Silver / clay

⊱ 26 ⊰

Caleb had settled into a routine at work.

Every month he'd send through Amala's money, just as it landed for its short stay in his bank account. Every fortnight he'd work with Damien on another sensitive case. And every meeting, apart from a few interruptions due to the campaign, he would grab a banana from the fruit bowl and slowly unwrap its yellow tendrils, as an act to play up his trained monkey moniker. The idea was to defuse any animosity from the others in his peer group, to hold envy at bay, by sprinkling his interactions with self-deprecating humour. It wasn't successful with Xifeng, but then nothing was with Xifeng, while the others lapped it up heartily. To complete the play, he'd scoff the banana down his own throat. In reality, this was hiding the other portion of his performance in plain sight. Once the meeting was over and the others had gone, he'd snatch a couple muesli bars, a pastry, and anything else he could easily smuggle out the room.

It was more than enough to live on. In fact, his tiny apartment was swelling from the excess. It helped that, whenever they'd stay late on a job, dinner would be ordered in.

"Is it culturally inappropriate?" said Patch.

"Why?" said Xifeng.

"Well, you know..."

"Because it's Chinese?"

"Well, yes," said Patch.

"Eat what you want," said Xifeng.

"What's everyone having, then?" said Patch, readying his phone to take notes.

Caleb spoke up first: "I'll go a beef and black-bean, lemon chicken, sweet and sour pork, and a few satay sticks. Oh, and add a few dim sims and a large tub of extra special fried rice."

"How are you gonna fit it all in, Hollywood?" said Riley, referring to his latest designation, ever since the adverts had come out. "You're skinnier than my finger. And you never eat anything, anyway."

"It's on the company's tab," said Seb.

"Of course!" said Riley. "Now it makes sense. And it also makes sense how you'd work that out."

"Takes one to know one," said Seb, agreeing.

"We eating or talking?" said Caleb.

"We're working," said Xifeng. "Or meant to be."

"A little recess won't do us too much harm," said Patch. "Even this figure needs a little nourishment now and then. Oh, and also a little food!" He winked.

Even after it arrived, and they'd shifted to the larger table of the conference room, Xifeng worked through the break. "Where's the assessment letter?" she said.

"Probably still on Caleb's..." said Riley, interrupting her own response with another mouthful.

Caleb was too busy scoffing down his own dinner. It would last him a few days so he didn't want to give his protruded stomach the chance to admit defeat and reject the remaining calories. But it wasn't looking good.

"Do you still save money?" said Drishti, her small voice barely audible above the munching.

Caleb turned to her, a little unsure how to respond, until he realised the question was directed at another.

"A little," said Seb.

Riley snorted out chunky flakes of her prawn chips.

"How much do you save?" said Drishti.

"Almost half," said Seb.

Caleb smiled inwardly at the tiny percentage. He felt a gush of pride well up.

"I'm well into five figures," continued Seb.

"That is very good," said Drishti, edging closer.

Seb smiled, enjoying the interest.

"I must send mine to my family," said Drishti.

"Like Xifeng," said Riley.

"No, her parents have enough money," said Patch. "You don't study here as an international student without that backing."

Caleb looked around at the group. Xifeng wasn't there to confirm or deny the claim. In fact, she was back in the other room. At his computer.

He remembered the bonuses sent from this computer straight to Amala. He remembered the sensitive information from a few previous audits with Damien.

Caleb dropped his plastic fork and leapt to the room. By the time he got there, she'd shifted away. Did she notice him coming? It was hard to tell.

"What do you need?" said Caleb.

Xifeng turned to him, mouth pursed, face calm. "The assessment letter, like I said. And other things."

Caleb checked the recently opened folders. "You've looked all over the place," he said.

"You kept them all over the place," said Xifeng. "Don't worry, I've done your job for you and put all the client data on the server drive, for the whole team. Keep it to yourself and no one can help."

He tried to pierce that perpetually neutral persona, and couldn't decide if she was giving him a hint of warmth or a malignant smirk.