Unwanted Heat

Kenzie

I have no idea what to wear tonight to meet Bridget or even what she wants to meet with me about. I’ve racked my brain over and over again, trying to figure out what she could possibly want to discuss with me outside the store and still can’t seem to find anything that makes sense. Initially I assumed it must have something to do with shopping for her at other locations besides just the department store but then I realized that everything she has pretty much comes from our store.

I suppose it’s still possible that she wants me to be her personal shopper at other stores but something tells me that’s not the reason she wants to meet with me tonight. I don’t know much about Bridget’s business other than she runs a consultation firm here in the city. I know a little more about her personally: she is married and has no children, is involved in several different charities and attends a ridiculous number of dinners or events regularly. Yet somehow all of that still tells me nothing about a possible reason for her meeting with me tonight.

I checked the website for the place we are going to meet and it seems like a pretty dressy place which is exactly what I expected of Bridget. I pick out a dress that I’ve worn to work a few times; I doubt that anything else I own would be appropriate for this type of place. The restaurant is located pretty much where I thought it would be, about a four block walk from the nearest bus stop that will bring me to the subway line I need but the area it is in is pretty safe so I’m not worried about walking back to the bus stop after our meeting. The menu was posted online as well but no prices were listed, leaving me only to assume that dinner would likely cost half of my paycheck if I were to go there on my own. I take some of the cash I keep hidden in case of emergencies and toss it into my purse in the event that I need to grab a cab or pay for something.

Before I realize it the afternoon has flown by and I’m on the bus on my way to meet Bridget. My stomach feels like there is a knot in it, whether it’s from nervousness or anxiety, I don’t know. I hope that I know her well enough by now that she will keep her word and that no matter what happens tonight, I won’t lose her as a client. She had said this wouldn’t be an option but I can’t help but worry that it could happen if she doesn’t like my response tonight. It may not be the best job in the world but without it I wouldn’t be able to pay all my rent so I value it for that reason alone.

Yes I’m sure I could get another job with the experience on my resume should I lose Bridget as a client but I don’t have enough money saved up to go very long without working a second job. If I lost the job, I would probably be at risk of losing my apartment within 30 days. It took me forever to save up enough so I could afford one month’s rent if I lost a job. Ideally I would like to have at least two month’s expenses saved up but I haven’t been able to get to that point yet.

When the bus stops, I slowly get off and make my way along the busy sidewalk. My stomach feels like a brick is sitting in it and I’m practically shaking with nervousness. I try to calm myself down but I can’t seem to stop my body’s natural reaction. I’m not so much nervous about the actual proposition she has in mind but more so about the consequences if I decline the offer. I try to push those thoughts out of my head and desperately try to find something else to focus on during the short walk to the restaurant.

“Good evening miss… can I help you?” I’m greeted by an older gentlemen in a suit as soon as I walk into the restaurant.

“Yes, I’m here to meet with Ms. Wilder, I believe she has-”

“Ms. Wilder has our private room reserved. Please follow me,” he cuts me off and quickly leads me through the busy restaurant. Despite it being fairly early, I’m surprised at how busy this place is. It seems most people here are having business meetings as there are folders, notepads and laptops at almost every table. I suppose this place was a good option for conducting business dinners… the tables are far enough apart that you wouldn’t feel like someone could eavesdrop into your conversation and the food would surely impress any guest based upon the reviews written online. “Ms. Wilder, your guest has arrived,” I am led into a small dining room where Bridget is seated at a table that looks rather large just for the two of us.

“Kenzie, it’s so nice to see you again,” she stands to greet me as soon as I walk in.

“Thank you Bridget, it’s nice to see you too.”

“The waiter will be in shortly with your meals.”

“I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of ordering for both of us so we can focus our time on discussing business. The food here is delicious but if you don’t like what I ordered please let me know. The chef will make anything you want, even if it’s not on the menu.”

“I’m sure whatever you ordered will be fine Bridget, I’m not a very picky eater,” I assure her.

“While we wait for our food, I need to ask you to sign this,” she hands me a folder with what appears to be a legal document in it.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

“What is this?” I ask.

“It’s called a non-disclosure agreement, an NDA. Please read through it carefully. I want you to understand what you are signing. Essentially by signing this document you agree to keep anything we discuss here between the two of us. You cannot go home and tell your roommate about this discussion-”

“I live alone so you don’t have to worry about that.” It would be much easier if I had a roommate, financially speaking of course. The idea of living with someone, sharing my space with them… I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t trust someone that much.

“It also means you can’t talk to anyone about this at the store what we discuss tonight.”

“I understand.”