Chapter 5: Chapter 5

"Well?" He asks and I realise I haven't given an answer to his first question.

'How bad do you want this job?'

How bad do I want it?

More than he knows that's for sure, but I can't bring myself to form a single sentence.

Here I was in the presence of this man whom I'd spent less than an hour with and yet I couldn't stand him then.

And now I was applying for a full time job to be living with him, cooking and cleaning.

I can't do this.

I can't do this.

I'm not going to spend months and maybe years with a man that would probably make me regret my existence.

I want to run out of here, I have to. I take a deep breath, ready to tell him that I'm no longer interested, but when I look back up at him, he just had a brow raised impatiently at me and I realise one thing.

He doesn't know.

He doesn't know I'm the stripper.

And for the moment, to him I'm just some random middle-aged lady applying.

I don't have to be scared, or frightened or nervous or naive.

Even I am, if I don't show it, he'll never see me as a person he can take advantage of.

This is a whole new opportunity, and I can be stubborn, confident and defiant.

I clear my throat and say,

"I just don't want it, I need this job." I say, chin high and he maintains his cold stare before he reaches to the stack of papers on the table and pulls out one, then pulls a pen from his suit jacket and stares at me.

"And your name is?"

"Marcy." I say and his gaze just gets colder if possible.

Uh-oh.

"Sorry. Marcella Anne Jensen." I say and he scribbles while I walk forward, tired of standing. The minute I drop on a soft cushion chair, his cold voice stops me.

"I didn't say you should sit." He says and I get up immediately like a reflex action.

"Sorry." I mutter and inwardly curse myself.

So much for being stubborn and confident.

"Sit." He says when he is done scribbling and I cautiously sit back on the chair.

"So, Anne--"

"Actually, I go by Marcy--"

"I'll call you what I want if you're going to work for me." He says, shutting me up immediately and I nod as I drop my gaze to the plush scarlet rug.

"So, Anne. Do you have any past experiences on housekeeping?"

"Yes, I do. I used to watch over the house and be responsible for everything when my dad was sick. I'm the only girl and I've been looking after my brother for quite some time, so I can--"

"I asked about housekeeping, not a family history. Do you have past experiences?" He repeats in a low cold voice and I just nod.

"Respond." He demands.

"Yes." I say and he scribbles down more stuff.

"How do you take care of certain things?" He asks and I frown.

Certain things?

Is that a trick question?

I clear my throat then say the first reasonable thing that comes to mind.

"Depends on the quality of these certain things." I say and frown at the memory accompanying my answer.

How dad would take extra care in doing the laundry of mother's clothes that she left behind.

"Good, good." He mutters, scribbling. Then he gets up and walks out of the room. Frowning, I watch as he returns with a jug of cream and spills it all over the scarlet rug without getting a drop on himself.

My jaw drops in shock and I look up at him.

"Take care of it. Supplies are in the room under the staircase." He says and I know this is part of this whole interview thing. So i get up in a hurried move, carefully drag the rug from under the table and dash for the supplies, knowing I have a few moments before the smell on the rug becomes permanent.

The sink has hot and cold water levers and I pull the one of cold water and put the stained part of the rug under it while I open the laudry detergent I'd gotten from the supplies closet.

Judging from the size of cream, I use two cap fulls on the rug and scrub with a small towel, not brush, so I don't pull out the fur on it.

The stain washes of and I close the tap. When I turn, he is standing there, scribbling.

"Impressive work, Anne. Cold water and not hot, people usually mix it up." He says and I cringe at hearing my middle name.

"Back to the living room." He says and leaves and follow suit, feeling more like I'm in a challenge game than an interview.

"Do you have any cooking experiences?" He asks once we've sat down.

"Yes. I learned from a nanny we once had that went to culinary school." I say and he nods, scribbling.

Then he drops the paper he has been scribbling on and gets up, walking straight to the glass wall outlooking the lawn.

