Rose, my request for lunch was returned with an error code. Any idea why?
Restart the app. That’s what we usually advise, comes her immediate response. It’s hardly flattering that she’ll ignore my texts but answer my questions regarding the app. I consider the fact that I’d intervened with her line manager, who seemed hell-bent on catering to me herself. Catering for me in kind like she did my father, no doubt. I told the woman in no uncertain terms that I wanted the newest member of staff to attend to my app requests, the implication being that the least experienced member would be the weakest link. She took the bait, insisting that all members of her team were trained to the highest level. That I would find no fault.
But it was just a way to get her off my back, perhaps getting Rose onto hers. The thought makes me smile because that has yet to happen in my office. Rose is particularly conscientious of what occurs during her hours of work. But back to the app, all enquiries are time-critical and monitored, response times part of the staff key performance indicators. Poor response times to initial enquires count against both the team and the individual and count towards a financial bonus scheme. The result? Rose might not answer my texts this morning, but she’d protect her colleagues.
Restarting the app is not something I have in mind.
Perhaps you should come and show me how to do that.
Sure. I mean, it’s not like I have anything more pressing to do among the other hundred requests that have come through this morning. Whoever said words on a screen come without emotion never took part in this kind of exchange. You’re not the only resident I attend to.
Care to rephrase that?
Fine. You’re the most demanding of my patrons.
And you’re trying to make me angry. Why would she phrase it this way? I’m not her patron—that’s not the kind of relationship we have. I can barely get her to take a thing from me. She didn’t want the membership to Papaya Beach on Saturday, preferring to slum it at the public beach.
How would I explain that to Lea? she’d asked. Or was it Tee? I can’t remember, but I do remember a pinch of annoyance that she was happy to keep things between us secret still. Which is ridiculous, considering the secrets I’m keeping myself.
Can it be she has changed her mind about us in this short time? I push the thought away in favour of another. I’d offered to buy her a watch she was admiring online last week when she went a little crazy, insisting she was looking at it for a client.
Why won’t she let me look after her?
See? Demanding, she retorts.
Says the woman who begged me for my cock on Friday when I’d scarcely cleared the front door.
REMY! This is a work app. Do you want to get me fired?
What I want is to see you this afternoon. Why is she fighting this?
Give me until about twenty-five o’clock, and I should be through.
I think I take precedence.
Think? To hell with that. I know I take precedence.
Because you have friends in low places?
Ma Rose, you have that the wrong way around. You are a highly esteemed friend who I happen to like to take low places on occasion.
Again. Work app!
She’s certainly making me work for it.
Remy, I’m swamped, comes her response this time. Try Deliveroo or UberEats. Or whatever the Daddy Warbucks Monaco equivalent is.
I stare at the phone in my hand, wondering where the resistance is coming from. I haven’t seen her since Saturday morning when we parted with plans to catch up on Sunday, plans that didn’t come to fruition because she said she wasn’t feeling up to it. Was she lying then? Now? Is she too much of a coward to say we’re through?
Through? Fuck through. We haven’t even started.
My stomach twists, but I push away all analysis, typing out my reply. If she won’t accept an invitation, I can always issue a command.
I’m not sure who Daddy Warbucks is, but if he lives in Wolf Tower, he’d use the concierge service, which I believe is you today.
You know, none of the other residents has their lunch delivered to them by us.
Good. As the owner of Wolf Tower, I think I should be the only one. An abuse of power? Who gives a fuck.
Fine, I’ll deliver your lunch, but I can’t stay. As I’ve