Page 38 of Kept
“Right, whatever. I’m busy. I’ve answered your question. Please go away.”
He refocusses on me.
“You look red-faced and harassed.”
I snort and continue prepping.
“James. I’ve had a while to think about our phone conversation while I was in Vegas, and I know this manuscript is yours, and you are playing some fucking stupid trick. It isn’t going to work. I threw the book in a dumpster while I was in Vegas – so just go and try and fool someone else into falling into your insane arms.”
“Where is your friend? Sick?” he suddenly asks.
“No,” I stop what I am doing, wipe my hands on my apron and stare at him. “She decided to stay in Vegas, uh, I think.”
“Have you called the police?”
“James, enough with your crazy vampire talk. Her mother says she does this occasionally. She will turn up, most likely later today.”
“If you are talking about Margarita,” the new headmistress says, entering through the double doors and approaching us, “she has resigned. She emailed her resignation over the weekend.”
James and I look at one another and frown.
I wasn’t aware our conversation could be overheard from outside the canteen, and I’m embarrassed. I haven’t known this headmistress long, the last one, who truth be known was a real bitch, had been killed in a tragic accident the week before James started, the night I’d worked extra late. And, I was hoping to start off on the right foot with this one.
“And Mr Hunter,” she continues, “if I hear that you are starting your occult talk inmyschool no amount of board support or large donations will prevent me from revoking your contract. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Felicity,” he nods, his face contrite.
“That is Principal Tember, to you.”
He scowls but doesn’t reply, and she turns and clip-clops towards the door.
“Wait, Principal Tember,” I shout to her retreating back, “are you advertising for a replacement this week, for Margarita? Because I’m sure she will come back, I’m sure this is just some crazy idea she had that she will regret. You haven’t been here that long, so you might not know her as well as I do, she is sometimes a little unreliable, but a wonderful cook – and very good with the students.”
“Be that as it may,” she turns to me and frowns, “yes, I am advertising, and no, I will not be accepting Ms Ramirez back on my canteen staff. And you would do well to concentrate on your food and less on my teaching staff. Is that clear, Ms Bailey?”
“Yes, Principal Tember, perfectly clear.”
James waits until she has left, and her high heels can no longer be heard, before he runs to the double doors, peers out to ensure she is gone and jogs back to my counter.
“Josephine, I know you don’t believe me about the creatures of the night. I understand it is a lot to wrap your head around, but please,” he holds up his hand to stall my tirade, “just tell me this. Does the journal say why he is here? Why he is here in Boston?”
“James,” I growl.
“Please. I won’t ask any more.”
“He is here to find his first journal, which was stolen by a woman in England – but you might want to work on your characterisation a bit. I didn’t know enough about her to feel bad about her death – just a little literary tip for you.”
“Oh Jesus,” he puts his hand to his face and wipes it slowly from his forehead down to his chin, momentarily gripping his chin in his hand for a second. “Does it say what happened to her? To the woman who stole it?”
“Yeah,” I snigger, “points for originality, by the way, James.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Sure, you don’t. OK, I’ll play along. He broke every bone in her body.”
“Was her name, Lucy?” he asks quietly, his face white.
“You know it was.”
