Chapter Thirteen
Cassius
I sleep most of the day, since there is no reason to be awake. When I do wake up, it’s almost time for Chrissy to get out of school, so I figure I’ll pick her up and we can grab a snack—breakfast and lunch for me since I haven’t had anything to eat yet.
There’s an open parking spot up front, by the doors, so I park there, hoping she’ll see me and I won’t have to get out and wait in the cold.
I mess with the cell phone and connect it to the car.
I’d already set up most of it and updated my address with them, but I download some games and want to see what other apps I can get.
I would love to get Chrissy and Cammy cell phones when I get paid on Friday, but we all agreed it would be best to wait until we move out so the witch doesn’t find them. I hate it, but it makes sense.
I’ve already been browsing apartments and have found so many nice ones.
The problem is, they’re expensive and though I can afford it now, what if this doesn’t work out?
What if he decides he doesn’t want me to do this anymore, then we’re screwed.
There’s also the issue of Cammy being fourteen.
We need to find a way for Mom to not make a big deal of her coming with us.
But that’s a headache for another day. It’s not like we’re moving out tomorrow.
To me, what makes the most sense is to save money, as much as I can, suffer through staying with my mother, and see what we can afford to buy—a small house or a condo.
Something, that if I lose this job, would be easier to afford in the long run.
If I don’t have this job anymore, paying rent or a mortgage around here would be difficult, especially if I’m let go all of a sudden.
I can’t risk putting us out on the street with absolutely nothing.
But the idea of having to pay rent for the rest of forever is also daunting, which is why I’m leaning toward a house.
Put as much down on it as I can and then one day we won’t have a payment on it.
Paying rent for a full year would also be smart, because it would give us time to figure something out if needed, and it’s easier to afford that than a house.
The kids start flooding out of the doors, and I can’t see their faces from where I’m at, so I get out and flag down Chrissy when I spot her. She smiles so big it makes my chest warm.
“Hey, kiddo,” I say, giving her a side hug. I open the front door for her and close it once she’s in. “How was school?” I ask when I get into the driver’s side.
“Meh. It was okay. Oh—but in science, this kid Johnny who shouldn’t even be allowed to touch chemicals, made an explosion!”
“An explosion? That sounds dangerous.”
“I mean, yeah, it is. The fire alarms went off and everything. Everyone had to evacuate.”
“Sounds intense.”
“It was a nice break.” She shrugs, looking out the window.
“I thought you liked science?”
“I mean, yeah, I do, but I like not doing schoolwork better.”
I huff a laugh and ask, “You hungry?”
“Starving! They had that nasty chicken for lunch today, so all I ate was a banana.”
I hand her my cell and tell her to pick what music we listen to—she’d downloaded a handful of music apps on my phone when she realized it connected to the car and we had choices other than the radio—as I drive to a diner I’ve passed a hundred times but never had money to go into.
It’s one of those places that are open almost 24-hours, only closing from like two am to five am to prep for morning rush or something.
It gets a bunch of drunk people at night, and a ton of people before work in the morning.
Right now, after school, hopefully it won’t be too busy.
Not that it matters—I don’t have anywhere to be for a few hours, and Chrissy will go home to do homework.
The small lot has three other cars in it when I get there, so we park by the door and head in.
There’s a sign that says we can seat ourselves, and Chrissy chooses to sit at the bar.
I don’t like her sitting in chairs like this because if she has a seizure, she’ll fall off and could hurt herself.
But I need to not baby her over her disorder.
It’s unfair to look at her like someone who’s about to have a seizure—and I know she hates it. I’d hate it too.
“Get whatever you want,” I tell her as we look over the plastic menus.
She gasps, then grabs my arm. “Oh my god, where did you get this?”
“Oh, uh… work,” I say, letting her twist and turn my arm to look at my watch.
“This is so cool.”
“It’s just a watch,” I say with a shrug.
“No, it’s a Stone watch.”
“How do you know what that is?”
“Our English teacher has a pink one, and a lot of the kids ask about it because it’s pink. You can’t find luxury watches in different shades, but that’s what this company is known for. The cool colors.”
“Really?” I ask, pulling the watch toward me. “This looks pretty basic.”
“Well, yeah, it’s their older model.”
“How do you know that?”
She rolls her eyes. “I just know.”
I’m shocked by her knowledge on watches, specifically Stone watches, and can’t think of a word to say. But I’m saved by the waitress, so it doesn’t matter.
“What can I get for you?”
Chrissy excitedly tells the older waitress what she wants to eat. A cheeseburger with extra pickles and no tomatoes, French fries well done, and a strawberry milkshake with a scoop of ice cream on the top with extra whipped cream and cherries.
“You’re going to get a stomach ache,” I mutter before putting in my order, which is basically the same thing, but I get the burger plain and onion rings instead of fries.
