Quintessa
Ella transferred forty dollars into my account and told me to pick up dinner on the way home, so immediately after work, I picked up a twelve-pack of tacos. I walk to the kitchen and place the box on the table and go to my room to change into comfortable clothes. I don’t know why, but coming home to this apartment – Ella’s apartment – today feels less homey, and that’s probably because I’m so close to getting my own and making it an oasis. A haven. A place where, after a long, hard day on the job, I can unwind and prepare myself for the next day, and the next. Currently, me and Ella live like college students. Her apartment, though cozy, reminds me of my college years. For most people, college was a time of discovery – figuring out what you want out of life and possibly finding that special person to go on that journey with. It wasn’t that way for me. I settled into college life like I’d be there forever. Finding a man wasn’t on the agenda. My grades were. Honing my skills for the workforce was my motivation to stay focused, get my degree and get out of there.
That’s what I did. Four years and I was walking into the workforce like I was going to tell somebody else how to do their job and run their business. I started at the bottom of the pay scale because I didn’t have any real-world experience, but I gradually worked my way up, and now this job is paying me thirty-four dollars an hour. Still, I know it’s only because of the deal I made with Mr. DePaul, and I’m still baffled why he wanted me so badly for this position that he’d be willing to pay double the normal salary.
When I return to the kitchen to eat, Ella is cramming a taco in her mouth.
“Slow down, El. It ain’t going nowhere,” I quip.
“Thank you so much,” she garbles with a mouth full. “I haven’t had tacos in so long.”
I take a hard-shell taco from the box and take a bite.
“How was your first day?” she asks excitedly.
“It was…hmm…how do I put this? Interesting.”
“You didn’t run into that awful man, did you?”
“No, but there’s a café on the first floor and I saw him in there. I didn’t talk to him or anything—just saw him and that was unnerving enough. Trust me. Anyway, I had lunch with one of my coworkers and she told me to avoid him like the plague, girl. They’re all scared of him.”
“I can see why. His presence is intimidating. When he came here demanding to see you, I was trying to remember where I put my stun gun.” She chuckles. “I thought he was going to barge in here to find you.”
“It was that bad?”
“Yes. It’s like he had this air of entitlement when it came to you.”
“Yeah, well, you know I already had a run-in with him and don’t want another. I was surprised to see him in the café today since Zahara told me he never comes to the café.”
“Who’s Zahara?”
“My coworker, Ella. Keep up. So Zahara sees him the moment he comes into the cafeteria and her whole body locked up like she was scared to move a muscle. I glanced up at him and I swear he was looking directly at me from way across the café. And what’s crazy is, Zahara told me he never comes to the café. He gets his assistant to do everything for him, but today, he came to the café. I thought that was interesting.”
“Do you think he came down looking for you?” Ella asks, reaching for another taco.
“No. Why would he be looking for me?”
Ella shrugs. “It’s not like he hasn’t done it before.”
“That was when he wanted me to get the job. Now that I have it, it should be a rare occurrence for me to see him or have to talk to him.”
“Well, overall, how was your first day?”
“Boring. I watched videos for seventy-two hours.”
She throws her head back, laughing.
“There was a full spread of food up in the conference room. I was the only one in training. I thought that was odd. Why would you have all this food for one person?”
“It’s not like they don’t have the money. I say enjoy it while it lasts.”
“True, but you don’t have to be wasteful just because you got money.”
“True.”
I unwrap a soft taco this time.
“So, are you going back tomorrow?” she asks.
“I am. I’m ready to get into the groove of things and know how to do my job without relying on support from anyone. I just want to get into the habit of knowing what I need to do and coming home, and hopefully after a month, I’ll find an apartment so you can have your place back.”
“Don’t rush on my account. I’m in no hurry. Just take your time.”
“Thanks, El. I will. Right now, though, I’ma take my time and eat these tacos.”
While I do, I pull up The Restaurant at DePaul’s on Google. Zahara was right – only five-star reviews, which I consider highly suspicious. You mean to tell me not one person left a four-star review? They’re probably scared to. Zahara did say he had connections. Ain’t no telling what he’d do if he found out someone rated his place less than perfect. You play with his image, you’re messing with him. Nobody wants that smoke.