The Russian Billionaire

I stare at her suspiciously, incredulously. “$50,000 for going on a dinner date?”

“The fifty grand is actually for showing up and taking part. However, if your highest bidder turns out to be the Russian billionaire, Konstantin Tsarnov, who is one of the five bachelor guests, then your ability to earn money grows exponentially.”

My jaw drops. Is this woman serious? She sounds like a total fantasist, but she doesn’t look like one. She looks very polished and her eyes glitter with intelligence and cunning. Tempted and curious, I decide to play along for a bit.

“Why? What happens if he picks me?”

“Konstantin Tsarnov has something that doesn’t belong to him. He stole it from his competitor, who is my client, and my client wants his property back. So, your job will be to persuade him into taking you to his house. Once there you will simply follow the map you will be given, find the thing and exchange it for a… replacement. You don’t even have to sleep with him. Invent a believable excuse and leave.”

I blink. “I think you want James Bond for this job, not me.”

She smiles. “James Bond wouldn’t work. The mark likes girls.” Her gaze drops to my mouth before coming back up to my eyes. “Girls who look like you. The job is actually much easier than you think. By the time he realizes, if he ever does, the original and you will be long gone.”

I touch my mouth self-consciously. “What makes you think he will pick me?”

“To be honest I don’t know if he will pick you.”

“I see. What happens if he picks one of the other girls then?”

She smiles confidently. “All the other girls have the same deal as you, so it doesn’t matter which girl he picks. As far as you’re concerned, you’ll have dinner at a fancy restaurant with the man who picks you and as soon as you text to tell us it’s done, your money will be released from escrow and sent directly into your bank account, making you $50,000 richer.”

“What is this thing I am supposed to steal?”

“You wouldn’t be stealing,” she says quickly. “You would be returning something to its rightful owner. It’s a tiny painting of a little boy on a beach. Five inches by six inches, it’s small enough to put into your purse, and if you’re wondering, its value is purely sentimental. As soon as he chooses you for his dinner companion another $150,000 will be put into escrow. Once you hand the painting over to us, the money will be released to you and you will never hear from us again.”

I take a deep breath. Somehow I know she is telling the truth and to be really, really honest I am tempted. She makes it sound like such easy money and we are so desperate for some, but another part of me tells me there is more, much more, that she is not telling me about this job. Five girls at $50,000 each plus another $150,000 makes it $400,000 for a painting that has no value beyond sentimental. I’m not buying it. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m not stupid enough to imagine all this money being thrown around is normal. Hell, I can even end up in prison if I get caught. Even the thought of it sends a shiver through my body.

She considers me expressionlessly. “So, what do you say?”

“Thanks for the offer, but no. If your boss wants his property back, he should really find a less underhand way of getting it back.”

The woman smiles pleasantly as she pushes her calling card towards me. “Call me if you change your mind before the 25th of this month. I have a strong feeling he will go for you and you can solve our little problem and all your big problems in one fell swoop. I might even be open to negotiating the final price.”

Then she stands and leaves.

I pick up the luxuriously thick card.

Catherine Moriarty

There is nothing else on that side of the card. I turn it over and there is a phone number. Definitely fishy. The trash is just to the left of me. I should throw it away right now, but something makes me hesitate. Then, I shake my head at my own stupidity and toss it into the trash. How the hell could I even entertain such a dangerous idea? A deal with the devil is not for me.

Lois’s boss is approaching so I get on with cleaning some glasses.

The hours pass quickly and by the time I put the key into the door of our apartment, it's late. I take my shoes off and tip toe into the house. Tonight is the only night my mom doesn’t have to work late so I do not want to disturb her if she has fallen asleep in front of the TV. She is not asleep on the sofa. As I pass the bathroom I hear sobbing. Fear grips my heart.