Chapter Ten
CAMILA
If there was one certainty in my life, it was that cats were better than people.
That's why Waffle was my favorite company in the world. He didn't ask me questions, he didn't judge me, he was faithful, affectionate, sincere.
And he would never offer me a proposal to lie in court in exchange for money.
But at least in my own home, I couldn't complain to that extent.
When my grandmother came back from the bookstore the day before and found me at home, and I told her I had quit my job, she immediately seemed concerned, but she realized and understood that I didn't want to talk about it, so she didn't force me to do anything.
My grandmother knew me well and knew that when I was sad, I was a fan of silence and solitude. It was like that throughout my life, from the most trivial things, like low grades on tests at school or being snubbed by a boy I liked, to more serious things.
It had taken me over a month to open up to her about my parents' deaths. Before that, I had spent most of my time in my room, alone and in silence.
Even now, already a grown woman of twenty-four, my first instinct was still to retreat. That’s why she didn’t ask me any more questions, just brought dinner to my room and, before going to bed, came in to kiss me goodnight and told me she loved me.
Now, however, in the light of morning, I knew I couldn’t stay buried in sadness any longer. I had to get out of bed and start making up for the damage of being unemployed. A job offer wasn’t going to just show up at my door or fall right into my lap.
“Except for a certain half-million-dollar offer...” I grumbled.
Waffle was sleeping next to me, but woke up at my voice, looking at me curiously.
I wouldn't even try to explain it to him. It was all too confusing for even me to understand.
I heard a knock on the door, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked over just as it opened, and my grandmother's face appeared.
“May I come in, dear?”
I nodded and sat down, waiting until my grandmother approached, placing a kiss on my forehead.
“Haven’t you been to the bookstore yet?” I asked.
“I'm going now. I came to ask you if you'd like to come with me.”
“I'll stop by later. Now I need to get out of bed and update my resume so I can start sending it.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened now?”
I didn't want to. But I needed to. However, I only told what I thought was relevant.
“Some idiot took credit for my work and got promoted over me. I was embarrassed to tell you this over the weekend.”
"Oh, sweetheart, ashamed of what? The one who should be ashamed is that bastard who did this to you."
“It's just that... you were so proud of me...”
“And I remain just as proud, nothing will ever be able to change that, my dear. So, is that why you resigned?”
It was part of the reason, wasn't it? So, it wouldn't be a lie after all.
“Yes, grandma. Mr. Turner still tried to calm down the situation, but... I ended up arguing with him. I couldn't stay there any longer.”
Especially after I had flipped him off and told him to go fuck himself. It was the kind of thing I didn't usually do; I'd always been too proper for that. But I had gotten so angry.
“Did you argue with the owner of the company? I thought he was unapproachable.”
“He is, a little. But... the important thing is that now I need a new job.”
“You'll manage, my dear. And don't worry, we have our own bookstore, so for better or worse it'll cover the household bills.”
For worse, if we were being honest. The place was on the verge of bankruptcy.
A little over a year ago, my grandmother had an accident and broke her leg.
And I, after moving out of her house to go to college, had to come back to take care of her.
It was during this return — which was supposed to be temporary — that I realized just how difficult her situation had become, especially because the bookstore’s sales were dropping more and more each day.
And that's why I ended up staying for good, since it was my salary that kept the household bills up to date.
But I wasn't going to get into that. The idea of closing the bookstore was completely inconceivable to my grandmother.
She said goodbye and left. I then decided it was time to get up. I really couldn't stay there and mope for the rest of my life.
I brushed my teeth, took a shower and went back to my room, sitting at my desk and opening my laptop. I really needed to update my resume so I could start looking for something.
In fact, I didn't really know how to start. I had been working at the same place since I graduated, and I confess that, because it was such an important office, I ended up settling there, believing that I could grow there and stay there for many years.
Sweet illusion...
I was about to start typing when my phone rang. It was a video call from Evelyn. I answered.
She was a Spanish teacher, and, at that time, she should already be at one of the schools where she worked. I confirmed this when I saw her apparently in the teachers' lounge.
“I was waiting for you to call me, but it took so long that I'm doing it myself,” she said.
“Sorry, girl. Yesterday was a... complicated day.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. I talked to Ms. Jenna last night and she let it slip that you quit. Even she didn't believe me when I said I didn't know yet. I find it uncomfortable that my best friend didn't update me on something so important.”
I sighed, tired. Evelyn's argument made sense, since we always told each other everything. But at that moment, I really just wanted to be alone for a while.
“I was going to text you in a little while,” I explained. “But now you know, right? That's it, I resigned.”
“For the love of God, Cami, what happened? Did Turner blackmail you or threaten you? Did he harass you? Did he expose you?”
“None of those things. What he did to me was a proposal. Without any sexual overtones, let's be clear.”
“Like ‘hush money’ so you wouldn't tell anyone you had sex with him?”
