The Billionaire's Command
Page 13
I changed into my street clothes, packed my bag, and swung by Germaine’s office on my way out. She was talking to one of the waitresses, but when she saw me in the doorway she told the girl to come back later, and beckoned me inside.
I went in and closed the door behind me. “I’m leaving early,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows at me, silently telling me to go on.
“You didn’t tell me,” I said.
She sighed. “I’m sorry. He instructed me not to.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “Let me down easy if he decides you need to fire me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she said. “He’s never interfered with my personnel decisions.”
“No time like the present,” I said, and then wished I had kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Whatever. I’ll be in tomorrow night. I already talked to Poppy. Trixie’s going to cover for me.”
“Very well,” Germaine said. She gave me a long, searching look. “He wasn’t—”
“No, it was fine,” I said. “I just need a break. I’ve been working too much.”
“Very well,” she said again. “In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
I walked home in the late afternoon light, through the bustling, leafy streets of the West Village, replaying my encounter with The Owner in my head and cursing myself for all of the stupid things I had said and done. If I had known, if Germaine had told me, if I were less of a smart-mouthed idiot—
Too late. Too late. There was no point thinking about it.
But I stewed all the way home anyway, and stewed climbing the steps to the front door, and then the narrow stairs to the fifth-floor walk-up that was my biggest indulgence in life. I still felt like an impostor, living in the West Village and routinely spotting Hollywood types on the street. I loved the neighborhood, and I loved my apartment, and I had gotten a shockingly good deal on the rent—but I still felt guilty writing my rent check every month, thinking of how I could be sending more money home, even just a few hundred extra dollars. And then telling myself that it didn’t matter, that I was already sending plenty home and they didn’t need more, and that it was okay to be selfish sometimes. And then telling myself I was an asshole.
My brain wasn’t always a pleasant place to live.
I made a lot of noise coming in the door: jingling my keys, scratching deliberately at the lock, kicking off my shoes and putting my bag in the closet. I was never home this early, and I didn’t want Yolanda to be surprised or like, eating cereal naked.
“Yolanda?” I called, just to be safe.
“You’re home early,” she called back, but she didn’t sound too distressed, which I took as a sign that there wouldn’t be an unfortunate nudity.
I met Yolanda when she responded to an ad I posted looking for a roommate. Well, her and about eighty-five other people, but she was the only one I liked. She moved in a week later and we’d been living together ever since. She was just about the best friend I had, after Scarlet. She was a few years older than me, and she’d been working at a fancy investment bank downtown since she graduated from college, so I knew she could afford a swankier apartment, but she said she didn’t like living alone. I didn’t either, for that matter. I liked the company, and Yolanda’s relaxed and easygoing presence was good for my nerves.
I walked down the short hallway into the living room, and she was fully dressed and sitting in front of the TV, her hair combed out in a big puffy cloud, and her sister was busily twisting her hair into ropes.
“Hey, Sash,” Yolanda said. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“Yeah, I bailed early,” I said, collapsing onto the couch. “Poppy fucked up the scheduling again, so I didn’t see any point in hanging around. Hi, Tanya.”
“What’s up,” Tanya said, fingers flying. “You don’t care if we watch this show, right?”
“No,” I said. It was some political comedy show that they were both obsessed with. I didn’t care about politics or comedy. “Knock yourselves out. I might order some food, though.”
“Ooh, let me get in on that,” Yolanda said. “Thai?”
“That’s cool with me,” I said. “We’re going to have a wild Saturday night, huh? Why aren’t you out clubbing or something? You’re like an old lady.”
“Maybe I’ll braid your hair again,” Tanya said.
“No way,” I said. She’d tried to cornrow my hair once, and I’d only gotten three braids in before I couldn’t handle it anymore and made her stop. My scalp was too delicate. White people looked ridiculous with cornrows anyway. “You want food too, Tanya?”
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s get some spring rolls.”
I ordered the food, and then sat on the couch for a few minutes and watched Tanya braiding. Her fingers moved so fast I couldn’t even keep track of what she was doing. It was a relief to be home with people I knew well, who wouldn’t suddenly reveal themselves to be powerful and mysterious businessmen who could fire me and who also wanted to touch my pussy.
Christ.
When the show switched over to commercials, Yolanda said, “By the way, your bird is angry.”
“Like, actually angry, or is he just acting the way he always does?” I asked.
“The latter,” she said. “He exists in a stage of rage at the inequities of the world. He’s oppressed by capitalism. Nobody understands his art.”
I rolled my eyes and went into my bedroom to check on Teddy. Yolanda had covered his cage, and when I lifted one corner of the cover, he just blinked sleepily at me and said, “Hi Teddy! Teddy’s a good boy.”
“Good boy, Teddy,” I agreed, and dropped the cover again. He would hopefully sleep until I woke up in the morning and let him out.
Teddy, like the apartment, was an indulgence. I adopted him from a girl I worked with shortly after I moved into my first apartment in the city, a crummy one-room hole in Chinatown, and he had been my constant companion ever since. That didn’t mean I wasn’t aware of what a pain in the ass he was. He cost a lot of money, he needed about as much attention as the average toddler, and it was hard to find roommates who were willing to put up with him. He hated everyone but me; he tolerated Yolanda, and would even let her feed him and take him in and out of his cage, but he made it very clear that she was still The Enemy. He was noisy, and he pooped a lot, and I spent a lot of my free time cutting up expensive fruit for him to eat.
