don’t want any repeats of what happened last night.”
I nodded obediently, rendered silent by her unwarranted praise.
“I’ll be back in a tick,” she said.
I lingered in the kitchen after Tommy left, my mind shaking with the severity of my situation.
For no other reason than she’d told me to, I traipsed to the shower and turned the nozzle. Pulling off my new pyjamas—something I’d purchased as a reward for securing a job and apartment, what a joke—I tested the water.
Just shy of scalding.
Perfect.
I stepped into the shower bath and let the hot water pour over me. The heat seeped into my soul, soothing the pieces that it could. Maybe it could restore whatever broke inside me yesterday.
I doubted it.
The fear-filled memory of walking into the room crammed with bright-eyed criminals left me gasping. I forced the recollection away, focusing on the streaming water.
My breathing steadied again, and I pushed my wet hair behind my ears.
“You’re not a monkey,” I whispered.
Turning on autopilot, I shaved the areas that required shaving, foamed my body in my lemon myrtle wash, and dried before moisturising.
I wrapped one of my new beige towels around myself and stared at the woman in the cracked mirror. On good days, we got on. Most days, we tolerated each other. Today, we hated each other. Yesterday morning I marvelled at the excitement of setting up my first apartment. Now, each item was a sore reminder of my ignorance. As an heiress, I’d represented a tiny percentage of the human population. The vast majority lived this way each day from birth to death. Normal life wasn’t a cute little Monopoly game. It wasn’t the same as running a multi-billion-dollar estate. There were all sorts of hidden costs and forms and timetables. The rules were different, and I had no idea what they were.
How would I ever understand it all?
Gripping the lip of the vanity, I listened to thuds and bangs coming from the kitchen. Tommy was back. Or I was being robbed. Probably the latter.
I sighed.
Tommy expected me to go to work today. I felt like a coward for omitting the truth, but I couldn’t handle more than the shit-heap currently piled upon my shoulders. That included telling Tommy and witnessing her reaction. My friend wouldn’t judge or criticise me. She wouldn’t even pity me.
Tommy would be 100 percent furious on my behalf. She’d go into mumma bear mode. Because she saw me as someone in need of protection. Because I was incapable of caring for myself, despite all my talk that I wasn’t like other rich morons.
Shame. Embarrassment. I couldn’t tell which I felt in greater quantity.
I’d go with Tommy to Kyros Sky today. When she left, I’d head straight to the news agency, buy a paper, and apply for the janitor’s job. I’d come clean about everything once I had a win to share.
Hopefully.
“Quick, your toast is getting cold,” Tommy hollered.
That got me out of the bathroom. My arms shook—and no wonder. I barely ate lunch yesterday and didn’t eat dinner or breakfast.
“Toast?” I sat on the stool, still wrapped in the towel. “I have that?”
“Y S I S. You don’t buy toast. You buy bread and make toast,” she said, snorting. “And no, you didn’t have bread. I made this at home.”
I picked up the floppy peanut-butter-covered toast and polished off it—and its sacrificial twin—in six bites.
Tommy’s eyes widened. “Hungry much?”
“Didn’t have dinner.”
She clicked her tongue. “I need to teach you to cook ASAP.”
Probably shouldn’t bother learning. The rate I was going, I’d be back at the estate before the week was out.
“Turns out, I didn’t need to hand over bank details or tax numbers. Live Right pay in cash,” I said.
“What?” she demanded. “They pay under the table?”
No idea what that was. “I’m a contractor. I still get annual leave and stuff, but they said I have to pay my own tax. Is that normal?”
A deep frown marred my friend’s face. “Not for that type of work. I’d expect a wage and commission or salary and commission. I’m unsure of the exact ins and outs of contracting, but that sounds dodgy as fuck, Basi. Was there anything else weird they said?”
Where do I begin?
A hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat. I clamped my lips together to keep the crazy inside. I wasn’t telling her about the bright eyes or nearly pissing myself in the staff room. That would remain my mortifying secret for all time.
“You know that guy who almost ran me over?” I brushed breadcrumbs off