That sentence still gave me a feeling of unease.
“Should you use this word in your workplace?”
“I'm alone at the moment. And I teach high school, my friend. My students know what it's like to have sex much better than I do. I miss that phase of my life.”
“At that stage in my life, I didn't know.”
“You don't count. You didn't know until last week.”
And I still didn't know, to be honest. But that was beside the point.
“The proposal was for me to pretend to be his fiancée for three months.”
“What?”
I took a deep breath, taking in the time to retell the story he had told me.
“Long story short: he got a girl pregnant, she died, and her parents kept the baby. He filed a lawsuit for custody of the child, and to do so he needs to improve his image.”
“The famous playboy Michael Turner? Who would give custody of a baby to that man?
As far as I know, he's always partying, and he's always getting into trouble.
So that's why he finally took over the family business recently? I thought it was because his brother had to take time off to take care of his sick wife.”
The Turner family was quite famous. And my friend Evelyn, unlike me, was constantly informed about celebrity gossip.
And from the little I knew — just from working at the Turners' architecture firm — that was a family that gave people plenty to gossip about...
“Yeah, it was,” I said. “And he’s been trying to take it easy on the partying, too. But someone filmed us going to his hotel room, drunk, and leaving separately the next morning. That’s why he wants me to pretend we’re engaged.”
“It wouldn't be that much of a pretense, since you really did get engaged, right? Oh, but I hope that with this he'll give you a better ring.”
“It's not funny, Evy. We didn't really get engaged; it was just a drunken hallucination.”
“Okay, sorry. But... don't you want to help him?”
“Are you crazy? He wants me to lie to a judge.”
“Yeah... really, that could get you in trouble if someone finds out the truth and turns you in. You did well not to accept it, girl.”
“I know I did. And he even tried to convince me to accept, with the idea that he would pay me half a million for it, and...”
“Wait!” she practically shouted, interrupting me. “He offered to pay half a million?”
“Yes, he did.”
“ Half a million dollars ?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't accept?”
“No.”
“And besides not having accepted, you also resigned from your job?”
“I did...” I imagined that her anger would be even greater if I mentioned that before the dismissal I had still refused to be promoted. Maybe it would be better to hide such information.
“Have you lost your mind, Camila? How can someone turn down five hundred thousand dollars?”
And he had even made a counteroffer of a million.
But again, I thought it best to leave that information aside.
“Lying in court, remember?” I reminded her.
“For five hundred thousand I would even lie to the Vatican. Have you lost it to refuse something like that?”
“Not everything in life can be bought with money, Evy.” Look at me, already talking like a millionaire, even though I was the complete opposite of that.
“Not everything, but the land next to your grandmother's bookstore could be purchased. And you could do the expansion you want so much.”
Okay, she had hit a nail on the head.
Like many physical bookstores, Collins Books—founded years ago by my mother and grandmother—was going through hard times.
However, we had a plan to try to save it: expanding the space by opening a café and a room for events: literary meetings, lectures with authors, book signings, things like that.
There was an empty lot for sale, right next door, which was perfect, but the owner wouldn't accept any negotiation other than cash payment.
We didn't have much cash available, and it would probably be much harder to keep saving for it now, since I was unemployed.
Michael Turner's proposal could be our salvation.
However, I remained convinced of my decision not to accept that, for the reason I explained.
“I'm not risking it, Evy. If I get arrested, how will my grandmother support herself?
Not to mention that you know Michael Turner's reputation.
And I've heard a lot of stories about his father in the company.
What if this 'just saying you're my fiancée' thing is just an initial pretext and he starts demanding other 'favors' from me to justify his investment?
I won't be anyone's high-class prostitute.”
Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, but a female voice invaded the room where she was.
“Teacher, are you encouraging someone to prostitute themselves?”
She turned her face towards the door, and, in that way, I could also see the three girls, who couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen years old, standing there, looking at her with surprised expressions on their faces.
I confess that I was embarrassed, but my friend didn't seem to be at all.
"So what? I encourage you to study every single day. Does that actually work? Go on, head back to the classroom—recess is almost over. I’ll catch up with you there."
The girls left and Evy looked back at the camera.
“I gotta go, girl. We can talk more about this tonight.”
“Good luck explaining this to your students now, because I bet by the time you get to the classroom, everyone will already know.”
“I’ll do more than explain. I’ll take a poll asking for their opinions on what decision you should make.”
“Evelyn? Are you insane?”
“Never underestimate the power of a freshman class’s opinion. Oh, but don’t worry, I’ll keep your names out of it. Love you, I’ll call you tonight.”
“Evy, wait...” I couldn't even finish, because she immediately hung up.
And I knew my friend well enough to know that she was actually going to take that poll in class.
I decided to put it aside and try to focus on my resume. However, my head was too full for that.
Finally, I gave up. I’d leave it for later. At that moment, I needed to clear my mind a little.