by S. E. Law
Olly shuffles her tennis shoe against the pavement.
“I wish we didn’t have to be here,” she says quietly.
I nod.
“Me, too. It sucks, but we have to do what we have to do to survive.”
We meet up with the other maids, and one of them, Heather, knocks on the back door. Sure enough, it swings open and a stuffy, older man looks at us. He has a long, pinched nose, and a pained expression. He doesn’t smile.
“I am Edwards,” he announces, looking with distaste at us. “You must be the cleaning staff we booked. Come in.”
Our manager, Rebecca, leads the way after Edwards. We struggle to get through the door with our buckets and mops, but it’s doable. We’re all seasoned professionals, and we’re used to juggling a million things at once.
Edwards hands Rebecca a stack of papers and then disappears down a hallway to the right. I guess we’re on our own. Rebecca looks at the papers, her brow crinkling. She’s a middle-aged woman with a tight brown perm and a permanently sour expression.
“Ladies, this house is so big that we have maps for you to use. Don’t get lost,” she warns, passing them around. “Olly, you’ll be in the den and the dining room.”
Olly nods, checks the map, and heads to her assignment while giving me a wave. I wave back and then Rebecca turns to me.
“Kaylee, you’ll be in the upstairs bathroom and the office.”
Damn. I was hoping to be closer to Olly, but we’re on totally different floors. It’s fine. We’ll see each other later.
Rebecca hands out the rest of the assignments, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else will be working close to me. My shoulders slumping, I trudge up the stairs to the bathroom. I hate cleaning bathrooms because it’s gross to think about what goes on in them sometimes. But at least I’m getting paid a fair wage. I enter the bathroom and set my mop and bucket down. It appears the bathroom hasn’t been cleaned in a while, judging from the soap scum and light coat of grime. It’s not the worst I’ve seen, but it’s not great, either.
Grimly, I snap on a pair of rubber gloves and immediately get to work pouring a cleaning solution into the toilet to soak and then scrubbing the shower until it’s bright white.
Cleaning is mindless work. My thoughts wander as I run my sponge over a particularly difficult tile. I really should start on that English paper Olly was talking about. I have other homework I need to do, but between my cleaning jobs and going to class, I don’t have a lot of time to get schoolwork done.
That’s probably why my grades are so low.
I continue to scrub and soon, I’m a mess. The work is vigorous and I’m sweating like a pig. I sit back on my knees for a moment to take a deep breath. My hair is sticking to my forehead, and I push the clammy strands away from my face as best I can. I’m only eighteen. I should be hanging out with friends and gossiping about boys, not cleaning a stranger’s bathroom.
This is the life I lead, though, and I just hope I can escape someday.
2
Kaylee
My knees are killing me.
You’d think after doing this job for two years, I’d be used to kneeling on the floor, but I’m not. If anything, it hurts more now than it did when I started at sixteen. A couple more years of this, and I might need knee replacements.
Not that I can afford them. Health insurance isn’t exactly a priority in my household. We’re still focused on putting a roof over our heads and food on the table.
I lean back and blow my hair out of my face. The office is cool, but I’m still sweating, which is what happens when you have to scrub hard on the hardwood floor.
When was the last time the homeowner had his place cleaned? This floor is awful. I’ve been going over the same spot for a while, and it just doesn’t want to get clean.
I adjust myself so that I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor. My manager, Rebecca, allows us to take breaks periodically. She’s not the worst boss in the world, I don’t think. At least, that’s what my coworkers tell me. Rebecca is the only boss I’ve had, so I wouldn’t know.
I look around the office. It’s three times the size of my entire trailer. I could easily live in this room alone.
Sometimes I think about that. Houses like this, with a ridiculous number of rooms, would be so easy to occupy without the owners even knowing. I guarantee there are rooms in this house the Millbrook family has never seen. All I have to do is find one of them and make it my own. They would never even know that I’m here.
I chuckle to myself. It’s a ridiculous thought. Almost as ridiculous as the idea of me going to college one day.
