The Roommate Arrangement Page 22

  “I apologize for all the secrecy, but it was necessary.” He reached inside his suit jacket that looked like it cost more than my car and pulled out several papers and a pen. He set them down and slid the pile toward me face up.

  Oh right. The non-disclosure agreement.

  In the email, he outlined the expectation for me to sign it “upon arrival.” I pulled it toward me and signed it. The penalty for violating the agreement was a whopping three million dollars. No article writing for me, then. I slid the papers back toward him, and he folded them back into his jacket, looking relieved.

  He looked at me shrewdly. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. Have you?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve interviewed several candidates, but I found none of them suitable.”

  Candidates. What a strange word. “What is it exactly that you want me to do?”

  The mysterious smile reappeared. “I don’t want to get into that today. I want to get to know you.”

  My face grew hot, made worse with the wine. I knew he could see how uncomfortable I was. He was gorgeous, and I was a nobody. I didn't get it. "What I don't understand is why you think you need a paid arrangement."

  No, stupid! Don’t say that. Just shut up and take his money!

  He took another sip of wine, and I heard the liquid hiss through his teeth. Then he looked at me. "I know what I want, and I have very little time. This is just the easiest way for me."

  A small shiver went through my body. Why would he want me? But he did all the same, and it was overwhelming.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Jessica.”

  Now I felt like I was in an interview. "Well, I graduated last year with a Bachelor's in English, and I want a writing position at a magazine somewhere. I'm not picky, but it's been tough finding writing gigs. All I could find were unpaid internships. I signed up for this because I need an income to pay for my expenses. I think that I’m a pretty honest, reliable person. If you want, I could leave references. To be frank, I need the money."

  It was embarrassing to admit it.

  The room filled with the smell of freshly baked pizza. I snapped my head around and saw a perfect sight: the waitress carrying a hot pizza. She set it down on a metal stand in the middle of the table. It was a cheerful, vivid red with burnt edges, no doubt cooked in a wood-burning oven. Little specks of green dotted the sauce, and I smelled the basil from the rising, swirling steam. I reacted in a way that could only be described as Pavlovian.

  “The pizza here is the best in the Bay Area. It’s almost like eating pizza in Rome.”

  I didn’t care where it was from as long as I got to eat it. “I can’t wait to try it.”

  He smiled politely as he cut a slice for me and slid the plate in front of me. Perhaps he was used to girls who only ordered salads when they went out.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  Flustered, I glanced at his face and saw he was serious. “No, ‘course not. I’ve never—” My voice cut off. Fuck, I almost told him that I’d never had one. “I’ve never had much time for boyfriends.” My hand trembled as I took another sip of wine.

  I watched him eat the pizza with a knife and fork, feeling barbaric as I picked up my slice with my hands. “Do you live in the city?”

  He gave me an uncertain nod. “I have a house, but I’m rarely home.”

  He probably had places all over the world. I bit into the pizza and moaned as the acidic taste of the tomatoes exploded over the perfect crust, blackened from the wood fire oven.

  “Oh my God!” I moaned through my mouthful of pizza. “This is—this is incredible!”

  Luke seemed to choke on his pizza as he looked at me and laughed. It differed from all of his polite, almost mechanical smiles. The corners of his eyes creased, and he covered his mouth with his hand.

  Was he mocking me? No, there was kindness in his eyes—not cruelty. I returned his smile and laughed in spite of myself.

  “I’m kind of crazy about food. Every week, I volunteer at a soup kitchen, and I organize the recipes." Perhaps the wine made me so talkative, but I was flattered by Luke's interest and the way he leaned in so he could hear me talk. I kept forgetting that this was an interview.

  “Every week? What for?”

  He sounded suspicious. Of course, he was. He made me sign an NDA, for God’s sake. I gave him a half shrug. I didn't exactly want to go into detail. "It started as a community service thing I wanted to do for my resume, but I found myself enjoying it." A frown crossed my face. "Well, until yesterday."

