My Contractual Love

Chapter two

Neema

What on earth was wrong with me?

In a freeze of few seconds, my voice ran down my throat and squeeze itself into my stomach. My mind went blank and my breath grew hotter. It felt like his eyes were piercing into my skin, shredding me naked.

“Have you?” The darker man’s voice drew me back to reality. His stern expression sitting comfortably on his tan face.

“Uhm...I...I haven’t.” I stuttered.

“You haven’t? And how do you hope to get this job?” His voice went again, more terse than it was.

My eyes narrowed to the kinder looking man, who pulsed his lips sideward in a stiff smile. A kind of smile that said, “I’m sorry I can’t save you.”

“Tell me about yourself.” The tan-faced one asked.

What the hell was my name again? Damn me! Now it felt like I had forgotten who I was. I had done a quick practice at home, but telling someone about myself, and trying to impress them, had to be the hardest thing to do.

“Okay...I’m Neema Richardson. A nineteenth year old fashion model and photographer. I have been active on this field for three years. I’m excited to explore the possibilities of gaining the acceptance to work with this regal body of companies. Thank you!” I ended my introduction a smile.

“Acceptance?” The tan-faced repeated and let out a dry chuckle and for a second, I knew I could die of embarrassment. Did he just laugh at my introduction or was that an imaginary perception?

“Where do you live?” He went further, not minding the look on my face.

“On fifty- sixth Street.” I answered, a little confused.

“So, how do you plan on getting here on time considering your distance.”

“Well...early to bed is early to rise I guess.” My lips spread in a nervous smile. Were these the kind of questions to be asked at an interview?

He nodded his head and jotted something down on with his light pen on his iPad.

“Hand me your portfolio.” He asked.

My legs wobbled forward, as I stretched my arms out handing my portfolio over to him. I moved backwards and stood in front of the two men. The kinder looking gesture me to take a seat, smiling. How I wished he was the one to interview me! I was so sick of the weird questions “Mr. Tan-face” was throwing on me. So sick!

Oh yeah! I had nicknamed him already, since I didn’t know his name. I saw his brows furrowed like the I had found a flaw in my portfolio. Although, I didn’t have so much experience, but back in high, I had worked as a free lance fashion model for a few department stores around New York.

I had to start working to meet the needs of my sister, Naomi’s school payments and mum’s medical treatment. My pear-shaped curves did the magic. They were my kind of good luck charm, I guess.

Though, I never loved the idea of modelling, I had to do it. It always felt like I was selling my body for money, similar to what saw the girls do in dark alleys with their boyfriends—or flings. I hated it because it was a total opposite of my personality.

But I got no time to decide which way the boat of my life would roll because life snatched the paddles from my hands before I could miff a sound. It took my happiness and took my mum’s too. Life had always been greedy to me. So, I’m trying to snatch that paddle and take charge of my boat.

I pinched the side of my palm nervously, waiting on Mr. Tan-face’s remark and further questions.

“Okay...Miss. Neema...” He finally spoke, “How did you get into modelling?” He asked.

“I got my first contract from a stranger, actually. I met her on my way to school, sometime in grade twelve. And she was impressed by my composure after a few shots. So, yeah!”

“Okay? So you’re more of a fashion model, are you?”

“Yes, sir.” I responded.

The kind looking, who had been on this laptop for quite a while, looked up at me in a thoughts, then, nudged at his colleague’s wrist and whispered something into his ears, then straighten up to maintain his compose smile.

“ Miss Neema, Can you give us a minute?” Mr. Tan face asked.

“Oh... that’s fine. I could just wait outside, I mean. Uhmm...sure.” I smiled nervously and walked towards the door and pulled the knob to myself and stepped out, shutting it slightly just so I could eaves drop on their conversation.

My mind started twirling in triangular-shaped circles. Did I say something wrong? Was I to loud or was my voice too low? Did my morning meal betray the flatness of my stomach?

I couldn’t help but overthink everything. My thoughts raced back to my mum lying in the sick bay at home. It raced back to the image of her tears wetting the pillow last night. It raced back to the pain and blame she felt because she couldn’t even help her condition.

Her words reminded me I needed this job even if it meant working as a model instead of study my dream course in college like most of my friends. Her words reminded me of the day Dad left us. It reminded me of the things I needed to live for, even if that living meant pain.

I stared at my nude flat shoes wondering if they were what a model would wear. At least, they weren’t so crappy. I shook my feet violently as I leaned my back on the wall close to the brown door. Five minutes had passed since I gave them a minute. What on earth was taken do long?

I tried eavesdropping on their conversation through the small gap between the door frame and the door, but still couldn’t hear a word. Their voices were low, more like whispers. Just as I lowered my head closely toward the door, a warm, light finger rested on my shoulders.

In shock of getting caught, I swiftly jerked myself to meet the face that owned those light fingers. My eyes kissed his. A dark shade of brown. His jet black hair shone in the overhead light’s glow. His thick lashes hooded his eyes softly, low. His brows were a perfect arch. I drifted a little, stumbling backwards before he caught me by the arm and steadied my balance from throwing off.

Now he was a little closer, still and speechless. I shouldn’t have done this next one. My eyes darted down to his lips, and my heart race sped up. They were some kind of forbidden beauty to stare at. His lips were a shade light pink, lush soft. Oh my! What was I seeing? Was he real or was he a fraction of my imaginations?

My eyes danced down to his jawline and lingered. They clenched in masculine elegance, a perfect V. How could someone be this perfect? It’s crazy how all this happened in less than thirty seconds. Thirty seconds that felt like forever. Thirty seconds that I wanted to re-live a thousand times more.

I really didn’t know what hit me, but I’m certain if I wasn’t in a good standing position I would have fallen straight to the ground.

“You were snickering up on...” He raised his brows, gesturing toward the door.

“Uh...oh. No! I wasn’t!” I exclaimed.