I turned to leave.
“Wait.”
The smile didn’t spread across my face, but it sure wanted to. This joker was a harmless puppy compared to my grandmother, though her manners were about one thousand times better. She knew how to introduce herself for starters.
He held out his hand, looking like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Fine. Seventy-two dollars for this week. One hundred otherwise. And I’ll need a month’s rent as bond. Up front.”
It said as much on the listing.
Taking my time, I wandered through the lounge and kitchen again, peeking into the laundry once more. Can I live here? Envisioning myself relaxing on a sofa and drinking wine on a Friday night in this place would take a stronger imagination than I possessed.
When I ran away, it was to escape and to choose the rules of my life. I’d expected to start at the bottom of the ladder. I wanted to start at the bottom to better understand the world’s problems. That sentiment didn’t extend to punishing myself unnecessarily—now I knew that sleeping on the streets really was as bad as it sounded.
Tommy helped me figure out that after tax, I’d have over four hundred dollars to spend or save each week. The rent for this apartment took a quarter of that sum. Twice that amount would push the limit once I took food and transport into account.
This hovel was within my budget and available now, but would living here be unnecessary punishment?
I belatedly remembered another question. “Utilities are included?”
The man cursed under his breath. “Yes,” he grated.
Bastard would have charged me extra for them if I hadn’t asked. What a dick.
Did Tommy rattle off any other questions?
… If she had, I couldn’t recall them.
I inhaled slowly—ignoring the musty, smoke smell saturating the carpet and coating the walls. I could spend a few months here. After that, I’d have a better grasp of what week-to-week costs were; maybe some savings up my sleeve.
“I’ll take it,” I told the man. “And I’m Basi by the way.”
“Clint. Bond.”
Huh? His name was Clint Bond?
His grubby hand shot out.
Oh my god, he wanted the bond? That’s how he asked for things?
Don’t give the guy an etiquette lesson, Basi. It’s too late for him.
I smiled and hoisted my pack higher. “Thanks for showing me the house, Clint.”
I ambled to the half-open front door and squeezed through the gap.
“I thought you wanted the place,” he snapped.
I smiled sweetly. “What did I say earlier about treatment of a potential tenant?”
His face turned purple.
Still I waited, letting him suffer.
Fixing him with a cool look that extended into awkward length territory—for him anyway—I fished in my pack for the stack of cash. I pulled out the wad and leafed through until I found four crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.
“Here,” I said, holding it out.
I glanced at his face and frowned at the direction of his focus. On the wad of money. Crap. Maybe bringing it out like that wasn’t wise. I shoved the stack into the zip pocket and swung my bag on again.
He blinked and inspected the money in his hand.
“Keys,” I pressed.
My tolerance had officially expired.
Clint dragged his eyes off the money. “The keys will be in the mailbox at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. You paid for five days this week.”
That one was my bad for haggling him down, but my shifts at Live Right Realty were 11:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. I’d have time to move in tomorrow, so Clint could go screw himself.
“That’s only fair,” I said grandly. “Thank you for your time, Clint.”
Asswipe.
I strode in the direction of the bus stop, feeling more in control of this situation than I had since sleeping on the streets. I officially had my own apartment. I’d get five days’ worth of pay for working this week. More than enough to pay rent.
Which meant that the two and a half thousand dollars in my zip pocket could go toward kitting out my new place.
It was time to shop.
I attempted to straighten my ill-fitting charcoal pencil skirt as the bus lurched to a halt. People trickled off and the bus resumed its slog. Mid-morning, and I’d already spent a full day’s energy moving my new purchases from Tommy’s to mine.
Mine.
I beamed. Who knew there could be such joy in outfitting a house that belonged to me? Well, a rental.
Tommy surveyed my purchases last night with a critical eye, nearly critically enough to deflate my high. She’d worried over the lack of contract for the apartment and the absence of keys. Once assured that I’d accounted for expenses until I was paid by Live Right, she’d relaxed. My grandmother had trained me in estate affairs since I started high school. Sure, there wasn’t the same margin of error to play with, but the principles had to be the same in the peasant world as they were in the rich world.
A girl with lopsided pigtails waved from where she sat next to her grandmother. My heart twisted slightly in my chest. Once that could have been me and my grandmother.
I snickered loudly, drawing the attention of an old man. He smiled and returned his attention to reading the paper.
On second thought, swap the bus for a private jet, the pigtails for an intricate braid, and insert clothing I had to keep pristine at all times. But the relationship was real. I loved my grandmother. She was all I had after my parents’ helicopter crashed over the Maldives. My parents were both only children and so I had no cousins, no aunties, and no uncles. The only relations I had were from my grandmother’s generation and mostly deceased. If I had any alive, I’d never met them.
Truly I wanted to be out here living like this. But things ended on an ugly note with my grandmother, and that didn’t sit right with me.
I hadn’t read her email yet. I could guess what it would say—an order for me to stop being narrow-minded; that people would kill to be in my position. My only relation understood me on so many levels, and yet didn’t in fundamental ways too. When we discussed anything other than my inheritance and responsibilities, we could spend hours talking.
