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No.
I shouldn’t tell her any of that.
Because I have a feeling that if I’m not careful, I’m going to lose out on the job. I can’t sleep with him. This has to be a business-only arrangement. Otherwise, I’m never going to be able to start saving up money to find Aaron.
But would sleeping with Ryan really be so terrible?
It might be nice to have some “me” time. I’ve been working hard, after all. Maybe I deserve a little bit of time to myself.
Maybe...
“He was very polite,” I say. I shrug. Hopefully, I’m coming across as totally chill and nonchalant. That’s my ultimate goal. I don’t want her to know that I got wet just from hearing his voice. I don’t want to say that I have daddy issues because that’s not really fair. I never had any issues with my dad. Only my mom’s boyfriends. Still, I like the idea of working for Ryan and pleasing him. I want to hear more of his voice. When he speaks, it all comes out in kind of a purr.
I like that.
A lot.
What might it feel like to hear him call me a good girl?
What if he tells me I’ve done a good job?
Is that so bad?
Shit. I’m going nuts.
“You okay? You’re looking a little flushed. I turned the air on.” Beatrice looks worried.
Nope, I’m not hot. Just horny. How am I supposed to tell her this? It’s not the kind of thing I want to openly admit, so I just choke that bit of information right on down.
“I’m fine. He was fine.”
“Do you know what you’ll be doing?”
“Assistant stuff, I guess.”
I don’t tell her it’s a temporary thing for now. Beatrice will just pressure me to keep applying for jobs at other places, and I don’t really want to do that. What I want is to keep my head down, do a decent job, and survive.
Is that too much to ask?
We talk for a few more minutes before I excuse myself awkwardly. I head back to my bedroom and close the door. It’s only after I lock myself in that I realize I’m starving, and I don’t want to go back out to the kitchen to cook. I don’t want to have to make any more awkward small talk. Instead, I rifle around until I find a granola bar and I eat it while I turn on my laptop.
Correction: I open my laptop and wait for it to slowly come to life.
It’s been a long time since I actually restarted my computer. I’m sure that the IT guys at Ryan’s office will have a field day with that habit. Will I be assigned a laptop? Maybe I’ll just use Damien’s. I don’t really know how any of this works. Honestly, I should have asked more questions, but I didn’t think about it.
I didn’t even ask about the pay.
And that’s the situation I’m in.
I check my email and social media. I do all of that boring, monotonous stuff. I peek at my bank account, too. It seems a little sad, but I try not to worry about it.
“You won’t be sad for long,” I whisper. At least, not if I finally manage to pull my life together the way I’m hoping to.
And then I start my nightly search for my brother.
Aaron and I have been apart for fifteen years. It’s been a long damn time. I should have found him long ago. I should have been reconnected with him, but I wasn’t. When he told his teacher that we were being hurt, she called CPS immediately. She called the police, too. She called everyone. Seriously. It wasn’t long before we were hauled away.
The deal with siblings in foster care is that you’re supposed to get placed together. You’re supposed to be able to stay with your brothers and sisters. That’s the plan. It’s the rule. Unfortunately, when you end up with a social worker who doesn’t care and a mother who blows off supervised visits, you’re kind of out of luck.
