New line.
She stands up from the typewriter and fiddles the paper out of its hold. “Follow me.”
I didn’t even have to say my name to get rejected. Probably about what I could expect from such a terrible entrance—What was I thinking? Access to the Ring isn’t something given out for free, and not to people like me.
She locks the door behind me, slipping the key into her dress pocket. “Have you ever interviewed foranyonebefore?”
“No,sorry.”
“That explains a lot.” She sighs… and heads up the stairs.
I tentatively follow behind, losing confidence in what’s happening.
Another narrow hallway with three doors across its different sides. From her opposite pocket comes a loose key which opens the one directly straight from the stairwell exit.
She pulls the door open and holds out the key. “Don’t make a mess. I’ll start your work in the morning.”
I freeze.
I didn’t earn—What?
“Shouldn’t I sign something?” I stutter.
“Do I care?”
“You don’t even know my name!”
“And? You’ll say mine far more often than I’ll even think of yours. Mistress Vincenza Nasciowa, I’ll clarify. You may call me Mistress, Mistress Vincenza, or Mistress Vincenza Nasciowa.” She swings her hand into the cramped little room. “Are you taking it?”
“I have a home to get stuff back from and people to tell.”
“Then call them on the bedroom landline and or come back later and ask me for the key. I am not taking any more sass from an apprentice, got it?” She stomps up to me, looking down with a towering height advantage.
The offer is real,actually real. It never occurred to me that this was going to end up anywhere.
I can’t even begin to think about the implications, to hope about a secure future; I grab the key and run to claim the room.
“I am sincere about the consequences for you if you cause problems,” she warns.
“I understand, Mistress. Also, it’s Catarina de Alioni,” I pant.
“Mhmm.” She throws my door shut, deeply uninterested in my life changing moment.
Feeling my limbs start to tense from euphoria, I hop onto the tiny bed and take it in. This is a private room! It’s small, but it has a wardrobe, a door to probably a closet or bathroom—and a landline!
Calling them will make this real.
It will show them, too.
Chapter 2
Calling it Home
Exact specifications are decent, better than Lucia’s at the university even. I can barely stand in the bathroom, but it does come with a shower—and a bath. The room has no textiles left over besides some cotton bedsheets and towels. My casual clothes, shaded to only the most casually dark of brown, feel out of place with the aggressively black decor.
I can tell even the landline’s been painted just to match the overwhelming black.
Waste time planning out a purchase of new clothes or… just get it over with. It’s not like the call will be immediate anyway. The heavy ceramic mass fills my right hand while my dominant rolls out the operator number.