"I'm not a man of many words, Anne. To work for me, you'll have to think fast, act faster. Most importantly, you'll have to listen, pay attention. Don't argue and just respect my absolute privacy. You will not question, ponder, wonder, or curiously sniff about my business. You're work is limited to cleaning, cooking and shutting the hell up. You're movements are limited to whatever needs tending to apart from my room. You will enter and leave when I say so. Clear?" He asks and turns around.

It's hard to keep up with him and I have to ask to be sure where he is headed with all these instructions.

"Just one question. Does that mean I have the job?" I ask and he turns around to look at me with that cold gaze and I can never recover from the breif chill i alwys get when I remember how this same person had me half naked and crying.

"Do you have any concerns with me being your boss?" He asks.

Yes. A lot.

"No." I say and he nods.

"Im done eating take outs and believe me, I can tell if that's what you serve me. You're responsible for my laundry and everyday meal, I'll give you 2,000 dollars a week for grocery shopping. You'll have your own bedroom and every necessary thing you need is in it. If you have any concerns while I'm not around, leave it on a sticky note on the refrigerator instead, don't call me. You're entitled to your weekends and you can chose to stay or not during that time, but every other day you belong here. The KIA is available at your disposal for your movements, errands and whatnot. You'll have a payment of 5,000 dollars a week, but I'm giving you 2,000 now as an opening payment and sepàrate from your weekly pay. Here are your keys." He says and tosses a bunch of keys at me.

"The engraved ones are the house and gate keys. The last one is your car key. Any concerns?" He asks and I'm sure I'm out of words.

5,000 a week?

2,000 for groceries?

A car?

Then my one and only concern hits me.

"Just one." I say almost in a whimper and he sighs impatiently as he stares at his watch.

"What? Make it quick, I have a meeting."

"Um, my father stays at a nursing home and I need time to visit him during the weekdays,...please." I say and he just stares at me coldly.

"What?" He says, sounding irritated.

"My dad--"

"I heard you the first time. I already told you you're entitled to your weekends. That's the only free time you're getting."

"Please. During the weekends I'll have so much to handle. I have to check on my brother and god-daughter, and pay some bills and my brother and I already have Wednesday set as our--"

"Fine. Fine. Just spare me the pitiful bullshit. Wednesdays, done. You're free from noon till 6 in the evening. Don't keep me waiting on dinner." He says and I nod, getting up.

"Thank you, so much--"

"Just sign here." He says and shoves a staçk of papers at me, with a vacant line on the top paper. I sign willfully and he nods, then hands me a cheque of 2,000.

"You should be settled in when I get back. My name is Kyle Robinson but you will refer to me as Mr. Robinson. Come, I'll show you how the alarm system works and your car." He says already heading out and I pick up my bag and follow him.

Somehow, this had gone better than I'd hoped, that is except his arrogance, and the fact I soiled my dress wet while trying to get rid of that cream stain.

If I could maintain by my business and just do all that is required, and avoid him at all costs....I'll be fine. Atleast I could spend weekends with Ty and Maya.

The pay was more than good, better than enough and that alone is encouraging to just play my part well.

Mr. Robinson shows me the alarm system and my car before he leaves.

I stand there, staring at the beautiful, black car and pondering the first person to tell the news.

Ty? Maya?

With excitement bubbling in me, I lock up and leave with the car, driving it as carefully as I can as I head for the apartment.

****

"Ty?" I say the minute I walk into the apartment. He is on a step ladder, fixing a light bulb and he turns to me.

"Hey. What's up?" He asks as he descends the ladder and I smile at him.

"I got the job." I say, beaming but Tyler just frowns.

"What job?" He asks and then I realise I hadn't even told him the nature of the job. All I said was that it's decent.

And now, is the moment of truth.

"Um, Maya told me about an available job yesterday. To work as a maid for--"

"A MAID?!" he exclaims.

"Now calm down Ty, it's reasonable for a live-in job I swear."

"A live-in maid? No fucking way!"

"Ty--"

"That's just another enslaving job, Marcy! Do you derive joy in doing this?"

