"What did you want to do?"
She stops mopping and looks at me. "Never mind. I shouldn't be bothering you. I normally don't talk to my clients like this. Usually they're not home when I come over so I never even meet them. I only know them by the photos they have sitting out."
"I don't mind if you talk to me. I don't get a lot of visitors so..." I trail off, wishing I hadn't said that. It makes me sound lonely. Pathetic. Things I probably am but don't want to admit.
She's staring at me and I have to know why.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." She shakes her thoughts away and gets back to work.
"Is it the wheelchair? Does it bother you?"
"No. Why would it bother me?"
"Sometimes it makes people uncomfortable."
"Then they need to get over it." She sprays the solution on the floor and continues mopping. "People should really mind their own business."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Ethan Baxter," she says, her eyes remaining on the mop as it moves back and forth over the floor.
"So you know about the accident?" I'm nervous just bringing it up. I don't even know why I did. I never mention it, even to my parents. We all like to pretend it never happened.
"Everyone knows. It's a small town, and you're kind of a big deal." I see her bite down on her lip, like she regrets saying that last part.
"You follow football?"
"No, but my brother does."
"Does he go to Laytham?"
"He didn't go to college. He joined the Army after high school."
"Has he been overseas?"
"Yeah." She stops mopping and glances at me. "But he's back now. We share an apartment." She returns to mopping. "You have brothers?"
"No, I'm an only child. So you never said what it was you'd rather be doing than cleaning houses."
"It doesn't matter." She scrubs a spot on the floor.
"I'm just curious. Were you in college?"
"Community college. In Cincinnati. I was getting my associate's degree in nursing."
"But you didn't finish."
"No, but I will eventually. Maybe in a few years."
"Why'd you quit?"
"For personal reasons. I'd rather not talk about it." She mops in front of the TV, positioning herself to the side so I can still see the screen.
"I'm not watching it," I tell her. "You can go in front of it."
She nods and keeps mopping. "You watch a lot of TV?"
"I guess I do. I don't really keep track. Why do you ask?"
"I just wondered. You said you didn't get many visitors so I just wondered if maybe..." She shakes her head. "Sorry, I shouldn't ask."
"Ask what? Go ahead and say it."
She stops mopping and turns to me. "I haven't seen you around town since the accident. I just wondered what you do all day. But it's none of my business, so just forget it." She continues mopping.
For some reason, I feel like telling her. Telling her how I hate being stuck here at home. How I hate feeling so alone. So isolated. So helpless, bound by the limitations of my broken leg.
But why the hell would I tell her that? I don't even know this girl.
My heart is pounding, my head urging me to keep quiet. Then just as the words are about to spill from my mouth, my phone rings.
I'm relieved. Thankful for the interruption.
Telling her would've been a mistake. I don't want her knowing how I feel. How I struggle to get through each day.
That's none of her business or anyone else's.
This is my problem to deal with. My own personal hell. My punishment for letting Jason drive that night.
Chapter Six
Becca
Ethan Baxter? I'm cleaning for Ethan Baxter? Why didn't my boss tell me this was Ethan's house? I thought I'd be cleaning for some old guy, like maybe a visiting professor here to teach summer classes. Not Ethan Baxter, star quarterback and local celebrity.
I used to see him around town before the accident but I've never been this up close and personal with him. When he opened the door, I'm sure my jaw dropped, and not just from the shock of seeing him, but also because he's so damn good-looking. That lean, athletic body. Dark hair, cut short and spiked on top. A face that's fitting of a quarterback; part pretty-boy, part sexy man. Why are so many quarterbacks hot? Is it a pre-req for the job? Or just a coincidence?
"Hey, Mom," he says into the phone. "No, I don't have any plans."
I'm trying not to listen but I can't really help it when we're in the same room. Maybe I should leave and give him some privacy.
Taking my mop with me, I go in the kitchen but it's connected to the living room so I can still hear his conversation.
"Yeah, she's here," he says. "It's fine. They're doing a good job."
He must be talking about the cleaning service. I bet his mom hired us.
"No!" Ethan's voice becomes frantic, almost panicked. "Don't put him on." I hear him sigh, and then, "Hey, Dad."
He must not get along with his dad, or maybe they've been fighting about something. Ethan clearly didn't want to talk to him.
"Stop calling my doctor," he says in a clipped tone. "I'm not a fucking child. You can't go behind my back like that." He's quiet and then, "I don't give a shit if you already made the appointment. I'm not flying out there. There's nothing that guy can do to make it heal any faster. It needs time, so just leave me alone." I hear a slamming noise and peek out and see Ethan's phone on the coffee table.
"Fuck," he mutters, shaking his head. He takes some deep breaths while I remain in the kitchen, afraid to move or make noise.
After a few minutes, I return to the living room to finish mopping the last little area I didn't get done. It's right in front of the black leather couch where Ethan is sitting.
"Hey." He rears back when he sees me. "I forgot you were here. Where were you?"
"In the kitchen."
"So you heard my whole conversation?" he asks in an angry tone. "You were listening in?"
"No, I was mopping the floors."
"But you heard me. You heard me talking."
"Yeah, but I wasn't listening. I was working."
