The girl pokes her head out of the door and seems surprised to see us.
“I’ll open the door for Ms. Alvarez,” the boss says quietly.
I watch them in my rear view mirror. They’re staring awkwardly at each other like a couple of teenagers on a first date. It’s weird to see the boss acting this way.
“Good evening, Ms. Alvarez,” he says.
She smiles and nods politely, “Mr. Anderson.”
When she sees me watching her, she smiles warily, “Hi.”
“That’s Trainer, my driver.”
Jeez, demoted to driver. I’ll complain to my union.
“Hello, Mr. Trainer.”
“Good evening, Ms. Alvarez. And it’s just Trainer.”
Another girl approaches, a short woman wearing a poncho and heavy glasses. The ‘Ugly Betty’ look is still in. Who knew?
“This is my friend Dolores Quinlan. She’s coming with us.”
“Ms. Quinlan.”
I open the door for the second girl who’s trying not to be impressed by the boss, the Rover, or yours truly.
I nearly pass out when the boss offers his hand to Ms. Alvarez as he helps her into the SUV. And I try really hard not to listen to their conversation but I can’t help myself. I have never seen the boss hold a woman’s hand—not even his sister or his mom. What the fuck is going on? When did the world stop turning and why did nobody tell me?
“How was work?” he asks.
“Dull.”
“That wouldn’t happen if you worked for me.”
“I’d like to see that contract now.”
“I told you—it’s at my house.”
She glances at her friend.
“I texted Auntie Vera with the car’s license plates. We’re good.”
Anderson raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment.
The sass that was there this morning has been replaced by something else, making me feel like a third wheel, or possibly a fourth wheel, which makes no sense. Dolores looks equally uncomfortable and is staring out of the passenger window, ignoring her friend, me and the boss. I get the feeling that if I wasn’t here, Anderson would jump on Ms. Alvarez right now. Or maybe the shy and not-so-retiring Ms. Alvarez would make the first move. Pigs are flying in formation and all bets are off.
I slide further down into my seat and act deaf and dumb for the rest of the drive. I’d close my eyes, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m driving. I can’t get to Wolf Point quickly enough.
Finally, I cut through the Saturday night traffic and we’re there. I open the door for Ms. Quinlan, and then for Ms. Alvarez. The boss slides out behind her, as if he can’t bear to be more than touching distance away from her.
“Trainer,” he nods at me curtly.
I nod and get back in the Rover.
Ms. Alvarez—you are on your own.
Chapter 2
Mommie Dearest
I’M SITTING WITH my feet up, an empty plate that once contained one of Rachel’s microwave dinners next to me, and a Dr. Pepper in my hand. I don’t drink, ever, unless the boss has given me the night off, which he hasn’t, and only then, one beer or one glass of wine so that if I was called on to drive in an emergency, I’d be well under the limit and in full control of my faculties, what’s left of them.
I’m only truly off the clock when I’m far, far away.
There’s a tentative knock on my door in the employees wing and I glance up to see Dolores Quinlan standing there, looking even more awkward.
“Hey, man, sorry to bother you, but I can’t stand another minute watching those two. I mean, are they going to get it on or what? It’s gone from a job interview to a dating interview. I can’t keep up. It’s weird.”
She has my sympathy. The boss is a study in weirdness.
“Ms. Quinlan.”
“It’s just Dolores. So, can I hang with you? Just for a few minutes. I guess this is your place, huh? I never knew anyone who had live-in help before, except Luisa Santos, and that was because her abuela was bed-bound. This is kind of cool.”
I’m irritated by the intrusion but wave a hand and invite her in anyway.
“Thanks.”
She sighs and plops down on the other end of the sofa.
“So it’s just you and Devon living here?”
And it sounds weird to hear the boss’s first name—only his family and ‘close personal friend’ Hannibal Lecter Landon use it.
“On weekends, yes. During the week, his housekeeper lives here.”
And I wish she was here now.
“Oh, okay.” Her eyes flick to the TV. “Who’s playing?”