This office isn’t one of the unused rooms in the house, though. Despite the dust on the floor, it’s clearly occupied. There are papers scattered across the huge, wooden desk. I wonder if I’m supposed to tidy them up or clean around them? I’ll have to leave the desk for last and check in with Rebecca because often, clients don’t like it when we shuffle their papers around without permission.
The large window to the left of the desk has a gorgeous view of the gardens out back. It’s a wonder anyone gets work done here with a view like that because I’d be distracted all day. In fact, I’ve kept my back to the window to keep myself from daydreaming. It’s just a little trick I have to keep myself on task so that I can get out of here sooner rather than later.
But the weirdest thing about the office is the armor. The guy must collect it because I’ve seen suits of this stuff all over the house. There are four suits of armor stationed in the corners of the office, and all of them are in attack positions. One holds a sword, another a scimitar, the one in the far corner has a mace, and the last one has a morning star gripped in its fist, if I’m not mistaken. They’re all hugely scary, and they look expensive.
Most rich people have their quirks. I’d much rather be staring at armor than creepy porcelain dolls, and believe me, I’ve seen a lot of creepy porcelain dolls in my life. It seems to be a hobby of the wealthy. Rich people love their creepy dolls, apparently.
Lowering myself back to my hands and knees, I start scrubbing again. Despite the slow-going in the office, I’m way ahead of schedule. The bathroom didn’t take me nearly as long as I expected it would, and I think it’s because of the industrial-strength bleach we have on hand.
Then again, I’m an expert at cleaning bathrooms. That’s why Rebecca always assigns them to me. When you grow up with a mom like mine, who is likely to come home drunk and throw up all over the bathroom, you learn early on how to clean the tile properly. It’s a skill I’m proud of.
I press a little harder with my sponge. Finally, the difficult spot comes out. I think it was newspaper that had gotten wet and adhered itself to the floor. Rich people are terrible about taking care of hardwood, and it’s a damn shame. I’d give anything for a floor like this. The trailer I live in has peel-and-stick tiles, and most are barely holding on.
I sit back up and sigh, pushing my hair out of my face. The hair is sticking to my skin, and of course, I feel clammy. But with so many girls working today, I might get to go home early after I finish the office. There are a lot of rooms in the house, but we weren’t hired to clean all of them. At least, not today. I think the owner is testing us. He’s probably going to do an inspection after we leave, and then decide whether to invite Sparkle Maids back.
It would be nice to go home early, even if my entire life revolves around this job. I admit, I’m not the best student, but much of the reason I don’t always do my homework is that I don’t have time. Olly doesn’t work as many hours as I do at Sparkle Maids. She would if she didn’t have to babysit her brother after school every day because her family needs the money too. But they need her as a babysitter more. Unfortunately, I don’t have a cute little brother as an excuse.
I stand up and stretch. My back cracks as I reach for the ceiling. Some dirty water spills from the sponge in my hand and lands on my head. Eeew, gross. Typical.
I survey the area I’ve just cleaned. It now matches the rest of the
floor, which I’ve already scrubbed. There’s only one area left, and grabbing my bucket, I scurry over to the last remaining part of the floor. I have to crawl behind a suit of armor to reach this section, and the heavy metal looming over me makes me uneasy. It’s a precarious place to be. It looks like it could come crashing down on my head, and I don’t even want to think about how much it would cost to replace.
I shudder, careful not to even jostle it. I’ve cleaned around expensive items before, and it’ll be fine. Sighing again, I dip my sponge in the bucket of water and start to wring it out when suddenly, the door slams open.
I go as still as a mouse. Who’s there? But the intruders can’t see me from where they stand by the entryway, and I hear a woman’s purring voice.
“Come on, Elliot. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
A woman bats her eyelashes at a man in the room. She’s skinny and blonde, and her makeup is caked on in far too many layers. It’s the kind of makeup my mother wears when she’s going out, and that’s saying something. One more layer, and these women will be drag queens.
