There’s
also a makeup table and chair set up. “You’ll meet Angela later. She’ll go
through makeup with you.”
I nod and take a
seat in front of Fionnella’s desk. When she gesutres encouragingly at the menu,
I open it. My mouth waters immediately, and I want to point to the first thing
I see, which happens to be a triple cheese burger and fries. I swallow the
surge of saliva and force my gaze down the list.
Pasta and
prosciutto in white wine sauce.
Beef and spinach
stuffed ravioli.
Rib-eye steak
with Cobb salad.
My stomach rolls
in painful anticipation. “I’ll have the burger and fries, please.”
Fionnella smiles.
“Anything else?”
“Soda?”
Her gaze drops
over my body. “How about we make it a milkshake? Unless you don’t like
milkshakes?”
I barely stop
myself from telling her I’d give both pinkies for a banana milkshake. “Okay.
Banana. Thanks.”
She gives me a
happy nod and picks up a sleek phone on her desk. My order is relayed in crisp
tones. “It’ll be here in ten minutes. Now, let’s get started.” She places the
clipboard in front of her and spears me with a slightly less maternal look.
“Fair warning, it’s in your best interest to be as truthful as possible.
Everything you say here will be held in the strictest of confidence, but the
boss doesn’t take well to liars. Okay?”
I want to cough
out the fear knotted in my throat. But that would give me away. So I nod. It
satisfies her and she’s back to being kind and gentle Mother Superior.
She clicks her
pen. “I have your contact details but you don’t have a permanent address?”
“No, not yet.”
“Okay. For the
purposes of this job, this will be your address. Is that okay with you?”
I want to ask why
she’s asking. It’s not like I’m going to file taxes or cite this gig on my
resume anytime soon. But the look in her eyes says she wants an answer, so I
nod again.
“Great!” She
looks me over again for a second. “If you don’t mind my asking, are you
normally this weight?”
“No.”
“Can you tell me
how much weight you’ve lost recently?”
“Umm, about
twenty pounds.”
She nods
thoughtfully. “And is the reason a medical one? You’re not on drugs or
anything, are you?”
“I’m not on
drugs, no.”
She pauses. “Let
me be specific. We’re going to put you on a healthy meal rota. Will there be
anything stopping your weight from coming back to normal if you eat right?”
“No.”
She smiles and
scribbles on her clipboard. “Do you exercise regularly?”
I curb a
hysterical laugh. Sure, I exercise regularly if you take a cross-country run
for my life, exercise. “I keep fit,” I prevaricate.
“Perfect. You’ll
be assigned a fitness instructor as of tomorrow.”
I frown and
remember a work schedule was one of the questions I meant to ask Mechanical
Man. “I have to work tomorrow.”
Fionnella’s brow
creases. “I’ll check with the boss. I’m sure we can rearrange a few things.”
She scribbles some more and ticks a couple of boxes, then turns over the page.
“You’re sexually
active?”
“Yes.”
“When was the
last time you had sex? Weeks or months?”
Ridge’s sweaty
face swims before my eyes and I suppress a shudder. “Umm, weeks,” I say. My
voice doesn’t emerge as firm as I wish, and I earn a peculiar look from
Fionnella.
“Dr. Allen will
go through this more thoroughly with you, but are you on birth control?”
“No.”
I’m not sure if
this pleases her or not because her expression neutralizes. She ticks a box.
“Have you ever
had a colon cleanse?”
“A what ?”
“I’ll take that
as a no. You have to have one once a week.”
“Why?”
“For the anal
scenes,” she states without blinking.
I stare at her,
unable to form words. She stares back. A throat clears beside me.
I jump and snap
my head to see a man in chef’s attire holding a tray of food.
“Ah, great, thank
you, Georg.”
Georg nods and
sets the tray down in front
also a makeup table and chair set up. “You’ll meet Angela later. She’ll go
through makeup with you.”
I nod and take a
seat in front of Fionnella’s desk. When she gesutres encouragingly at the menu,
I open it. My mouth waters immediately, and I want to point to the first thing
I see, which happens to be a triple cheese burger and fries. I swallow the
surge of saliva and force my gaze down the list.
Pasta and
prosciutto in white wine sauce.
Beef and spinach
stuffed ravioli.
Rib-eye steak
with Cobb salad.
My stomach rolls
in painful anticipation. “I’ll have the burger and fries, please.”
Fionnella smiles.
“Anything else?”
“Soda?”
Her gaze drops
over my body. “How about we make it a milkshake? Unless you don’t like
milkshakes?”
I barely stop
myself from telling her I’d give both pinkies for a banana milkshake. “Okay.
Banana. Thanks.”
She gives me a
happy nod and picks up a sleek phone on her desk. My order is relayed in crisp
tones. “It’ll be here in ten minutes. Now, let’s get started.” She places the
clipboard in front of her and spears me with a slightly less maternal look.
“Fair warning, it’s in your best interest to be as truthful as possible.
Everything you say here will be held in the strictest of confidence, but the
boss doesn’t take well to liars. Okay?”
I want to cough
out the fear knotted in my throat. But that would give me away. So I nod. It
satisfies her and she’s back to being kind and gentle Mother Superior.
She clicks her
pen. “I have your contact details but you don’t have a permanent address?”
“No, not yet.”
“Okay. For the
purposes of this job, this will be your address. Is that okay with you?”
I want to ask why
she’s asking. It’s not like I’m going to file taxes or cite this gig on my
resume anytime soon. But the look in her eyes says she wants an answer, so I
nod again.
“Great!” She
looks me over again for a second. “If you don’t mind my asking, are you
normally this weight?”
“No.”
“Can you tell me
how much weight you’ve lost recently?”
“Umm, about
twenty pounds.”
She nods
thoughtfully. “And is the reason a medical one? You’re not on drugs or
anything, are you?”
“I’m not on
drugs, no.”
She pauses. “Let
me be specific. We’re going to put you on a healthy meal rota. Will there be
anything stopping your weight from coming back to normal if you eat right?”
“No.”
She smiles and
scribbles on her clipboard. “Do you exercise regularly?”
I curb a
hysterical laugh. Sure, I exercise regularly if you take a cross-country run
for my life, exercise. “I keep fit,” I prevaricate.
“Perfect. You’ll
be assigned a fitness instructor as of tomorrow.”
I frown and
remember a work schedule was one of the questions I meant to ask Mechanical
Man. “I have to work tomorrow.”
Fionnella’s brow
creases. “I’ll check with the boss. I’m sure we can rearrange a few things.”
She scribbles some more and ticks a couple of boxes, then turns over the page.
“You’re sexually
active?”
“Yes.”
“When was the
last time you had sex? Weeks or months?”
Ridge’s sweaty
face swims before my eyes and I suppress a shudder. “Umm, weeks,” I say. My
voice doesn’t emerge as firm as I wish, and I earn a peculiar look from
Fionnella.
“Dr. Allen will
go through this more thoroughly with you, but are you on birth control?”
“No.”
I’m not sure if
this pleases her or not because her expression neutralizes. She ticks a box.
“Have you ever
had a colon cleanse?”
“A what ?”
“I’ll take that
as a no. You have to have one once a week.”
“Why?”
“For the anal
scenes,” she states without blinking.
I stare at her,
unable to form words. She stares back. A throat clears beside me.
I jump and snap
my head to see a man in chef’s attire holding a tray of food.
“Ah, great, thank
you, Georg.”
Georg nods and
sets the tray down in front
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