Page 22 of Not In The Contract
I was hardly surprised.
Tamera’s love affair with food was almost as well known as her love for puzzles and riddles. I wasn’t half bad as a cook, but Tamera’s mom had magic in her fingers. Everything she touched turned into the most delicious food I’d ever tasted. It was no wonder Tamera loved food. Itwasa wonder that she cared for my food at all, especially when compared to her mother’s.
“Whatever you want, I guess.” I shrugged. “I can make you those hamburgers you love?”
“The handmade ones?” she asked hopefully.
“Are there any others?” I chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I turned and walked to the kitchen, which was only separated from the living room by a long counter. It was filled with photo frames with old photos of Tam and me, along with trinkets from our trips together.
I rummaged around in the kitchen, pulling out the necessary ingredients to make Tamera’s favorite hamburgers. I’d learned the recipe years ago when her mom invited me over for Christmas. It was the closest thing to a happy dinner I’d ever experienced.
“When are you moving in with Alex?” she called, shuffling to her feet and walking over. She leaned against the other side of the counter.
“Next week,” I said. “And you won’t believe the amount of paperwork I have to do before that.”
“From Paula?” Tamera guessed.
I shook my head.
“Alex,” I told her. “She sent over a ton of paperwork yesterday and I haven’t even looked at it. I was hoping you could help me.”
“It can’t be that bad.” She frowned.
I waved my hand toward my laptop and she opened it, pulling it to sit in front of her. “God, you have an unhealthy inbox,” she muttered.
“What do you mean?”
She turned my screen toward me and pointed at the number on my inbox. “Fourthousandunopened emails, Devon,” she said in pure disbelief. “What if there’s something important buried somewhere in here?”
I shook my head. “It’s mostly spam,” I told her. “Anything important will end up being a phone call anyway.”
“That’s a very confident take,” she huffed, squinting at the screen. “Ah, here we go.”
I continued working in the kitchen while she read through the mail. “There are twenty files in the folder she attached,” she gasped.
“Maybe they’re just duplicates?” I offered, hoping that was the case.
“Uh, no,” she said. “These are all individual documents. There’s a non-disclosure agreement, waivers, legal contracts, and… what the fuck is this?”
“What?” I asked, drying my hands and walking to the other side of the counter. I leaned down to get a better look at what she was reading. “Does that say…house rules?”
“Let me read this,” she offered, waving me away. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything noteworthy.”
I shrugged and went back to my cooking, listening to her mumble to herself.
“The house is accessible only by biometric access,” she read, dropping her chin into the palm of her hand. “Biometrics will change every four hours, at which time the security team will notify the appropriate parties.”
“That seems a bit over the top,” I observed, chopping onions into tiny shreds. “Every four hours?”
“Wait, wait,” she said, and held up a hand. “There’s more. You’ve been allocated a specific room and bathroom and won’t be allowed anywhere else in the house.”
“I don’t see how that’s bad,” I frowned. “I’d also be pretty suspicious of a stranger living in my home.”
“Butshewas the one who suggested it, no?”
I shrugged. “I’d still be pretty cautious about it.”
