Jean wasn't making her decision any easier.
The fat cat had hopped onto the counter and made a game of stealing Karma's notebook. He was curled on top of it now, his face squished with smugness.
"Quit it." Karma peeled him off and dropped him on the floor. She turned back to her pros-and-cons list, but Jean's claws were catching on her sock. She groaned. "Fine, you can hang out, but you're helping me decide."
She dragged her pen down the columns as she read her pros-and-cons list aloud. Moriano School of Arts versus the Ackerman gig. She nudged Jean with her elbow. "What do you think?" She waited for the fat cat to respond, but he'd fallen asleep. "Figures."
Karma picked up the phone. The dial tone droned in her ear. Her eyes flickered between the two halves of her paper split by a squiggly blue line. Either way, she'd be stuck in New Marley. Her fantasies of that place had always been blurry-edged and magical, but now she knew the truth. The edges had hardened and sharpened like the spired tops of a haunted church, and the magic had disappeared like bubbles grazing the floor.
There was a third option not scribbled on the page. Somewhere in the shadowed corners of her mind, Karma had always known this was her only real option. Time to stop pretending. She tore the page, leaving a trail of confetti in the spiral, and crumpled up the pointless pros-and-cons list. The paper snowball bounced off the trash lid and onto the linoleum.
"Okay." Karma took a breath and dialed the number. Her eyes squeezed shut. She knew this was the right choice despite the adrenaline that bounced her knee and drummed her fingers.
A woman picked up. "Old Marley School of Arts—"
There was a knock at the door.
"Thank god." She wasn't ready to set her future in stone just yet. Karma slammed the phone back onto the receiver, shouting, "Coming!"
She dashed out of the kitchen and threw open the front door. Shadowed in the dimly lit apartment complex hall was the pencil-sharp frame of Yelena.
"Oh, hi. Um—" The wiring in Karma's brain flickered. The hell was Yelena doing here? Karma forgot how to swallow. Her arms felt stiff. Yelena seemed to be waiting for an invitation like a real vampire. "Come in?"
Yelena stepped inside, making the apartment all the more pathetic in comparison to her dignified air.
"Would you like some tea?" Karma watched Yelena examine the couch. She swiped invisible crumbs off the seat and scooted the pillow with a hand-stitched pineapple out of the way. Her straight posture made her taller than Karma even when sitting.
"No, thank you. I'll be brief," Yelena said, ankles crossed.
Karma grabbed Jean off the countertop and took a seat across from her. Jean curled in her lap, chin in paws, and returned to his nap.
"I'm sorry for being curt on the phone before," Karma said, grateful she'd thought to grab Jean. Stroking his back kept her hands from shaking.
"That's not the apology I'm after." Yelena's mouth was a flat line. Fangs were probably digging into her lips. "You lied."
Karma's chest tensed.
"Karma Tojo doesn't exist."
Shit. Her head drooped like a wilted sunflower.
"Karma Adornato, however, is a refugee from the east." Yelena paused. "I don't suppose you lied about your first name as well?"
"No, ma'am."
"Even you had to know I'd find out eventually. What I don't understand is why you would try to leave a refugee sanctuary to begin with. New Marley is no place for you, if the fountain didn't make that clear enough."
Karma's head drooped another inch. Even these so-called "refugee sanctuaries" weren't without prejudice. With enough mimicry, the western Marley dialect solidified to muscle memory on her tongue. Combined with her fair complexion, Karma looked as good as native.
It was her surname that continued to stump her. She had tried, but adopting an established family name felt like an invasion. Even Granny Angie's. Karma shouldn't be surprised that Yelena had dug deep enough to uncover the truth. She probably didn't have to dig deep at all.
Karma's reply was quiet. "Right."
"That said, I will forgive your dishonesty and even overlook your status if you can help me." Yelena's eyes fell on the coffee table. Karma hoped she didn't notice Sage's annotated New Marley Fashion or High Class Living magazines that screamed, "Glitter is the new black!" "Adalia May uncovers the secrets to wealth!" "Ten reasons to ditch the gym and try keto!"
Karma waited for Yelena to continue, but asking for help was clearly requiring more humility than anticipated. Her slender throat bobbed. "I am in a predicament."
Karma quirked her head.
"I don't know what you managed to do in those five minutes, but Mr. Ackerman is refusing to interview anyone else."
"Huh? Why?"
"I can only imagine."
"Well, can't you conduct the interviews?"
"Let me rephrase." Yelena's sigh suggested that Karma was testing her patience. "If you do not accept Mr. Ackerman's offer, then he will refuse a caretaker."
"What do you mean?"
"I shouldn't be surprised at this point." Yelena didn't bother to mask her distaste for Karma, who was channeling all of her nervous energy into petting Jean. "If you couldn't tell by his petty firing streak, Mr. Ackerman would prefer to not have a caretaker at all."
"I thought he just hated everyone that came through?"
"He certainly dislikes anyone who compromises his independence."
"If he's independent, why does he need a caretaker?
"He thinks he's independent, but Mr. Ackerman is not adept at cooking or cleaning or even showering without assistance. He needs a caretaker."
"You're saying he will only agree to a caretaker if that caretaker is me?"
"Correct."
"See, that's the part I'm not understanding. Why me? I wasn't even qualified to interview."
"That's precisely what I would like to know." Yelena's hands were vised together, nail beds white from the pressure. "Likely, he's gotten tired of all the hiring and firing and has decided to change tactics. He thinks by undermining me, I'll finally give in and leave him to his own self destruction. The man is too damn stubborn for his own good." The wrinkles bracketing her lips made Karma suspect that Yelena was just as stubborn.
