The Millionaire's Mistress

FOUR

Tally’s is a small bar, cheaply priced for cheap people looking to forget their problems. Cara tugs the bottom of her dress to cover more of her thighs, pushing the stained glass door open. She’s immediately hit with the scent of smoke and crappy air-vents and she keeps her head down as she crosses a table full of greasy looking men playing poker. 

She ignores the cat-calls that she’s sure are aimed at her, and wraps her arms around herself as she looks for a sign of the man who she spoke to on the phone. It doesn’t help that she’s never seen the man, and after two minutes of aimlessly standing around in the middle of the small room, she decides to sit at the bar and wait. 

She hops on the rusty barstool, ignoring the bartender that’s eyeing her, and anxiously pulls at the end of her dress. She doesn’t usually wear clothes like this, mostly because she knows the kind of town she lives in and because her mother told her she doesn’t have the body to wear this kind of stuff. She was curvier than other girls her age which made her look older in dresses like this, and the last thing she wants to do is entice the old men of her town. 

Her conscious laughs at the irony. 

Suddenly, a woman appears next to her, almost out of thin air. She’s a little taken aback, but when she calms down she finally looks at her properly. She looks middle-aged, her dark hair is cut short and she’s dressed in a blue striped shirt and trousers. 

“Cara Winter?” The woman interrogates. 

Cara nods nervously. 

“Follow me.” She says in a clipped voice and starts walking away. Cara rushes to get off the tall barstool and tries to match the woman’s speed in her heels. Her heart is still racing, her fingers twitching with anticipation. 

She leads her to a discreet staircase going downwards into some sort of basement. The setting is a little creepy if Cara’s being honest, but she swallows that feeling and follows the stout woman. Soon, they are pushing open a rotten wooden door to a small office-like cubical. There’s a small, cherry desk in the corner of the room with an old boxy computer, and next to it is a camera propped on a tripod, facing a plain white wall. 

“In front of the wall, please.”  The woman gestures to the white wall and Cara swallows uncomfortably. She finds it strange how these people don’t even pretend to be nice or social in the least; it’s so clear with the way they talk that they only care about money. 

She slowly walks in front of the camera, not sure how to stand or where to look. But that seems to be a short-lived problem as the woman immediately barks orders.

“Move your hair back. Look into the camera, don’t blink and stand straight.” And with that, three clicks are sounded accompanied with a bright flash, almost blinding Cara. She looks away, shielding her eyes.

“Done.” Cara watches as pictures are dispensed from the back of the camera. The woman opens the orange binder in her hands and slaps the polaroids inside. 

“Give me a second. You can sit down.” The woman waves her hand to one of the plastic chairs and Cara nods uncomfortably. 

From her seat, she watches as the short woman goes behind the old-looking desk, clicking a few buttons on the keyboard. She opens the file again taking pictures of everything with her expensive-looking phone -- Cara clutches her old, boxy one in comparison tightly between her hands. 

“Does she meet the requirements?” She’s now speaking on the phone. Her voice is almost robotic. 

“Perfect. I’ll drop her off.” 

“Drop me off?” Cara blurts and is immediately met with the professional woman’s cold gaze. 

The woman slides the phone into her pocket. 

“Yes. You start today.” 

“Today? But my mom doesn’t know I’m going to be gone!” 

“Do you want the money or not?” And that seems to shut Cara up. 

Today? She’s really not sure if she’s ready to start. She assumed they would give her a few weeks before asking her to work but they are jumping right in.

Before she can think anymore, the woman is already asking her to follow her again. Cara chews her lip aggressively, following her back up the stairs and out of the bar. 

Soon, they are standing in front of a lavish looking silver car. Cara can’t help but gasp. 

The woman opens the door for her, motioning for Cara to get in. 

“Really?” Cara is still reeling with the surprise of such an expensive car in her small town. She doesn’t think twice and lowers herself onto the plush leather seats. 

As soon as she’s inside, it’s almost like the decision is made for her. She feels uncharacteristically powerful just by sitting in this car, and she is certain that this is how she wants to feel all the time. She takes a moment to look around her, the tinted clear windows, beige leather that’s almost sparkling like gold, and a driver dressed in one of those white uniforms she sees on TV. 

This is almost a dream come true already. 

“Alright. Since we’re arranging this deal for you, we take 50%. The original offer was 20,000 dollars. We split it, you get ten and we get ten. Got it?” The woman’s mechanized voice breaks her trance. If she’s being honest, she doesn’t care that the company is taking half of her income, if it wasn’t for the company she wouldn’t even be earning the said half. 

“Yes.” Cara nods. Somehow she’s questioning the authenticity of this deal less and less the longer she stays in the car. Her judgment might be slightly skewed, blinded by the wealth around her.

“Okay. Sign here.” She points at the bottom of the page. Cara takes a deep breath, thinking it over one last time before her pen touches the paper. 

“Don’t worry, it’s a great opportunity.” Somehow the words don’t sound that comforting when said in that monotonous of a tone, but it does the trick. 

Five minutes later Cara has signed everywhere she needs to and two hours later they have already arrived at the destination she was supposed to be dropped off at. 

“When will I get free? And how will I get back home?” Cara asks before she is escorted by the man standing outside the car in a black suit. 

“Everything you need is there. Mr. Walton will take care of you.”