"Don't you dare tell anyone about this." He leans forward, pointing his finger at me. "If you tell anyone anything about me, or about anything you see or hear while you're in this house, I'll get you fired."
What the hell? He's threatening me?
Before that call, he seemed nice. But now he's back to being a jerk, like he was when I got here.
I stare at him. "Do you want me to leave?"
He glances away. "No. Just hurry up and finish." He takes the remote control and turns up the volume on the TV.
What an ass. Just because he's mad at his dad doesn't make it okay for him to take it out on me. I didn't do anything wrong. And I wasn't purposely trying to listen in to his phone call.
Wanting to get away from him, I go down the hall and clean both the master and the guest room, then the bathrooms. I end with the kitchen, cleaning the floors and counters and filling the dishwasher with all the dirty dishes I found scattered around the house. Lastly, I clean the fridge and notice there's almost nothing in it. Just some cans of pop and a Chinese take out container. Doesn't he ever buy groceries?
After I wipe down the fridge I check the cupboards, which hold dishes but no food, except for a jar of peanut butter and a box of protein bars.
Returning to the living room, I find Ethan asleep on the couch, his broken leg resting on the coffee table.
"I'm done," I say, wondering if he's really asleep or just has his eyes closed. He doesn't respond so I loudly clear my throat. He startles and his eyes open.
When he notices me in front of him, he sits up. "What do you need?"
"I'm done. I just wanted to tell you I'm leaving."
"Fine. Go ahead." He's still acting rude, not like the friendly Ethan I met earlier.
"Do you, um, need anything?"
"Like what?"
I shrug. "Maybe some food? I could run to the store quick. I have to go there anyway to get my own groceries."
He hesitates, and I assume he's going to agree to my offer since his kitchen is empty, but then he says, "No. I don't need anything."
"But you don't have any food in the fridge. Or in the cupboards."
"Why were you looking in my cupboards?" he yells, sitting up straighter on the couch. "I hired you to clean, not spy on me."
Fighting off the urge to tell him off, I quickly gather my supplies and hurry out the door. His place was such a mess it took me an hour longer to clean it than I thought it would and now I don't have time to go home and shower before going to The Chicken Shack.
When I get there, I change uniforms and meet up with Tina in the break room.
"What's wrong?" she asks, sensing my bad mood.
"My last job took forever and I didn't have time to go home and shower." I walk over to the mirror and check my hair. It's a mess so I yank it from the elastic band, smooth it out, and redo my ponytail. "And the guy I had to work for was a jerk. Well, he was nice for part of the time, but when I first got there and when I left, he was an ass."
"Is this someone new?"
"Yeah. It was um..." Can I tell her? He said not to tell anyone anything about him but he didn't say I couldn't mention I was at his house.
"Who was it?" Tina stands beside me at the mirror. "Someone I know?"
"It was Ethan."
"Ethan Baxter? The football player?"
I turn away from the mirror and face Tina. "Yeah, but he doesn't want me talking about him so I can't really tell you anything."
"You just cleaned Ethan Baxter's house," she confirms.
"Yes, but it's not his house. He just rents it."
"And he was there?" Her voice rises in excitement. "You actually talked to him?"
I laugh. "You act like he's a movie star. He's just a guy who plays football."
"Before the accident, he was expected to be a first round pick for the draft next year. That pretty much makes him a celebrity."
"Then it's gone to his head because he was being a jerk. I even offered to get him some groceries and instead of being nice about it, he yelled at me for offering." I check the clock. "C'mon. We have to go."
We leave the break room and walk through the kitchen.
Tina holds my arm, stopping me. "So what'd he look like?"
"Like a quarterback. Muscular. Athletic."
"Hot." She smiles. "I used to see him around town and damn, that boy could be a model."
I shrug. "I guess."
I'm trying to downplay it, not wanting her to think I like him, because I don't. Any guy who's rude to his cleaning staff is not a good guy. We work really hard and don't get paid much and Ethan didn't even give me a tip.
"Are you going over there again?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Lois is out for weeks, maybe longer."
"If he's giving you a hard time, then tell your boss to send someone else." She grins. "Although personally, I'd keep working for him just so I could look at him. Did he have his shirt off? I bet his abs are ripped."
I roll my eyes. "He had a shirt on. And as for sending in a replacement, they don't allow it unless the customer specifically requests a change. And Ethan insists on having the same person there every week. You should've heard how mad he was when he opened the door and it was me instead of Lois."
Max's voice bellows behind us. "My pretty, pretty girls are back. Working at The Chicken Shack."
Tina turns around and gives him a quick hug. "Hey, Max. Becca and I gotta run. The tables are filling up out there."
"Run along my chickadees," Max sings as we go.
The dining room is busy for a Thursday night. But racing around waiting tables isn't enough to keep my mind off Ethan. I don't understand him. First he's mean, then nice, then mean again. And what does he do there all day? Just watch TV? That's gotta get boring.
I keep seeing his smile in my head. He only smiled three times but he should do it more often because he has a damn sexy smile. Slightly crooked and loaded with confidence. Or maybe it was arrogance and I read it as confidence.