Chrissy shakes her head at me.
As I’m putting the pin code into the keypad for the gates to open, they swing wide. My cheeks heat as I drive through them. I knew I was taking a while, but damn, the pin is like ten digits long!
I park on the side of his car, a sleek, black Audi A8, and walk up the walkway to the front door. I go to input the other pin to this keypad, when the door is pulled open.
“Sorry I was taking so long,” I blurt out.
“You’re fine,” he says, stepping aside. He feels grumpy today. Maybe he had a bad day. “I was hoping you’d get here early. I… messed up yesterday,” he admits, and it sounds like it’s hard to do so.
“Messed up?”
“Could you come with me before you go to your room?”
“Uh, sure.”
I follow him into his office and take a seat across from his desk when he gestures for me to do so. He flips open a folder on his desk and grabs a pen.
“I should have had you sign this yesterday, but I completely forgot. I’m sorry.”
He offers it to me, looking completely distraught. It’s the NDA and the contract for a training period of one week.
“Oh, okay.”
I read through it quickly, then sign my name at the bottom.
“I was also able to get you a fob quicker than expected.” He offers me a small black fob with a clip on it. “You can put this in the car, and the gate will open when you get close enough to it. You will still need the pin for the front door though.”
“Convenient.” He gives a small smile. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
I shrug. “No reason.”
He nods and says, “I’ll meet you in the dining room at 6:30.”
He walks off without me saying another word.
Definitely in a bad mood, then. Maybe I can make it better… He did say this is like therapy for him. Guess that’s how I’ll know if I’m doing a good job, other than him telling me? If I come in and he looks grumpy, but then he’s relaxed when I leave… total win.
I make my way to my bedroom and find my uniform on the bed, along with another sheet of paper—the schedule.
It’s similar to yesterday’s, only the exposure practice is only ten minutes today, rather than fifty like it was yesterday.
I don’t know why I’m upset about that.
My clothes go on the chair once I’ve taken them off, and I tuck the fob into my pants’ pocket, so I don’t misplace it.
I put my uniform on and sit on the bed to browse my phone for ten minutes, until it’s time for me to get to the kitchen.
I can’t stop wondering why there was a decrease in exposure practice, since yesterday he told me that he wanted to move forward faster. This feels like we’re going backwards.
I watch the time on my phone to make sure I leave on time to get to the dining room. I gather everything the same way I did yesterday, and walking with the tray is easier today.
His food is set out on the table, similar to the way it was yesterday. He didn’t comment on it, so I assume it was right. The air shifts when he walks into the room, like he’s a hurricane bringing in the charged energy.
He sits, jaw tense and back straight.
I stand there until he gives me an order.
He never does. I stand there and watch him eat and drink, and when he’s done, he tells me to meet him in the sitting room, though there isn’t a time.
I assume he wants me to clean up like I did yesterday, so that’s what I do, and then I hurry to the sitting room where he is waiting in his spot on the left side of the couch, elbow resting on the arm.
I go to my spot and kneel the way he said, waiting for him to say something or start reading.
The book is where he left it on the end table, the bookmark poking out the top.
Time passes. Seconds. Minutes. I don’t know, but with the more time that goes by, the more awkward I feel sitting here and doing nothing.
Today is so very different from yesterday. I’m not sure I’m enjoying this today.
Yesterday I got all of his attention. I got affection and praise and I liked it.
Right now, this is weird. It’s awkward. And I don’t like it.
But for five grand, I’ll suck it up, because this is a job and I can’t let my feelings get in the way.
Especially hurt feelings over a man who is paying me to be a slave.
That’s what I need to remember. He is paying me for this.
It’s a job. I don’t have to like it. So, I sit and pretend I’m not upset that he hasn’t touched me once.
The crackling of the fake fireplace soothes my nerves. My muscles relax—well, except for my legs that are starting to cramp. My back is getting tight too, but my shoulders are lighter.
“I made a mistake,” he says, startling me slightly.
“With the NDA? It’s fine. I signed it, and I promise I won’t say anything about yesterday…”
“No,” he says, shaking his head and staring straight ahead. “I shouldn’t have mentioned pushing things faster. You need proper training. Even yesterday, I…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’d like to start fresh today. A real training. Take things slow.”
“I’m fine—”
He finally looks at me, giving me a soft smile. “I’m pleased with that, but I am not.”
My brow furrows, confused about what that means.
With a sigh, he adds, “I think it’s best that we take things slow, is all. We can reassess at the end of the week.”
“If you’re considering letting me go, I’d rather you do it now.”
He shifts, turning to face me more. “Oh, no. No, Cassius, you have me all wrong.” He cups my cheek with his warm palm, his thumb brushing my skin gently. “The problem isn’t that I want you gone; it’s that I want you too much.”