  “What do you mean?”

  I mentally slapped myself again. He doesn’t need to know every damn detail of your private life! I waved my hand. “It’s not a big deal, but my car got broken into while I was volunteering.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  "Yeah, it sucks."

  We lapsed into silence as we finished the pizza. I devoured three more slices, savoring each bite.

  Does he eat like this all the time?

  Why wouldn’t he? After many sips from the equally delicious wine, I felt myself slip into a warm, happy stupor.

  “So where did you grow up?”

  I snapped to attention. "Hm? Oh—well I moved around a lot as a kid. First, I lived in Richmond, then Fremont, Oakland, Antioch." We were wading in dangerous waters. "How about yourself?"

  His face tightened. “Chicago. Well, I was there until my mother passed.” He shrugged. “Then my father sent me overseas to a boarding school in London.”

  God, so he did go to a boarding school.

  Years of lying in bed while reading Harry Potter and fantasizing about what it would be like to live in a castle full of children made me burn with jealousy. “What was it like there?” I said in an awed voice. “Were there houses?”

  He tilted his head, and a slow smile spread across his face. "You mean like Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?"

  I laughed and took another sip of wine, trying to hide my embarrassment.

  “No, I’m afraid not. They’re not all they’re cracked up to be.”

  I sank into my chair, my bubble of excitement bursting. "Are you kidding me?"

  "The environment could be stifling. You're in this studious environment from sunup to sundown. I was homesick a lot. It was lonely. At first, it was fun, but after a while, you miss your mom and dad."

  It was sad to hear that. Luke stared at some point over my shoulder, his eyes echoing with the loss of his mother and the pain of being sent away after her death. I couldn’t imagine what that must have felt like. I wanted to erase that unhappy look on his face.

  “You’re ruining my fantasy!”

  He laughed and shrugged. Luke looked at me as if he was making his mind about something. His fingers drummed on the table, and he reached inside his jacket.

  “I need to ask you to fill out one more thing. You have to understand that I don’t trust easily, and I need you to complete this form so I can do a background check.”

  I shrugged. "No problem." I had nothing to hide, right? It wasn't any different from applying for a job. I took the form and filled everything out, which included my address, phone number, and social security number. A voice inside me said that it was a lot of private information to give to a complete stranger. Then Luke slid over the two thousand dollar check already written in my name, and I took it. I felt guilty taking it. It was such a nice dinner.

  When I returned the form, he glanced at his watch.

  “Well, shall we?”

  I took one last sip of wine and stood up as he threw cash on the table. We walked through the bustling restaurant. The hostess reached into the closet to retrieve my sad, synthetic wool coat and I watched as Luke shrugged on his. I noticed his patent leather Italian shoes and felt so cheap by comparison. I was an impostor, a Cinderella, but with his hand on the small of my back, I didn’t feel like one.

  The glass doors swung outward, and the chilly air struck my bones. Luke walk
ed beside me with his hands deep in his pockets.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “I took the BART and MUNI to get here.”

  The cold stung his cheeks with pink. “Oh. Why’s that?”

  I tried to look somewhere behind his head, anything to avoid meeting his gaze. "Well, like I said, my car was broken into, and it needed to be fixed."

  His voice was flat. “But repairing a windshield only takes an hour.” He wasn’t getting it.

  Tears welled in my eyes.

  Don’t cry, you idiot.

  My hands balled into fists until my fingernails bit painfully into my flesh.

  “Yes, well, I couldn’t afford it. So they kept my car.” I couldn’t quite keep the pain out of my voice.

  None of us said anything for a while. No doubt, he was looking for some phrase, some appropriate response for this situation he had been taught in his gentlemen classes at his overseas boarding school.

  “I’ll call a town car.”

  His thumb moved rapidly over his cell phone. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  "No. It's okay. I'm okay with taking the BART. I do it all the time. It’s no big deal.”

