Thread: Indecent Proposal [Traveler et dearestdarling]

It was a limo. Even before Evie, she had never ridden in one. Limos were showy, new money. Her parents' drivers had always used Town Cars when needed, less ostentatious, but still demonstrative of wealth. But they didn't even make those anymore... What did her parents' drivers use now? Mentally she shook the thoughts away old money, new money, she had neither and would gladly take either. Somehow he knew her name. Was he one of the men that had huddled around the table, watching the auditions? She hadn't looked closely enough at the time to be able to tell, now... But how else would he know? Before she could tell him to buzz off, he fanned the money in her face, and it took her a second flat to count the bills-- twelve hundred dollars-- her heart leaping. That was rent money. That was food money, they could even maybe splurge on something small, and save the rest... Evie's face would light up to see ice cream in the freezer, the first time in months since they'd been able to buy it, and the summer had been the hottest one in years... I get the money if I just... Discuss it with you? He wanted her in the car. Wasn't this how all of those crazy true crime movies started? She looked at his face-- he didn't look like a scary serial killer, not a hair out of place, his smile flawless and charming... But that didn't really prove anything, as badly as she wanted it to. Still... Would it be so bad, if something happened to her, and Evie lived with Mrs. Stanton? She was a weird old lady, sure, but not a bad person. Not a person who had continuously let her down. Before she could answer, a man had come around from the front passenger seat and opened the door for her. Three men in the limo, then. The idea that she should join him in the cab seemed more and more foolish with each passing moment, but... Twelve hundred dollars. This would be Evie's first birthday without Seth around. She wanted to do something special, maybe take her to the aquarium, but those tickets were so damn expensive. She bit her lip, exhaled, and climbed into the vehicle before she could change her mind. The old, familiar smell of leather was almost comforting. She thought of being shuttled from ballet lessons, her piano recitals, French and Italian, etiquette... She eased into a plush seat, crossing her ankles and not her legs, as she'd been taught. The dress had ridden up her thighs, and she tugged at the hem discreetly, her purse clutched in her lap as she watched the money being laid out before her. Excuse me, please, Mr. Amir. One moment. Quickly she took out her phone and texted Danielle, the only person who knew where she had been. 'I didn't get the job at The Toybox. I'm talking with a man named Amir, he picked me up in a limo. If I don't call in an hour, call the police.' Then she tucked the phone away, folding her hands in her lap and giving him her full attention. So this was a job interview? He wanted her to... Type? Type... As in, on a computer? A typewriter? Was 'type' some kind of slang for some deviant act, or...? I can type. Pretty quickly too, but could I ask you something? Do you always conduct interviews for typists in a dark alleyway, in a bad part of town? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but... You don't look like you're from around here. The suit, the haircut that cost more than her rent, the manicured nails and brows... She knew wealth when she saw it.