Memoirs of a Gigolo Volume Nine by Livia Ellis

Author:Livia Ellis
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

2:40pm

Talitha waits in the sitting room.

We walk outside together.

I stop her on the sidewalk.

Does she want to get coffee?

No. She checks her watch, then her phone, then her pocketbook.

Can I ask her a question?

If this has anything to do with that picture of me in Hello she doesn’t want to know about it.

She saw it?

No. But she heard Olga giving birth to a litter of kittens after Elizabeth showed it to her.

So she has seen it.

That would be a good bet.

Can I ask her something else?

As long as I can do it while she’s walking to the tube, then I can ask away.

Why is she so unfriendly?

She looks at me. Briefly. Annoyed. She checks her watch again. Clearly we need to have a conversation. She has twenty minutes.

I follow her into a coffee shop.

I offer to get our drinks.

She declines. She takes a chamomile tea, which she pays for herself before finding a seat. I join her when I have my Americano in hand.

Correct her if she’s wrong, but this is the first job I’ve had.

The Psychiatrist is hardly my first job.

No. My first job period. The first time in my life that I’ve actually worked for a living. Someone has given me money in exchange for my time and ability to perform a function.

Yes. This is my first job.

It’s not her first job. She’s had lots of jobs. She’s been working since she was about twelve years old. She’ll probably keep working until she’s dead. This is who she is.

Okay. This is good. Getting to know each other. I like this.

Before I get too excited, don’t get used to the idea of being friends. She doesn’t make friends with her coworkers. Work is work. Friendship is friendship. There is a very distinct line between the two in her world.

We live together, we work together, and I don’t understand why we can’t at least be friendly.

Because she has no interest in being friendly. We do not live together. We share space in the same house. She will say that I did well in hiring Wright. She was about a minute away from moving out of the house. Anything to save her from having to pay unnecessarily for rent is welcome.

I don’t get it. I’m sorry, but I don’t get it.

Clearly I don’t get it. If I got it, then I wouldn’t have let Olga move into my bedroom. Just remember when the time comes, she did try to warn me.

My personal life is my own.

Really? Is that what I think? From where she’s observing my life there is nothing personal about it. Do I know anything about her?

No.

Good. That’s the point. She, on the other hand, knows more about me than I should be comfortable with. Especially considering my desire to keep what I’m doing professionally on the down low. What really surprises her is that I actually live in the house when I could be staying with my friend Elon. If I really wanted to keep my working life as private and contained as possible, that’s what I should be doing.

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