Chapter 1
The loud honking and shouting alerts me to the fact that I’ve been zoning out again. I offer an apologetic wave to the shouting taxi driver and hurry across the busy street, my clunky heels slapping the pavement ungracefully.
Just another day in the life on your average housemaid. It’s not a job I love by any means, but I certainly don’t hate it. My poor mother has worked in the fast food industry for most of her working years, leaving her with almost nothing by this point in her life. Her hellish jobs have made mine look like a walk in the park. The only human interaction I have to deal with is my employer telling me which home I’m needed at today.
The Housekeeper's Headquarters is an unceremonious little building shoved in between two high-rise office buildings. It’s wide windows are flung open to greet the bustling street before it, it’s crisp white curtains visibly blowing in the breeze. It looks terribly out of place in such a fast-paced city, but I suppose that's the charm of it. Surrounded by wealthy, high-tech business, it’s nearly impossible to miss.
It’s for that reason that Miss Francis is one of the wealthiest women in the city. She has all the business of all the rich people around her. She boasts of good workers, and only hires the best. Her standards never slip, and she’s the only woman I know who could easily make her way into anyone’s heart in under 5 minutes.
I slip in through the employee’s entrance and find myself in the locker room. I quickly change into my work uniform; navy blue button up and tan slacks, the most basic uniform one could possibly imagine. Still, I’m very careful with my work clothes, even a small stain can very easily earn you a massive scolding from the proud Miss Francis.
I tuck my faded green shirt and dark blue jeans neatly onto a shelf in my locker. Cleanliness is next to godliness, or so the brightly painted sign hanging above the front door tells me.
I hurry to the front desk, where neatly arranged clipboards wait everyday, giving me the job and address of the day. Carrie, the sweet-tempered receptionist greets me with her customary bubbly smile.
“Good morning Molly!” she chirps, “How are you today?”
“I’m good, thanks,” I say back, although with less vigor, “And you?”
“Never better!” exclaims Carrie, “You’ve got a big job today!”
She motions towards the clip board with my name embossed across the top. Carrie’s delicate handwriting graces the stack of papers with detailed instructions and the home’s address. I quickly scan the list and give Carrie another smile before I head to the supply closet.
The supply closet is every clean-freak’s dream. Stocked to bursting with every cleaning product imaginable, it’s neatly arranged shelves have every type of product you could possibly need, from your basic toilet cleaners, to top-dollar furniture polish. Miss Francis spares no expense when it comes to her rich clients. If you have an allergy to a common cleaning agent, never fear, there’s a least one product that will get the job done without harming the owners of the home. Need a fancy rug cleaned? No problem, there’s a weird cleaner in here for that too.
I glance over my clipboard as I begin packing products into one of the rolling bags. As I reach up to grab a roll of paper towels, I’m suddenly aware of eyes on me.
I peer over my shoulder to see the thin silhouette of a man leaning in the doorway between me and the main office. Startled, I reach too far and my footing slips. In one brief second, the entire box of paper towels comes clattering down with me as I fall to the floor. The easy chuckle immediately gives away the dark shadow in the door way.
“Watch it, butterfingers, Miss Francis is gonna kill ya.”
“Good morning to you too, Tommy,” I growl as push up onto my hands and knees, “Do you always start the morning by giving people heart attacks?”
Tommy flashes his usual mischievous grin. “You’re just so flighty, Mol, it’s not my fault that you spook like a horse.”
I give him a sidelong glare as I begin shoving paper towels back into the box. He grins and crosses his arms, watching me as I struggle to push the box back onto the shelf over my head.
“My, Tommy, you’re so helpful today,” I say sarcastically, brushing the wrinkles out of my uniform as I finish.
Tommy takes an exaggerated bow. “I aim to please,” he says, chuckling.
I raise my eyebrows but ignore him as I pack the last of my bag. I tuck the clipboard into the side pocket on the bag and pull up the handle.
“You headed my way?” asks Tommy as he follows me towards the front entrance.
“I don’t know where you’re going,” I point out, “Besides, don’t you have more women to scare?”
Tommy grins again and blocks the doorway with his wiry frame. “Nope, you were the last on my route,” he says.
I sigh, beginning to become exasperated. “Seriously Tommy, don’t you have something to do?”
From behind me, I hear Carrie’s perky voice pipe up. “Tommy just started working here over the weekend,” she says, her voice higher pitched than usual, “Miss Francis says she wants transportation for the out-of-city-limits jobs now.”
I never break eye contact with Tommy as the grin slowly spreads across his face. Tommy has been delivering packages to Miss Francis for years now, and when he recently lost his job, she almost instantly began looking for something for him to do around here. He’s mostly been cleaning up the locker room and front office after hours, but it was obvious the financial strain was starting to get to him.
“Well, let’s go then,” I say, motioning to the door. Tommy claps his hands together in excitement.
“You’re my first client!” he exclaims. His childish excitement never fails to make me smile. Although I’m not exactly a ‘client’ as we both work here, I don’t bother correcting him, knowing he wouldn’t listen to me anyway.
Miss Francis has apparently bought a black SUV for transportation. Tommy unlocks the car with the click on a button and lifts my cleaning bag into the trunk, despite the fact that I could have easily done it myself. Before I even get the chance to reach for the door handle, Tommy has rushed around, nearly shoving me out of the way in the process, and jerked the door open with a grand gesture.
“M’lady,” he mumbles.
I can’t hide my laughter. “Tommy, you aren’t a chauffeur to a grand lady,” I say between giggles, “You’re just driving a maid to clean a house.”
Tommy’s face darkens for just a brief moment before a playful grin brightens his features. “How else is some rich tycoon going to see me driving around beautiful women and get jealous?”
I snort. “Good luck Tommy,” I say as he settles into the driver’s side and turns on the car, “I don’t think anyone in this industry is ever the source of lust for someone of their standing.”
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