"Just listen!" I yell and he clams shut. I hate losing my temper with him so I draw in a deep, calming breath and try again.

"Its not as bad as it sounds I promise. Yes, I'll be working as a live-in maid but the pay, Ty, it's amazing. We could settle all our bills and still have more than enough money left. Plus my weekends are free so I can spend them with you."

He folds his hands stubbornly,

"What about visiting dad?" He asks.

"I already spoke to my boss about it and on Wednesdays, I'm free from noon till 6. It's all beneficial Ty, I get a car and he also gave me an opening cheque of 2,000 dollars."

I say and show them to Tyler. He gapes at it in shock.

"Two thousand?"

"Mmm--hmm. And I also get a weekly pay of five thousand."

"You're kidding." He says.

"Honestly. So here, I want you to use this cheque to settle the rent and the rest of the bills." I say and hand him the cheque, already heading towards my room.

"Hey, whoa! What's the hurry?" Ty asks, following me and I turn to him.

"I have to move into his house today. I've already started working for him so I can't stay here, he wants me there before he returns and I have no idea when that'll be." I say and I watch Tyler frown.

I know this must all be hard for him to take in all at once, hell, it's hard for me too. The new job, my leaving, the change in sleeping arrangements. How he wouldn't sleep until I'd fallen asleep first.

"Marcy,..." Ty begins with a worried look,

"I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with this. I mean it sounds like a good deal but...What if he treats you badly? What if he hits and abuses you? You're going to be living with a complete stranger without me there to watch over you or know how you're doing. It's always been me and you against the world...."

"It still is. I promise you, nothing has changed and nothing will. And if he treats me badly, you know you'll be the first person I'll run to, always. It's not the best job in the world but think of dad, his medication and accomodation. Then there's your college funds as well. I have to do this for us, for the promise I made to take care of you and I'm sorry it has gotten to this extent. But look at it this way, soon you'll be done with college, have a job and we can leave all this behind us. Okay?"

Tyler looks a bit relaxed but I'm not sure I had entirely bought it. Before I can persuade him further, he pulls me into a hug and holds me so close, I can hear his heart beat. I know I'm going to miss these hugs that he always gives me after a rough day so I hug him back and hold on as long as I can.

When the hug is over, he looks at me.

"You call me the minute you get there. In fact, forget it. I'll drive you there. I have to see everything you're getting involved with." He says and I don't bother arguing with him because I was subconsciously hoping he would come with me.

Packing doesn't take long due to my few possessions. A few pictures, books, shoes and clothes, and I'm set to leave. Besides, it's not like I'm there forever, I'll be here with Ty on weekends.

Ty keeps commenting on every fault as we drive there and I roll my eyes every time he makes an exaggerated, unnecessary point.

With Ty driving, the place doesn't seem so far and I press the button on the remote key to the gate. The huge metal wheezes open gracefully.

"Who the fuck are you working for? Bill Gates?" He asks as he climbs out of the car, his eyes planted on the house.

"His name is Kyle Robinson, but I call him Mr. Robinson." I say as Ty opens the trunk and we begin offloading.

"Robinson? Never heard of him but he sure knows his work."

Ty wanders around a bit after dropping the boxes in my room. The room was huge, like a combination of both our rooms in our apartment. It has a dresser, a wardrobe, mirrors, a cushion chair, a huge lilac rug, a wide bed and a complete bathroom with a shower stall and a tub.

"I guess it's not so bad, you're sure you're okay here Marcy?" He asks and I nod.

"I'm going to miss writing you wake up letters." He says and I laugh.

"I'll miss reading them." I say and he hugs me again, then plants a kiss on my forehead.

"I love you, Marcy."

"To the moon and back." I say to him with a smile.

And then he leaves.

I sigh, now alone. I have no idea when Mr. Robinson will be back but I know one thing for sure.

Don't keep me waiting on dinner.

He had said too clearly and I head for the fridge, stařting my new job as a live-in maid for Mr. Robinson.