Read Work for Hire for Free Online Page A

good enough to describe it. It was a perfect oval, with a broad forehead and two enormous eyes framed by perfectly tweezed brows. Her cheekbones protruded and contrasted with a narrow nose. Her lips pouted and a tiny mole teased above her left eye. There was nary a wrinkle in sight. If Ms. Jacobs hadn’t told me, I would never guess this woman was a mother of two in her mid-forties. Although I could definitely see why she had a successful modeling career.
    “I am Monique Lamont,” the woman said in a thick French accent as, without pausing, she sailed past me to lounge on the white sofa. She gracefully crossed her legs and rested her bracelet-adorned arm on the sofa’s back. “And you are Tekla. Maybe the tutor, maybe not. No?”
    “Uh,” I stammered in my seat, my body suddenly awkward and inadequate, as any woman’s would be when confronted with such feminine perfection. “Yes. Ms. Jacobs sent me.”
    “Good, good.” Mrs. Lamont tapped her manicured fingers on the sofa’s leather. “I speak with this Ms. Jacobs from the agency, and she says you are perfect. But she says that about the other girls she sends, and they are not, so we will see about you. No?”
    “Uh,” I said inadequately. What to say? In addition to appearing gauche, I was starting to feel stupid. “Yes.”
    “Perfect.”
    Mrs. Lamont re-crossed her legs and adjusted the fold of her slacks. The black fabric fit her so well it had to be hand-tailored. I also assumed it was designer. The experimental cut of the slacks and matching top screamed ‘couture expensive,’ not just ready-to-wear like my Armani.
    “This Jacobs woman says you are very smart. She talks about law school, grades, and rankings, but I know nothing about any of that. Her agency though has a fine reputation, so I will take her word on your intelligence. No?”
    I fidgeted. “Yes.”
    “Right.” Mrs. Lamont pursed her lips. “Although the other girls she sends are also very bright. One is a Ph.D. candidate in English literature at Columbia, and the other two have undergraduate degrees from Harvard. One even has a Master’s in education. Obviously, as you see, fancy schooling is not enough for me. I look for something more.”
    She eyed me expectantly.
    “Uh, yes,” I said. Agreeing with a potential client seemed like a good idea. “A good tutor should be more than just excellent grades and fancy schools.” Though what, besides academic excellence and good teaching ability, a tutor should possess was beyond me.
    Mrs. Lamont smiled, seemingly satisfied with my response. She slipped out of her pumps and curled her legs beneath her. In the casual pose, she looked just like the woman in the painting hanging over the fireplace. Startled by the possibility, I glimpsed at the canvas again. It was Mrs. Lamont, maybe a few years younger, in the same white room wearing similar black clothing.
    “As a fashion photographer,” Mrs. Lamont continued, “I am often away on shoots. Paris. Milan. Los Angeles. My husband too does a lot of travel. Even when I am here, my English is not so good. I speak easily, but my reading and writing are not good. So my children need someone to check over their schoolwork and help them with tests. I think an hour a day for each is good, no?”
    “Yes,” I agreed again as my head jerked. An hour a day for each kid! That meant two hours for five days, or $1,500 per week. If I landed this, I would earn $6,000 per month. That was more than most people made working eight-hour days! I could afford my new housing and food. Maybe even the tuition. Please, please, please, let me land this client.
    “They have nanny for this in the past,” Mrs. Lamont said, completely oblivious to my budding excitement, “but now they are too old and say to me, ‘ Maman , we are too old for nanny … all the other kids in school have a tutor.’ So what am I to do? I fire the nanny and look for a tutor. I have the money for the best, so I ask other parents where they