The Arrangement: Chapter 5
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The Arrangement
A Cal Kestis Fanfiction
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Summary:
A/B/O.
18+ for Smut.
The terms and conditions for the fake relationship are laid bare.
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Chapter 5: The Signing
My old tires transition from rough turf to smooth pavement seconds before my phone rings. I want to send it to voicemail, but I made a deal with the red-headed devil, and my soul is ripe for collecting.
“Speaking,” I say, placing the cracked phone on speaker and flicking on my dim headlights.
“What kind of greeting is that?” Cal’s low pitched voice fills the interior of my car. “Actually, I don’t care. Come over.”
“Now? I can’t. I’m leaving a bar, been drinking.”
“Oh, now you care about drinking and driving? It doesn’t matter, come over. The contract is prepared, and I’d prefer it signed before the weekend.”
My mind spins, searching for an excuse to avoid going over. I wanted one last night of self loathing before having to face my bad decision and the next horrible year.
“We can celebrate the contract signing with a glass of wine each,” Cal says.
My ears perk up at his tempting offer, despite my annoyed mood. “I’d consider making the drive for a bottle of wine.”
“No, one glass.”
“Two glasses?”
He lets out a noisy sigh. “Fine, two glasses.”
I don’t respond, instead I hang up and flip around, heading in the opposite direction.
The waxing gibbous moon is rising in the darkened sky by the time I step out of my vehicle in Cal’s driveway. He pulls open the front door before I even reach the stone steps, his pale form bathed in the warm light from inside. His clothes appear unchanged from our last encounter, and he flashes that stupid grin at my arrival.
My mood sours.
“Waiting for me like I’m your husband returning from war, Cal-ico?”
“Waiting for you like you’re my soon to be girlfriend.”
I grimace and brush past him into the foyer. My thrown keys hit the edge of an empty silver bowl on the entry table, flipping the cursèd thing onto the white marble floor where it bounces around in a chorus of clangs.
I stiffen as Cal chuckles behind me. “I forgot to add ‘remove all bowls from the premises’ to the contract.”
Cal steps forward to retrieve the antique bowl as I scoop up my grimy keys. He holds it out for me to try again before placing it back on the round walnut table.
“Fake girlfriend,” I say.
“Real girlfriend, only without the typical hallmarks and with a set expiration date.”
He leads me up the nearest curved staircase and turns right on the patterned red carpet of the second floor. The hallway is long and lined with boring paintings of landscapes and dull portraits.
Cal turns the brass knob to a set of double doors on the entry side of the manor, holding it open for me. I step into his grand office. Everything lining the walls is built-ins: bookshelves, cabinets, and a long counter. And all made of walnut. A large executive desk blocks guests from entering the room’s majority — forcing any newcomers to pick one of the two wooden chairs facing Cal’s plush leather one. I pick the unpadded chair on the right as he steps around his desk to sink into his seat.
I’ve been here before. Every time I’ve ever signed a kill contract for a job with him, I sit in this chair. Sometimes I wonder if he passes judgment on my choice, if he uses this small decision to determine the optimal negotiation tactics to use. I’m just being paranoid.
Cal pushes a leather folio and sturdy pen towards me, laying out the terms of our arrangement. This one is a thicker stack of paper than our typical contracts. I suppose ending a life is more straightforward than entwining two.
I read the dense document, slumped back in my uncomfortable chair, while he waits. Cal always stares at me when I’m reading our contracts. It used to bother me when I perceived it as an intimidation tactic. But I now realize he uses it as an opportunity to zone out.
“Fifty hour work weeks? That’s steep.” I break the friendly silence.
“So is four months’ salary.” He smiles, one of the fake ones, his eyes still glazed over.
“I dunno, not sure I’m up for it. I’m not as young as I once was.”
Cal’s eyes refocus on my face. “Those fifty hours are not strenuous, by any means. That gives me ample coverage for any events that we may be required to attend throughout the week. Obviously, that includes time you spend getting ready and travel time.”
“And the rest?”
“You’ll spend them here, doing…whatever you do. It would be suspicious if we were only seen together at events. This way, even if I have an unannounced visitor, your presence is noted.”
His reasoning tracks, and it means that I am paid to do a whole lot of nothing. A strong opening argument on his end.
“That’s a lot of dates listed at the beginning.”
“Honeymoon phase, then we’ll settle into a weekly date night, as most couples do.”
“These dates include alcohol?” I ask with a smile spreading across my face.
“Please see the section labeled ‘Sustenance and Substance’.”
I reread the section I was guilty of skimming. “You get to pick what I eat and drink? That’s insane!”