The woman puts her hand on the man’s chest, and I see long, perfectly-manicured red claws. But the man, who has his back to me, takes a step back. I cringe. The floor is still wet, and if he falls, it’ll mean a lawsuit. Technically, he’d have to sue the owner of the house, but it would still be considered my fault. I’d be fired.
“I think you should go, Brina.”
The woman, who must be Brina, pouts.
“You don’t mean that, Elliot. No need to be extra cautious. We’re the only ones here.”
This is where I should announce my presence. I’m about to open my mouth and put a stop to this scene when Elliot cuts me off.
“Brina, I’m going to say it again. It’s time for you to leave.”
Brina pouts, and clearly, this woman is used to getting her way. She is not taking no for an answer, especially not when there’s a man like Elliot around. Although I can’t see his face, I can tell from his broad back and deep black hair that he’s likely very handsome.
But his looks have nothing to do with me. What I need is for this couple, or whoever they are, to leave before they realize I’m here. It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong, but I don’t want to get caught. They might accuse me of eavesdropping or being a voyeur, and that’s not me. I’m trying to earn a paycheck, that’s all, and Sparkle Maid is my lifeline. I can’t afford to lose this job because of a ridiculous situation.
Plus, if they don’t leave soon, I won’t be able to finish cleaning in time to cut out early, and I really want to get home before the sun goes down today.
But who are these people? I turn to sneak a peek at them. Brina appears to be wearing business clothes, but really sexy ones. She has a blouse with a bow that ties around her neck, and her blonde hair is swept into an Ivana Trump-style chignon. Elliot, whose face I still can’t see, is wearing a dark suit.
It’s possible they work at Millbrook Manor. I don’t know, and it really doesn’t matter because even if they do work in the house, why are they here? Rooms being cleaned are usually off-limits. They’re probably tracking dirt all over my recently scrubbed floors, and I’ll be pissed if I have to clean them all over again.
I squint at the area around their feet. It looks okay so far. Okay great. I take a deep breath, ready to announce myself, but then the blonde woman springs into action. She literally puts a hand on his chest and pushes him until he’s backed up against the desk. Oh shit, they’re so close to me now! I’m still crouched behind this dang suit of armor, but I can see them clearly. And god help me, but they still think they’re alone. Who knows what shenanigans are going to happen next?
I glance longingly at the door. How do I make my escape?
Then, Brina puts her long claws on Elliot’s broad chest, and leans in, her eyes closed and lips pursed. A look of disgust flits across his face, which she doesn’t see, and then he averts his head. The guy isn’t going for it.
“Brina, I’m serious. Don’t make me call Edwards.”
Please, please, please call Edwards. Save me from this situation. Help me escape. I bet they’re not even supposed to be in here. Offices are usually off-limits to the general staff, and these people likely aren’t supposed to be here either.
Then, Elliot turns around, and I hold my breath. Oh shit, I hope he doesn’t see me. I stay perfectly still, barely breathing, but then the air freezes in my lungs when I catch a glimpse of his face. This guy isn’t just handsome; he’s downright gorgeous.
Deep blue eyes wince a bit as he dodges Brina’s kiss again. He’s got black hair swept off a strong brow; a square-cut jaw; and bronzed skin that suggests summer in St. Barth’s. I’d love to get a piece of him.
But of course, this man is way out of my league. Handsome men wearing suits don’t exactly date the maid scrubbing the floor. He cringes slightly again at Brina’s proximity and then makes his escape by side-stepping her to stand by a window. Brina is disappointed, but not dissuaded, and she follows him. This girl is not giving up. I would admire her persistence if I wasn’t so annoyed with this whole situation right now.
“Elliot, you don’t have to be afraid. This can stay between us. Why are you resisting?”
The look on his face is frozenly polite.
“Because I’m not interested, Brina. What don’t you understand about that?”