“Orioles versus Twins.”
She leans back, eyeing my Dr. Pepper.
I guess I should be hos … hos … hospitable, that’s the word, not hostile.
“You want one?”
Her face lights up. She’s got a sweet expression when she smiles.
“Hell, yeah! All Devon had was champagne. Tastes like piss to me.”
The sweet expression doesn’t match her mouth. Much like myself, I’d say.
I bring two cans of Dr. Pepper and a family-size pack of chips, dumping them in a bowl on the coffee table.
Dolores grabs a handful and talks as she chews.
“So, what’s the deal with Devon? Is he a straight up guy? He kind of creeps me out.”
Hmm, how to answer that question? Oh wait, discretion.
“I can’t talk about my employer, Dolores. I like being employed.”
She glances at me and frowns.
“Maria is my best friend in the whole world and she’s a really, really great person. She’s good, you know? So if Devon and all his millions are going to fuck her up…”
She leaves the sentence hanging, then sighs.
“Although things were so intense in there, I don’t think she’d listen to me anyway. I guess it’ll be what it’ll be. Can you at least tell me if the internship is for real?”
I turn to look at her.
“Anderson interviewed three people: Ms. Alvarez came over well. The internship is real. That’s all I know.”
She smiles briefly.
“Thanks, man. Hey, what’s your name?”
“Trainer.”
“Your first name?”
“Trainer is fine.”
She frowns.
“Whatever. So, is that Scottish? You’ve probably guessed I’m Hispanic-Irish-American. What are you?”
I shrug.
“American-American.”
We watch the game for another hour, working our way through another family-size pack of chips. The Orioles win. I was backing the Twins.
Dolores checks her watch.
“I’d better get going. If Maria isn’t coming home now, I got an early shift and Mama worries when I use the subway.”
“I’ll drive you.”
She blinks, surprised.
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
I text Anderson to let him know that his other guest wants to leave. The building is eerily silent as I walk Dolores to the garage until my phone beeps with a message.
Fine.
Then Dolores’ gets a message on her phone.
“Holy crap! She says she’s staying the night. I thought this was supposed to be a damn job interview.”
Her expression probably mirrors mine.
No, wait. I’m more shocked. She’ll be sleeping here?
I keep my thoughts to myself: Dolores is worried enough already and in two minds whether or not she should leave.
“I don’t know, Trainer. It doesn’t feel right leaving her here. I know she’s a big girl, but for an A-grade student, sometimes she’s not so smart.
What can I tell her? Anderson won’t hurt your friend, unless she asks him nicely?
Instead, I keep walking all the way to the boss’s underground garage. Reluctantly, she follows me.
The traffic is lighter now, so we make it back to the Bronx in 27 minutes.
/> “Thanks for the ride, Trainer. See you around, I guess.”
“Night, Dolores.”
I watch her short, ponchoed figure disappear into her apartment building, waving briefly before she disappears.
JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT, I cautiously step from the elevator. Nope, no one around. I really don’t want to bump into the boss fucking in his office, or anywhere else for that matter. There are some things the hired help don’t need to see.
I’d really like to head to bed, well, Rachel’s bed even though she’s not in it, but there’s something I need to do first. If the boss is taking Ms. Alvarez to the Hamptons tonight, he’ll be using the limo service that’s on-call when he remembers that mere mortals such as myself do occasionally need to sleep.
In the small staff office, Sandy ‘Bullshit’ McCoy, the standby driver, is already here, dozing over Soldier of Fortune. Yeah, that would send me to sleep, too.
“Hey, Bull, how you doing, buddy?”
My voice makes him jump and he drops his magazine.
“Aw, shit, Trainer! What did you wake me for, man? I was dreaming about Britney Spears.”
“You really need to get a life, Bull.”
“Says you!”
It’s a fair point.
“Has Anderson spoken to you?”
“Nah. Not a sound. So what’s the sit-rep? Why am I on standby all night?”
“Need to know, Bull.”
“You’re full of shit, Trainer.”
Another fair point.
