.
Something is shady about this whole thing. But there’s nothing shady about thirty-four dollars an hour being directly deposited into my account every two weeks, is it? And I’ve never been one to let a man interfere with my bag and what’s the absolute worst that could happen? Money and incentives surely could encourage me to tolerate him eventually, right? And if it doesn’t, I could just get another job.
“All right,” I respond. “Deal.”
His lips curve into a sinister smile as if he’s satisfied after cajoling me into this job. “Good. Be there tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. Orientation will begin at 9:00 with breakfast and coffee. Don’t be late.”
He saunters away with a slight bow in his right leg – a walk so sick, so sensational, I almost drool, as if the cologne didn’t do enough to rouse my senses.
I break out of a trance and get into my car. Sitting in the driver’s seat with my pulse still racing, I ask myself, “Quintessa, what have you done?”
What have I done? If I have to ask myself, I know this quick decision I made is not sitting well with my spirit.
I take out my phone to call Ella. My hand is shaking so bad, I can hardly press the power button to turn it back on. Once I do, I dial her number.
She answers, “Quin, where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”
The panic in her voice has me alarmed more than the run-in with Mr. DePaul. “Ella, what’s wrong?”
“He was here! That—Essex DePaul dude. He was here! I told him you were at Dominion. I’m so sorry. It’s like he coerced it out of me.”
“Ella, calm down. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“Did he come over there?”
“Yeah, he did. I just got finished talking to him.”
“And?”