  “Neither is calling a town car.”

  I wanted to argue, but his hand reached out and touched my shoulder, squeezing it.

  He wore a light smile on his face, as if he hadn't noticed the tears welling in my eyes, but of course he had and was just trying to make me feel better.

  “Okay.”

  A few minutes later, a sleek black Mercedes rolled next to the curb. I revolved on the spot with a heavy feeling in my stomach. Well, that’s it.

  “Thank you so much for everything, Luke.”

  He nodded. “I’ll contact you in a few days if all is well.”

  He swept down and planted a swift kiss on my cheek. The spot burned like a hot poker, and the faint smell of his shampoo drifted inside my nose. I could still feel the imprint of his lips on my face.

  The kiss surprised me so much that I forgot to say goodbye. I let out an embarrassing giggle and ducked into the security of the smooth, leather car interior. Luke leaned down near the passenger’s side to exchange words and a handful of cash with the driver.

  Feeling light, I laid my hand across my cheek where he kissed me for a long time, marveling at how something so brief could feel so good.

  I still felt like I stumbled into some fairy-tale when the car dropped me at my house. Maybe a fairytale wasn't accurate. It was like a bizarre dream. In what world did a gorgeous billionaire pay women to date him when he could have any woman he wanted?

  I stepped out before the driver could open my door and gave him an awkward wave. Whoops.

  He gave me a cursory look and sped away when I stepped on the sidewalk. I shrugged as I watched the town car blast down the street. I struggled to open my door for several minutes until I realized I used the wrong key. Finally, I pushed it open and strode inside.

  The back of Natalie's head was on the couch. She whirled around as soon as I entered and stood up, looking apprehensive.

  “Jess, look, I’m sorry for what I said.”

  Seeing her looking so tired in her pajamas stirred my guilt. She waited for me all night and probably wondered if my face would appear on the evening news.

  I was too tired to argue.

  Her hands fidgeted. “You didn’t text me.”

  “Ah, sorry. I forgot,” I said as I hung my coat in the closet.

  “Well, how was it?”

  A huge grin spread across my face. “I think I’m in love!”

  She grinned. “Seriously, what was he like?”

  “He’s young and gorgeous. And nice and—” I shivered at the mere memory of him. “I don’t know what he’s like, but he is hot. He looks like Ian Somerhalder!”

  Her eyebrows were somewhere in her hair. “Wow. Well, what does he want from you?”

  “I don’t know yet. I can pay you back now, at least. And I can get my car.” I slid my feet out of the heels and bounced across the room, brimming with happiness.

  “I’ve never seen you like this.” Natalie’s voice was flat. “Am I dreaming?”

  I shrugged and backed into my room, laughing at her stunned face. “I’m going to bed. Night!”

  I set my purse on the bed and set the two thousand dollar check on my nightstand, feeling myself deflate once again. Don’t get attached to him. He might become my boss, but he’d never be my boyfriend.

  Still, it was nice to dream.

  4

  The following morning, I headed straight for the bank to deposit my check, and then took a bus to the repair shop where my car was. Looking Randy straight in the eye as he swiped my credit card, I breathed a sigh of relief as the charge went through.

  After driving home and paying Natalie the two months’ rent I owed, my bank account contained a paltry $432.50. Luke’s money helped tremendously, but I still needed more—and fast. I couldn’t muster the energy to send out another few dozen applications to jobs.

  My stomach roared with hunger as I stood in the kitchen. Debating whether to buy food at the grocery store, I dug through my cupboard and found a battered packet of ramen.

  Score.

  I inhaled the tantalizing smell of the dry noodles and the spice packet as I ripped open the plastic, poured the noodles into a water-filled bowl, shoved it in the microwave, and then blasted it.

  Top Ramen fueled my childhood. There were many school lunches where I would rip open the plastic, dump the spice onto the dry noodles, clench the package in my fist to break them into tiny rings, and then shake it to distribute the seasoning. My fingers coated with MSG dust, I ate the whole bag of uncooked noodles.

