Page 2 of Wicked Player
The atmosphere is super cozy, and we also sell used books and vintage knick knacks I pick up in my travels when I go thrifting. It’s a staple in the community of Windy River, the small town I live in.I love my job, and I love my customers. Unfortunately, the money I take in after expenses and salaries is just not enough. I’m a single mom, and I struggle to make ends meet.
Hence the reason I am here. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I am doing this for Christian.
I can't believe this kind of thing can be going on in this day and age, the age of the #metoo movement. It all seems a little sordid to me. The whole concept reminds me ofThe Bachelor.
Apparently at the end of the evening, a woman is picked to stay the night. The woman is always happy to be the ‘chosen one’. It’s apparently a badge of honor. The beautiful Colton Rossi loves his party games and good food, so if nothing else, it’s a great party, or so I hear. We'll just have to wait and see if I’m chosen. Cassie tells me the chances are one in ten. If I am, I’ll get one thousand dollars for the night, and I’m apparently under no obligation to stay if asked.
Once I’ve completed my questionnaire, I get up to see Martha. She’s engrossed in her computer screen, and I hesitate to speak and disturb her.
Do I really want to do this?I must do this for Christian, I remind myself. He needs me to do anything I can, so I don’t hesitate as I hand her the questionnaire. She smiles up at me, and thanks me for participating.
“One last thing,” she says as she reaches for her phone. “I just need to snap a few pics.”
My breath hitches. No one said anything about pictures. But I suppose it makes sense. How naive was I to think the selection process would be based solely on a questionnaire.
“Could you stand against the blank wall, please?” she asks sweetly.
I do as I’m asked, all the while, ashamed of myself, and thankful that I’ve done my hair and makeup today. I glance down at my outfit, wondering if I should have worn the pink top. It’s not exactly slimming.
Oh well, it’s too late now.I smile for the camera. She takes a close-up, then what I imagine is a full body shot. She asks me to turn to my side so she can take a photo of my profile.
“What is this?” I quip. “A mug shot? Where are the height lines on the wall?” I snicker. “By the way, I’m five foot two.”
She laughs. “Sorry, it’s procedure.”
I shake my head. This whole thing is such a joke. Imustabsolutely make it, if only to tell Mr. Rossi so.
“Thank you,” she finally says. “I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I can. I will be sending a thank-you email to all applicants.”
Applicants? Is this a job? I suppose it is, in a weird fucked-up way.
“Can I help you make your way out?” she asks kindly.
I hesitate because this is a big place, and I am on the second floor in an office area. I was led here by a nice man by the name of Robert, and honestly I'm not sure exactly how I got here. It was all a blur as I took in the space in complete awe. Now I need to get back to my car, so I gladly accept her offer.
As we walk down the hall, the clicking of her tall shiny heels fills the wide empty space. I glance down at my own shoes, and feel plain in my boring black kitten heels. She is so perfect and put-together, and here I am, in my best suit but nonetheless, average at best. My heels are uninspired, and I remind myself that I need to do a little shopping, update my wardrobe. But of course I have no money to do that. This is sadly the best I could come up with today.
We finally make it to the front entry door. I’ve barely had a chance to take in all the beauty around me. It’s all just so overwhelming; the colorful art displayed against bright white walls, surrounded by soft decor in shades of blue and grey. It is very much like being in a fancy hotel or spa. A small part of me wants to stay here… perhaps forever.
“See you again soon hopefully,” she says as we reach the door. “It was a pleasure.”
I make my way out without a word. I am numb. What have I just done?
