Page 24 of Prey

“Yes, it’s me. Did I forget something?” I asked, rummaging through my bag for my wallet, then panicking when I couldn’t see my phone. Oh, that’s right, the instrument in my hand that I was talking into. Everything was here.

“Not at all,” her tone warmed which relaxed me a little. “Are you still nearby or have you gone back to campus?”

“I’m sitting at a fishpond a block away waiting for the bus,” I explained, confused by her question since I assumed I’d never hear from her again.

“Oh good. Would you mind returning to Savile to pick up your uniform?” I could hear people talking in the background and the tinkering of glasses.

“Have you got the right person?” I questioned, perplexed. “I’m the one with the glasses.”

“I know which one you are as you were here only ten minutes ago. I’m offering you a job, Petra... a kitchenhand position,” she stated and fell quiet.

“Really? I thought I did terribly at the interview,” I said, then wished I could take those words back.

“Would you like to work at Savile, Petra?” throwing the question out there to clarify the reason behind the call.

“Yes,” I barked when the word caught in my throat, then cleared my throat and repeated, “Yes, please.”

“Great. Fantastic,” she seemed genuinely pleased. “Come back and pick up your uniform and I’ll give you your new work schedule and pay rate.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I’m leaving now to come back.”

As excitement fluttered about in my chest, I walked briskly back onto the pavement with a big smile on my face, then paused in awe when the old Victorian-style Savile building came into view.

Life was about to take an interesting turn. I just didn’t know how interesting that would be.

13

Betty swiped off her phone and met my eye showing her usual scrutiny, “She’s coming back to pick up her uniform. She sounds very excited and grateful.”

“Good,” I replied, stepping away from the table where she was sitting having a coffee break from interviews.

“Are you going to tell me why you’d prefer I hire an inexperienced girl with an obvious fake ID over someone more suitable?” Betty pressed firmly, although she knew where her boundaries began and ended.

“No,” I replied sternly. “She’ll grow into the job.”

“On-the-job training will be given, of course, but I doubt she is twenty-one, Ronan,” she asserted. “You’re the one who emphasized sticking to the rules.”

“Well…” I shrugged. “I turned twenty-two recently, and I’ve been working here for the last three years.”

She pursed her scarlet lips. “True. But you don’t work on the floor serving our important members.”

“Out of interest, how old does she look?” I asked, scooping a small handful of roasted pistachios from a bowl on a nearby table and starting to shell them in my hand.

She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand to give me that typical ‘Betty’ look that was a little intimidating, hence why Mikky stole her from Sylvie when we bought the place. “Eighteen or nineteen at a guess. Or she could be an inexperienced twenty-year-old. Either way, her ID was undeniably fake. Trust me. I’ve seen enough IDs to know the difference.”

“Huh, nineteen is a good number. Same age as Gunner,” I reiterated as if that would make a difference. I was breaking the rules, and Mikky wouldn’t be happy, but Betty would keep quiet about it. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

“She’s very sweet, isn’t she?” she called after me.

I rolled my eyes out of eyeshot from her, then stalled and glanced back. “What was her name again?”

She shot me one of those penetrative looks that could terrify a charging bull. “Petra Black,” she replied, and I snorted in laughter.

“Petra Black,” I chuckled as I stepped off the club floor and up the carpeted stairs to the first floor, checking the carpet for lint and running my hand along the wooden rail for dust. All clear. As usual, the cleaners never let us down.

Once back up into the private quarters, I sat in the viewing room to see if I could get just one glimpse of the girl who swamnaked in the rock pool in the forest. I took a photo of her with my phone and largened the picture so that I could peer at her face more closely. She was wearing glasses, whereas the girl in the pool was completely bare, but when I followed her through the forest as she was leaving, she had her glasses on again. The hair, skin tone, and figure were the same.

The girl I saw in the rock pool was alive and vivacious, whereas this girl was shy and awkward moving, her pretty head bowed, gazing at the world from under her eyelashes.

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