Minimum Wage

Elizabeth was still in a daze, as Mr. Broadus drove her to his offices, located in a strip mall on the seediest side of town. He was dominant, and possessive, placing his hand on her leg, massaging it as he drove.

They entered his offices, which smelled of thick cigarette smoke and cheap liquor. He got out a cigarette, offering Elizabeth one. She declined, and he pursed his lips in dissatisfaction. She then took the proferred cigarette, coughing on its fumes.

"So ... you like own me now, or what?" Elizabeth asked dully.

"Something like that. You work for me, now. Nine to five, overtime as needed, time and a half. You'll be paid $7.25 an hour for your services, which will go towards the debt your husband owes me."

"And how much does he owe you?"

"$365,000. So you better hope he gets better at business fast. Or you better hope you earn lots of overtime, Miss Castle."

"It's ... Mrs. Jefferson, Sir." Mr. Broadus looked at her coldly.

"I call you whatever the fuck I want to call you. Now take off your wedding ring."

She hesitated, then finally admitted defeat, removing it and placing it into her purse.

"Good girl. When you're here, you aren't married. You're mine, so get used to that real fast. Now, I think you could start with polishing my shoes, Miss Castle." He opened the newspaper, a signal she was dismissed from the conversation. She reluctantly went to get the shine box and got to work.