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Hate Story(12)
Author: Nicole Williams

“That’s not safe. In this city. For a woman. At this hour.” Max motioned out the window at the darkening sky, like the city was brimming with thugs and thieves just waiting to prey upon the innocent after nightfall. “I wasn’t aware that was how you got around. I’ll have it taken care of.”

“Actually, nothing needs ‘taken care of,’ and the reason you didn’t know I’m a fan of public transportation is because you didn’t have this.” I reached into my bag to pull out the Bible of Nina that I’d finally managed to finish last night with the help of a few shots of vodka. My life story didn’t seem nearly as depressing when I was steeping in Smirnoff.

When I held the folder out for him, Max studied me for a minute. Half of his stares felt as if he could see through me, and the other half felt as if he was trying to figure me out. This was one of the latter stares.

“Finished?” he asked, taking the folder. He set it on the table in front of him instead of stuffing it in some lock-and-key briefcase like I’d imagined he would, given our situation.

I nodded. “Finished.”

Well, mostly. That last section remained blank because no amount of vodka could make me brave enough to fill in those questions.

“Good.” He reached for something beside his chair and pulled out another folder. This one was green instead of blue and not nearly as thick, but still. Another one? I never knew committing a federal crime would be so much work. “I’ve drawn up a timeline for us to follow. When you get a chance, please review the dates and let me know if you have any conflicts with the schedule.”

I found myself looking around the restaurant, almost like I was expecting a few FBI agents to lunge out of their seats and haul us away in handcuffs. But no one was looking. No one cared what was inside the folders we were exchanging over dinner. I wondered if anyone would even if they knew what was inside them.

“It’s important that we document our relationship as it progresses, so if you haven’t already, please open up a social media account or two, so your friends and family won’t be shocked when you announce you’re getting married.” He pulled something else out of his briefcase of goodies. “I’ll be doing the same so my family and friends won’t be startled by it either.”

He set a white rectangular box in front of me. It had a picture of a phone on it—one of those sleek, giant new ones.

“I took the liberty of purchasing you a new phone as I noticed your current one is so old . . .” He must have noticed the warning in my expression. “It looked pre-camera-phone era.”

His head turned to look out the window, but I didn’t miss the smile trying to form.

“Thank you, but I can’t take it.”

Before I could continue, he lifted his hand. “Before you get too far, I anticipated your lack of acquiescence and am equipped with a favorable solution.”

He paused just long enough to let me say something, but I stayed quiet. He was right—my phone could barely hold a call, let alone take a picture. Not to mention said phone was in indefinite hibernation.

“I could deduct the cost of the phone from what I’m paying you. If you prefer that option.” He didn’t glance around the room like I did. He seemed so at ease with this arrangement. So unconcerned that this could blow up in our faces. “Is your silence a sign of your agreement, disagreement, or indecision?”

I eyed the phone, thinking. He was right about documenting our relationship in the form of photos and social media posts. Not that I had one of those, but I could open one easily enough. The friends and family part would be a different obstacle.

I’d already agreed to marry him for money—what was accepting a phone in comparison?

“You’ll deduct the full amount?” I asked.

“To the last penny if it makes you happy.” His tone was playful.

“Deal,” I said before slipping the phone into my purse. With the exchanging of folders and now a new phone, we probably looked like a couple of international spies to anyone watching us. Which no one seemed to be doing anyway.

“By the way . . .” His eyes circled me. “Nice dress.”

I glanced at the dress I’d zipped into tonight. It was another old one from high school that had been barely in fashion back then. It was pretty much the antithesis of the dress that had been hand-delivered to my front door earlier today. The dress box alone had probably cost as much as my weekly grocery budget.

“Yeah, so I returned that lovely one you sent me and managed to pay off the past three months’ electricity and water bills, so thank you.” I ran my hands down the old dress. “I love it.”

“Glad you found a good use for it.”

I leaned back in my seat when a waiter came by and lit the votive candle on the table. “Me too.”

I’d never been inside the store the dress had come from, but I’d thought the security guards were going to toss me out on my ass when they saw me slip through the glass doors. I held up the dress box like it was my invitation before heading to the cashier. When I found out how much the dress had cost, I gave a low whistle and promptly rushed the fresh money in my wallet to the utility company and paid what I owed.

It felt good having those bills off my hands. At least for this month.

“Is money an issue right now, Nina?”

I took another drink of water. “Money is always an issue, Max. The plight of the middle-to-lower class.”

   
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