Page 6 of Man Seeking Woman

Finding the section she said, I scanned the small boxes. "Okay, so what the hell am I looking for?" My eyes search the bold print, seeing ads for cooks and mechanics, people who were searching for lost pets and trying to sell their used junk. "I don't see anything that's going to help me here. I don't need a nineteen-eighty three Volkswagen Rabbit."

"Middle of the page, it's right there." Sitting down beside me, she ran a finger over the print, stopping on a small box. "Here it is." Tapping the paper, she nodded as if all my answers were inside that little block.

The print was bold, the description vague, but the offer was clear as day.

Man Seeking Woman:

I'm a successful business man and I'm looking for a grounded woman to help secure a future for my child. No strings attached, please call if interested. Willing to pay good money if compatible.

"What is it for exactly?"

"How the hell should I know?" she asked, her lip curving to one side.

"I bet it's some creep and this is an ad for like a call girl or something."

"You should call, it doesn't hurt anything to find out."

"And it doesn't hurt to allow yourself some real happiness."

"Hint taken." Nudging my shoulder, she gave me a smile.

"You really think I should call?"

Snatching the paper out of my hands, she scoffed. "Fuck no, are you kidding me? I was just joking, he's probably a serial killer who got lazy." Laying the paper on my coffee table, she scrunched her face in disapproval.

"Well, you might be living with one. So. . ." Giving her a playful shove, she started giggling. Before I knew it, we were both laughing hysterically, good tears running down our faces.

It made me happy to see her smiling that way. For months I had to sit back and watch her slowly drown in the relationship she was in. Most of the time I bit my tongue, doing my best to not start any trouble. For whatever reason, she saw something in him, and I tried to respect that.

But if Justin got too pushy or jerky, that's when I let my inner bitch come out. Kayla might be a silent mouse, afraid to lose that guy, but I wasn't shy about telling him where to stick it.

Which was definitely why he hated me so much, and didn't want her hanging out with me. I was hopeful this was a turning point for her, the moment where clarity would strike her like a lightening bolt and she could see him for who he trully was; a self absorbed asshole.

"Why don't we just forget our problems right now, we still have half a bottle to finish." Kayla snatched her wine off the table and held it up. "Let's toast. To fresh starts and good fortune."

Clinking my glass against hers, I took a long sip. "Good fortune, huh? Maybe I should call that number. . ."

"El, don't even think about it. That right there is a man looking for a quick fuck without having to leave the comfort of his home. What other reason is there for an ad like that?"

"I don't know, maybe he's looking for a nanny or something. He might need someone to tidy up his home and make sure his kids get to school on time."

"Or," she said, pointing a finger in my direction. "He's looking for some unexpecting victim to chain up in his basement."

"Even that doesn't sound too bad right now, I bet the creditors wouldn't find me there." Giggling, my eyes kept running over the text on the paper, rereading the vague and undescriptive ad.

I couldn't say I wasn't a little curious about it. I needed money, something steady to get me through this downward spiral my life was taking.

Something like this could help.

No, it's dangerous. Kayla's right, he's probably just looking for sex.

"Please tell me you're not serious."

"What?Come on, you know me better than that."

Kayla's eyes were set on mine as her brows arched high. "You're right, I do. And the tone in your voice right now tells me that you're really debating this. I regret even showing you that ad now. I was only kidding, you do realize that, right?"

"Stop, Kay, you don't need to worry." Resting my feet on the coffee table, I held the glass between my bent knees, tapping my nails against the surface. "I'm not that desperate."

Am I?

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