There is a pause.
“Not alone, huh?”
“No, and I’m not sure when that might be.”
“Well, that makes things both harder and easier. Just work with what you have. You’ll figure it out. You always do. I’ll send any texts in code and make sure all emails are encrypted, but I want you to touch base at least once a week, or I’ll be pulling you out. I want this shit figured out, but not at the expense of one of my girls.”
“I’m fine, I promise. But if that changes, I’ll let you know.”
I hear the click of the bedroom door and switch to a safe subject.
“So, there is a huge kitchen. I might just have another stab at this whole cooking thing.”
“Burning down the school is not the smartest move.”
“I’m not going to burn the place down. How am I going to get any better at it if I don’t practice?”
“I’ll hire you a cook.”
“You can’t hire me a cook when I’m on school grounds. Wait, can you?” I turn and see Aslanov leaning against the door frame, watching me, not giving a single fuck that he’s blatantly listening in on my phone call.
“Can she? Hire a cook, that is?”
He stares at me for a moment and I swear I see his lips twitch, but then I blink, and it’s gone.
“No, but you can order takeout food.”
“Damn,” I complain, but Sugar’s right. It’s probably safer if I stay far away from the kitchen unless it’s just to use the toaster or microwave.
Well, will you look at that? I guess I’m more adept at student living than I realized, after all.