No Quid Pro Quo for Cindy Lou
“So…” I prompted.
Cindy Lou sighed. “I went into the program like I said, for the reasons that I said. But…when I saw you come into the restaurant, I couldn’t resist. The chance to be so near you all the time, without having to admit…well, it was too good to pass up.”
“And all the stuff about staying in for a whole month?”
“I thought I’d let you…get used to me for a while. So you’d be more likely to let me stay.”
“And you still want to stay, even now?”
“Why? I’m sure you could find someone else you’d be just as suited to.”
“Well—I like you. You’re comfortable. And you really do need my help, you’ve got the beginning of an ulcer that I can help take care of.”
“Yeah, well, the markets suck right now,” I mumbled.
“Please let me stay?” She looked up. “I’ll do anything. Even—” She looked at the bed.
I saw where she was looking. “No, not that. Not if you’re thinking quid pro quo. Then it doesn’t mean anything.”
I shook my head and turned away. “I need to think it over.”