  At least microwaving was a step above eating it raw.

  Maneuvering the piping hot bowl to the kitchen table, I gulped down my pitiful supper.

  The front door opened. “Hey,” Natalie called out.

  Feeling that twist of anxiety that took up residence in my stomach, I looked up. "Hi. I have a check for you on the table."

  She put her messenger bag down with a weary shrug of her shoulders and hung her coat inside the closet. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the billionaire paid me two grand last night just for showing up. So I can pay you back.” I slid the check closer to her.

  I need to stop calling him ‘the billionaire.’

  A slight frown on her lips, she took the check in her hands and peered at it. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Jess, I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

  I knew this was coming the moment she walked inside, and her steely look showed she meant business.

  “I don’t even know what he wants from me yet. If he sets up another meeting, I’ll find out.”

  “I’m worried about you getting hurt. Last night you were talking about him as if he was your date.”

  My fork stabbed at the ramen in my bowl. “I know. He’s just not what I expected at all.”

  No, he wasn’t. My cheeks still burned as I thought about his soft kiss goodbye. He could still be an asshole. I didn’t know him at all, but it was hard not to be intrigued by a man planted so firmly in the spotlight.

  “Do you know his name?”

  Yes, and so do you.

  I grinned, bursting to tell her I signed a multi-million dollar NDA. "Can't say, sorry. He made me sign an NDA. And an authorization for a background check."

  Her eyes bugged out. “You’re kidding?”

  “Wish I was.”

  “Well, that’s thorough. Now I’m really curious. I still think you will have to put out, though.”

  My cheeks went pink. If he wanted to have sex with me, would I say no?

  Of course, you would!

  “Then I’ll just end it.”

  Natalie knew sex frightened me. She looked at me without blinking. Oh God, she's going to talk about it.

  “I hope you aren’t pressured into doing something that traumatizes you.”

  My m
ind recalled a hand pressed against my mouth in the darkness. Heavy alcoholic breath poured into my ear. If you make a sound, I’ll kill you.

  A violent feeling surged inside me, and I looked around for a drink to flush it down. A beer. I needed a beer. Maybe an entire case.

  “Well, what do you mean?”

  She sounded impatient. “Jessica, come on. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve always had issues with men.”

  I felt stripped bare, and my face flushed. There was very little I was willing to reveal about myself, yet Natalie appeared to know all my horrible secrets.

  “I’m just worried about you throwing yourself into a dangerous situation with a man you hardly know. What are you going to do if he forces himself on you? Can you handle that?”

  Could I?

  I doubted he would do something like that. “Jesus, Nat. I don’t even know what he wants yet. Will you relax?”

  Her arms crossed over her chest, and she drew a shuddering breath. "Look, I know you don't like to talk about your foster parents and everything."

  “Here we go,” I said, rolling my eyes. I didn’t care if I was rude.

  “You will need to talk about it someday to someone,” Natalie said. “Jess, I’m not saying it has to be me, but you put your life on hold for way too long.”

  “Enough.” The rough edge in my voice made Natalie back away. “It’s not that easy for me. For starters, I don’t have health insurance. There's no family supporting me. I’m dealing with it the best way I know how.”

  “You have a family.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  She looked at me like a wounded animal. The hurt splashed over her face and some of her pain transferred to me.

  “You’re getting married and starting a life of your own. You’re not going to always be there for me. And that’s fine. I want you to have everything you want. But don’t talk as if it’s that simple. I’ve been kicked and punched since I was a kid and you don’t get over that after a few hours in a therapist’s office.”

  Natalie flinched as though I struck her. We never talked about this out in the open, even when I showed up to school with bruises on my legs. I stood and paced the small kitchen, Natalie’s infuriating look of pity following every step. There was no way in hell I was going to talk about this.