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I know. I know. I made a mistake. She doesn’t have to rub it in.
I let out a sigh as I lie back on the bed. So he’s married, huh? Of course someone that hot wouldn’t be available. Still, why do I feel so disappointed? Why do I feel more hopeless now?
I turn on my side. Tears brim in my eyes and one trickles over my nose. I guess I really am all alone. I have no one, nothing. Maybe I should just schedule an appointment with a clinic and get rid of this baby already.
“Hey.” Mandy places a hand on my arm. “It’s not the end of the world, okay?”
Then why do I feel like it is?
“Kate also gave me this.” Mandy hands me a piece of cardboard, a calling card but with no phone number on it, just an e-mail address. “She didn’t explain how exactly, but she said if you send an e-mail to that address, someone might be able to help you. You can use my computer.”
I wipe my tears and stare at the golden letters embossed into the silky white card. Upon closer inspection, I realize it has specks of silver, like a wedding gift card. The e-mail address is cryptic- a bunch of symbols, letters and numbers, not giving any hint whatsoever about its owner.
Is it a person? An organization? Will they really be able to help me?
I don’t know. I must say my curiosity is piqued, though, the flame of hope in my heart lit anew.
But what if it’s another whoremonger? I wouldn’t be surprised if Kate knew a few of those.
I draw a deep breath. Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out, and since I don’t have any other options at the moment, I might as well.
What do I have left to lose? Nothing.
Here goes nothing.
~
After several e-mails, I end up in an office.
It looks like an ordinary office on the thirtieth floor of a building in midtown Manhattan. If it had seemed shady, I would have left already. I promised myself I would. So far, though, there’s nothing to arouse my suspicion.
The building is right in the heart of the business district. I’ve never heard of it before, but then, this isn’t exactly my neighborhood. I was asked to leave an ID at the reception desk downstairs, so I did. Then I rode the elevator with people who smelled of coffee and ambition. Now, here I am in a reception room, which strangely has a chaise lounge instead of a couch. There’s no coffee table, either, just a wooden basin on the floor that has candles in the shape of water lilies floating in it. In one corner, there’s a birdcage with a potted orchid inside it sitting on top of a decorative pillar. Right next to it is a golden harp. Well, it’s painted gold, but I’m sure it’s not real gold. I mean, who would put such a valuable thing in a reception room, right?
Actually, it looks more like a room for personal relaxation rather than one for receiving clients and customers. In fact, if not for the woman behind her desk on the other side of the room, busy doing things on her computer, I would have forgotten I was in an office. That’s not suspicious, though. Just… interesting.
Now, I’m even more curious about the company.
Hera. That’s the company name I was given. I looked it up and found that it’s a company run by women catering to women. They sell women’s clothes, shoes, makeup, accessories. They have salons as well as spas and fitness centers exclusively for women. Clearly, it’s a business, so why would they want to help me? Are they going to hire me? Am I a charity case that’s supposed to boost their image? Or maybe they’re going to start a maternity line and they need a model?
The phone rings. The woman picks it up.
“Yes, ma’am.”
After she puts it down, she looks at me. I stand up.
“Ms. Sinclair is ready for you now.” She glances at the door.
I draw a deep breath, smooth the front of my white dress, and walk towards it. After opening it, the first thing I see is a marble statue of a Greek goddess- Hera, I presume- right in the middle of the room. I turn my head to the right and see a desk, but there’s no one seated behind it.
“Leah Adams?”
I turn my head in the other direction and find a woman sitting on a black couch. Her dark brown hair is cut short, just a little longer than mine. She sports a gray two-piece suit. A string of pearls hangs around her neck. On her hands are white leather gloves.
With one of them, she gestures to the other end of the couch. “Please sit.”
