by Harper West
I have a feeling that I have a lot to learn.
Inside, there's a man sitting behind a desk wearing a flamboyant purple shirt and a black and gold tie that doesn't match at all. His shiny, bald head glares under the lights, and his thick wrists are covered with black hair.
“Mr. Bridger?” I ask. “I’m Hollie Parson, we have an interview?”
He looks up at me and cocks his head to the side. “Do we?” He asks.
“I thought so,” I say.
“Don’t end your sentences in a question,” he tells me brusquely. “It makes you sound like you don’t know anything.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as my cheeks turn red.
“Stop apologizing,” Mr. Bridger says. “Sit down.”
I sit in a rickety metal chair and cross my legs at the ankle.
“Why do you want this job?”
“Um, I’ve read about your law firm, and I really respect the fact that you do a lot of pro-bono work,” I say, still feeling helpless and flustered.
That gets his attention, and he narrows his eyes at me.
“You wanna work for me? Because I do a lot of free shit?”
Although I don’t consider myself a prude, the cuss makes me blush in the professional context and my jaw drops.
“Um, well, it’s respectable,” I say. “That you’re so willing to help people, you know? That a lot of people who can’t afford a good lawyer will get one because of your firm.”
“And that makes you want to work for me?” He repeats.
“Yes,” I say, more firmly this time.
“So, you could just work for anyone who gives time out for free, then? You don’t need a job? You don’t need the money?”
Somehow, I have the feeling that even by normal standards, this interview is far beyond the range of normal.
“I do need the money,” I admit. “I’m in grad school.”
“What for?”
“A Master of Fine Arts,” I tell him. “In Creative Writing.”
Mr. Bridger blinks at me like I've caught him off guard.
“But I’ve always really respected lawyers,” I tell him. “My mom always told me that I should have gone to paralegal school instead of grad school.”
It’s not exactly the truth, but I hope it’s what he wants to hear all the same.
"Paralegal school is a fuckin' waste of money," Mr. Bridger says. He shakes his head at me. "But it sounds a lot better than poetry school."
My heart sinks.
“Honey, you ain’t the one for this job,” Mr. Bridger tells me in his thick Brooklyn accent. “Which is a damn shame – I always like a pretty face around the office.”
I don’t know what to say, and I shift awkwardly in the folding chair.
“That’s it,” Mr. Bridger says. “What, you want subway fare?”
With a furious blush on my face, I exit the building.
At home, I'm sitting on the couch with a glass of water in my hand when the front door opens, and Sandy walks in.
“How’d it go?” She asks, and her voice is so nice that I can forget about how weird she was this morning.
“I didn’t get it,” I admit. “It was kind of weird. He asked me why I wanted the job, and I said it was because I admired the pro-bono work that his firm does.”
Sandy frowned. She sat down next to me and kicked off her high heels, curling her long legs under her athletic frame.
“That’s weird, but law offices are strange,” she says. “That’s not really typical, but I have a friend who works as an associate for this boutique firm, and she said that the firm only wanted her because she has a good rapport with clients.”
“Weird,” I say.
Sandy shrugs. “All jobs are kind of weird, to be honest,” she says. “You find any more leads?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“You’ll find something,” Sandy says. She gets to her feet and stretches, then walks into the kitchen. “You know,” she calls over her shoulder. “You could always try stripping!”
I burst out laughing. “No way,” I tell her.
Sandy pokes her head out of the kitchen and rolls her eyes at me. “Duh, I was kidding,” she says.
“Heh,” I say awkwardly. “Yeah. Well. That’s not going to happen.”
But later that night, lying in bed, I can’t stop thinking about what Sandy said. I would never strip or do anything even remotely related to taking my clothes off for a bunch of strangers, but it does make me wonder.
There have to be ways of making money that aren’t exactly ... conventional, right? Like, maybe I could do one of those online personal assistant jobs, where I shop for rich peoples’ groceries and pick up their dry cleaning.
The thought is still on my mind as I fall asleep.
Continue reading, The Pleasure Contract, here!
Also by Harper West
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1. Tempting Her Royal Princes: A MFM Royal Menage Romance
Standalones:
Seduced by Her Royal Dukes: A MFM Royal Menage Romance
The Nanny and the Billionaires: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance
The Billionaires Surprise Baby: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance
The Billionaires and The Librarian: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance
Given to the Mafia Bosses: A MFM Bad Boy Mafia Menage Romance
The Virgins Billionaire Bachelors: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance
The Virgins Double Tycoons: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance
Training Their Virgin Assistant: A BBW Billionaire Menage Romance
The Billionaires and the Bookworm: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance
The Pleasure Contract: A Contemporary Reverse Harem Billionaire Romance
The Billionaires and the Booknerd: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance
FREEBIE:
Shared by Her Billionaire Bosses: A MFM Billionaire Menage Romance
About Harper West
Harper West is a Cali girl through and through, and she’s hella addicted to iced tea. She loves some theme park time, visiting the ocean and the mountains in the same day, and spending time with her kitties as she explores this writing journey.
When she’s not enjoying everything Cali has to offer, she can be found on social media or sitting in front of a fire on a rainy day, staring at the mountains. Sign up for her newsletter to stay up to date on all of her journeys and new books!