“No, it says that you may request your meals and beverages when we are in the public eye, but I ultimately have final say. As long as we’re not in public, I don’t care.”
I know this is entirely about my excessive alcohol consumption. Still, I don’t like him trying to control me. I flip to the negotiated sum of my payment on the last page. It is a lot of zeros, and I’d be stupid to say no.
“I gotta ask. The ‘Physical Relations’ section includes kissing and lesser romantic gestures. How are you going to handle a sudden dry spell? You can’t exactly get caught cheating, or it’s really going to mess up this plan.”
His expression darkens like I’ve activated his trap card. “Are you offering?”
“Definitely not.”
“I suppose I’ll have to do things the old-fashioned way. It’s been a while since I’ve used my hand, but I’m sure we can get reacquainted.”
“I wish I hadn’t asked.” I feel my cheeks heat against my will at the lewd image he put into my head.
“Well, if you change your mind, I’m open to amending the contract.” He laughs at me.
I pick up the heavy pen, hovering over the short line requesting my signature. Cal leans forward, elbows resting on his desk. I touch the ballpoint to the page, ink gliding as I sign my upcoming year away.
Cal pulls the document from me, signing his portion. My restless fingers tap against the curved arm of my chair. He stands, puts the folio away, and opens a nearby cabinet, revealing two pre-poured glasses of wine.
“I thought you said two glasses.”
“I did. One, two,” he says, lifting each glass in order before handing me one and helping himself to the other.
My eyes narrow. “I’m suddenly feeling less confident about the contract I just signed.”
Cal shrugs as I drink the wine deeply. It’s so much better than that cheap beer I settled for.
“I’ll have my stylist prepare your wardrobe and have it delivered to your home.” He says, going over additional logistics for the week. “You’ll start your fifty hours on Monday, so I suggest you use this weekend to read over the information packet of what to know.”
I am handed a new leather folio that I ignore. Now is for drinking, not homework.
“Also, I expect you to be prepared to have our first public kiss at the charity event at the end of the week. You’ll find the event in your social calendar.”
My eyes widen, and my breathing catches at that sickening reminder. Our first kiss will be in public. My first kiss in half a decade will be in public. My hands never shake when I kill, but I fight to hold them steady now. I set down the wineglass before I make a mess.
Cal is still talking, already having moved onto the next topic of what he’s decided I should know. But I’m stuck on the required kiss. Bode was the last person I locked lips with and I was near black out drunk. I’m not allowed to get drunk for public events, which means I have to not only kiss Cal, I have to do it while sober, on display, and woefully inexperienced.
He said he hired me because I do things right, but I can’t exactly practice kissing anyone right before being announced as his shiny new girlfriend. Which means my only partner to practice with is sitting across from me. Drinking the wine that should be mine.
Asking to practice while on the clock next week makes me want to barf. I can already imagine Cal’s smug face. That kind of humiliation is unbearable.
I grab the wine and down it, slamming the empty glass on his nice desk harder than I intended. He winces and shakes his head.
“Alright, I get it. You won’t be allowing anymore discussion of work outside of working hours.”
He almost places his still full glass on the desk. But he takes one look at me and drinks the whole thing. Smart.
Cal stands and gestures for me to lead the way. I follow suit, leaving my folio on the desk so that I have both hands ready.
He rounds the desk and adrenaline courses through my body like I’m getting ready for a fight. I see my opening; I rush in, grabbing the stiff white fabric of his shirt near the collar. I pull him down and into a very hard kiss. He makes a muffled sound as our teeth collide and pinch the tender skin of our lips.
I pull away just as fast, not daring to make eye contact with him. He touches his likely bruised mouth as he fixes his collar.
“Why?” He asks, “also, ow.”
I reach for my folio and turn towards the open exit, making my much needed escape. “I just thought our first kiss shouldn’t be public.”
“Do you always kiss like that? Because I feel like next time I’d like a mouth guard.” I can hear the thinly veiled amusement in his voice.
I don’t humor him with an answer. He takes longer strides to keep pace at my side as I stare at the floor. I wish he didn’t feel the need to walk me out.
We make it back to the foyer and I race to snatch my keys from the polished silver bowl. I should have known better. It tips and I am on the brink of abandoning my possessions and walking home. I catch both falling objects before they hit the ground, running for the door that Cal is opening for me.
“This is mine now!” I say too loud as I push past, holding up his stupid bowl and slamming the door closed.
I jump into my car, throwing the stolen item on the floor of my passenger seat and fleeing.
Song for the chapter: Jumpstarted by Jukebox The Ghost
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