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It was two days after the funeral when Finn Astor contacted me, double checking whether I still wanted to push through the agreement. As someone who didn't even have two hundred dollars in the bank, there was no way I was going to refuse.
A non disclosure contract was sent through mail, which was picked up personally by Finn a week after I signed it. He insisted that I thought it through long enough since it was going to cost me a year of my life. It wasn't a cost however, rather it's a gain. A two hundred thousand gain, hopefully four thousand.
Saturday afternoon, I was notified, after the down payment was deposited, that Finn's sister- Sophie Astor was going to a café on Sunday morning. He said I could pretend that I bumped into her there and have the whole scheme going.
I arrived fifteen minutes after Finn relayed that he'd just dropped off her sister at the café. The small brick establishment was conveniently located two streets from the bookshop I work at.
As I stepped inside, I had to double check whether I entered a café or a home care for the elderly. More than half of the customers were old couples reading newspapers.
I ordered a coffee and was directed to the waiting area where I scanned the room. There were no vacant tables. Two bookshelves was placed against the corner along with two armchairs. The books on the shelf were unorganized, some stacked, some with their cover placed backwards, making it difficult for anyone to see the title of the book without taking it out. I contemplated going over and arranging it myself but decided against it.
It wasn't difficult to spot a dark blonde hair amongst the white ones and occasional black. Sophie Astor sat at the opposite corner from the bookshelves, holding a camera on the table. She wore a green knitted wool jumper with an ivory v-neckline, paired with light blue jeans and white sneakers. Her hair was up in a messy bun, held together by a scrunchie. People who use scrunchies don't have my automatic respect, they'd have to earn it.
"Caramel latte for Sab." The barista handed me the mug with a smile.
With the mug on my hand, I practiced smiling for a couple of seconds in front of the screen of my phone, making sure that I don't look weird. I find that people are more disarmed and friendly when I smile at them, it makes it easier to converse.
Satisfied, I strutted towards her, pausing at the side of the table. "Hi. Do you mind if I sit here? This is the only vacant seat left." Sophie looked up from her camera, meeting my eyes. She opened her mouth then closed it again before glancing around. I knew that there were other tables I could ask to share other than her. "With a person who doesn't look like a pervert."
"Oh. No, go ahead." Sophie laughed, pointing towards the seat across from her.
Once I've settled down, I caught her looking at me, to which I smiled at. This made her look back down to her camera and I wondered whether I smiled weirdly.
