14. The Castle
”Idon”t like this one bit,” Jolie”s mother reported from the cell phone speaker. Jolie kept the phone on her lap so she could pick at her nails. It had been a habit she broke back in high school, and for a while, she had manicured fingers that she was proud of, but now, she searched for ways to rip the nail, if only to distract her from her thoughts.
”It will be fine,” Jolie vaguely responded, with absolutely no conviction behind those words.
”You had an interview yesterday, and now you”re moving in with him. Did you even google him? What”s his full name?”
Jolie winced and skirted around the request. ”I googled him already. It”s real.”
”And how do you know they will live up to their side of the bargain? A six-figure salary is nice if it”s real. You know people scam.”
”It”s not a scam.”
”It sounds like a scam. What are their jobs that they can afford a full-time, live-in tutor?”
”Mom, rich people do this all the time. This isn”t some out-of-this-world idea.”
”What do they do?”
Kill people?Jolie struggled with a response. Lies weren”t easy to make, especially toward her mother. ”Finance.”
Her mother mumbled to her stepfather for a minute, and their bickering became annoying. Then she returned to the phone. ”Your father wants you to sign a contract with a notary. And we want a copy.”
Just to get them off her back, she replied, ”Sure.”
The car turned into a driveway, and her attention deviated. She pressed her face against the window as the single road traveled up between palm trees and beautiful red and white crape myrtles. ”I think I”m here,” she whispered.
”What”s the address? We”ll look it up on Google Maps.”
The road seemed never-ending, twisting through a rainforest of plants. And then, there was a clearing, and they pulled up alongside the mansion. ”Oh, my God.”
”What?” Her mother panicked. ”What happened? Are you okay?”
”It”s massive.”
Her mom whispered to her husband and then asked, ”How massive?”
”It”s a castle.”
”A castle? Who the heck has a castle in Tampa?”
It wasn”t a literal castle, but Jolie didn”t feel like explaining right now. ”I gotta go. I”ll send pics.” And though her mom protested, Jolie shut the phone off as the driver opened her door.
Jolie looked down at her clothes. She was utterly underdressed, and the comment about looking like a boy filtered through her head. She wasn”t the type of girl who dressed sexy for no reason. She liked jeans even in the hot Florida sun. It meant she didn”t have to shave her legs as much. It”s not like anyone was looking anyway. And the T-shirts were fun. She only chose the ones that made her smile. Bob”s Burgers always managed to get her out of a bad mood; why wouldn”t she buy their shirt?
Jolie shut her mouth, stuffing down negative thoughts. She wasn”t going to feel bad about herself, especially at a time like this.
Jolie got out with flip-flops between her toes, holding her purse to her side. She felt like a baby bird that fell from its nest. She didn”t belong here; she knew that on every level. But yet, there was no way to get back to her perch. This was the future, and she needed to embrace it.
A woman approached her, speaking Russian in such a hurry that Jolie couldn”t even tell her she didn”t know what she was saying. So instead, Jolie smiled and followed every gesture the older woman made as she was brought up the marble stairs and into the house. Jolie wanted to stop and take in every sight, but the woman had her by the arm, pulling her along with foreign words spilling from her mouth.
A bulky guard stood at the door, with an earpiece and a gun exposed at his waist. Jolie attempted a shy smile, but the guy didn”t look at her. Stepping into the house, a grand chandelier draped from the twenty-foot ceiling, hanging over an ornate round carpet.
A servant stood at the door and reached for Jolie”s purse, but she politely waved her away. The woman wore a modernized servant dress—a white top that hung off the shoulders and a black skirt that went to the ankles. A male servant rushed by, dressed in a suit like a butler.
Jolie kept tripping on her feet as she tried to walk and look at her surroundings. Inside, the dual staircase to the second floor was made of white marble and a pale egg-white carpet. Russian artwork decorated every wall, and a dozen statues sat on pedestals.
It was a palace fit for a czar.
