A Hire Love by Candice Dow

him.”
    “Meaning?”
    I laughed. “Now, who asks all the questions?”
    “I answered your questions.”
    “After I nearly begged you to.”
    Her expression softened. “Well, I’m begging you.”
    I laid the contract on the table and took a deep breath. “When my father left the States, he gave up the promise, that’s what my mother said. He went back to Trinidad to work construction and play in a calypso band in the evening. When I was young, I thought that was quitting, now I think it’s living. Everyone isn’t motivated by money.”
    She looked down at the contract. “So, you’re not motivated by money?”
    “I’m motivated by happiness and, unfortunately, in this country, money provides a pathway to happiness.”
    She snickered. “I was curious if you were interested in doing this for charity.”
    If I had other gigs lined up, her beauty would have forced me to say I would do it for free. Instead, we both laughed and I didn’t say anything. I looked back at the contract.
    She pursed her lips and her blinking eyes contemplated as she studied me studying the contract. “Do you have any questions?”
    As I filled out the direct deposit information, I joked, “You’re not going to take my routing number and suck all the money out, are you?”
    Her eyes zigzagged. I said, “Just playing, baby. So, as long as I stay in character around you, I can live my life?”
    “As long as I’m happy. That’s the most important part.”
    My smile got wider and wider as I read the last lines of the contract. I had a few questions but nothing I wanted to bring up before I signed. If I fall for another woman, I have to resign immediately. Does that mean I can still see other women? Of course, I have no plans of dating anyone until I get another gig that pays as well as this.
    I was partially tempted to run it by my agent, but I am much too proud to reveal to anyone that I’d succumbed to this. When I looked at Fatima, her hair lay flat on her full breasts and I scribbled my signature on the contract. To hell with it! What could she do? Rape me.
    “Your name is Rashad, right? That’s not a stage name or anything?”
    “How did you know I had a stage name?”
    “Huh?”
    “Yeah, I used to be a stripper.”
    She dropped her head. Her eyes fluttered when she finally looked up. She leaned her elbow on the table and massaged her temple as if to say, now you tell me. I went for it: “My stage name is Microwave.”
    Her expression cursed me. I said, “I get it hot, fast.”
    “Tell me you’re joking.”
    As I grazed the fine hair on her forearm, I said. “Didn’t you ask for a sense of humor? I’m just playing.”
    The air trapped in her lungs escaped. We both laughed. I said, “This is the closest I’ve ever come to selling myself.”
    “Rashad, do me a favor. Now that you’ve signed that contract and once the direct deposit goes into action, I don’t want to discuss our arrangement. I want you to make me forget that I’m paying you. Got it.”
    “Got it.”
    Our waiter, my homeboy José, came over with her favorite dessert. Her chestnut eyes danced with excitement.
    “You’re such a sweetheart.”
    As we stood to leave the restaurant, she patted her belly. “My stomach is falling out.”
    “Your stomach is fine.”
    She looked at me inquisitively, probably curious if my compliment was scripted or sincere. I resisted the urge to tell her it was really me and not who she was paying me to be.

Scene 10
FATIMA
    W e left the restaurant and walked hand in hand to Staples. I was really enjoying his company. Now I consider myself a smart girl, but this had to be the brightest idea I’d had in all my life. Who really has time to go through the get-to-know stage?
    When we entered the copy center, it dawned on me that I was really about to hand over a ten thousand dollar check to a complete stranger. Although Mya claimed she would make sure he never worked in this town again if he ran off with the money, I