I might have hurt her by leaving, and perhaps I should have handled it differently—sat her down and explained why I was going. In a rational way she’d have respected.
Tonight, I’d read the email. But I had to get through my first day at Live Right Realty before that.
I tugged at the pencil skirt again, pulling at the hideous white blouse tucked into the high waist. The outfit was the least hideous I could find at Jamieson, an outlet store Tommy got some of her clothes from.
The prices were so cheap I couldn’t believe it. Upon further inspection, the quality of the material was so shoddy, the prices seemed outrageous. The garments wouldn’t last more than ten washes—yet another way the system squeezed money from the poor while ruining the environment. I bought a few outfits I could mix and match out of necessity, but from now on, I’d save for classic pieces of higher quality that would last years.
I glanced out the window, zoning out as the bus passed through Orange, Red, and Pink. This bus only serviced those three suburbs, and sure enough, before heading into Purple, the bus turned inward to Grey.
Skyscrapers soon loomed overhead, their tops impossible to see from where I held on to my rung.
I was only concerned with one scraper.
Kyros Sky.
I’d spent two days pushing down memories of my interview on Level 44 of the building. Not an easy feat when my imagination had taken the interaction with Angelica and twisted it beyond recognition. I’d woken in a cold sweat last night after a nightmare where the receptionist asked me a list of personal questions, and I’d answered every one of them without hesitation.
Weird.
And inaccurate. The stress of figuring out peasant life was getting to me, and whatever my sentiments on Angelica, I was on a one-way street now
. I couldn’t not work there with bills to pay.
The bus lunged to a stop, and I followed the other city-goers exiting the back door.
I’d disembarked at a different stop today. This morning, I looked up the route from here to the skyscraper on Tommy’s phone, but the inability to double-check directions on the spot was fucking disconcerting. Honestly? I usually just hopped in the car and left our chauffeur to figure everything out.
Montgomery’s was visible at the far corner on my side of the street. Ha! I knew where I was. Take that, world.
I crossed the street up this end just in case weedy teen was doing the security rounds outside the fast-food chain. By 10:40 a.m., the elevator of Kyros Sky was shooting me upward.
10:40 a.m. was okay, right? Not too early?
Being punctual was a professional quality—my grandmother was a stickler for it.
Chill out, Basi.
Exhaling a final time, I smoothed my blouse and skirt again, and hooked my thumbs through my bag straps.
“You got this,” I whispered to myself.
The doors opened, and a smile was already plastered on my face. I’d expected the same bustle and murmur from Monday.
The smile slid from my face.
The place was a ghost town. No one stood behind the desk.
I’d just taken on a fucking rental. And the thousands I’d spent on furnishing it. Shit. I mean, there was enough money for food and transportation for the rest of this week. But nothing at all for next week.
I’d made a terrible mistake. I’d—
“Basi. I’m glad you made it,” Angelica strode from an office to the left of reception.
My heart galloped. In relief—or so I told myself. It was possible that I’d really downplayed how uncomfortable her eyes made me feel. The bright blues fixed on my clothing, scanning me from head to toe. When she returned to meet my gaze, her expression was empty of disgust or disappointment.
After her attention to my expensive items on Monday, I was happy to note her reaction to my cheap outfit. Tommy was wrong, I wasn’t hired for my connections. That was a win.
“Good morning, Angelica. Am I early?”
I was.
She smiled, and I noted the dark smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes. Kind of surprising that I could make out any facial detail within ten centimetres of those blazing orbs.
“No, no. The other staff usually schedule house visits and clients for the first half of the day. They come into the office later.”
Oh… “Realty businesses don’t keep normal work hours?”
“Not us,” she said, her eyes flashing in anger.
I froze for a full five seconds.
Angelica blinked a few times, and I sucked in a ragged breath, heart pounding in my ears.
Holy fuckery, Angelica was terrifying when she lost her temper. The woman tilted her head, and the ferociousness drained from her face, allowing me to unlock somewhat.
“I just meant that waking up later must be nice. I’m a night owl,” I forced myself to say.
If she pulled that shit again, I was leaving. I didn’t even understand why she made me feel so scared, just that she did. Except I couldn’t leave now. I’d used my money to outfit the rental and had rent to pay on Sunday.
Fuck. I’d backed myself into a corner.
“A night owl?” The concept seemed to amuse her. “I can relate to that.”
Probably the only thing we had in common.
She recovered the brisk manner from two days prior.
“There are a few things to sign before I start your initiation,” the woman said.
Ugh. This was the bank account and tax number part.
A long call yesterday, with a long enough hold time that I swore I visibly aged, got me through to the tax office. They’d confirmed I had no tax number. After a transfer to another department, I’d discovered that a tax number took three to six weeks to process and I’d need two forms of identification and proof of address. I had one form of ID—my learner’s driver’s licence. I only sat the stupid test so I had something to get into clubs with.
