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Margaret looks at Adalee, who nods, but doesn’t say anything.
“Watch your backs,” Margaret tells us. “Not everyone is a friend.”
Just then, Tamara comes into the room. She’s another employee of my father’s. I don’t really know what she does. Secretarial stuff, maybe? She and Natasha work together to do basically anything my dad needs. Tamara and Natasha are both total snobs and completely stuffy and stuck-up. They waddle around the house in stilettos for some reason. Do they think those look good? Because they definitely don’t.
“Lunch?” Tamara asks. She ignores me completely. Adalee, too.
“Try speaking in a complete sentence,” I snap before Margaret can reply.
Tamara turns to me and narrows her eyes. She’s obviously prepared to offer some sort of shitty response, but then she seems to recognize that it’s me: her boss’ son.
“Oh, Harrison!” She squeals, hurrying into the kitchen. “I didn’t know you were here!”
She moves so quickly that she doesn’t notice some of the soup that’s spilled on the floor. She seems to be hurrying over to hug me, but she inevitably slips and goes flying into the air. I catch her easily, holding her tightly, but I’m completely disgusted with the way she’s gripping me. Her breasts are heaving against me, and she looks up at me all doe-eyed.
“Harrison, you saved me,” she says.
“I think you would have been just fine.”
“You’re a hero.”
“Stop,” I say, and I push her away so she can steady herself and stand once more. “And you need to be more careful,” I add before she can say something about the kitchen being a mess. “We’re cooking in here, and I’m not a good cook. Margaret is giving me lessons, and I just spilled that soup right before you walked in.”
Tamara looks like she doesn’t believe me at all, but I don’t give a shit. It’s not her job to believe me. It’s her job to look pretty and suck up to my dad.
“Is that so?” She finally says.
“That’s so. Now what did you want? Complete sentences,” I remind her.
Adalee and Margaret are completely quiet. They’re still standing by the giant pot of soup, stirring it carefully. Neither one of them seems to mind the fact that Tamara is here. They’re acting completely normally and like this is a common occurrence, but it’s not.
At least, it shouldn’t be.
I don’t want Tamara in this house at all. She’s just another reason that the winter break is going to be fucking hell on Earth.
I want to spend time with Adalee. I want to lose myself in her.
I don’t want to be fighting off my dad’s bimbos.
“Oh, as I was saying,” Tamara says, smoothly her dress. It’s much too short to be wearing at work. I’m certain that Adalee and Margaret both got an eyeful of Tamara’s panties when she fell. “I was wondering if lunch was almost ready.”
She turns to Margaret, but before the old woman can respond, I interject again.
“Almost. Like I said, I’m cooking today, and it’s taking me a little while. I asked Margaret to help me because I keep messing it up. Give us twenty minutes.”
“Make that ten,” Margaret says with a wink. “I think we’ve just about got things sorted.”
“Hmmph,” Tamara makes a flouncing noise and leaves the kitchen. Her heels clack noisily as she moves away. Finally, she’s gone, well out of earshot, and Margaret turns to me.
“Thank you,” she says.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Harrison,” she says, once again calling me by my first name.
This time, it doesn’t feel bad.
This time, it makes me feel like she really believes in me, and she doesn’t think I’m just some loser rich kid.
