The Proposal Series

Chapter 10: Taxi Service

A familiar Rolls Royce pulled up in front of the school's gymnasium. The driver's side window wound down, and instead of seeing Derek's assistant Jennifer, the man was there in the flesh.

Oh gosh. Sara thought. “What are you doing here, Derek?"

“You called for a cab, and a cab is what you have," he said, smiling at her.

“This isn't a cab. This is a Rolls Royce – have you no shame?" she asked. She was embarrassed. This was going to cause a scene, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“The only shame I have is not making this decision easier for you. You didn't take my calls."

“I didn't take your calls because I had two exams and I have two interviews scheduled today. As much as I would love to have a personal driver take me everywhere, I would rather he not be you," she said.

“Ouch. Well, I suggest we bring this argument into the car – you seem to have a rather large audience," Derek said, his gaze traveling over her shoulder.

Sara turned around and saw at least fifteen students watching her argue with a man in a Rolls Royce from the top of the stairs. She was trying to keep a low profile in her life, and Derek was all but ruining that. If he was so concerned with her safety, he sure had a weird way of showing it. Sara decided she would not sit upfront with him. If he wanted to act like a driver, she would treat him like one. She grunted, rolled her eyes, and got into the back seat of the car.

“Don't argue – just let me take you to your appointments and bring you back home," he said.

“What I would like to know, is how you even knew I had appointments, or even knew where I was?" Sara questioned him.

“Tracking device. Hand me your purse," he said matter-of-factly.

Sara had a look of confusion on her face. She picked up her heavy book bag and handed it over to Derek, who started fumbling with it while trying to drive. He pulled out something the size of a pin and tossed it out the window.

“Are you joking with me right now? You were stalking me?" she practically yelled at him.

She suddenly felt nervous and did not like that she was confined in the back of his car.

“I would hardly call it stalking, Sara. You have a maniac searching for you, and as I mentioned in my proposal, you are not safe. I had Jennifer slip it into your bag this morning when she dropped off the paperwork. It was the only way I knew how to ensure your safety while you took your time to sign the documents."

“While I took my time? I am not signing your ridiculous documents. If you think I am going to pretend to like you and be your girlfriend – while completing obstacle courses - then you are just as mental as Tom."

The car slowly pulled up to the first job site location.

Sara continued, “Not to mention that a tracking device may tell you where I am, but how do you know where my job interviews are?"

“Sara, do you really think finding out the location of a job interview is beyond me?"

Sara scoffed. She went to open the door but found it wouldn't open. She started to panic, but only slightly. She didn't like feeling confined.

“Would you unlock the door so I could attend my appointment?" she said.

“Not until you say you'll agree to my proposal."

“You are mental. I will not agree. Your terms are ridiculous, and I wouldn't fathom agreeing to at least half of them. You are asking me to sell myself in exchange for imperative documents!"

“Sara, the last thing I want to do is ask you to sell yourself. I am trying to protect you so my efforts in attaining your documents are worthwhile. If something happens to you partway through, my efforts are for nothing. The obstacles as you call them, are ways for you to prove to yourself that you are worthy of a different life. I respected the fact you couldn't tell me about your life. So, I did not make you. I found out by myself. I know what you went through, and I put together this proposal not just for me, but to help you."

Sara thought about what he said for a moment. He sounded sincere. She recalled some of the stages of training. He did put thought into it. All the stages represented parts of her current life and perhaps her past. But that did not matter. His assistance was not free.

“You sound sincere, Derek, but we both know there's a catch," she said.

“My family comes to visit for six months out of every year from British Columbia. During those six months, there are numerous functions I must attend, including work functions and family events. I'm always given a 'plus one' for these events, but I always end up attending alone. It creates rumors about my personal life and my s****l orientation, which are not good for business. I also have no time for an actual girlfriend. However, my family and friends always seem to have other aspirations for my private life.

“I have my reasons for wanting to appease my family, and I would like to avoid any issues by having a beautiful woman attend events with me and meet my family. As you can imagine, I wouldn't ask this favor of just any woman. The woman herself would have to be spectacular, intelligent, and someone who can handle my family's inquisitions. I conduct at least a modicum of research on each potential client before all initial meetings. I did the same with you. Although I must admit I had no idea what it was you were searching for, I knew if there was a way, I could convince you to assist me, then I would assist you."

Sara sat staring at the headrest of the seat in front of her. She was trying to remember something, something about the conversation they had during their first meeting. Then it came to her. “You have done this once before," she said.

“I have," he said.

“How did it turn out?"

“Not the way I had expected," he said truthfully.

He didn't want to share. She didn't have time to pry.

“Please unlock the door. I don't want to be late."

“I will be waiting to take you to your next meeting," he said.

Sara nodded and Derek unlocked the door. She stepped out, feeling the breeze against her face. She looked up to the sky, said a silent prayer to whoever may be up there, and walked towards the building.