I went in and closed the door behind me. “I’m leaving early,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows at me, silently telling me to go on.
“You didn’t tell me,” I said.
She sighed. “I’m sorry. He instructed me not to.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “Let me down easy if he decides you need to fire me.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she said. “He’s never interfered with my personnel decisions.”
“No time like the present,” I said, and then wished I had kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Whatever. I’ll be in tomorrow night. I already talked to Poppy. Trixie’s going to cover for me.”
“Very well,” Germaine said. She gave me a long, searching look. “He wasn’t—”
“No, it was fine,” I said. “I just need a break. I’ve been working too much.”
“Very well,” she said again. “In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
I walked home in the late afternoon light, through the bustling, leafy streets of the West Village, replaying my encounter with The Owner in my head and cursing myself for all of the stupid things I had said and done. If I had known, if Germaine had told me, if I were less of a smart-mouthed idiot—
Too late. Too late. There was no point thinking about it.
But I stewed all the way home anyway, and stewed climbing the steps to the front door, and then the narrow stairs to the fifth-floor walk-up that was my biggest indulgence in life. I still felt like an impostor, living in the West Village and routinely spotting Hollywood types on the street. I loved the neighborhood, and I loved my apartment, and I had gotten a shockingly good deal on the rent—but I still felt guilty writing my rent check every month, thinking of how I could be sending more money home, even just a few hundred extra dollars. And then telling myself that it didn’t matter, that I was already sending plenty home and they didn’t need more, and that it was okay to be selfish sometimes. And then telling myself I was an asshole.
My brain wasn’t always a pleasant place to live.
I made a lot of noise coming in the door: jingling my keys, scratching deliberately at the lock, kicking off my shoes and putting my bag in the closet. I was never home this early, and I didn’t want Yolanda to be surprised or like, eating cereal naked.
“Yolanda?” I called, just to be safe.
“You’re home early,” she called back, but she didn’t sound too distressed, which I took as a sign that there wouldn’t be an unfortunate nudity.
I met Yolanda when she responded to an ad I posted looking for a roommate. Well, her and about eighty-five other people, but she was the only one I liked. She moved in a week later and we’d been living together ever since. She was just about the best friend I had, after Scarlet. She was a few years older than me, and she’d been working at a fancy investment bank downtown since she graduated from college, so I knew she could afford a swankier apartment, but she said she didn’t like living alone. I didn’t either, for that matter. I liked the company, and Yolanda’s relaxed and easygoing presence was good for my nerves.
I walked down the short hallway into the living room, and she was fully dressed and sitting in front of the TV, her hair combed out in a big puffy cloud, and her sister was busily twisting her hair into ropes.
“Hey, Sash,” Yolanda said. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“Yeah, I bailed early,” I said, collapsing onto the couch. “Poppy fucked up the scheduling again, so I didn’t see any point in hanging around. Hi, Tanya.”
“What’s up,” Tanya said, fingers flying. “You don’t care if we watch this show, right?”
“No,” I said. It was some political comedy show that they were both obsessed with. I didn’t care about politics or comedy. “Knock yourselves out. I might order some food, though.”
“Ooh, let me get in on that,” Yolanda said. “Thai?”
“That’s cool with me,” I said. “We’re going to have a wild Saturday night, huh? Why aren’t you out clubbing or something? You’re like an old lady.”
“Maybe I’ll braid your hair again,” Tanya said.
“No way,” I said. She’d tried to cornrow my hair once, and I’d only gotten three braids in before I couldn’t handle it anymore and made her stop. My scalp was too delicate. White people looked ridiculous with cornrows anyway. “You want food too, Tanya?”
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s get some spring rolls.”
I ordered the food, and then sat on the couch for a few minutes and watched Tanya braiding. Her fingers moved so fast I couldn’t even keep track of what she was doing. It was a relief to be home with people I knew well, who wouldn’t suddenly reveal themselves to be powerful and mysterious businessmen who could fire me and who also wanted to touch my pussy.
Christ.
When the show switched over to commercials, Yolanda said, “By the way, your bird is angry.”
“Like, actually angry, or is he just acting the way he always does?” I asked.
“The latter,” she said. “He exists in a stage of rage at the inequities of the world. He’s oppressed by capitalism. Nobody understands his art.”
I rolled my eyes and went into my bedroom to check on Teddy. Yolanda had covered his cage, and when I lifted one corner of the cover, he just blinked sleepily at me and said, “Hi Teddy! Teddy’s a good boy.”
“Good boy, Teddy,” I agreed, and dropped the cover again. He would hopefully sleep until I woke up in the morning and let him out.
Teddy, like the apartment, was an indulgence. I adopted him from a girl I worked with shortly after I moved into my first apartment in the city, a crummy one-room hole in Chinatown, and he had been my constant companion ever since. That didn’t mean I wasn’t aware of what a pain in the ass he was. He cost a lot of money, he needed about as much attention as the average toddler, and it was hard to find roommates who were willing to put up with him. He hated everyone but me; he tolerated Yolanda, and would even let her feed him and take him in and out of his cage, but he made it very clear that she was still The Enemy. He was noisy, and he pooped a lot, and I spent a lot of my free time cutting up expensive fruit for him to eat.
