Page 2 of Five to Love Him
“But you haven’t been working?”
“I was looking for you all.”
Farrow nodded and filled a teacup for himself. “Working makes the centuries go by, but I suppose if one is driven enough, one does not need a job. Unless one wants to pay for food and shelter.”
Farrow sipped his tea and gave me an expectant look.
I shrugged. “My grandma left me the house and some money, and my dad left me some as well. It’s not like living off that is wrong.”
“It certainly isn’t—ah, I like a frugal man. But wouldn’t you be more fulfilled if you did something? Now that you have found us all and no longer need to look.”
I drank down my tea in one go and put the delicate china cup back on its saucer. “It’s a stipulation, isn’t it? That I work where someone can keep an eye on me. So that I don’t post Arick’s notes on the message boards.”
“It’s Instructor Arick for you, and it’s more of a guideline. Really, Hawthorne wants you to thrive in our society. And why wouldn’t they? Instructor Arick agrees that you have potential, and he expects great things from you.”
I could actually believe that. I had expected…I wasn’t sure. Something a little more Supernatural and less Suits meets Gilmore Girls, but the supernatural world I had sought and found by tentacle fellatio was all in all just very…bureaucratic.
“I’m not working as a paralegal. I’m done with all of the law stuff, and I only got certified because my grandma insisted. How about this—I find my own job with a non-human individual, and you give the paralegal job to someone who actually wants it. Will that get you off my back?”
“Please, the cook was insistent that you must try the scones. And it is not I who is on your back, although that is certainly a fantasy one might indulge. I will suggest it to Hawthorne, not the fantasy but your suggestion of finding gainful employment that suits you. They tend to be accommodating, so I see no issues there. And certainly, you taking the initiative will go over very well with their team I imagine.”
“What’s this?”
Farrow leaned forward. “Apricot marmalade? Or jam. Is that not to your taste? I always tell them not to serve anything red because of the headmaster fear and me being a vampire. I don’t want to remind anyone of blood, you see.”
Some supernaturals were just really, really weird.
***
“You’re getting a job?” Tate was walking next to me, still busy sending me photos of the notes he’d taken while I’d had afternoon tea with Principal Farrow. We had been discussing taxes, and it was about as dry as any topic, but apparently, Arick had strongly hinted at a test.
I groaned. “I guess. Had to happen at some point.”
“Of course! But this is perfect. I mean, the supernatural world has all this opportunity. It’s the land of opportunity all over again, spirit of discovery and all that. I’m really considering it for myself as well. They will generally pay you well and give you bonuses and everything.”
“Or it’s nine to five, but your boss has horns.”
Tate snorted. “You are a misanthrope.”
“I’m a realist.”
“That’s what all the misanthropes say.”
We’d made our way to the foyer, the exit just a short walk across the marble floor. Everyone else had left already, but Tate, of course, had stayed to ask something about whether someone’s mate—not guy friend, but as in mated to someone—had the same standing as someone married to them. This had come up with the taxes apparently. I’d done my best to zone out, but from what I’d inadvertently heard, Instructor Arick’s demon head despised the institution of marriage deeply.
Despite us being the last members of our class, the foyer ahead of us wasn’t empty.
“That’s a tall glass of water,” I mumbled, then recalled that supernaturals, a lot of them, had unnecessarily good hearing. “Fuck.”
“That’s Ezra, and yes, he is! Ez! Come here and meet Leo. I’ve been trying to get you two together for too long already.”
The tall glass of Ezra approached. I’d heard the name, of course I had. He was Tate’s roomie, worked at the university like him, and an avid swimmer.
“Hi.” Ezra shook my hand, blue eyes hard, smile forced. Well, jealous, anyone?
“Uhm. Hello. Tate talks about you all the time.”
Ezra released my hand and looked at Tate, who blushed. “You do?”
