I pull it out and rip the bubble wrap from around it. Headless roaches big enough to fly fill the jar almost to the top. Their legs are still squirming. Cockroaches can move without their heads for four…perhaps five days. So these are fresh zombie roaches. Shows dedication, but I doubt Roy caught them himself. He probably had somebody else do the work.
Decapitated insects don’t bother me, even when they’re moving. They’re harmless, and the world is full of more dangerous things.
But they would be enough to freak Angelika out. Or, honestly, most any woman.
I dump the jar back into the box, rip the label off and run it through a document shredder. Then I retape the box and locate the shipping labels that the foundation keeps for packages. The most used ones are FRAGILE or URGENT, but there are a few others as well.
I slap a bright red label on top of the box: HAZARDOUS MATERIAL. It even has a skull and crossbones underneath, for those who can’t read the warning.
I take the package back to my desk and leave it in my drawer. I’ll get rid of it later, quietly. Today’s Angelika’s birthday. And nothing is going to mar it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Angelika
As I sort through Rhonda’s mail, I start to think that maybe Roy isn’t going to send me anything. He always sends something gross and nerve-racking on my birthday. The “presents” are to remind me that he hasn’t forgotten about me, and that I’m not safe. How can I be, when he finds me no matter where I go?
Normally, his presents arrive in the morning. But nothing’s come so far. There was one time when the present came after lunch, but it’s almost three now. I doubt it’s going to come.
Or maybe he’s sent it to the café. If so, he would’ve been informed by the fancy private courier he uses that I’m not there anymore. If he tries to send it to my place, that isn’t going to work either, since I moved in with Tolyan.
Maybe Roy’s going to realize he’s lost me. I let out a shaky breath as the thought flares brightly in my heart.
I pray he accepts that and moves on, even though a tiny, pessimistic part of me says it’s highly unlikely.
“My goodness, you didn’t have to do that,” Rhonda says as she comes over to her desk.
“It’s no big deal. I’ve sorted them by project and urgency.”
“Thank you.” She beams. “Going through the mail isn’t my favorite activity. Wanna grab some coffee?”
I smile back. It’s so easy to be friendly with the people at the foundation. Given the tight security in the building, Roy can’t just send somebody in to see who I’m close to. Within these walls, at least, I’m free to interact with people the way I want. “Sure.”
The break room has an awesome espresso machine. The beans are also excellent. Their aroma alone makes me perk up. Apparently, Elizabeth is a huge coffee fan.
When we enter the room, loud pops burst in the air, and confetti flutters around. I flinch, surprised and blinking at the popping sound that reminds me a little of gunshots I heard when I lived in a cheap part of Chicago five years back.
“Happy birthday!” Rhonda hugs me as the people in the office clap and cheer.
I stare, stunned that they know because I never said a word about it, and pleasantly surprised that they decided to do something. I haven’t seen any parties at the office. But then, I haven’t been here very long.
“Happy birthday to you!” Elizabeth starts singing, and people join in. Tolyan watches the celebration with a pleased gleam in his pale eyes.
Maybe he doesn’t sing. He seems good at everything—cooking, running, swimming, security, dealing with his dogs. This could be one thing he can’t do.
Still, I wish I could hear him sing “Happy Birthday” and hate it that I cling to such a childish desire when I already have an entire office celebrating. It’s been so long since anybody cared about my day—in a good way—and Tolyan not singing isn’t a big deal. Shouldn’t be a big deal.
“Make a wish!” Patrice says, gesturing at the cake and the lit candles.
I smile, feeling like a star, and blow them out, my hands clasped tightly at my chest.
Please, please give me a happy ending.
Everyone claps, and I straighten up. Sparkling cider and soft drinks are served, along with slices of cake for all. Some reach for coffee. I smile and nod as people wish me happy birthday. Tolyan doesn’t make a move toward me. He stays in the same corner and sips his coffee, his eyes following me over the rim of his mug.
So I go over to him. “Hey!”
“Hello.”
“Some party, eh?”
He nods.
“Got something to say to me?” I’m fishing, but sometimes a girl’s gotta be proactive to get what she wants.
“How’s the cake?” he asks.
“Good,” I say. “So… Anything else?”
He looks at me dispassionately for a moment. “How’s the cider?”
I study him, disappointment welling at his ridiculous obtuseness. Then I notice the amusement in his eyes, and I shake my head. “You’re awful.”
“For wanting to know how the cake is?”
I don’t respond. He isn’t fooling me with his innocent act. In the last few weeks I’ve learned that he’s a master of feigning obliviousness when he doesn’t want to do something. The thing is, even when you know he’s faking it, you can’t do anything about it. The man is like an old silverback gorilla set in its ways.
“I ordered that cake,” he continues. “If you said it was awful, I was going to leave a bad review on their website.”
I smile. “It’s good.” Better than good. Any cake would’ve gotten raving praise from me because this isn’t about cake, but about the fact that Tolyan ordered it for me and I’m okay enough to celebrate my birthday. And I haven’t received anything from Roy.
“Then I’ll leave them a nice review.”
I give up. He’s not going to wish me happy birthday, even though he ordered the cake for the occasion. Before I can roll my eyes, Tolyan looks at his phone, then frowns slightly. “Excuse me. I need to deal with this.”
He leaves, and the room’s energy seems to drop a notch. Or maybe it’s just me feeling the weight of disappointment that he can’t stay.
Oh, come on, Angelika! He probably has something very urgent to do. Although his official title at the foundation is Elizabeth’s assistant, he seems to do a lot of things beyond answering her calls and managing her calendar.
Rhonda and a bunch of women I only vaguely remember meeting come over, ostensibly to chat. What they really want is gossip about Tolyan. It’s no secret that he’s the man of mystery at the foundation. I learned that very quickly when I started my internship because everyone looked at me like I was the most popular kid in class.
“He’s been around forever,” one says.
“Yeah. But none of us really know him,” another one says.
I look at her. I think she’s from accounting, although I can’t quite remember her name. So I merely smile and nod, hoping she doesn’t notice, and wait for more elaboration.
“We know he has a son and some dogs. He’s been Elizabeth’s assistant for years, but he’s never been promoted.”