The Asher Complex

09: Collision

POPPY

I'm late! I am so late!

I was expected at the mystery client's house ten minutes ago. Nana always says 'if you're not early, then you're late'. Being tardy causes me severe anxiety. And I already feel anxious as it is. Who is this Mrs. X? Why do I need to sign an NDA? Are they royalty? Diplomats? Is it a celebrity?

By the time I reach the townhouse on the Upper East Side, I'm out of breath and I can feel a sheen of sweat on my forehead. I would've parked closer but this area is so snobby that they don't even have public parking. God forbid I tarnish the aesthetic of this block with my shitty bright red Acura Integra. Hysteria will erupt!

I take a couple of deep breaths and tighten my high ponytail. Priya keeps telling me to wear my hair down, but I find that it just gets in the way. She's already conditioned me into doing my make-up every day, I think I'll maintain authority over my hairstyles for a little while longer.

I press the doorbell and hear chimes echoing from inside. Here we go!

The door swings open and a woman, who looks like she's in her late 50's, answers the door. She can't be more than five feet tall, and has short reddish-brown hair. She kind of reminds me of a younger Muriel from the Suite-Life of Zack and Cody. My sister used to watch that show religiously.

"Good evening, you must be Miss Sinclair." The woman smiles sweetly and ushers me inside. "I'm Ellen. Mrs. Carlisle has been expecting you."

Carlisle, ok. At least we have a name. This is a start.

"Sorry that I'm late. I couldn't find any parking," I say meekly as I look around the front entrance.

The sea of marble tiles, swanky high-end furniture, and greek-style columns make this house look like it's something out of a magazine. A year ago, a home like this would have blown me away. But after tutoring a handful of Upper East Siders, I find myself judging rather than admiring. As Ellen leads me down the hallway I notice an entire wall that is literally a giant fish tank. I can see the sitting room through all the exotic, vibrant-colored fish and teal water. How do they even get the fish inside? Or feed them? Ugh, some people.

Ellen stops outside a large porcelain white door and knocks quietly. "Mrs. Carlisle, Miss Sinclair is here."

"Let her in," a voice answers.

Ellen twists the doorknob and leads me into the room. My eyes widen. Rows upon rows of books line the walls. Thousands of books. Some with withering spines. Some that shine with a new glossy finish. I take a comforting breath. The room smells like an antique store with a hint of floral notes. I think I just died and went to heaven.

In the middle of the room, a polished bleach-blonde woman is peering at me over her desktop computer. She looks...pissed? Or, is it happy? I really can't tell. Her face is tight. Like, unnaturally tight. Her greenish-brown eyes give me a once-over before she gestures towards the armchair in front of the desk.

"Miss Sinclair, it's a pleasure to meet you. Tonya's told me you're one of her most highly requested tutors," Mrs. Carlisle retrieves a folder and places it in front of me. "Before we can go any further, I'll need you to sign these documents."

"You can call me Poppy, Mrs. Carlisle," I state as I open the folder. Ah, the Non-Disclosure Agreement. Of course. My eyes briefly scan the document but I don't read the whole thing. The gist of the document is don't blab. "Can I please borrow a pen, Mrs. Carlisle?"

"You may address me as Trish." Mrs. Carlisle hands me a pen and I sign my name at the bottom of the page. "Perfect. Thank you, Poppy. Now that that's out of the way. Let's discuss my son."