Brina wraps her arms around Elliot’s waist from behind. If I hadn’t been a witness to his objections, I would think this was a nice photo opportunity. Except that it’s not. The woman continues with her endless chase, and it actually starts getting pretty pathetic, to be honest. Two minutes of Brina trying to coax Elliot into kissing her turns into ten. The guy has said no in every single possible way, but this woman just doesn’t get it. I’m not sure what her end game is. Does she want sex? Or compliments? Or attention? It’s really unclear right now.
What is clear, at least from my point of view, is that nothing is going to happen. Elliot couldn’t be less interested, and that frozen smile on his face hasn’t melted yet.
For some reason, that thought brings a smile to my face. I don’t know the man at all, and I have no stake in the matter. However, for some reason, I don’t want them to be together. He seems too classy for this blonde broad. Then again, this whole situation is just weird. I glance at the door. Should I make a run for it? I can move fast. I could do it without them noticing, I think.
Then, my shoulders slump. I could get myself out of here, but what about my cleaning supplies? There’s a bucket of filthy water, as well as a mop, rags, and assorted cleaning fluids. I can’t just leave that here unattended.
Elliot takes Brina’s hands and puts them down firmly by her side. I can’t see his expression, but based on Brina’s pout, she’s starting to get the message. It’s about time.
“Brina, I need you to leave now. If you don’t, I will call Edwards, and if you don’t listen to him, I’ll call the police.”
Brina frowns, but then she giggles.
“Okay, boss,” she replies, giving him a mock salute. “You got it,” she says while sniffing a bit and then flouncing out of the office. Despite the rejection, there’s a gleam in her blue eyes. I know this woman hasn’t given up yet. She’s got her eyes on the prize, and she’s not going to let go until she’s got her claws into him.
Meanwhile, the man, Elliot, sighs, watching her go. His broad shoulders slump, and if I could see his face, I would probably see relief mixed with annoyance.
I nearly laugh at how the whole scene played out. How bizarre! Nothing like that has ever happened on a job before. Sure, there have been awkward moments when I’ve tiptoed by bedrooms where people were clearly having sex, but nothing like this. I just witnessed a scene from a third-rate soap opera, and it was pretty amusing.
But they can’t know that I saw, because obviously, it was meant to be private. Now, I still have the problem of leaving before Elliot realizes I’m here.
Bingo! H
e’s walking toward the door now. Finally, they’ll both be gone, and I’ll be able to finish cleaning. I’m still ahead of schedule. If he leaves now, I’ll still be able to leave early, provided Rebecca has no more assignments to dole out.
But instead of walking out the door, Elliot pulls it shut.
My heart pounds.
Oh shit. What do I do now?
I cower back against the wall. I’m not doing anything wrong, technically. I have permission to be here, after all.
But Elliot doesn’t come to stand by the suit of armor where I’m hidden. Instead, he walks purposefully to the desk and sits down like he belongs there. Like this is his place.
Realization hits me suddenly. That’s why he’s so well dressed. It’s because Elliot is the boss. This is his office. This is his house. Heck, his last name is probably Millbrook.
Shit! I should have left when I had the chance. The ultimate boss is right here, and I just witnessed an embarrassing scene between him and his would-be girlfriend. If he finds out, I’ll definitely be toast.
I’m starting to panic. I can’t get fired. I make good money at the maid service, and there aren’t a lot of jobs available in Millbrook. If I lose this position, I might not find a new one, and then my mom and I will really be screwed.
The door isn’t that far away. I can escape now if I do it quietly. The fact that it’s closed poses an issue, though. Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
I swing my legs around so that I can start my crawl to the door. Suddenly, my foot hits something, it tips over, and the floor is suddenly covered with mucky water. I forgot my bucket was next to me.
Shit!
Elliot looks over, startled. Our eyes meet, and the connection is electric. I’m literally trapped in place by his stare.
This is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, and I’m on my hands and knees in front of him, wearing a ridiculous maid’s outfit with my breasts practically spilling out of the neckline. Plus, I just spilled a bucket of dirty water all over his expensive floor.