I'm going with arrogance. Like Tina said, Ethan's a local celebrity so it's not surprising he's arrogant.
Hours later, the last few customers leave and Tina locks the door. "Closed! I get to go see my baby girl."
"Isn't she asleep?"
"Yeah, but she always wakes up when I get there."
Tina shares babysitting duties with one of her hairdresser friends. They both have toddlers so watch each other's kid on their days off.
"Got any plans this weekend?" she asks as she helps me flip chairs onto the tables.
"It's only Thursday. I don't plan that far ahead."
"It's a holiday weekend. I thought you and Mike might be doing something."
"That's right. It's Fourth of July. I totally forgot."
"You guys could come with us to see the fireworks."
"I don't think that's a good idea. I read this article that said guys who've been to war zones can't handle the sound of fireworks going off."
"You're right. I didn't even think of that. Yeah, you guys should do something else. Maybe have a cookout." She smiles. "Invite Ethan over."
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, he'd love that. I'm pretty sure he hates me."
"You didn't do anything."
"I think my mere presence annoyed him."
"He'd probably like Mike. The two of them could talk sports all night."
"I get the feeling Ethan wants to be left alone."
"I still can't believe you're cleaning his house."
I can't either. And now I have to go back there, every week, for probably the rest of the summer. That should be interesting.
***
Later that night when I get home, I find Mike at the kitchen table with his laptop.
"Whatcha working on?" I sit beside him.
"Ideas for this weekend's podcasts."
"You're doing more than one?" I ask, because he usually only does one on the weekend.
"This can be a tough time of year for people with PTSD. The sound of the fireworks? It's too much."
"Are you one of them?" I ask cautiously. "Do you have PTSD?" Mike's never talked about it and I've never pushed him to.
"Not to the extent some people do." He looks at me and sees the concern in my face. "Relax. I've learned ways to cope with it. You don't have to worry."
"Do you want to do something this weekend? Tina invited us to see fireworks but I didn't think you'd want to."
"You can go. I need to stay here and work on the podcasts." He turns back to his laptop. "So how was work?"
"The Chicken Shack was busier than normal."
"Any good stories to share?"
"Not really. Some ladies came in dressed like cats. Apparently there was some cat lover's event at one of the hotels in town. Other than that, it was pretty uneventful."
"How about your cleaning job? Anything interesting happen?"
"I started working at a new house. Guess who it belongs to."
"I don't know."
"Come on. Take a guess."
He looks at me. "Your ex-boyfriend?"
"Ex-boyfriend? You mean Chris? He lives in Cincinnati."
"No. That other guy. The one you met at the car wash."
"Nathan?" I laugh. "He wasn't my boyfriend. We went out twice."
I met Nathan while waiting in line to wash the van. Nathan was in the car behind me. The line was so long that Nathan got out of his car and came up to my window and struck up a conversation. He wasn't really my type but he was nice so I agreed to go out with him. But after two dates, we knew it wasn't going anywhere.
"It wasn't Nathan. Try again."
"I give up. Just tell me."
"Ethan Baxter." I sit back and wait for his reaction.
"The quarterback?" Mike crosses his arms over his chest.
"Yeah. He rents a house on the oth
er side of town. And I'm his new maid."
He smiles. "So you're working for a celebrity."
"I guess, but with his injury, isn't his football career over?"
"I think that's still up in the air. Nobody really knows because the coach won't say anything and neither will Ethan. His dad came out with a statement about a month ago saying Ethan will definitely play again, but he could've just been saying that. His dad's a sports agent. Those guys always lie."
"Ethan's in a wheelchair so I doubt he'll be able to play this season."
"He's still using a wheelchair?"
"Yeah, but don't tell anyone I told you that. Ethan asked me to keep his personal life private. Not that I'd go around spreading gossip about him."
"So what's he like?"
"At first he was rude. He was mad that I showed up instead of Lois. She's one of the other cleaning ladies. She had to go to Texas to take care of her mom, which is why I got sent over there."
"And then what happened?"
"I started to leave but he asked me to stay, saying the place needed to be cleaned."
"And did he talk to you while you cleaned?"
"A little. That's when he was being nice. Then he got a phone call from his dad, and when he hung up, he was back to being rude. I can't figure him out."
"He must've had a fight with his dad."
"He didn't have to take it out on me."
Mike raises his brows. "And when you're mad at mom, you don't take your anger out on me?"
I huff. "No. First of all, I never talk to mom, and second, I hardly ever get mad at you."
"You can be mad at her without talking to her. And yes, you do take it out on me." He grins. "But I can handle it. If I can handle war, I can handle you."
I roll my eyes. "Anyway, I think next time I'll just ignore him. I'm there to clean, not to talk."
"He could probably use someone to talk to if he's stuck in that house all day. Does he go out much?"
"I don't know. He can't drive and his friends are probably home on summer break so I'm guessing he spends most of his time in that house."
"Sounds lonely."
"Yeah. I guess it would be."
Mike's focus returns to his laptop while I think about what he said. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on Ethan. It makes sense that he's cranky. He has no one to talk to. He doesn't go out. He doesn't get along with his dad. And his football career might be over.
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