“Oh,” I say, considering this new turn of events. “Well, I don’t have a degree. I did take the LSATs though.”
“Perfect,” he says.
“I don’t even know your name,” I object.
“Frankie,” he answers, holding out a hand to shake. “Francisco Junior, really, but everyone calls me Frankie.”
“Hi Frankie, I’m Marlena,” I say, pressing my palm to his. He’s warm and friendly, but there’s no electric spark. Maybe this tutoring thing will work after all. I’m not looking for a romantic relationship, but I definitely need help paying my bills.
“So, I could help you out with an advance on your pay,” Frankie begins, as if I’ve already agreed to help him and we’re moving into negotiations. “I was thinking two thousand up front, and maybe four per month.”
“Four thousand dollars?” I say, feeling my jaw drop lower with every word.
“Is that not the going rate?” he asks.
“For a full-time teacher?” I exclaim. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he says.
“You don’t even know me,” I object, arguing myself out of the most lucrative deal that ever fell in my lap.
“And you don’t know me,” he counters somewhat dangerously.
“Oh.” I sit back, realizing I might have let my hopes get the best of me. “You’re a serial killer.”
“Not a serial killer,” he declares. “Just a law student.”
“But a law student who likes to pay strange women enormous sums to get in his car?” I guess.
“We can meet at the library if you like,” he replies. “I just meant that what seems like a good deal to you is also a good deal for me. I’m willing to take a chance, and honestly, it’s not my money.”
“Whose is it?” I ask, curious.
“It’s family money,” he hedges.
“So you’re rich?” I guess, trying to find a convenient category to fit him in so that I can decide whether to take the deal.
“Would you prefer two thousand a month?” he asks.
“No,” I say quickly. “I just don’t want to make a big mistake.”
“Help me memorize the case law,” he says. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“All right,” I answer with a sigh. “Let’s do it.”
“Great,” he says. “Now, tell me about yourself.”
I launch into my prepackaged job interview question mode, telling him all about my studies and my interest in teaching. Hestops me every now and then to ask me to elaborate, which I do. It’s kind of like a job interview, but also kind of like a date. I’m not getting any bad vibes from him, although I can tell there is something he’s keeping from me.
“What’s your phone number?” he asks, pulling out his phone.
I give it to him without hesitation. He thumbs through the buttons and opens his cash app. A moment later, my phone buzzes with the information that I’ve just received two thousand dollars. Hallelujah! I’m in it now, for better or for worse. I just hope I’m not making a mistake. But I need that money, and I’m about eighty percent sure he’s not going to kill me.
“Can we start tomorrow?” he asks.
“Sure,” I agree. “At the library?”
“Actually, would you mind coming to my house?” he hesitates.
