Chapter 14. Proposition

Julia

“Thank you, Springer,” Mr. Merriweather says. “I would like for you to stay.”

“Of course, sir,” Mr. Springer says. He moves to a chair across the room near the window that overlooks a busy city street. He is here but not here; a witness to whatever is about to transpire but not present in the sense that he will be a part of it. I swallow hard, not sure what to do, what to say.

“Julia, you look lovely. As always,” Mr. Merriweather says, his eyes wandering from the top of my head to the bottom of my shoes.

“Thank you,” I say, folding my hands in front of me and interlacing my fingers. I am second guessing my dress, my shoes, my earrings….

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink, perhaps?”

“No, thank you,” I assure him. I could actually use some water, but I’m too perplexed to realize that.

He raises an eyebrow at me, reading my mind, and then steps over to a small refrigerator on the other side of his desk and takes