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I glare at him. “I got what I needed.”
“Catie!”
“I got almost a week’s worth of groceries. That’s no small thing for me.”
“A week’s worth? Jesus. It’s not about you buying the bare minimum. You need to get good cuts of meat, fresh fruit and vegetables, and luxury items. Nice things, Catie, I want you to spoil yourself. Get fucking caviar if you want it.”
“Caviar? I wouldn’t know what to do with it if I had it.”
“You eat it!”
“I’m not buying caviar with your money.”
“So what did you get? The supermarket’s own brand of everything, I’m guessing.”
“Well, yeah…”
“I want you to get nice things, honey. Buy yourself some steak if you want. Meat, fish, vegetables. Desserts, ice cream, chocolate, don’t you have any cravings?”
I just stare blankly at him.
“You’re going back in tonight,” he tells me, “and you’re going to get things you’ve never bought before. You hear me?”
I poke my tongue out at him. He goes quiet then, his eyelids lowering to half-mast. Then he turns and walks off without another word.
I don’t see much of him for the rest of the day, and I sneak off at five before he can come out and lecture me again.
*
On Friday, once again he appears at my desk first thing, hands on his hips.
“Twelve bucks,” he says. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I did what you said,” I protest, “I bought some orange juice and a box of chocolates. I’ve never bought a box of chocolates in my life.”
“Was it the size of a matchbox?”
“They were peppermint creams, Saxon. I actually died at one point and woke up in heaven.”
That makes his lips curve up. “Well, I’m glad you liked them,” he says gruffly. “But I’m getting Kennedy on the case. If she can’t talk you into spending money, no one can.”
I smile as he walks off. They actually were the best chocolates I’ve ever tasted.There’s a first time for everything…Oh, don’t think about that night, Catie!
Two hours later, the teenager from the post room delivers an enormous parcel to my desk. It has my name on it. Surprised, I open it and discover a box of peppermint creams the size of a chest of drawers.
Picking up one of the chocolates, I knock on his door and go into his office. He’s on a conference call, listening to someone talking, but he glances at me as I walk in and beckons me over. I take the chocolate to him and put it on his desk, out of shot so nobody can see me. He winks at me.
“Hey! Who are you winking at?” a guy says.
He looks back at the screen. “Catie.”
“Catie!” several voices echo. “Put her on!”
“No,” he scolds, “she doesn’t want to talk to you lot.”
“Saxon!” someone protests.
He huffs a sigh. Then he beckons at me again. “Come here.”
