RUSH (City Lights, #3)(21)
“Yes, I cook,” I said brightly. “Nothing fancy, but my mother taught me all the basics. I make a great baked chicken—”
“Forget it,” Noah snapped. “You’ll do my grocery shopping for shit like cereal and snack food, but no cooking. Not for me, anyway. I have several places I order from and you’ll make those orders and pick them up.”
“You order out for every meal?”
His eyebrows went up. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Just seems like a lot of money…”
“So kind of you to be concerned, but wealth management is not one of your duties. Neither is questioning what I eat.”
“Okay, okay. Just…don’t you get sick of takeout?”
He cocked his head, the sneer on his lips was back. “It’s very low on my list of things I’m sick of.”
“Right.”
“You’ll place orders for books. Audio books, because I’m not learning f*cking braille no matter what the counselors tell me. I listen to a lot of books so when I give you an order, you have to place it immediately. I don’t want to wait. Ever.”
“Audio books? So I’d order them online or something?”
“That would be something not-blind f*ckers would do, now, isn’t it?” he asked in a mocking amused tone. “No, I’m extra special so I have an extra special listening device that reads extra special little digital cards, and that’s what you’ll be ordering for me. Comprenez-vous?”
“Yes. I guess so,” I replied. His rudeness, I realized, wasn’t directed at me, but at himself. Noah oozed self-loathing like a vapor, and I decided to show him that I could see beyond the cutting remarks and make a connection.
“What kind of books do you like? I ask because I’m a big reader too. Always have been. Since I was a kid, and I…uh…Anyway.”
I fell silent under Noah’s withering stare. He couldn’t meet my eyes, but damn if he wasn’t intimidating anyway.
“I like all kinds of books. May I continue? Or would you like to know my favorite color next?”
So much for making a connection. “Go on,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“You’ll run all my errands and that will probably consume the bulk of your time—should I decide you can have the job. It will keep you out all over the city. Are you familiar with New York, or are you some yokel fresh off the bus?”
“I’m familiar,” I said and heard my voice growing frosty.
“Good.” He leaned over his long legs, his eyes still cast slightly downward. “And lastly—and this is the most important aspect of your job, I can’t stress this enough—you are not, under any circumstances, to talk to me, touch me, or help me unless I specifically ask you to.”
My hands fell into my lap. “Wait, I can’t talk to you?”
“If it pertains to your duties, then by all means. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise, nothing? Ever?”
“Why would you want to?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just common courtesy. Hi, how are you…?”
“Let’s get something straight,” Noah said. “You and I are not going to be friends. We are employer and employee, and that’s it. If Lucien has filled your head with notions about drawing me out of my shell or showing me a silver lining, forget them. You do not exist until I require you to. This isn’t going to be like the story where the snotty little girl visits the sick cripple and gets him walking outside again.”
I sat back, sort of shocked. Did he just reference the Secret Garden? He wasn’t kidding that he read a lot. It sounded like that’s all he ever did.
“You also might be thinking that so many other people have dealt with their adversity better than I am,” Noah went on, his voice dripping with contempt. “You might want to give me that tired song and dance that blindness, for many, isn’t even a handicap, but just ‘a part of who they are’ or some equally nauseating tripe. Forget it. I’ve heard it all a thousand times. I’m not heroic or stoic, and I couldn’t give two warm, steaming shits what people think of me. I had a life and it was obliterated and I’m f*cking pissed off. But guess what? That’s none of your business.”
I thought of what I’d seen on Google and felt a blush creep up my neck. Lucien had made it my business, and now that felt wrong. I’d bet a million dollars Noah had no idea the graphic hospital photos existed. I put myself in his shoes and felt the vulnerability, the complete lack of control, the loss. I’d probably be just as angry.
“Still here?”
“Yes,” I said pointedly. “I’m still here.”
The hard edges of his expression softened ever so slightly at the quiet determination in my voice, but only for an instant. Then the wall came down again. “Huh. You must be desperate for the job.”
“That’s none of your business,” I said. “But I’m willing to do it and do it well. So what else? I can’t talk to you—no, better than that—I don’t exist until you need me to. What else?”
If Noah was put off by my inability to filter myself, he didn’t show it. Maybe he even preferred it. It was the only reason I could think for why he didn’t kick me out. Kick me out? He’s lucky I don’t walk.