"No way! A casino? That is literally prostitution!"
Nicola frowned as she read the words Melody had written in her phone's notepad app.
"Don't be stupid, Melody. Prostitution is different from attending to guests at casinos. In fact, I'd say a casino is a faster route to getting rich than prostitution."
Melody picked up her phone and typed again, then showed Nicola.
Nicola read aloud, "So, you admit? Working at a casino is identical to prostitution—?"
"No, dumbass! I'm saying it's like working for a mouth-watering pay while your hands stay clean! You won't be preyed on or forced to sleep with anyone."
Melody typed on her phone and showed Nicola. It read: "No matter what you say, you can't convince me to work at a casino."
"Okay, so what do you suggest? Don't you need this money urgently? I saw your budget, and the sum was about fifteen thousand dollars. Where do you plan to get that money, with every employer rejecting you?"
Melody considered Nicola's words. She was right. In a few weeks, she would be leaving for a new life with Nate in Georgia. Yet, she hadn't even gotten the job that would provide the money she needed to start over. She didn't want to be a burden to Nate when she got there. If anything, she wanted to be involved in assisting him financially.
"Also, I hear they have an important guest this week, so they'll be paying anyone that attends to the guests a whopping sixty thousand dollars."
Melody's ears perked up. She typed on her phone and showed Nicola. It read: "Are you serious?! That's a fortune for a one-week job."
"Well, I was surprised too," Nicola said, settling into the softness of Melody's mattress. "But a casino is an illegal business. It's all about keeping your lips sealed. And you know, you're mute. They wouldn't need to worry about you spilling any tea, because you can't speak—so they'll employ you."
Melody nodded, thinking about Nicola's words.
"Sixty thousand dollars can sustain you for the longest time until you get a job in Georgia. Why see an opportunity and shy away from it?"
Melody sank deeper into her thoughts.
"All you have to do is attend to their guests, get your pay, and disappear without a single trace. Done and dusted."
Melody thought about Nicola's offer all day. A casino was a dangerous place to work—the very last on her list—but the pay was so tempting. Just as Nicola had stated, it would sustain her until she managed to land a well-paying job in Georgia. And it was only for a week. Engaging in something illegal for one week couldn't be that horrible… could it?
Would God forgive her if she served people who sinned against Him by gambling their lives away? Would Mama Gloria cast her out if she discovered Melody had worked for men who earned money through dirty means?
Those thoughts tormented her throughout the day, until she finally made a conclusion later that night—she would go for the interview and see if they would employ her.
It was an hour and thirty minutes' drive away from home. That was her first red flag. Even if she could endure such a long journey for a week, where would she get the transport fare? Still, she let her legs carry her to the address Nicola had given her.
The location was in a deserted area, and even though the day was still at its brightest, Melody's heart thudded in fear as she looked back to ensure no one was trailing her.
The casino was hidden underground, past a couple of beggars, and behind a crass door boldly marked with "4B." Melody looked at the paper in her hand. At the conclusion of the address Nicola had given her, it said "4B" as well.
She pushed the door open slowly and stepped into a dark hallway. Her legs trembled as she strolled down the dimly lit passage toward another door. Two men stood guard in front of it, clad in black suits and dark shades, the rigid lines in their foreheads making them look even more intimidating.
"Do you have an appointment?" one of them asked.
With trembling fingers, Melody pulled out her phone, typed into her notepad, and showed them. The note read: "I'm here for a job opportunity, and I'm mute. Please, let me in."
The men exchanged a look before the bulkier one asked, "What is the name?"
Nicola had told her to give them a name if asked. Quickly, she typed it into her phone and showed them.
They both exhaled, then ushered her through the door.
Her eyes widened the moment she stepped inside. Gold and chandeliers—that was all she could see. The place was nearly empty, considering it was daytime and most customers wouldn't arrive until later, but a few addicts still lingered, casting their bets and losing them in the blink of an eye.
She gawked at the black-and-gold interior. The tiles, the chairs, even the roof glimmered in those two colors. Unsure of who to approach for the interview, she took it upon herself to step toward a woman who was addressing two girls.
The three of them were dressed alike—white shirts, black waistcoats, mid-thigh black skirts, net leggings—only the girls wore net leggings—,and heels at least six inches tall.
Melody tapped the woman gently on the arm. The woman turned to look at her, as did the two girls. But unlike the hostile stares she had received at other interview places, their gazes weren't sinister.
Melody typed on her phone: "Hello, my name is Melody. I'm mute, and a friend told me about a job vacancy here. Is it still open?"
"Yes, it is. Follow me," the woman replied immediately, not wasting a breath.
Surprised that they hadn't dismissed her or turned her away after finding out she was mute, Melody followed the woman upstairs, through a door, and into a lonely hallway.
At the end of the hall, the woman pushed open a door, revealing an office.
A man sat at the table, smoking marijuana, a newspaper in his hand, and his glasses hanging loosely on the bridge of his nose.
The woman knocked after stepping in to get his attention. He looked up from the paper, resembling a man old enough to be Melody's grandfather.
"Van, this woman here is here for the interview," the woman announced.
The man adjusted in his seat, tossing aside the newspaper. "What is your name, young lady?"
"She can't speak," the woman whispered.
Mr. Van's interest piqued. He sat up straighter and fixed his gaze on Melody, studying her carefully. "Leave us alone," he ordered, his eyes never leaving Melody.
Anxious about being alone with a stranger in a casino, Melody steadied herself and said a silent prayer to God for protection in her mind.
"Look at me," Mr. Van commanded. She obeyed.
He grabbed a pen from a small writing case and suddenly tossed it at her. Melody's heart froze as she saw the pen, its pointed tip aimed for her eyes—but it whizzed past, stabbing into the wooden wall behind her instead.
She had intended to scream, but no sound could come out. Her throat was forever sealed.
The man rose to his feet, examining her again. "So, you really can't speak?" he whispered. Then a smirk stretched across his face.
"Perfect. Just the right person for this job."