Patrick told me as we left the apartment that my attire didn’t matter. Andrew would have clothes for my interview. I got the distinct impression that I was in over my head, and I hadn’t done anything yet.

Every now and then I’d catch some of Andrew and Patrick’s conversation. It was never about me, except to discuss colors of eye shadows or my blouse. Andrew shaded and perfected my complexion, painted my lips, and curled my hair. I was nothing more than a life-sized doll being made into something fit for display.

The dressing room didn’t have a mirror as I shimmied out of my shorts and top and redressed, all the way from the lace underwear to a lace-accented, sleeveless sheath dress. I called Patrick to help me zip the back. When he did, the material came together hugging me in all the right places.

“Little cousin, you look amazing.”

I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen myself. “Why the underwear? You said no sex.”

“Because it makes you feel sexy. It’s a package. You may not be selling sex, but in a classy way…” He helped me with the matching jacket, the one with matching lace cuffs. “…you need to ooze confidence. It’s a persona and, Alex Collins, you’re rocking it.”

I sat on the bench and eased my freshly painted toes into black suede Prada platforms with an ankle strap. When I was done, Patrick reached for my hand.

“Come here, little one. Let me introduce you to Miss Alex Collins, Columbia law student, sexy and confident. Close those gorgeous golden eyes and when I say so, open them.”

My heart beat erratically as I blindly followed Patrick’s lead. With his hands on my shoulders he turned me to the side.

“Open.”

I stood paralyzed as the woman in the mirror did the same. After the spa in Savannah with my mother, my hair was nice, but with the dresses she’d bought, I had the sensation of Alexandria, five years old and dressed for tea. That wasn’t whom I saw today. Patrick was right. My hair was up, professional with more than a hint of sex appeal. The charcoal gray dress and jacket with the straight skirt flattered my curves. At the same time, there was nothing about what I saw that said I was selling my body or my soul. Even the shoes. They were sexy, but could easily be worn to court. My makeup was flawless, with just the right amount of bronze to highlight the red and blonde highlights in my hair.

Andrew and Patrick both stood behind me, waiting for my reaction.

Finally, I let the façade of indifference break away, and my entire countenance beamed with approval. “Wow! I don’t know what else to say.” I turned to Andrew. “Thank you. Obviously, you’re a miracle worker.”

“No. I’m an artist. All I did was highlight what you already have. You’re stunning. You were before I began.”

“Thank you.”

When Patrick and I eased into the backseat of a taxi, he said, “I’m going to be dropped off at Kassee.” When I looked at him as though I had no idea what he was saying, because I didn’t, he went on, “the design firm. I can’t miss this afternoon.”

My pulse quickened. “B-But…”

Patrick squeezed my hand. “I would miss it for you. I would. But there’s a big sales pitch this afternoon. I’ve put a lot of time into this and my boss wouldn’t understand. Remember, Infidelity is an illusion so I couldn’t exactly explain what I’d be doing with you today. Don’t worry. You won’t be alone. Cy’s going to meet you in the lobby of 17 State Street. He’ll escort you to Infidelity.”

“All right. Pat?” I asked tentatively. “Is this a mistake? I had planned on looking for a job, like other people do.”

“That’s still an option. Go to the interview. See what Karen has to say. Then, if you decide waiting tables or maybe working the box office at the New Amsterdam Theater is what you’d prefer to do, do that. There’s no obligation until you sign the agreement.”

Five thousand dollars.

That would double the money in my checking account. That would give me another month’s rent. I swallowed and nodded.

Before Patrick got out of the taxi, he kissed my cheek. “I can’t wait to hear all about this tonight. Be ready to give me a full report.”

I nodded, the blood draining from my cheeks. As the taxi driver maneuvered us back out into traffic, I straightened my shoulders and plastered my Montague smile in place. I told myself that this was better than what Adelaide had done. This was on my terms. This was one year. My mother and stepfather had forced my hand and I hadn’t folded.

One interview.

I could do that.

“YOU’RE STUNNING,” CY whispered as he kissed my cheek.

He’d been waiting for me in the lobby as I entered the blue-glass building with the distinctive curved façade.

“Thank you. Andrew’s a miracle worker.”

“No. I may be gay, but I know a beautiful woman when I see one. So will Karen.” He placed my hand on the crook of his arm and led me toward the elevators. “I wouldn’t have made calls last night if I had any doubts. Tell me about yours.”

“My doubts?” I repeated. “I’m nervous.”

Our voices were low.

“Think of this like an admissions interview. That’s what it is. Alex, you passed that interview for both Stanford and Columbia. I think you can wow Karen.”

Since we’d entered the open elevator and were no longer alone, I didn’t respond. Cy hit the button for the 37th floor. The elevator stopped at several other floors as busy people stepped on and off. With each movement upward, my anxiety increased. This wasn’t like Stanford or Columbia. Those were accomplishments that I could one day list on my curriculum vitae. I was most certain that Infidelity would not be mentioned as previous employment.

When the doors opened, the large lobby with a glass desk and the beautifully scrolled lettering spelling Infidelity on the fifteen-foot wall surprised me.

“I thought this was a secret company?” I whispered.

“No, Infidelity is a website that caters to an exclusive crowd. It employs hundreds of people, everyone from writers and photographers, to janitorial personnel. It’s a legitimate Fortune 500 company.”

Cy walked us to the desk and spoke to the receptionist. “Mr. Perry and Miss Collins here to see Ms. Flores.”

“Yes, Mr. Perry. Ms. Flores is expecting both of you. Let me tell her that you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

I watched as women and men walked past. They all seemed to have important business down one hallway or another. If I hadn’t heard Patrick’s elevator pitch the night before, I would never have known what other activities happened behind the walls of Infidelity.

“Cyrus!” a gregarious middle-aged woman wearing a navy skirt and jacket said as she rushed towards us.

“Karen,” Cyrus greeted her as they kissed one another on the cheeks. “Thank you for agreeing to meet our friend Alex.”

“Why, of course. Any friend of Cyrus Perry’s is a friend of mine.” She turned her attention to me and offered her hand.

As we shook, I said, “Ms. Flores, very nice to meet you.”

“Miss Collins, my name is Karen and I look forward to meeting you. Please…” She gestured toward the hallway. “…let’s go to my office. We must talk.”

Cyrus nodded as we began our trek toward Karen Flores’s office. On our way, we passed multiple large office centers filled with cubicles and workers as well as private offices. Once we’d successfully wound around what I could accurately describe as a maze and I’d begun to wonder if in order to ever find my way out, I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs, we came to another elevator. Instead of one button, Karen pressed a badge against a sensor and turned to Cyrus. “How is Patrick?”

“He’s well. Thank you for asking.”

When the doors opened we stepped into the elevator. “I believe I heard he’s doing very well at Kassee.”