Oliver was saying something, probably about the weather and how this year it is raining a lot. She was nodding occasionally. She sat quietly and awkwardly, a little too conscious of her wet dress and hair. He said something else and laughed a little, and looked at her expectantly.
"Huh?"
"I said, if somebody saw you, they'd think I am kidnapping you," he said again in a joking tone. Cece tried to laugh in response, but failed.
"You're in a particularly sour mood," he said.
"I mean, look at me," she said. Cece looked at his face and observed him closely. Now that her mind was off that man, she noticed how charming this guy was. He was probably in his early twenties, but the sparkle in his eyes, and his dimpled cheeks made him look younger. A head full of light brown curls covered half of his face, still she could see the youthful smile on his face. It was still there, even when he was not deliberately smiling. She lets out a small laughter without realising she was doing it.
"Sorry about that. He was really rude."
Cece lowered her head. He was rude, yes, but more than that, that strange man's presence brought back a feeling worse than the humiliation she just went through. Something older, and much more cruel than that.
That can't be possible. He was supposed to leave the country. He must have left the country because for the past four years nobody had seen or met him.
"Okay, we're here," she said. If it had been a regular day, and she didn't have this terrible back pain, she would probably invite him over. The last time she met a guy this cute, she ended up making friends with him. Sure, they made out on their second date, but then they realised they would work out better as just friends.
Oliver can be someone to stay in touch with, she thought. She looked at his slightly blushing face and chose to ignore her pain for a while. She gently asked, "Thanks a lot. Would you like to have a coffee or something?"
He blushed even more. Cece meant coffee for real, nothing implied. She is sensible enough to wait at leaset until the second meet. Did that sound like something else? "I meant just coffee, nothing else," she clarified, which turned his ears redder. The blush made him look cuter.
"No, thanks," he said, shrugging. "I have somewhere I have to go. Take care of yourself. By the way, you never told me your name?"
'It's Cece." She smiled. She was going to think of this guy for a while now, she thought.
However, as soon as she reached home, she forgot about Oliver. The tall man stealthily returned to her mind. She couldn't spot it, but something about him was very familiar, and not in a good way. She changed into fresh pyjamas, made herself a cup of coffee and sat beside the window in her bedroom. She can see the city from here, filled with lights, sounds, noises, smells, and many more things. At the moment, under the heavy downpour, it looked magical.
She opened her laptop and went directly to the website where she was supposed to post her story. Each installment would require a minimum of two thousand words, and detailed description of a whole day in the life of her main characters. They want detailed characters, with realistic and believable backstories too. Not that she has a problem creating realistic characters. But the next point written in her notepad makes her pensive.
Each chapter must have a hashtag with them–#foryouredruby. She typed the words on the laptop to search the hashtag, and what it means. There is no such entry on the website. She googled the hashtag, again nothing came up. No Reddit or Quora answers, or no entry on the urban dictionary. She frowned at the illuminated screen and thought about it hard. She can post one chapter, as the woman, Sandra suggested. She can see how the readers are responding and she can decide.
She left her seat and picked up the contract laying on the bedside table. It looked like any similar document would, with very transparent clauses that were framed keeping the profit of both parties in mind. The offer will remain valid for the next three years. These three years, she will receive a regular paycheck from her client. There are other benefits too, including health insurance. The lucrative offer only for one story with a hashtag—somehow the idea doesn't make sense. Online authors do get paid, but the process is very different.
Sandra did mention that her name was selected out of a number of shortlisted candidates and her stories were read by a panel of critics before she was considered as a candidate. There are still many questions in her mind that were not answered properly.
Cece has a habit of overthinking, and at many instances her thoughts have proved to be right and valid.
She checked her bank balance and glanced at the reminders of the unpaid bills. The stick on notes are good enough as motivation. She decided to sign the document.
What if something goes wrong? She will find a way. Right now, she needs a stable job. It should not be hard to stay blind and deaf until the tenure is over. It wouldn't be the first time when she would keep her head low in order to survive.
The next day when she visited the same place, it was a cafe she didn't know existed before this week. There was Sandra, dressed impeccably in a red suit and a half smile, sitting with a man. She was ecstatic when Cece agreed to sign the contract. "My client would like to meet you while you sign the contract tomorrow," she said. "You may bring a consultant too, if you like. My client insists that you get a professional opinion as once you sign it there will be no going back."
"That will not be necessary. I have read and understood all the terms."
The back of the man sitting with Sandra made her heart beat faster. Suddenly it was all turning into something very real. The man, plump, fair, with round green eyes gave her a bright smile. She smiled and uttered a greeting, and sat down on the chair offered by the man.
"My name is Simon Franco," the man said cheerfully. "My boss will join us shortly. Meanwhile we can start the process."
Cece nodded and put the file on the table.
"That is going to be your copy. Once we sign the documents, you may take it back with you. I believe Sandra has explained everything to you?"
They are on a first name basis. Cec raised a brow and said, "Yes, she was very helpful."
"Great. Then let us begin. Before that, would you like to order something?"
Cece took a small look at the menu and said, "Just a chai latte."
Simon happily ordered her chai latte along with their coffee and started, "Is there anything you'd want to negotiate about?"
"Yes, this point here." Cece pointed out a paragraph and said, "It says here that if I want to terminate the contract at any given point of time, I will have to compensate. However, the terms of compensation are not specified. I would like to get that clarified."
"In our long professional experience, we have met many circumstances where employees had to terminate contracts in the middle of their tenure. While we don't encourage this behaviour, we realise that there are instances when it cannot be helped. So, we decide on the compensation on the basis of the urgency or reason of termination of contract. Most of the cases are done through negotiation, and mutual benefit is kept in mind."
Cece nodded in response.
"Is there any other kind of concern, Miss Cece?"
"No, I am fine with the rest. Where shall I sign?"
Simon Franco showed her the blank space where she had to fill in her name. Taking a deep breath, she signed her full name with the date, neatly, carefully, and repeated the process for another set of documents that was supposed to be with the client.
Sandra clapped and grinned. "Didn't I tell you, you will not be disappointed? I knew she would make the correct decision."
Simon's already happy face shone brighter. What would this man look like when he is upset, or angry, or just depressed like the maximum number of people in this city? Cece couldn't place a shadow over his happy face. It was annoying, really. She quietly started fidgeting. Now that the document was signed, she could just leave.
"I am sorry to keep you, but I really want you to meet our boss. I hope I am not keeping you from something important?" he asked. She glanced at Sandra, who nodded back to her enthusiastically.
"That is fine, I have some time," Cece said and looked outside. The moment she did that, her face paled.
The man who entered the cafe laid his lazy, disgusted, cold eyes on her face. Cece couldn't think of anything else, as she stared at him. A gun, a deafening sound, blood, tears— the vicious montage running in her mind ended with the humiliation from yesterday when he left her alone sprawling on the road. She could hear his voice ringing in her ears, "People are fucking stupid nowadays."
"Oh, there he is," Sandra exclaimed.
"Gavin!" Cece mumbled. She felt that her voice was suddenly lost. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
"Do you know me?" he asked her.
"Yes, I am the daughter of the man whose family you slaughtered three years ago."