Page 21 of Kept
I watch his back as he leaves. Surely it is too much of a coincidence that he was an occult professor and I have found a book about a vampire? Perhaps he is embarrassed to admit he lost it?
Shrugging, I set this aside and concentrate on prepping dinner for the boarders, my mind already on what I will wear tonight, when Margarita comes out of the cool room.
“I’m going on a date with the history teacher,” I say lightly, “he isn’t a kiddie fiddler after all.”
“Jeesh,” she puts her hands on her hips, “well normally I would say you are a fucking idiot – since you have mooned over that sports teacher that broke your heart for the past six months or more and swore you would never mix work and play again – but, since you look like a bag-lady and haven’t left your bedroom lately, other than to come to work, I say go for it.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly, frowning at my reflection in one of the shiny stainless-steel pots.
‘Bag-lady?’
“I’m going to go out tomorrow morning and get a haircut,” I announce as I take the proffered cabbages and begin feeding them into the slicer. I’m going short and dark.”
“Sure are,” she smirks.
“My hair. James isn’t that short.”
“He’s shorter than Jerry,” she sniffs as she begins to slice the tomatoes.
“James lives not far from Le Boufantania,” I shrug, “so he might be equally as rich as your boyfriend.”
“I don’t think so,” she frowns, “do you know what he gave me last night?”
“Is this where you tell me something really kinky, and I throw up my lunch?”
“No,” she snorts, “this.”
She pulls out a piece of paper from her uniform pocket and hands it to me.
“A cheque?”
“Yeah, he wants to pay off our rent for a year.”
“Margarita you can’t accept this.”
“I know,” she frowns, “I thought you might say that.”
“But you are tempted.”
“Ah duh,” she rolls her eyes.
“Why?” I leave the question hanging. She knows as well as I do that nothing in this world comes without strings.
Once again, she shrugs.
“He says he doesn’t want me worrying about money, or about my rent lapsing if he should take me away for a holiday, or something.”
“Take you away? Doesn’t he realise you work?”
“I was kind of thinking honeymoon…” she grins, suddenly her old cheeky self, “in which case this little senorita won’t need to work ever again.”
“Still…” I shake my head, “I don’t think you should take it.”
“Uh, just going to throw this out there – but someone who eats a thousand dollar bill at a restaurant and leaves without coughing up - not sure you really have the moral high ground here.”
“Shhhhh,” I look around, making sure no one overheard her comment.
“It was a one-off act of revenge. I’m not going to make a habit of it.”