"He thinks if he agrees to hire only the worst candidate that you'll scrap the caretaker thing entirely?"
"That seems to be the case."
"If he needs a caretaker that bad, why don't you do it?"
"Sure, let me tac 'caretaker' to my list of duties for that bastard." Yelena's eyes sharpened. "Even if I wasn't heading Ackerman Enterprises and all of that man's other business endeavors, neither one of us would want me touching him."
"Then you're not his wife?"
Yelena cracked a smile, though her chin wrinkled in an attempt to stifle it. "No. Not in the slightest."
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that you were at his house and—"
"Don't be sorry. I needed a good laugh."
Karma wondered if an almost smile was considered a laugh to Yelena.
"I understand the confusion," Yelena continued. "Mr. Ackerman is loath to leave the penthouse, so I have to go to him. Sometimes, that means spending the night, but the idea of spending it with him—" Yelena covered her mouth with her hand and cleared her throat. When Karma could see her face again, all signs of humor had been erased from her pale lips. "Back to the reason I'm here."
Karma pulled her shoulders back and rested her hands on Jean.
"Whether the man is spiting me or has a few loose screws, Mr. Ackerman wants you. End of story. Will you accept the job?"
Karma dug her tongue into her molars. "Actually, I was just on the phone with the OMSA before you knocked. I was, um, hoping to put caretaking behind me."
"But you applied for the job. You were adamant to speak to Mr. Ackerman. You went so far as to lie about your identity."
"I know. My friend really wanted an autograph. The thing is, they really needed nurses during the war, so that's what we did—me and my mom and grandma. Caretaking is too close to nursing and I've put that behind me now. I'm ready to start my life." Karma shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I can't accept this job."
Yelena's intense gaze didn't waver. "The Titan War ended years ago. You've had plenty of time to figure this out."
"Well…it was intimidating."
"I see. So the only thing keeping you from accepting our offer is this dream of yours?"
"Yes. I…want to be a concert pianist." Granted, no one who's attended the Old Marley School of Arts had ever made it big, but she could be the first. With enough dedication, Moriano Hall wouldn't be just a pipe dream. She could meet Wickham Moriano. Perform for Wickham Moriano. Marry Wickham Moriano. Her three step plan would go more smoothly if the MSA was feasible, but this was the reality.
Yelena pulled out her cell phone. Her thumbs worked at the pace of a clicking typewriter. A minute later, she tucked away her phone. "Alright," she said. "I contacted the MSA. We'll see you through music school."
Karma choked on her breath. If she had been sipping a drink it would've spattered across the room. "The MSA?! Wait, wait—"
"We'll pay for your tuition, in addition to your salary."
"No, no, please. I don't think you realize how expensive—"
"Money isn't an issue."
"But I don't even know if I'll be accepted into the program. The MSA is very competitive—"
"You will audition at the end of the month. Whether or not you're any good will depend on you. If you pass, you'll start in eight weeks, August 1st."
Karma's face and neck flushed. Her breathing sounded loud in her nose. "I don't understand why you'd do all of this for me."
"I wouldn't. It's for Mr. Ackerman."
Karma thought of Mr. Ackerman. His air of authority. His quick tongue. The mysterious story behind that scarred eye. She imagined his grand piano. Music washing around her. Glittering ball gowns. Taking a bow after a flawless performance. Wickham Moriano himself in the front row, falling in love as he watched.
She could have all of it.
Karma glanced down at Jean. "How does he feel about pets?"
Yelena's shoulders relaxed an inch. "He'll deal with it." She rummaged through her bag and pulled out another sleek phone, a white cable, and a key. "These are for you."
"What's this?" Karma examined the black screen. She jumped when the date and time lit up under the pad of her finger.
"Your cell phone. I'll text you in the morning with your daily tasks, so don't forget to keep it charged."
Karma had never owned a cell phone that wasn't shaped like a brick and it showed in her befuddled face. Yelena's expression soured as if she were humoring the repetitive whys of a child.
"God, what year is it in Old Marley?" She took another one of those impatient sighs. "You need to be reachable. Don't let it die in case I need to reach you or Mr. Ackerman."
"He doesn't have his own cell phone?"
"The man doesn't have a lot of things. Common sense for one. The desire to live in the present day for another." Yelena shouldered her bag. "That key gets you into the penthouse. Don't lose it—I hate changing locks."
"Right." Karma stuffed the phone and key and charger into her pockets.
"Will you need a ride to and from work?"
"No, I can take the tram."
"Be gone before they stop operating for the day. Mr. Ackerman will typically dismiss you before dinner."
"Okay."
"Questions?"
"No." Karma could think of a few more, but all of her questions had been met with hostility in Yelena's eagerness to leave the grime of Old Marley.
"Very well. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning. Be there no later than 9am."
When Yelena left, the oxygen flooded back into the room. Karma wiped her forehead with her sleeve and it left a damp trail. Before she could sit down and digest what just transpired, she heard a squeal.
"Oh. My. god." The beads dangling over the hallway entrance swished around Sage.
"Were you listening that whole time?"
"What? Of course. Do you have any idea how insane this is?"
"Yeah. I'm still in shock."
"Clearly, you're not grasping the insanity or you'd be screaming and bouncing off the walls." Sage gripped Karma's shoulders and shook her with every syllable. "Both of our dreams are about to come true."
"Yeah, you're right." Bubbles of giddiness swelled in Karma's chest like a freshly popped bottle of champagne. "We have to celebrate."
"I'm calling in sick."