The woman stopped before a door and shoved it open, gesturing.
”This is my room?”
The woman latched onto her arm, confusion on her face. ”English?”
Jolie bowed her head in apology. ”Yes.”
She sunk with annoyance and pointed to herself. ”No English.” She put up her hands, a gesture to stop. ”Okay?” With a heavy sigh, she walked down the hall, leaving Jolie to herself.
Jolie stepped into the room. Ming and Tae-Tae ran to her feet, meowing in confusion. She kneeled down, scratching their ears, giving them kisses before she looked around. The room was massive compared to her apartment. The walls were white and striped black. A hint of dark green in the decoration went with the bamboo color taken from the giant piece of art above her bed: a panda in its natural habitat. It was a beautiful piece that nearly made tears come to her eyes. The bedsheet was white, with a mix of pillows on top. Against the side wall were floor-length windows and a sitting area of dark green chairs, with a white carpet beneath them. She touched the sheets of her bed in fascination. She had never seen anything so extravagant.
A few of her belongings were on the dresser. How the movers had beaten her here and managed to put away all her stuff was insane to her. She didn”t like how they had touched all her clothes. She found her underwear folded and neatly placed. She sneered at the thought of all those boys touching her things. The walk-in closet had her clothes hung and organized by color. There was depressingly plenty of space left over.
She sat on the bed, overwhelmed.
What am I doing here?
A different woman stood in the doorway, and Jolie popped back up on her feet. This woman was intoxicatingly beautiful, with blonde curls. She stood in an elegant skirt and blouse, with heels.
”Esfir says you only speak English.”
”Yes, sorry.”
”No need to be sorry. You are my daughter”s English tutor.”
Jolie”s smile faded. Adrik”s wife. Why does she have to be so pretty?
”It will just be difficult for you. The staff only knows Russian.” With her hand out, Katia stepped into the room. ”I”m Katia, Mr. Morozov”s wife.”
Jolie shook her hand, trying to not feel self-conscious. ”You”re beautiful.”
Katia smiled. ”I didn”t know my husband was looking for a tutor.” She drifted, looking around the room. ”How did he find you?”
Katia wasn”t as stupid as Adrik hoped she was. They had never talked about a tutor for Helina, and yet he hired a young, pretty, big-breasted American and brought her to their home. No other servant had gotten such a nicely decorated room. Whatever game he was trying to play, he failed. There was no keeping this woman a secret when he was obviously trying hard for her affection.
But why?
Adrik never needed to try. Women flock to him like bugs to light. Katia had once admired him from afar. She had been bitten by his charm, but she learned her lesson early that men like him were never worth the trouble.
Katia felt pity for her. If Adrik had feelings for this girl, then her world just got a little bit darker.
”I was at the shootout at Salem”s. I helped Helina.”
Katia turned to her, wide-eyed. ”You”re the girl my daughter is obsessed about.”
Was that what ignited Adrik”s affection? It would make sense, because otherwise, he would have never noticed her. Jolie was too simple. Too common.
Then, perhaps the feeling was temporary, and it would wear off as soon as he got his fill of her,Katia mused. ”I”m sorry. The way she described you, I thought you would look more…angelic.”
”Kids have extraordinary imaginations.”
Jolie had wholly missed the insult, and yet, it made Katia happy. She was naive and dull. She would never last long here. Katia rushed over to her, embracing her, acting the part. ”Thank you. You will forever be in my debt.”
”No, it”s fine.”
Katia touched her brown hair, invading her space. ”We must be the same age.”
”I”m twenty-three.”
”You and I are gonna be best friends,” Katia declared. ”I”m so excited.” She parted and headed for the door. ”I will leave you. If you need anything, press one.” She tapped the intercom on the wall. ”Food, bedding, cleaning, help with anything. You”ve been in a hotel before?”
Another jab at this pincushion of a woman, and she was ignorant.
”Yeah, when I was ten.”
The response made her laugh, but Katia stifled it, hurrying out of the room.