Page 57 of Hooked
“I don’t like it when you call me that.”
“But everyone says you’re too young to be my mom.” Which was true. Botox and very good cosmetic surgery had frozen Bianca in her early forties. “Come on. Want to leave the blanket?”
“S’cold.” She pulled the wool blanket closer around her shoulders.
“I know.” She helped her mother stumble to the door and toward the elevator. The house was four stories, and her mother’s bedroom was on the top floor. Her father kept a separate bedroom on the third floor next to Tayla’s room. That is when he wasn’t sleeping at his club in Union Square.
When Bianca slumped against her, Tayla was more grateful than ever that her father had had the elevator installed. When she was a child, Tayla had nightmares about her mother falling down the stairs and dying. The elevator was a prudent decision.
She helped her mother into bed and tucked her in with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table. She also cleared out any medications in the small drawer that could interact badly with alcohol. It was something Mena probably did regularly. She stowed the various sleep aids and anxiety medications in the guest bathroom on the second floor before she made her way up to bed.
The bed had been turned down and a gas fire was lit in the fireplace, ridding her room of the chill that came with a San Francisco night. The queen bed in the center of the room had been updated with smooth cream bedding and new pillows. The curtains around the antique four-poster bed were fresh too, a verdant green velvet that reminded Tayla of the hills around Lower Lake.
Her bag was unpacked and her clothes hung up in the closet. Her toiletries had been unpacked and organized in the adjoining bathroom. A fresh decanter of water and a bowl of fruit had been placed on the table in the sitting area.
Mena wouldn’t have considered any of those things an invasion of privacy. She was hired to see to guests and make them feel at home. The fact that Tayla hadn’t wanted her underwear unpacked was beside the point.
Ah, home. Cozy, friendly home.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Thirteen
The buildingthat housed the offices of SOKA was a restored Victorian house in a mixed residential and commercial area of the Mission District. Located just off a main road, it had light traffic when the car dropped Tayla off. A small diner was on the ground floor of the building to the left, and a dry cleaner sat on the other side of a narrow alleyway to the right.
The brass plate near the door was the only indication it was a business. A simple plate.
SOKA.
Tayla knocked, hearing music drifting from the interior. It was something fast and bright with a Caribbean beat. A few moments later, the door opened.
“Tayla?” A smiling woman greeted her. “Welcome to SOKA. I’m Kabisa.” She held out her hand. “Please, come in.”
Tayla followed her into the small foyer of the Victorian house. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Kabisa’s accent was as crisp as the brightly patterned shirtdress she wore.
Tayla felt a bit starstruck. Kabisa Nandi’s biography said she had a background in modeling, and Tayla wasn’t surprised. She had deep brown skin and dramatic features, most notably a vivid smile. Her hair was twisted into bantu knots, and she wore a purple headband that drew attention to her incredible cheekbones.
Tayla blinked. “You are absolutely beautiful. Your pictures don’t do you justice.”
“Thank you! That’s always lovely to hear. I think you’re very beautiful too. I’ve been looking at your Instagram. I love the way you accessorize.”
“That’s a great compliment. Thanks.”
“Is there anything you’d like to leave by the door? Your coat maybe?”
Tayla saw a rack of coats, umbrellas, and random bags in the entryway. It reminded her more of a home than an office. “I’ll leave my coat. Thanks.”
“It looks like it will be sunny today. I’m so relieved. I am very ready for summer.” Kabisa ushered her up the stairs and into what looked like a slightly messy living room. “When Azim and I bought this place, we wanted to incorporate the concept of common spaces for our staff to encourage creativity and collaboration, but it’s ended up being a little bit more like a family home.”
Tayla loved it. She saw folders scattered around and various samples draped across the back of a chaise. Two coffee cups sat abandoned on a side table.
“I’d like to tell you it’s usually cleaner than this, but I can’t.” She shrugged. “We tend to have one day a month or so when we do a dramatic cleaning, but Azim read a study about how chaotic work spaces promote creativity, and ever since, he’s been very reluctant to ask people to clean up.”
A heavy step bounded down the stairs, and a young Latino man with a long Mohawk and multiple facial piercings thundered into the room. “Hey! I’m Rudy. You must be Tayla. Nice to meet you.”
