Free The Marriage Contract by Tara Ahmed Page A

mean.”
                  I pretended to gag, and slapped his shoulder hard, wanting it to sting. But he merely feigned pain, and continued to laugh, even snorting in the process.
                  “You’re a pig,” I snapped. “Don’t talk to me so crudely. I don’t like it, ok? Pervert—“
                  “That I am,” he agreed. “So, where am I dropping you off today, Princess?”
                  I wished he would stop calling me that, but I knew that even if I told him to stop, he would just continue anyway. I didn’t expect him to listen to me.
                  “Rosefield shelter,” I replied. “It’s on 15 th street, across a Laundromat. You can’t miss it.”
                 
                  He stopped the car on the side of the street, right in front of the shelter, which was a short, brown building, with only two floors and a basement. The tall metal door of the shelter, had paint chipping off all sides, and the stairs needed a new coat of color. The windows were cracked, as though someone had thrown a dozen rocks at the stained glass, and the bushes in front of the building, needed trimming.
                  It wasn’t a great site to behold, but it was a kind of home for me. I smiled, feeling a bit better knowing that the place wouldn’t have to get shut down.
                  As I placed my hand on the car door handle, James’s palm pressed over my other hand which rested on my knee. I pushed my hand back, giving him a disconcerting stare.
                  “What is it?” I asked.
                  He smiled. “Just hold on a second okay? I want you to see the call I’m about to make—“
                  “Now?—“
                  “Better sooner than later,” he said.
                  Leaning against the seat, he whipped out his smart phone, clicking something on it, and pressing it against his ear. He placed a free hand on his neck, giving me another wink, as he stared lazily out the window, his eyes scanning the shelter.
                  “Rhonda, baby!” He suddenly sounded energetic, though it didn’t match with his lazy stance, resting casually against the car seat. “Listen, doll, I need you to do something for me. You’re my number one auction lady, and right now, I’m in the mood to help the poor. Yeah, yeah I know, I’m a man of surprises. Alright, so here’s the thing, doll face, I need you to send a two million dollar donation to Rosefield Shelter. An anonymous kind. It’s the one in Manhattan, across that dirty Laundromat. Yeah, you know what I’m talking about. Just google it if you get confused. I need that done right now, alright? Okay. Thanks a bunch. You know you’re my favorite girl. Alright...I’ll leave it to you then.”
                  He continued to stare out the window, as he threw the phone in a small compartment in his car.
                  “You two seem really close,” I stated, but wasn’t sure why I cared. I didn’t care. I didn’t.
                  I felt silly all of a sudden for having said that, for it felt unnecessary for me to know who he was close to and why. I shook my head, placing my hands on my knees, feeling the denim press against my palms.
                  “Nah, we aren’t close,” he said, still looking out the window. “She’s just someone I could trust with my finances. If I want to buy something worth a few hundred thousand bucks, I ask her first, and she checks the authenticity. She’s like my…money guardian. Yeah, I like the sound of that. Money guardian. Anyway, don’t worry- she’s turning sixty five next year. She’s not exactly a threat.”
                  A threat? Wait, did he think I was being jealous?
                  I scoffed, and giggled in a way that was very