“About that,” I said, my gut churning. “I wrote down my tax number, but I’m in the middle of moving, and for the life of me, I couldn’t find the bit of paper.”
Tommy had dutifully jotted down her bank account and tax details for me this morning. While she did that, I searched and found that what we intended to do was tax fraud—with consequences neither of us could afford.
Just like Tommy not to say a damn thing. I wasn’t putting her in that position. I’d have to file for a tax number as soon as possible and delay Live Right in the meantime.
My gaze dropped with the lie, but a peek upward yielded surprising results. Angelica looked amused again.
The slight quirk of her lips was gone in a blink.
My brows wrinkled at her smooth expression. Had I seen amusement? Maybe it was a trick of the light.
“Don’t worry about any of that,” she said, flashing a smile.
I swallowed at her teeth.
I felt… threatened by her teeth. What the hell? Was it because they were so white? I’d visited Bali a few times and been harassed by monkeys for food. To them, smiling was a sign of aggression. Which meant that if her smile got my back up… I was a monkey.
But what did that make Angelica?
“Basi?”
Crap. “Um. Don’t worry?” I asked weakly.
Her head was tilted again. “We pay in cash.”
“Really?”
“You’re required to pay tax yourself, of course. You’re a contractor—except we pay you annual leave, sick, and grievance days. It’s easier for the books if we pay in cash.”
I registered the term contractor and very little else. What did the term contractor mean? I associated it with builders and the like. Dammit. This was the definite downside to being rich enough to afford teams who handled the nitty-gritty. Was contracting workers a normal way of paying people in the realty industry?
I’d ask Tommy tonight—but this twist of events might work out perfectly.
“You don’t need any of my details?” I asked, patting my pack. “Because I’ve got the rest of them right here.”
Call me Bluffing Basi.
Amusement flashed in her eyes again. This time I was certain of it. What was so damn funny?
Angelica gestured to a stack of papers. “Just a few details to get to know you. That’s all.”
6
“This is the staff room,” Angelica purred, gesturing around the huge room.
More like a school cafeteria, really.
“You’re welcome to put food in the fridge and use the kettle for hot drinks.” She continued.
“Great,” I mumbled.
How many staff did they have? The room was massive. It had to take up a quarter of Level 44, yet we were still the only people in the building after two hours of forms and awkward chit-chat.
True to her word, I hadn’t needed to present any important numbers. Not even my driver’s licence. As such, I was now Basi Tetley.
The forms were just a series of tedious personality questionnaires because Angelica liked the team to be close. If the others were like her, I could safely count myself out of social events.
Angelica showed me the bathroom and supply rooms next. Level 44 was wrapped around the elevator. Aside from the open reception area and the staff room, the rest of the level was divided into offices.
“How many people work here?” I finally asked. There were a lot of rooms.
“One hundred.”
I must have made a sound of surprise. She smiled—I seriously wished she’d stop. “Live Right Realty is the largest and most profitable realty business in Bluff City.”
I was duly impressed. “I didn’t know that.”
Bet my grandmother did. Nothing happened in this city without her knowledge.
“We get great results.” Her voice dropped into a fervent tone I’d otherwise associate with Sir L
ancelot making an oath to a fair maiden.
By now, the way my heart thumped in her presence had wrung every bit of energy from me. I was too tired to be on edge anymore, and it wasn’t even 2:00 p.m. Just from being near my boss.
That was messed up.
Wasn’t it?
“This is your office,” she declared, pushing open the door to a room in the far corner of the level.
The office contained a marble desk, flat-screen computer, three black leather chairs, and a sleek standing lamp. The charcoal walls were bare.
I’d definitely been shoved in the corner. But I was a trainee. What was more, that’s where I preferred to be in this establishment. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
She showed tooth again. “It’s Live Right tradition to hang pictures of the homes you secure. Yours are empty for now, but I’m sure they’ll fill up in no time.”
Secure. There was that strange term again.
With a dainty twist of her wrist, Angelica consulted her Foffz watch. “Time for lunch.”
I kept my sigh of relief contained. I wasn’t hungry, but time away from my intense boss would be a welcome change.
“Is two hours enough?” she asked, light confusion showing on her ethereal face.
How old was this woman? She only appeared late twenties at most. How was she the owner of the largest realty business in Bluff City at so young an age?
Wait… was she asking how long I wanted for lunch? On Truth Ranges, the nurses had half an hour for lunch, and the surgeons got an hour. But no one chose how long they wanted.
“Whatever’s normal,” I murmured.
She searched my expression. “Two hours. If that’s not enough, please tell me.”
What kind of job had I nabbed that I had a two hours minimum lunch break?
I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I can work with that.”
“Then take a moment to get settled in. I’ll expect you back at 4:00 p.m. to introduce you to the rest of the team.”
With a final baring of teeth that had me forcing back a shudder, Angelica left the room.
The greater the distance between us, the better I felt. Which had to be in my head, right? Crap, I was losing the plot. My shoulders sagged, and the slight headache I hadn’t detected dissipated.
Blood Trial: Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers Book 1) Page 5