“We’d like to schedule an initial consultation. Are you available this Friday at 2 PM?”
Friday. That was three days away. Three days to change my mind. Three days to come to my senses.
“Yes,” I heard myself say. “I’m available.”
“Excellent. I’ll send you the address via text. The consultation will take approximately one hour. Please bring a valid ID and be prepared to discuss your medical history in detail.”
“Okay.”
“And Ms. Renois?” His voice softened, just slightly. “This is a confidential matter. We ask that you not discuss the details of this arrangement with anyone outside of our office.”
“I understand.”
“Good. We’ll see you Friday.”
He hung up.
I sat there holding my phone, my hand shaking.
This was real.
This was actually happening.
I looked down at the text that came through a second later: an address in the Garden District. The kind of neighborhood where people like me only went to clean houses or watch other people’s children.
I needed something to wear.
Something that didn’t smell like Magnolia Gardens.
Something that made me look like a woman who had her life together, even if it was a lie.
I called Saroya.
“Hey,” she answered, kids screaming in the background. “What’s up?”
“Can I borrow a dress?”
“A dress? For what?”
“Job interview.”
“What kind of job?”
I hesitated. “Personal assistant for a wealthy family.”
“In the Garden District?”
“Yeah.”
Saroya whistled. “Damn, Truth. Moving up in the world. Yeah, come by tomorrow. I got something that’ll work.”
“Thanks.”
“You okay? You sound weird.”
“I’m fine. Just nervous.”
“You’ll be great. You always are.”