“You’re getting well paid.”
In this business, we’ve all had mind-numbingly boring assignments. Waiting for the call that never comes has got to be one of the worst. I can sympathize with Bull, but he’s being well paid for sleeping on the job.
It would probably be okay to stand him down if Anderson hasn’t been in touch and Ms. Alvarez hasn’t headed for the hills so far, but that’s not my call. And the boss is paying.
“You need coffee or food or anything, Bull?”
“Naw, I helped myself while you were out. I’m good.” He sighs. “Say, what do you make of Anderson’s housekeeper, Rachel? I only met her that one time. Nice lady. She had a great rack. Or maybe you didn’t notice, huh, Trainer! Losing your touch?”
He’ll fucking see if I’m losing my touch if he speaks about Rachel like that again.
Even though I haven’t said a word, he can see that he’s put his size thirteen boots over the line and is tiptoeing on very fucking thin ice.
His eyes widen and he rears back.
“Whoa! Just saying, just saying, no need to lose it, Trainer!”
Wisely, Bull raises his hands in a gesture of peace. I hadn’t realized mine were balled into fists.
“Sorry, man, I didn’t know you had anything going with the lady. Just saying, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well try engaging your brain before you open your mouth next time, or you’ll be talking without your teeth.”
My natural good will to all men seems to have evaporated during this brief but irritating conversation with Bull. And now I’m kind of glad he’s pulled a boring all-nighter. Serves the fucker right.
Duty done and honor served, I make one final sweep of the building.
Oh crap! It’s not quite as quiet as it was. The unmistakable sounds of orgasmic womankind are emanating from the boss’s living room.
Even though I’ve never known him to have a woman here before, I’m not that fucking curious. Ms. Alvarez is full of surprises.
And the asswad architect who left out the soundproofing needs the toe of my boot up his ass.
I head to the staff quarters on the double.
With the door firmly closed behind me, I relax slightly. There’s a message on my phone from Rachel.
Hey handsome! How’s your weekend going? Don’t forget the chicken sub in the refrigerator and I left you a coffee éclair in the white cardboard box. And if you’re not Justin Trainer, what are you doing reading this message?
Rx
It makes me smile, but really I’m too tired to eat.
I undress quickly, throwing my clothes on the floor in a way that would make Rachel frown, then I collapse into bed. The pillow on her side smells so good that I hug it to me and hope I dream sweet dreams.
I’M MILDLY confused when I wake up. The light is brighter than expected. Fuck! It’s 8AM! I’ve slept right through. I must have forgotten to set the alarm. Shit oh shit oh shit! I immediately check my phone. I have to look twice to make sure there are no texts or missed calls from the boss. Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. That’s just plain weird. I can only conclude the boss had a very good night and didn’t feel the need for a morning run.
As for me, I slept soundly, but I miss waking up to Rachel’s sweet face. And frankly I miss wakeup sex. The bed is a lonely planet without her.
Despite my sound sleep, I feel surly. Get a grip, Trainer—you do have a life without Rachel. Yeah, I do, I’m just not sure if it’s one that’s worth having. I hate the weekends that she’s away. And I haven’t seen my daughter for nearly three weeks. She’ll be forgetting what her old man looks like. Lilly will be eight next month—and that is pretty damn grown up these days.
So I’m rattling around in the staff quarters like a bad smell, and the boss is screwing an intern. Who ever said the world was a fair place, you sad fucker?
I shower and shave and chow my way through the chicken sub that Rachel left for me. It’s something of a joke between us, the whole ‘sub’ thing. And seeing as Rachel has been good enough to leave it and isn’t here to say otherwise, I have the coffee éclair for breakfast, too.
I dress quickly and check my piece. I know, it’s a Sunday, the Lord’s day, but not being armed isn’t worth the risk.
Then, feeling properly dressed, I phone Sandy. I think I woke him up again because he’s in a really foul mood. Like a generous host, I tell him to help himself to the coffee machine before he drives the limo back to Newark.
