“How much money do you need?”
“Almost two hundred and fifty grand.”
He took both her hands, caressing the back of them which his thumb. She tried to pull her hands away but he held her firmly. Alternatively, she looked down on her hands in his and wondered where this man came from, why he was being so nice to her.
“Mira, I’ll call you that. Does anyone call you Mira?”
“My dad does,” she replied, a lump rising to her throat as the tears threatened to surface once more.
“Then Mira it is,” he decided. “So Mira, what are you willing to do to save your father?”
“I’ll do anything,” she blurted out without hesitation. “I’ll clean houses, wash dishes … anything.”
“How about being my girl?”
“What?” she was baffled by the suggestion and she forcefully yanked her hand away. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
She rose from her chair and so did he.
“You’re misunderstanding me, Mira…”
“It’s Amira to you mister!” she insisted, starting to walk away.
“Amira, will you listen?” he said, but she was almost half way across the partially empty cafeteria.
He caught up with her, grabbing her upper arm and spinning her around. “Don’t you want to save your father’s life?”
“Of course, but what you’re suggesting….”
“What I’m suggesting is attending a few parties with me. Be by my side for the next six months and I will take care of your father.”
Mira blinked as she assimilated his suggestion. “That’s it? All I have to do is pretend to be your girl and you will pay my father’s medical expenses?”
“That’s it. As far as everyone is concerned you will be my girl.”
“So do I have to do anything else … I mean … do I have to you know…?”
“You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”
“For six months?”
“How about we not put a timeline on anything?” he retracted his earlier suggestion. “Let’s do this for the time period your father would take to get better.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why would you do that for me?”
His eyes locked with hers. “Because I hate to see a pretty girl cry.”