Page 2 of Trick me. Treat me

Me

Hi! Is this regarding the cat sitting job?

Three little dots appear almost immediately. Disappear. Appear again.

Unknown

Yes, Violet.

My skin prickles, a shiver skittering down my spine. I know it’s stupid. Of course they know my name, it’s on my profile. Along with my college, my year, and even a photo of me because apparently employers need photographic evidence of us. Still. The way that text reads has me feeling all weird.

Me

Okay :) I just wanted to check. Could you send me the address and some more information please?

Unknown

Transportation will be provided.

This feels more serial killer by the minute…

Me

That’s okay, I have a car I can drive myself.

Unknown

Transportation will be provided.

… It’s not ‘we can provide transport.’ Not ‘it’s easier if we collect you.’ Just—get in the car, bitch. And every sensible part of my brain is blaring its alarm bells at me. I should cancel. Oh, I absolutely should cancel. Five hundred dollars is not enough to climb willingly into a stranger’s car and be driven to an undisclosed location.

I quickly open StudentWork again and tap through my jobs page, searching for the listing to find the cancellation button. My thumb hovers over it, but another text arrives before I can manage to click.

Unknown

The property is difficult to locate. Your driver will return you home Sunday morning.

Is that supposed to make it better? Because if anything, I’m fairly sure the property being difficult to locate is exactly what someone says immediately before dumping your body somewhere nobody will ever find it.

Me

Can I ask where it is?

Unknown

Approximately forty-five minutes outside the city. Private property.

You will not be required to leave the house once you arrive.

An obnoxious laugh bursts out of me. Nope. No. Absolutely fucking not. I swipe back over to StudentWork and press the cancellation button. A large warning fills my screen instantly:

Cancelling an accepted position within 72 hours may temporarily restrict your StudentWork account.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan. I need this stupid app. I’ve been picking up weekend jobs through it since sophomore year. Gallery set ups, campus events. Once I even stood for three hours in a freezing parking lot dressed as a bottle of organic orange juice. Being temporarily restricted would freaking suck.

I drop my head back between my shoulders, my long black hair tickling the base of my spine as I dramatically sigh. My phone buzzes again.

Unknown