No One Knows Us Here(22)

Alejandro nodded, mumbling “Sí, sí, sí,” and backed himself out of the room.

“All right.” Leo shuffled through the papers Alejandro had arranged over the conference table. Then he looked up at me and blinked, as if noticing my presence for the first time. “How’s the new place?”

“It’s perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to give you a chance to settle in,” he said, “before we worked out all the boring stuff.”

It was a huge red flag. I had signed the lease. I had moved in. Then he had me come over to hash out the details of my employment. I should never have gone along with it, this order of events. In hindsight, this was crystal clear. Back then, though, I wasn’t oblivious so much as . . . desperate. Delusional, even, carried away in this vision of me and my new life. I was still, even at that moment, entertaining notions of me as a businesswoman, some young go-getter type with a real job and a nice place to live. Someone who could afford that apartment on her own and move her sister into the spare bedroom.

“Great,” I said. “I mean—I’m ready. Looking forward to getting started.”

Leo slid one sheet of paper across the table, and then another, until four pieces of paper were lined up in a row before me. “Everything is as we discussed. Sign here, here, and here when you’ve read it over.”

A girlfriend contract. Seriously. I scanned the terms. A year-long contract, effective immediately. A nondisclosure clause: I couldn’t talk about the arrangement, to anyone. To the outside world, we’d be a couple. A regular couple. No one would know. If they found out, he’d sue me. That was the gist of it. This was fine with me. I didn’t want anyone to know about it, either.

I looked up from the pages. “Early termination clause?”

“It protects both of us,” he said. “This whole thing”—Leo waved a hand over the contract—“is just a formality, really. It’s perfectly straightforward: I want you to be my girlfriend. It needs to seem real. It needs to be real. After today, I don’t want to talk about it, the arrangement. Kind of ruins the romance otherwise, you know?” Leo accompanied his statements with a roguish grin, as if he were only half-serious.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “You could go out with anyone. Actresses, models. You’re rich, successful. Good-looking.” I waved my hand in front of him. I had googled him, of course. He was a tech dude, not exactly a celebrity, but he had, in fact, been photographed at various events with models, or women who looked like models anyway. Long legs, high cheekbones. Never the same woman twice, and never anyone recognizable. The captions always failed to catch their names. “Leo Glass and his dinner companion,” one might read.

“I don’t want an actress or a model.” Leo smiled calmly, as if he were explaining a very obvious point to a small child. “I want you.”

“But why? Why me?” I was flattered, obviously, but I was still having a hard time believing that, out of all the available women in the world, I would be the one that Leo Glass decided he had to have.

“We’ve gone over this. It’s a decision. It’s really that simple. Finding someone, it doesn’t have to be complicated. I’m attracted to you. You’re attracted to me.” I must have blushed because Leo gave me a little wink. “You said I was good-looking.” Okay, he got me there. “I’m a busy man—gone all the time, working nights. If you’re busy, too, how is this thing ever going to work? That’s where paying you comes in.”

He made it sound very reasonable. He didn’t want a model, an actress, or a professional escort. He wanted a shot to have a normal girlfriend. If he had to pay someone to act like a normal girlfriend, why not go for it? I looked back at the contract. “Maybe I should have a lawyer look this over.”

“You’re welcome to. I could have your first check deposited into your account as early as tonight, but if you’re happy to wait—”

I leaned over the pages and squinted, like I was really studying it. “It says here we’ll communicate using Lookinglass technology.”

Leo reached into his pocket and produced a shiny round disk, a little silver compact, just like the one he had in the Thai restaurant. “I’ll give you a Mirror.”

It felt cool and smooth in my hands, heavier than I remembered. One side of the disk was silver, real, the patina of an old chalice. The other was darker. The screen, I guessed.

“Three years from now, everyone will have one,” Leo said. “I can transfer all your data over if you’d like.”

“My data?”

“Here, just hand me your phone.”

Instinctually, I clutched my bag to my body. “That’s okay,” I said.

“It’s really no problem. Let me show you. Enter your passcode.” I found myself taking my phone out and entering the passcode.

Leo held out his palm to me, and I gave him my phone. After a moment he said, “There! Look at your Mirror.”

The screen was much smaller than I was used to, a circle instead of a large rectangle, but there they were—all my apps, my photos, my contacts.

“Can I have my phone back?”

“The Mirror is a significant upgrade.”

“But my phone—”