HEART FOR HIRE ✓

Twenty Four

"That's not a good idea," Jeanette frowns at me. I've lost count of how many times she has done that. Regardless, she is not changing my mind.

"You haven't even tried it yet," I grow impatient, "it's legal, at least for now. Very soon, you will have to go for antenatal check ups and we need money."

"I have money."

"I know that. I just want you to make some more because you will need it."

She still doesn't look convinced, partly because she always thinks things through and partly because the idea is mine.
That's what happens when all you do is propose silly ideas to your friends all the time.

"We are not stealing anything or breaking the law," I remind her. "We are just replacing some snacks with your homemade cupcakes. Customers will love them. And you will get more money."

"We can't just use someone's business the we want without permission!"

"Madam Shamirah won't be back in a long time." Jeanette gives me an unimpressed stare. "It's true. She can't go to Mecca and come back in just a few weeks."

"How do you know? You've never been there."

"Psh," I snort. "They say that the road to heaven is narrow, who has ever been there?"

"My point is; millions of people flock Mecca every single day for prayers. It's gonna take a while before she comes back. While we wait, we can help you sell your cupcakes to the customers who come to the theater and I don't see anything wrong with that."

"Are you sure?"

She is too good. She doesn't want to hurt anyone or make them uncomfortable. But look at what is happening to her.

Karma will bite that asshole in his ass.

"What about this," I cross my fingers, "bake some cupcakes or muffins or cookies. Whatever you want. If customers don't love them, I will never bother you again after this. If they do, you won't argue with me about it ever again. Deal?"

She looks at me, maybe for any possible signs of unseriousness and when she finds none, she nods.
"Deal."

"You don't have to be gloomy about it," I push her shoulder slightly, "I am helping you. I mean, we need people to know about your baking skills if you are to start a bakery."

"I'm not starting a bakery," she deadpans

"You won't. It will double as a bakery and a flower shop. I'll be your first customer."

"You are delusional."

We keep bickering until we reach her apartment to pick up some things she may need while she stays at mine. Besides, I know that she really loves flowers and she will feel better if we bring some of them to my apartment - that's if she didn't break the vases.

Fortunately, nothing is broken - at least not as bad as I expected. Just a few broken glasses and photo frames. But the apartment looks like it was broken into with everything out of place, chairs thrown to the ground, drawers open and their contents on the floor.

"What do I grab?"

Jeanette doesn't answer. She looks distracted and when I follow her line of view, she is looking at a photo she took with Brandon.
She is really hurt, isn't she?

"Jean," I call louder and she turns to me, "what do I grab?"

She leads me into her bedroom which is no better than the other rooms. Her wardrobe is open, Brandon's clothes are on the floor and some are torn - or cut but I don't want to imagine that. Not that I'm surprised that Jeanette did it, but, what if she hurt herself in the process?

"Come on, help me pack some stuff," I urge her. Maybe coming here wasn't a good idea after all. The wounds are still fresh and will be bleeding for a while. I should have come alone.

"Here," I throw some dresses at her for packing along with hoodies, sweat pants, baggy t-shirts that aren't Brandon's, shoes and underwear.

We are almost halfway through the packing when the front door slams closed. Jeanette and I both look up in surprise. Who is here?

"It's him," she jumps and grabs my hand, "he is here. Why is he here? I don't want to see him."

It takes some seconds for me to finally understand who she is talking about.
"Oh my God, how is he here?"

"He has the key," she low-key deadpans, "I didn't think he was gonna come back. I don't want him to come back."

Instead of being angry, Jeanette hides behind the super big wooden double bed. It's rare for her to be scared. I would totally understand if she didn't want to look at him because let's face it, I wouldn't want anything to do with my ex either if he did something like that to me. But this is different.

Jeanette looks genuinely scared. She is panting for air as she shakily starts pushing the bed to create more space for hiding.

But why is she so scared?

"Please take him away. Do something. I don't want him to see me."

Just as Jeanette completely disappears behind the bed, the bedroom door opens and behold, Brandon-the-asshole stands there.

"Who are you?" he scowls at me

"Who are you?" I retort

"You are in my house. Who are you?"

I shake my head. "This isn't your house. This is Jeanette's house."

He undoes his necktie and throws the suit jacket on the floor. As soon as he starts advancing towards me, I start walking backwards.

What is he going to do?

"How do you know Jeanette?" he asks as he advances closer

"She is my friend?"

"And where is she now?"

"I don't know," I start to say but he takes two steps and corners me on the wall. Something about him warns me to run away. His eyes look murderous and he smells like a cocktail of liquor.

"I. Won't. Repeat. Myself. Where is Jeanette?" his thunderous voice echoes in the room

I squeak and slowly remove myself from his hold. I've never been more thankful to God for making me small. I escape through the space between his arm and the wall and run to the other side of the room.

"She went to see - stay with her sister."

"Are you sure? Because if you fucking lie to me, I will end you!"

"I promise."

Leaving me breathless and terrified for my life, he picks up his suit jacket and storms out of the room.

Now I know why Jeanette looked terrified. This man is psycho.