Page 4 of Stolen Kiss

The room begins to spin and I lean over, propping my elbows against the tops of my knees. Me? Married? Oh, this is too damn funny. If this is the way it’s going to be, I think I’ll pass.

“I know of this place where you fill out an application, pay a fee, and they do the work for you. Basically, all you need to do is show up for your wedding.”

When did my buddy, Jim, start becoming delusional? He needs a straight-jacket, not a retirement trip.

“I…I don’t…think so.” My words are jumbled, barely audible. “I’d have more luck investing my money in stocks than a stunt like this.”

He slips a business card across his desk. “Your password is on the back. Feel free to change it to something you’ll remember. I’ve already paid your fee.”

I stumble out to the hallway, forgetting all about the boxes he asked me to haul down to his car for him. I look down at the business card while I wait for the elevator. Wife for Hire Agency. What kind of a set-up is this? Does he think I’m hard up or something? That I’m desperate for a good fuck?

Peyton

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“I can’t afford to take time off,” I stare at the evening manager, pleading for her to understand how badly I need this additional income.

“Peyton, I know things have been rough on you. It’s not like you to ring up a charge slip wrong or spill a glass of wine on a customer. You’re tired and it’s evident on your face. You need to take some time to rest and to clear your head. Have you considered taking a trip somewhere?”

Trip? I can barely afford to pay my power bill much less go away somewhere. Not to mention, I’m just praying I can’t extend my rent until Friday. “I promise I’ll be more careful. There was a bump in the carpet and my foot brushed against it—”

“Peyton, there’s nothing wrong with the carpet. We had it installed after the first of the year, so it’s practically brand new.”

I’m desperate, okay?

“Isn’t there a way to adjust the credit sip? If I remember correctly, Drew showed me how to do this once before.” My hands begin to tremble when I think about the mess I’ve gotten myself into.

“The customer was nice enough to let us re-run her ticket, but this doesn’t solve the issue at hand. I’ll have you put back on the schedule in a few weeks, okay?”

Few weeks? What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I did a pay-day loan one time before and man, talk about a mistake. I thought I’d never get it paid off. I suppose I could do another one, just to give myself some breathing room, but there’s bound to be a better solution. There has to be.

I sit down inside my car and take a deep breath. I understand why so many single people end up moving back home. I’ve tried to make it on my own, but it’s time for me to admit I can’t do it anymore. I’m a hard worker and I do everything to best of my ability, but it’s not enough.

I open the console for a napkin to dry my face and a piece of paper falls into my lap. Seeing the Wife for Hire website written on it, I nod my head. Mariah and I have done some stupid stuff over the years, but her telling me about this tops them all.

I need a good laugh, though, with the way today has turned out, so I type in the address and wait for the website to load on my phone. Instead of laughing, I find myself intrigued with the layout and design. If I didn’t know that Mariah’s aunt was behind all of this, I’d swear it was a scam.

With nothing better to do, I proceed to fill out the required information. I don’t plan to submit it, but I can’t imagine the kinds of questions one has to answer.

My eyes begin to get heavy after a few moments of entering the mandatory information, and without realizing it, my phone slips out of my hand and down into my lap.

A horn honks in the distance and I jolt upright in my seat. “What? Where am I?” I grab the back of my neck as a sharp pain shoots down to my shoulder and arm. “Ouch!”

It’s gone from dusk to nearly dark and it’s safe to say I’ve been asleep for probably a good twenty or thirty minutes. I double-tap my phone to confirm the time, but that’s not all I see.

“Thank you for submitting your application” is written across the screen.

“Nooo!” I yell inside my car. Please tell me I didn’t do this.

I grab my purse and apron from the front seat and rush inside my place. Locking the door behind me, I lean against the door and slide down to the floor. There’s got to be a way to remove this website from my phone. If nothing else, I’ll report it as spam.

Except when I see the email indicating that I have a match, I hold off from permanently deleting it.

I follow the directions carefully, doing a much better job of holding onto my phone this time. At the bottom of the page, I have two choices—to save my file for later or to view the amount I could receive, minus any applicable fees.

I’d like to think my place is relatively cool, despite keeping my thermostat set to a reasonable temperature, but I break out in a cold sweat almost immediately. If I didn’t know the reason for it, I’d almost think I was running a fever. Which could likely be the case too, since a normal, sane individual would never consider something like this.

I think about the negative balance sitting in my checking account right now and how much tougher things are going to get these next few weeks. Until they at least add me back to the schedule. I’ll have to find something else in the meantime, some place that won’t hold my pay for a week or two.

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