Page 33 of Just Say (Hell) No
“For that? Auckland housing, eh. Still not used to it.”
“It can happen. When the place is actually attractive to people.”
“Someday,” he said, “we’ll have to talk about what you have against Dunedin. But not now. I’ll pay you two hundred fifty dollars a week to move to my house for the next five months instead and help out with Ella. Cover your whole rent with some left over. I’ll buy the food as well. An even better deal.”
It took her a minute. Finally, she said, “That’s a cheap housekeeper.”
“How did I know,” he said with a sigh.
“I like Ella,” she said, “but it sounds like you need more than a companion, and I don’t want to be a housekeeper. That’s why I live the way I do. Well, one reason. Besides that I can’t afford anything else. I also have a job.” She lifted her chin. “In a restaurant, and you can go on and say it. You’ve talked about my art already. Go on and slag off my job as well.”
“I’m not saying anything. I have somebody who does the heavy cleaning every couple weeks, and you don’t have to cook for Ella. Or for me, either. Just cook somethingwithher, maybe, like you’d do anyway. Go to the midwife with her. Help her find furniture she likes. A couple hours a day max. Look at it that way. She likes you, too, and I won’t be here enough. I’m not going to be good leaving her alone, so I either need to get her some company or send her home.”
Nyree sat still a moment, and he sat and wondered why on earth he’d be this reckless. And had a feeling he knew exactly why.
“Where is it?” she asked. “Your house?”
“St. Heliers.”
“As in,” she said slowly, “next door to where you left your car. As in, you probably could’ve run home for your keys in twenty minutes.”
“As in maybe I wanted to take you up on your offer. Could be I wanted to spend more time with you. Though right now, I can’t imagine why.” She just looked at him, and he sighed. “Three hundred a week. You’re killing me here. I’m not even getting a cook.”
“No strings. No sex,” she added, because he must have looked blank. “You’ve got a separate room for me.”
All right. That was just insulting. “Of course I do. And I don’t pay for sex.”
“Goody for you, because I don’t have sex for pay. And I have to be able to paint.”
“Dogs.”Wait.He should probably have spelled out the sex thing a bit more. Was she sayingnosex? Or… Wait. Shehadsaid “No sex.”
Well, bugger.
“Yes,dogs,” she said, and he struggled to get back to the point. “Dogs are what will keep me out of an office. Dogs are my only hope.”
“Did you paint the mandarins? In your garage?”
A long couple seconds. “Yes.”
She’d said it cautiously. Completely differently. He said, “And that’s the kind of thing you want to do. Not dogs.”
“It’sonething I want to do. I can put a tarp down, but if I can’t paint, I can’t come. I’d want to come, because Ella does need somebody, and I need the money. But I can’t.”
“Oh,nowyou want to do it. Now that you’ve squeezed three hundred from me.”
She smiled. Sweetly. “Does your mum think it’s good for you to have everything your own way? Or doesn’t that come up, Tarot-wise?”
He shouldn’t answer. He did anyway. How did she do that? Draw the truth out of people? “Maybe,” he found himself saying. “She told me this week that I needed a reality check. What color are you, so I know? I’m hoping you’re not brown. Could be you’ll emptymybank account. I’m taking a risk here as well, you know.”
“I don’t know. I can’t see myself.” She looked over his shoulder. “Ella’s coming. Better decide.”
“What? I decided.”
She fixed him with her stare, and he thought,Snow White was never like this.And then he gave it up. “You can paint. Anything. Just help me.”
“And be your reality check.”
“Maybe not that.”
