It takes me a moment to understand what he’s referring to. “You mean your hieroglyphics?”

“My writing really isn’t that bad.”

“That’s debatable. I still don’t understand why you left me another envelope of cash, there was already too much in the first one.” I filter the bills out from the mail. There are a lot of them.

“It seemed better than a check.”

“A check for what?” I sort them by denomination. I can’t count and listen at the same time.

“For taking care of Francesca and Tiny. It’s the weekly stipend we agreed upon.”

I pause to meet his two-dimensional gaze. I have the urge to mock him when he uses words like stipend and phrases like agreed upon. “But the first envelope you left already had double the amount we agreed upon for the entire time I’m here.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Yes, it did.”

“There was two thousand dollars in there,” I argue.

“Exactly. Two thousand a week for five weeks.”

“Two thousand a week? For taking care of your pets? That’s insane. I thought you meant two hundred.”

Bancroft’s expression is intense as he adjusts his tie. His gaze shifts away and then back again. “It’s not insane, it’s reasonable. You’re taking care of the things I love while I can’t, so I, in turn, will take care of you.”

All the sensitive parts of my body feel like they’re being stroked by his words. Normally the whole I’ll take care of you line would get my back up, but the way he frames it makes it sound sexy instead of douchey.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes I do. And I still owe you for the last two weeks. If you give me your bank account number I can wire more.”

“That’s unnecessary. More is unnecessary. This is already too much.” I could actually make a real dent in my credit card debt with this, if I planned to take it, but I don’t. The first two-thousand is more than enough.

“How have you been surviving if you don’t have an income, Ruby? Please tell me you didn’t stick to the two hundred dollars a week.”

“I didn’t have to pay for groceries, so it was totally manageable, and you left the first envelope, remember?”

“Did you use it though?”

“Some of it.” I focus on unpacking the groceries so I don’t have to look at him. This conversation makes me uncomfortable for reasons I don’t quite understand.

Bancroft huffs. “Look at the money like a salary.”

“Two thousand dollars a week for pet care is not a reasonable salary.” That Bancroft doesn’t even bat an eyelid at parting with two thousand a week reminds me of how vastly different our financial situations are. The minimum scale on Broadway isn’t even that high.

“I disagree.”

“You’re welcome to your opinion, however wrong it may be.”

“Ruby.”

“Bane.” I walk away from the phone so I can put away the boxes of sugary cereal I splurged on.

“You’re not going to use the money, are you?” He sounds frustrated.

“No.” I’m being unreasonable about this. I should take some of the money. It would go a long way in helping me manage some of the debt I’ve gotten myself into, but the amount is excessive for five weeks of pet sitting, especially since it comes with a bedroom in a luxury condo and a meal plan.

Part of me is also reluctant to grow accustomed to having money again. The idea is actually somewhat terrifying. I’m also tired of handouts. Accepting them from a man I’d like to get naked with feels wrong.

“You know I’ll find a way to get it to you.”

“Not without my account number, you won’t.”

“And you don’t think I can get that?”

I turn around to face him again, propping a hand on my hip. Oooh. He looks annoyed. This must be the uptight side of him Armstrong was talking about. I think I might approve of it. “What are you? A professional hacker on the side?”

“I don’t know why you’re so intent on fighting me on this, but rest assured, I’ll find a way to make it happen.”

“Good luck with that.”

“You do realize you’re being difficult, babe.” He taps on the table, drawing my gaze to his restless fingers.

“I’m being reasonable. You’re trying to give me too much money for doing not enough.” I check the time. It’s already after one. I need to clean the microwave and get myself together so I can be at work on time. “I have to go. Work calls.”

I reach across to end the call.

“Wait!” Bancroft says.

“I really do have to go.”

“Are you angry with me?” he asks.

I sigh. I’m not angry with him at all. I’m embarrassed to be in such a predicament that the money he’s offering seems massive. It’s an important lesson to learn. To know what it’s like to struggle, and not just have things dropped in my palm because I hold it out.

“No. I’m not angry. Your generosity is overwhelming. It’s making you a ten-point-five, and it’s too much for me to handle.”

“Ten-point-five.” His serious expression grows even sexier with his smirk.

“You’re down to a ten again. Bye, Bancroft.”

“Bye, Ruby.”

I’m in the middle of scrubbing marshmallow out of the microwave when the phone rings again. The one attached to the answering machine. It’s Brittany. Again. Apparently she wants to make sure Bancroft hasn’t lost her number.

I erase the message. And the other one she left for him. I don’t even feel an ounce of guilt either.

* * *

Two days later I pop by the bank to make a deposit on my credit card and my line of credit thanks to my great tips. I discover my account is no longer hovering in the low hundreds any longer. Not even close.

As soon as I get home I video call Bancroft. “You lost six points,” I say by way of greeting.

“Six? What could I possibly have done to dig myself that kind of hole?”

“How did you even get my bank account information? Isn’t that fraud?”

“It’s only fraudulent if I try to take money out of the account, not if I put it in there.”

“That was sneaky.”

“I told you I’d get the money to you one way or another. I wasn’t lying or being sneaky. I was being totally upfront about it.”

I make an angry sound.

“You can’t be angry with me, Ruby.”

“Are you telling me how to feel?” Goddammit. I shouldn’t be so upset about this. It’s really not rational. It shouldn’t bother me this much that he wants to compensate me, beyond giving me a place to live, even if the amount is exorbitant.

“Please don’t be upset with me. I feel responsible for you losing out on that audition. I cost you months of potential income, Ruby. Let me do what I can to make up for giving you that horrible flu bug.”

“So this is guilt-induced?”

Bancroft sighs. “I feel like you’re baiting me and nothing I say is going to be right here. I just don’t want you to be angry with me for doing what I think is right.”

Suddenly I realize why the money thing is bothering me. Over these past weeks I’ve stopped looking at Bancroft as my pseudo-employer. I don’t think I ever really looked at him as my employer in the first place, if I’m honest with myself. Giving me a place to stay, food, and access to takeout was one thing, even the modest amount of money I could attribute to incidentals, but actual substantial payment for the pet sitting breaks the illusion that this is more. Or has the potential to be more. And it makes me feel kept, which makes me feel like the situation is no different than with my father. And I definitely don’t want this situation to feel anything like that.