Page 3 of Wife Wanted

"Not even your mom?" She quirks her eyebrows up.

"I haven't talked to her in a year, Cammie. I didn't tell you because I know how you feel about people who don't speak to their parents."

"Oh my God, Court. You actually went no-contact?"

I'd been talking about it for years, but after a situation that happened - actually the one that started this whole period of creative drought for me - I did it. "Yeah, and I'm struggling, all the way around."

"I'm so sorry. What can I do?"

This is why I love her, although she might not agree with my choices, the first words out of her mouth are typically wondering what she can do to help me. "Nothing, I just have to make some decisions and I need to do it soon. I can't keep going in this purgatory."

"So, what are you going to do?"

I know what I'm going to do and I don't want to. It feels as if I'm quitting on myself. Giving up on all the bright ideas I had. They'd shined like those shiny baubles that attract crows, but now everything is dark and heavy, dull with the tarnish of too much disappointment. "I'm going to meet with Miss May, and find out if I'm a match for a man who might have me. I honestly don't have any other choice right now. My lease is over in a month and a half. There's no way I'll be able to stretch my savings any further than that, and right now, my creativity isn't here. I need to get as far away from this city as I can. With any luck I might be closer to you."

She gives me a sad smile. "I hope so. I've missed having you in my life less than a three days' drive away."

When Cammie met her happily ever after, she moved two states over, and I've only seen her once since she got married. She exchanged city life for the quiet of the country, and after things have gone for me, I have to admit I'm jealous. "I hope so too. I'd love to hug you right now."

"So, what's your plan?" She asks, pulling her legs up under her chin, and resting it on her knee. "You need a plan. It'll help you feel as if you're in charge."

I want to roll my eyes. We're never in charge of our destiny and if anyone should know that, it's her. "I'm going to schedule a Zoom with Miss May, and then I'm going to weigh my options. I don't think I can stay here." I look around the apartment. I've sold everything I can and it's starting to look bare, which is feeding into the desperation and depression I'm beginning to feel. "There are too many memories, too many lost hopes and dreams. I need something fresh. The only problem is I don't have any money to start over at this point, so maybe I'll buy a tent and a sleeping bag."

She laughs, but I'm being honest. "You know you can always come stay with me if you need to."

I don't tell her I'd need the gas money for that. Times are getting desperate over here. "I know, and I appreciate that." The despair is starting to sink in, and I know I will never ask her to help me. I've been on my own for longer than most, and I've always made it work some how.

"I gotta go. Jameson and I are going out for dinner with friends. If you need me, you know where to find me. If you need help with your info for Miss May, let me know."

"I will, have so much fun." I paste on a happy smile I don't feel.

When we disconnect the call, I look around, wanting nothing more than to cry. But crying has gotten me nowhere in the past. Instead, I square my shoulders and head toward the bathroom. If I'm going to have an interview with Miss May, I'm going to look amazing. I have to look like I'm capable of getting a man, unlike the absolute mess I am right now.

Glancing at myself in the medicine cabinet mirror, I groan. This is going to take more work than I originally thought. I haven't gotten my hair done in almost a year. I've not had the inclination, time, or money. "How am I going to hide these roots?" I snap my fingers. "I can curl it and put it half way up."

Going over to my hair tools, I grab the curling wand and plug it up. Opening my cabinet door, I get the dry shampoo and spray it liberally so that I'll be able to have some volume. I'm adept at curling my hair, and I'm done within fifteen minutes. Then I go about doing my makeup. I'm torn between if I want to go heavy or not. I don't want to look too old, but I also don't want to look as young as I actually am. Even though I'm twenty-three, I look like a teenager, and it's gotten me into situations more time than I care to count.

When I'm done, I take a selfie and send it to Cammie. "Does this pass? Do you think she'll be able to match me?"

I wait for what feels like a year for the text message to come across. "You look hot. That's exactly how you need to look to get her to match you. Good luck, friend."

"Thanks. I'm gonna need it."

Squaring my shoulders, I have a seat in front of my laptop and wait for the call to connect so I can meet Miss May.

CHAPTER THREE

Shane

Idrum my fingers against the scarred top of the desk in my makeshift office as I wait for the shitty connection I have at the house to finally open Zoom on my desktop. The only reason I ever move from this house will be because of the horrible internet I have here.

Forget watching streaming services or fucking porn.

When it finally comes up, and starts connecting, I sigh. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..." I encourage the connection. Eventually the face of Miss May, the owner of the Wife for Hire Agency appears. Her smile is pasted on, not a hair out of place, and make up that appears to be professional and not caked on. I answer her smile with one of mine. "Miss May..."

"Hi Shane, how are you?"

I don't care about the pleasantries, but I answer because I want to get this over with. "I'm good. I hope you're well."

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