Chapter Twelve
Angelika
Tolyan didn’t just put my clothes in the bathroom. They’re freshly laundered and neatly folded. I can’t decide exactly what I think about Tolyan touching and folding my underwear. My bra and panties are the super-plain white cotton variety, bought on sale. And the elastic on the bra is a bit loose from being so old. God, this is as embarrassing as going on a date without shaving your legs or armpits.
I breathe in slowly. It isn’t like he and I are dating. And it isn’t like I want to be, like, seductive or sexy. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with white cotton. Tolyan seeing them… Well, it’s a minor thing to get over. Like a paper cut.
That’s right, girl. I gave you a non-rotten lemon this time, a voice that sounds entirely too smug says.
Yeah, but you owe me more than one non-rotten lemon for all that you’ve put me through.
The bathroom doesn’t have a dryer, so I pat-dry my hair with a towel as well as I can. When I slip back out, the kitchen and the dining room are spotless. The dishwasher’s running, but the sound is so quiet we can watch TV without any problem.
Tolyan’s back in the living room, reading something on his tablet, a tumbler in his hand. At this point I know better than to think it’s water he’s drinking.
He lifts his head. “Feeling better?”
“Much,” I say. Not only do I feel clean, but I’m actually full. It isn’t something I’ve felt in a long time. And for that, I’m very grateful to Tolyan.
The dogs come over and smell my fingers, like they’re curious what I’ve been doing in the bathroom and what soap I used.
“Sit.” He gestures.
I do.
“Do you have a computer?” he asks.
“No. I basically do everything on my phone,” I say. I don’t want to admit to being too poor to buy myself a laptop.
“You need to write a résumé, and you can’t do that on a phone.”
“Why do I need a résumé? I already have two jobs.” I’m not working three. I need at least six hours of sleep if I want to stay alert.
“Yes. You’ll have to quit those.”
What? He never said anything about me quitting my job! He said I could continue to work! I open my mouth to argue.
Tolyan lifts a finger, indicating silence. “I can’t keep an eye on you if you don’t stay close, and I can’t quit my own job.”
Right. I can’t imagine him chirping, “Welcome to Coffee Heaven. Do you need help or are you ready to order?” with the extra-perky smile specified in the employee manual.
“So you’re going to apply for an internship at the Pryce Family Foundation. Which means you need a résumé by tomorrow afternoon,” he says, like that’s a reasonable deadline. “I’ll send it over for review.”
“Um. I can’t… I don’t even know what to write on it,” I squeak.
He raises both eyebrows. “You’ve never written one?”
I shake my head. “Retail and food service jobs don’t usually ask for one.”
He purses his lips briefly.
“But if you can give me some pointers…”
He stares at me like I just asked him to film himself doing ballet in a pink tutu. “Google it.”
“Haven’t you written one?” The man has a real job. A career.
“No. Nobody hires me for my résumé.”