I can hear someone moving in the main kitchen and seeing as the boss only knows his way to the refrigerator and microwave, I figure it must be Ms. Alvarez.
It shocks the hell out of me when I see her because all she’s wearing is a bath towel and a smile. And when I say ‘all’, believe me I know what I’m talking about due to 20:20 vision. I’m glad she hasn’t seen me, I’d feel like a perv.
I slink out of the room with my eyes closed. I only hit the wall once.
Officially, I’m still on duty, but with nothing to do I sit in my office, check out the CCTV while surfing the internet for cool clothes for girls. Thongs for eight year-olds?! You’ve got to be kidding me? What sort of sick, twisted fuckers are there out there? Okay, I work for a sick, twisted fucker but that’s really not what I meant. Shouldn’t an eight year-old look like an eight year-old and not a Vegas hooker? Maybe I’ll stick to books for Princess Lilly.
By 11:30AM, I’m bored witless and shitless and wondering if I should learn to play Candy Crush after all. The boss and Ms. Alvarez have disappeared back into his bedroom, and I’ve had to play Foo Fighters loud to block out the noise. Either he’s really good or she’s just easily pleased, but inside I’m begging them to keep it down.
And then a car I recognize drives into the private underground garage. Fuck-a-loolah! Anderson’s parents.
Oh, this is going to be interesting.
Feeling slightly nauseous at the coming confrontation, I wait by the elevator. It would almost be worth getting fired for ignoring the Anderson seniors right now. What am I supposed to say: Sorry, but the son you thought was gay, a virgin and celibate is actually having sex in his bedroom for the first time instead of at the Farm, you know, his vacation home, the one with the whips and chains. Oh, and it’s with a girl. Would you mind coming back later when she’s finished her orgasm?
Rachel’s missing all the fun.
The doors slide open and the Andersons exit the elevator. They’re holding hands and smiling at each other. I know they’ve been marr
ied nearly 40 years, and I wonder what that’s like—to still be in love with someone even though you’ve seen the best and worst of them over a lifetime of shared memories.
“Morning, Trainer,” says big daddy.
“Mr. Anderson, Mrs. Anderson.”
“How are you?” asks Mrs. A. “How’s your little girl?”
“She’s good, thank you, Mrs. Anderson.”
She smiles and they sweep past me while I stand like a fool with a broom up my ass.
“Is our son around?”
“Um, he’s in bed, ma’am. Would you like to leave a message?”
“In bed?” They stare at each other in consternation, then at me. “But it’s nearly lunchtime.”
Mrs. A. frowns and looks at her watch.
“Yes, ma’am. Would you like to leave a message and…”
“Madre de Dios! Is he sick?”
More than you know.
She starts heading for his bedroom. Oh crap! She’s about to walk in on a sight no mother should see. I’m pretty certain it’ll be NC-17.
“Mrs. Anderson, please!”
She pins me with a thousand yard stare that would terrify a platoon of Marines. I really wish Rachel was here—this is definitely a woman-to-woman moment.
“I want to see my son. Now.”
I am so fucked!
“Ma’am, sir, he has company.” And this is my last hope for keeping my job.
“What do you mean?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake! What do you think I fucking mean, woman?!
“He has someone with him.”
“Gloria, I think Trainer is trying to tell us that Devon has been entertaining overnight. In his bedroom.”
“Oh!”
Thank fuck! She finally gets it.
“I see. Thank you, Trainer. I think … I think I’ll go and sit down for a moment, if you don’t mind.”
No, I’m fucking ecstatic. By all that’s holy, will you just fucking leave!
But her shrill voice has alerted the boss to their arrival, and in double quick time he’s on his way to the main room. I head back to my office and leave them to it.
I can hear the murmur of voices in the room beyond, but not the words. I’m beyond surprised when Ms. Alvarez’s soft lilt joins them. To my certain knowledge, the boss has never introduced a woman to his parents before. I bet they’re delighted to meet Ms. Alvarez. Shocked, but delighted.
Jane Harvey-Berrick Saving The Billionaire Page 2