I smiled. “I’m so glad I’ve got you in my corner.”
“Okay. I draw the line at helping you decide what underwear to take.” He tossed a pair of lacy black knickers at me.
My cheeks warmed as I caught them, although I was probably wearing too much make-up for Dillon to notice my embarrassment.
“I’d better go and get ready for my interview.”
“Good luck. Not that you need it. They’d be mad not to hire you.”
“Look at you being my cheerleading squad.”
“I am, and don’t you forget it.” I stood and rummaged in one of my drawers, pulling out a pair of red-and-gold pompoms.
Dillon cackled as I improvised a cheer routine for him with high kicks and spins. I couldn’t do much else in my bedroom for fear of destroying the place. When I was done, I waggled the pompoms in his face.
“The job is as good as yours.”
“We’ll see. When’s your train?”
“At five.”
“I’ll drive you to the station.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Plus, I’m cheaper than a taxi. Unless your parents have offered to take you?”
I frowned. “I wish.”
“Sorry.”
I shrugged. “They’ll change their tune when I’m a famous model.”
“Of course, they will.”
I waved at Dillon. “Go and get ready for your interview. I can finish up here.”
“See you soon.”
Once he was gone, I did my best to repack the things I’d chosen to take into one suitcase. I ensured my portfolio was in there and put the rest of my clothes away. It took longer than I expected, but I felt an odd sense of achievement for having reduced the amount to a manageable level.
Once I was done, there was nothing left for me to do except kill time. Perhaps foolishly, I went in search of Mum. Dad worked as a tester for the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency, but Mum had been a homemaker my entire life. She was in the kitchen, getting a head start on dinner. It looked like she was making enough bulgogi to feed an army. It was her signature dish, one her mother had taught her. Dad’s parents immigrated to the UK from South Korea before he was born. Mum was born and raised there. She came to the UK to go to university, met Dad, fell in love, and never went home.
“You know I’m not here for dinner, don’t you?” I checked.
“You’re not?”
“No. I’m going to London, remember? For a month. I told you two weeks ago.” And I’d been reminding my parents every couple of days, including that morning at breakfast.
“Oh.” She stared at the beef she was preparing. “We thought you would change your mind.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re wasting your time.”
Her words stung, but I kept smiling.
“They’re looking for a manager at the Co-Op,” she said. “All you have to do is hand in your CV.”
