Angelika
Seven days since I discovered Tolyan’s duplicity. If it weren’t for Roy, I’d leave the penthouse. Since Tolyan has refused to let me chip in for utilities or food, all the money I’ve been making at the foundation’s been sitting in my bank account. With the amount I’ve saved, I have over ten thousand dollars, enough to get an apartment and move out.
But Roy is still at large. And Courtney is his spy. When I discovered that Tolyan’s been hacking into my phone and pretending to be me, I was furious. Couldn’t even decide if I could trust anybody ever again. But within a day or two, I was able to calm down and realize Tolyan’s the only one I can rely on to keep me safe at the moment. It’s obvious he has a score to settle with Roy. Otherwise he wouldn’t have tried to use me to lure Roy to L.A. Although it galls me to be the cheese in Tolyan’s mousetrap, I don’t think Tolyan will let Roy hurt me.
Still, I let Tolyan know I’m upset over the fact that he wouldn’t talk to me like an adult worthy of respect. He has to know why I’m mad. He knows I want him to apologize for using me. But he won’t do it. It’s as if he’s convinced he did nothing wrong.
If he’d just told me what he was planning to do, I would’ve cooperated. Can’t he see that? I’ve done as he’s asked, even when I didn’t like it, because he’s the expert. That should’ve earned me at least a bit of respect.
But it’s clear that he’s never respected me. The birthday song was just that—him being nice because he feels sorry for me that I got something ugly and nasty from Roy.
So I ignore him just like the way he ignores me. But that doesn’t mean my body doesn’t go liquid warm at the sight of him. Or that my skin has quit prickling with excitement every time he’s near.
And the fact that I can’t quell my attraction to him pisses me off more.
On Friday, Rhonda and I go out to lunch. I’ve been spending more time with her, mainly to avoid Tolyan. Plus, there’s a gossip advantage: she tells me everything about the foundation, what projects are coming up, which committees are looking for extra help and where I should keep my eyes peeled for additional opportunities.
Today is no different. She brings me up to speed on two different projects that may have a need for more full-time staff. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without your help,” I say.
She gives me her trademark sunny smile. “You’re welcome. I hope you get to come on permanently. It’s been great working with you.”
I flush at the compliment. Rhonda’s too nice to say anything mean, but she also isn’t the type to give empty compliments, either. I’m hoping this means I’m going to get a good evaluation at the end of my internship. Since I work closely with Rhonda most of the time, she’s the one who’ll sign off on it.
After we finish our sandwiches at a deli three blocks from the office, we walk back. I make sure to keep Rhonda on the side closest to the buildings. I look over my shoulder at the pedestrians. Which one of them works with Tolyan? He said I was “bait,” which means that he’s watching so the second Roy appears, he can pounce. Tolyan seems convinced that this time Roy himself will be coming for me. Won’t it be ironic if Roy tries to grab me and gets hit by Tolyan’s car? Not that I think Tolyan would use that sort of method. He’d pick something a bit more elegant and sneaky. Like how he “suicided” that man.
Or maybe he’d throw some cream of corn at Roy.
The light turns red just as we reach the first intersection. Rhonda’s phone rings, and she pulls it out. “Excuse me. It’s my daughter.” She pulls back a couple of steps to chat with her, a hand over the other ear to block out the traffic noise.
I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of the SoCal sun. An almost violent jerk on my arm shatters the peace. Yanking my arm free, I open my eyes. Eric is standing in front of me, fuming.
What the hell is he doing here? This isn’t Coffee Heaven’s intersection. And unless his mother redid his schedule, he should working right now.
He grabs my arm again. I try to jerk free, but this time he keeps hold. “Let me go, Eric.”
“No.” His eyes are wild and his nostrils flaring, like a bull taunted beyond its limit and ready to charge. “You’re going to make the bad press go away first.”
“What?”
“The last time you were at the café, you made the videos go viral.”
It takes a moment, but I realize what he’s referring to—his losing his temper about the Pryce Family Foundation internship. “Are you nuts? I didn’t put them online. Go talk to the people who did, not me.”
“Whatever! I know you had something to do with it!”
We begin to attract a crowd. Instead of trying to break up the confrontation, many are pulling out their phones to record it. Great. More videos to hit the social media feeds. At least I’m not the instigator. The fact that the videos prove that Eric’s the aggressor is the only good thing about everyone being a cameraman.
Rhonda rushes over. “What’s going on?” she demands, her hands on her hips like an angry mother hen.
“Stay out of it, lady. This doesn’t concern you.” His grip on me tightens.
“Ow, Eric. You’re hurting me,” I say, partly because it really does hurt and partly because I want everyone to know he’s being a violent jerk. If he thought our first confrontation was bad, wait until this goes viral. It’s amazing how he never thinks things through before going off on his own to make things worse.
Rhonda’s eyes flash. “Let her go!”
“Mind your own business!” He lets me go and shoves at her.
The crowd goes, “Oooooh,” but nobody jumps forward to help. Gasping, I reach for her and grab her arm, so she doesn’t fall on the hard concrete.