Mister Sin
Nara
“You are not my husband, Simon. Stop telling people that.”
“Nara dear, but I am your husband. And I will tell anyone I please that I’m. Your. Husband. Understand?”
Could I have hated someone more at that moment? I swallowed hard. I couldn’t let my sort-of ex know how he rattled me, and yet I knew he knew he was getting under my skin. Successfully.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t know why you are making this so hard, Simon. We agreed that as soon as you got your US citizenship, we’d start on the divorce.”
I lowered my voice so my whole office wouldn’t hear.
He chuckled like the smug fuck that he was. “Darling. Darling. Now, you know what you have to do if you want to cast me off so badly. ’Course that one night in London…well, it didn’t seem like you wanted to ever leave my side. Or should I say, my cock?”
Mistake of a lifetime.
We’d been in London, his hometown, taking fake pictures to prepare for our big, fake US Immigration and Naturalization Service interview where we were going to fake being in love.
Simon had hired a friend to drive us to several different locations—with wardrobe changes—to take photos that would show how in love we were and that we would never, ever try to fool the INS. People did it all the time he’d assured me, and there was ten thousand dollars in it for me.
Good news all around.
Except for the one night I drank too much and ended up in bed with said future faux husband.
That had not been part of the deal. While he had that awesome British accent that Americans love, he also had bad teeth, a pasty complexion, and was at least two inches shorter than I.
And yet, I’d fucked him.
Oh, to do things over. But I’d needed that money. I’d been working on developing my software app for three long years with little income. Crashing on my best friend’s couch was getting old. Really old.
That’s when I answered a Craigslist ad to marry someone for a green card. It had sounded easy at the time, just like that adorable 90’s movie Green Card, I told myself.
And now I was stuck with the bastard.
“Simon,” I said with all the patience I could muster, “that was a fun night. It really was.”
I choked on the biggest lie I’d ever told.
Truth was, I remembered nothing of our tryst, and that was just fine with me.
But I could hear him smiling through the phone. How I wished I could smack the grin off his face.
I continued, “But sweetie…”
I could almost hear him puffing his chest out.
Surely, logic would work. “We’ve taken care of business. We both got what we wanted. I’m grateful for that. And now, it’s time to honor the last piece of our agreement.”
How could he argue with that?
“I’ll tell you what,” he said as if he hadn’t heard a word I’d just said. “My latest offer still stands. If you repay me the ten grand, I’ll disappear out of your life forever. We’ll annul the marriage and go on about our business like it never happened.”
My face burned, and my hands shook. “Look. I helped you get your green card. You’re in. You’re as good as American, thanks to me. I earned that ten grand, I lied for you, married you, and even fucked you—”
“That was only one time—”
“That’s not the point,” I hissed. “You need to forget about extorting money from me. Give it up. It’s not gonna happen. I don’t have ten grand to give you even if I wanted to.”
A migraine circled my head like a vulture looking for a meal. Not now, I begged. I needed my wits about me.
“Oh, Nara,” Simon crooned, “we all know your software company has grown nicely. I’m sure you could write a check right now and be done with it.”
Where did he get that kind of information? I’d been breaking my back over my Mommy Knows for years. Yes, we were starting to get a little press. Yes, we were attracting the eye of potential customers and investors. But that didn’t mean I had two nickels to rub together.
Because we didn’t.
We were waiting for investors to come through, and until they did, the company was surviving off a line of credit. And getting perilously close to maxing that out. If we didn’t get an infusion of cash soon, I had no idea what I’d do.
“Let me make this very clear,” he said. “If you do not come up with the money I’m asking for, I will make sure all your current and future investors know you committed the felony of defrauding the INS. That will speak volumes about your character, and no one will touch your company with a ten-foot pole. And, I will not make it easy to divorce me.”
He paused for effect.
“So, darling, what will it be?”
The migraine was no longer circling. It had landed with a crash, feasting on my poor little brain. Eyes closed, I rummaged through my desk for a pill, the only thing that would save my day. But it’s hard to find things with closed eyes.
I said slowly and steadily, “I do not have ten thousand dollars. And if you ruin my company or me, there is even less chance that I ever will. You know that. You’d be sabotaging yourself.”
It seemed he was thinking, due to the momentary silence.
“I want that money. I’ll give you a month. I don’t care how you get it. Take a cash advance on one of your credit cards, for god’s sake,” he said.
A movement caught my eye, and I turned toward the opening of my office-that-was-really-a-cubicle.
Joi—my best friend, founding partner, and chief financial officer—stood in the doorway.
Like the rest of us, she wasn’t getting paid much either, so she spent most of her days chasing after investors so that she someday would. I held up a wait a minute finger and turned back to my call.
“Simon, I have a meeting to run to. We’ll continue this conversation later.”
“I wouldn’t wait too long—”
I hung up on the asshole.
No, I could never have hated someone more.
* * *
