Page 7 of Hard Limits

“What?”

I filled Meera in on the day’s events, starting with the coffee incident and ending with the salary offer that put my expected earnings as a new doctor to shame. Although I realised now why Mr. Vale paid so much—the extra was for putting up with his obnoxious temperament.

“So I just need to stick it out there for a month,” I said. “That’s all.”

“I’m telling you, the guy at the auto shop is ripping you off.”

“I tried three different ones.”

“Want me to ask Alfie to call? He speaks fluent mechanic. His brother used to race motorcycles.”

“You think he would? If he’s in a foul mood…”

“The weather’s meant to be better tomorrow. And if your new boss is nasty, you should quit. Life’s too short for shitty men.”

That phrase had become our mantra in those last months of college, much to Alfie’s amusement. Although Meera’s family definitely disagreed with her taste in boyfriends, which was another reason for our subterfuge. So many lies… They thought she was single now, while she’d actually gotten engaged to Alfie before we graduated. He’d gone down on one knee after her final exam, and of course she’d said yes.

Meanwhile, her grandfather spent way too much time watching British crime dramas, and he thought that Englishmen in general and Alfie in particular were ignorant yobs. The fact that Alfie had no ambitions beyond working as a barista and hanging out with his friends didn’t help matters. Work to live, not live to work, that was his ethos. Didn’t Grandpa Adams understand that not everyone needed a high-powered career to be happy? Clearly not. Meera could do better, he said, and if she chose not to, he was going to leave his home to the local cat sanctuary instead of her when he died. No—and I quote—lazy little pillock was going to get his hands on the cash.

Given Grandpa Adams’s penchant for fried food, that bequest would come sooner rather than later. I suspected he was only one partially blocked artery away from a heart attack, but he refused to have his cholesterol measured. Or his blood pressure. And Meera loved cats, she really did, but do you realise how hard it is to get on the property ladder? A year ago, I’d had no idea, but now I knew the difficulties all too well. My dream was to own a tiny apartment, but at this rate, I’d have roommates for the rest of my life.

Meera’s parents weren’t keen on Alfie either, although they hadn’t been quite as outspoken as her grandpa. I’d overheard her dad telling her mom that Alfie was a bum, and while it was true that barista work paid minimum wage, he did well with tips, and his folks—who both taught at Harvard—were happy to support him. Wealth wasn’t measured in money, I knew that better than most. Happiness was priceless.

“‘Nasty’ is the wrong word,” I told Meera. “I think Mr. Vale will be demanding.”

“Not a pervert like Clifton junior?”

“I don’t get that vibe from him.”

Although in that awkward moment when he stopped me from overbalancing, he had held onto my arm for longer than was strictly necessary. Or had I imagined it? Dealing with men wasn’t exactly my forte. My father scared most of them off. Or paid them off. Did it really matter which? They never stuck around.

“If he starts to unzip his fly in front of you, run. Don’t hang around to look this time.”

Meera made it sound as if I’d peeked out of curiosity, when the truth was, I’d been stunned. Until Lance Clifton whipped out his genitalia, I’d assumed he was just scratching his balls the way his father always did.

“Believe me, I’m out of there.”

CHAPTER 4

THE ASSISTANT

“This is cold.”

I’d gotten to work at a quarter to eleven. Braxton Vale had shown up at ten past. By then, his coffee had cooled to 135 degrees, and of course he noticed.

“Sorry, Mr. Vale. I’ll reheat it.”

He pulled a face. “No, make it again.”

If he hadn’t been paying me so well, he would have ended up wearing it.

“Right away, Mr. Vale.”

Even my father didn’t complain about microwaved coffee.

“And pick me up a croissant. And the new shoes I ordered from Lewis Jefferson. Plus I need more moisturiser.”

Moisturiser? Well, he did have a smooth complexion. “Uh, which brand?”

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