Except, that makes me thenew toy, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
“I say what I mean, even if it’s not kind. Mix that with the fact I’m a Hawthorn, and you can very easily slap ‘arrogant bourgeoisie’ on my forehead without breaking a sweat.”
With any luck, he’ll be like Kenneth and get some character growth before the end of this whole thing. The very harsh realization that this is athiscomes crashing down on me. What we’re doing now is exactly like how Kenneth reeled Harriet into working for him with a touch of blackmail and monetary coercion. While I hope Lex doesn’t have the truth about the play, and therefore the blackmail to go with it, I have certainly found myself monetarily coerced.
We’re a basic real-life Kenneth and Harriet now.
And Iknowwhat happens between them.
My cheeks flare red, and I whip my gaze outside again right as the college sign passes.
Lex parks in the lot nearest the bus stop, ever the insightful one.
As the car hums off—instead of sputtering and dying like it may never start up again, AKA like Mom’s—he turns to the back seat and rifles through his bag for a smart phone. “I’d like to get your number now. It was within the terms.”
It was.
Clearing my throat, and my head, I pluck my phone out of my faded blue backpack. It’s an older kind. The kind that doesn’t connect to the internet and has a slidey keyboard. I like the slidey keyboard. “Please don’t be excessive in calling or texting. I just won’t respond, and I’m sure I can figure out how to block you if I deem it harassment.”
“Harassment is against the contract.” He stares at my phone, and I meet his eyes, daring him to say something about it while he holds his sleek latest model or whatever. It probably has five cameras—for some reason—and knows what you want to look up before you do. I was sixteen before I even got this, and I haven’tupgraded in the five years since I’ve had it. Fancy phones like his cost more than rent.
“I didn’t know those still existed,” he manages at last.
I scoff. “My mom’s car still takes cassettes too.” I slide out the keyboard after getting to the new contact screen, then I tap in his name.
Lex Hawthorn.
It isn’t a name I ever imagined would grace my phone.
“Okay. Go ahead,” I say once I’m ready.
“You only have three contacts?” Lex asks, instead of telling me his number.
My stomach tightens, and I clear my throat. “Let’s not get personal, please. This is, in essence, a business deal.”
“Dad, Mom, Hubert Roberts,” he lists my contacts despite what I just said. “The contract doesn’t specify that it’s a business deal.”
“It’s implied,” I sputter, glaring at him. “I’m fairly certain the notary was filed under Employee Agreement, and evenyoukeep calling it ajob.”
“Who’s Hubert?” His nose scrunches. “What kind of a name is Hubert?” His eyes roll. “I pity you if that’s your boyfriend.”
My stomach knots up and bile rises, for so many reasons. Back snapping straight, I spit, “That’s myboss, fromBurger Blitz. You honestly think I have time for a boyfriend?”
He shows me his phone screen, which holds his contact information, and I try to calm down as I insert his number into the correct field. Expression more tame than it was while we were coming back from the bank, he says, “I don’t know what you make time for, Calypso.”
There he goes. Saying my name again. Like he has any right.
I purse my lips and mumble the only thing that comes to mind after having just looked at his phone, “I didn’t know your full name wasAlexander.”
He bristles, pulling his phone back.
Monotone, I ask, “Did I strike a nerve?”
He taps out of his personal contact information, and I catch a list of names before he turns the screen off. At the top?
Agatha Armont.
Something nasty flares up inside my chest, but I tamp it down.
