by A. P. Jensen
Contents
Title
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About the Author
Titles by A. P. Jensen
UNMEMORABLE
A. P. Jensen
Copyright © 2014 A. P. Jensen
All rights reserved.
To housekeepers. I salute you.
CHAPTER ONE
Raven stared into a rectangular mirror surrounded by naked light bulbs, searching her reflection for… something. Light poured over a young woman with a fair complexion and pin straight, inky black hair. Hazel eyes gleamed beneath long bangs as Raven turned her face from side to side and frowned at her reflection. She bowed her head, clutched the sides of the sink and controlled the relentless compulsion to pack the little she possessed and run. For several moments she stood there with her teeth clenched before she let out a long breath and straightened.
Raven ran a trembling hand over the loose fitted gray tunic with shiny black buttons down the front and matching gray slacks. She walked into the connecting bedroom that was lit only by a tiny rectangular window high up on the wall. There was an air mattress and a lamp on the floor beside a clear storage box of clothes. Nothing hung in the closet. Raven tossed an extra change of clothes into a bag and shrugged on a jacket before she walked into her minuscule living room/ kitchen.
Rays of sun touched dark yellow walls that should have long since been repainted. The tile floor needed to be replaced and iron bars on the window cast dreary lines over the room. An old TV sat on a cooler in front of a tattered plaid love seat. Unable to shake off the feeling of impending danger, she stood completely motionless and listened. She could hear her neighbor’s TV set that never shut off, someone gunned a car engine in the parking lot and two women several doors down argued. Like her neighbor’s TV, they never shut off.
Raven walked over to the window and stood out of sight as she peered through the blinds. Nothing looked out of place. What was bothering her? She lived in this apartment building for six months now. It was long enough to recognize her neighbors, if just through thin walls. She was becoming accustomed to a routine and now this feeling was back. Gut wrenching panic twisted her insides and she didn’t know how to control it. In the past, whenever she felt this way she didn’t show up to work and was on the road within the hour.
Raven looked down at her uniform. She had a good job for the first time in her life and she didn’t want to move on. She looked through the peephole before she cracked the door open with the chain still attached. Cold air rushed in and she flinched. Her doorway was empty. Quickly, she unchained the door and looked left and right but the walkway was empty. In the parking lot below, she noted two cars she’d never seen before. A man leaned idly against a car, smoking a cigarette while a woman walked away from the dumpster, rubbing her hands on the leg of her jeans.
Raven eyed the man one last time before she forced herself to step out of her apartment. She passed two apartments before she reached the iron stairs. Metal rang as she trotted down the steps and walked towards a white 1990 Saturn. She unlocked the door, slid onto the driver’s seat and pushed down the lock with her elbow, which made her feel marginally safer. She gave the old car a few minutes to warm up and tentatively tried the heater and flinched when cold air blasted out of the vent. Raven put the car into gear and winced at the outpouring of holiday cheer on the radio. She switched to the CD player and shouted Do It Like A Dude with Jessie J.
The farther she drove from her apartment complex, the better she felt. She wove her way through the back roads to the employee-parking garage to Decadent, a casino on the infamous Strip in Las Vegas. She flashed her employee badge at the security guard and parked on the fourth level. She grinned with evil glee as she pulled into a stall beside a gleaming BMW. Secretly hoping the owner would be horrified to see such a piece of junk beside their new car, she got out of the Saturn and jogged down four flights of stairs to the employee entrance and flashed her employee ID at the second security guard.
There was an excited hum in the usually dreary halls. Employees waited in line to store their belongings in garment bags before going off to their departments. Raven waited at the back of the line, still singing Do It Like A Dude and ignored her coworkers who exchanged dinner plans for Thanksgiving feasts after work. Once she reached the front of the line, Raven swiped her employee badge and watched the racks rotate. A narrow glass door popped open once it stopped on her employee number and she quickly unzipped the garment bag and tossed her purse and jacket inside and zipped it back up. A glance down at her watch told her that she had less than eight minutes to get to her floor to clock in. She received a shock from the static as she pushed the up button of the service elevator and frowned at her ragged fingernails and bruised forearms, compliments from her job.
Someone sidled up beside her. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
Sighing, Raven looked up. The man’s uniform informed Raven that he would be spilling his holiday cheer all over the halls as he delivered breakfast to unsuspecting guests.
Raven gave him a fake smile and mumbled, “You too.”
“You have plans after work?” he asked.
The elevator dinged and as people rushed in, she buried herself in the back of the crowd, away from the too friendly room service worker. The doors closed, reminding her of an airplane, where everyone breathed each other’s air and sat way too close to one another. Resisting the urge to hold her breath, Raven waited patiently as the elevator stopped on different floors and relaxed when she climbed to the higher floors by herself.
An automated female voice said, “Fifty fifth floor. Going down.”
Raven exited the service elevator and walked into a storage room where her days of torture began. The room was barely bigger than a handicap bathroom stall filled with vacuums, chemicals and an impenetrable wall of toilet paper. Ten housekeepers crammed themselves together to peer at a tiny clock on a laptop barely visible beneath a mountain of micro fiber rags. Several women glanced around to see who entered and sneered at Raven in welcome. They shuffled tighter together, as if Raven would muscle her way through to clock in before them.
Raven absently bit off a hangnail but looked up when the first woman slid her card through the slot. There was a click and a murmur of excitement passed through the assembled ladies. The term “holiday pay” was said with a great deal of satisfaction. Instead of moving out of the way now that they were clocked in, most of the women stayed put, blocking the way for Raven. In danger of being officially late, she made her way through the chattering women, tossing out an elbow at several opportune moments.
“Buenos Dias!”
A woman wearing a too tight black suit with gaping buttons down the front stood in the doorway. Her uniform had two names on the shiny badge, broadcasting to all that she was in management. Rose had a bright smile on her usually grim face. She waved a handful of papers and conducted a ten-minute pre shift spoken in Spanish. The other women nodded, added their input and discussed business for the day while Raven continued to hum Do It Like A Dude. She didn’t bother interrupting or asking them to speak in English, which was the company policy. Raven simply didn’t care.
Rose handed out the sheaf of papers with the room assignments for the day. The women passed the papers around an
d ignored Raven completely.
Rose looked up and waved the last paper. “Raven?”
Raven raised her hand as she did every morning. “That’s me.”
Most of them seemed surprised to find her in their midst. Rose shrugged and handed the paper to the nearest woman to pass through the crowd. Raven snatched the paper and examined her room assignments for the day with raised brows. The penthouse? Each housekeeper had to finish ten credits a day. Since the penthouse was so huge, it counted for five credits, the equivalent of five regular rooms. Raven decided to wipe out the five single rooms and spend the second half of the day in the penthouse where she could take her time.
The housekeepers hustled out of the storage closet like troops ready for battle. Raven crumpled her paper into a ball and stuffed it in her pocket. She breathed in the scent of disinfectant cleaners, took a stack of microfiber rags and tucked them under one arm. Instead of riding the service elevator, Raven used the emergency exit stairs and jogged up four flights to the fifty ninth floor where all her rooms were located except for the penthouse. She walked down the thick-carpeted hallway and eyed her rooms. There were three lights beneath the illuminated room number. Blue meant do not disturb, green signaled that the occupant was ready for service and the white light meant the guest didn’t care either way. Raven was happy to see that at least two of the rooms were green.
She headed to the storage room where her cart was stored. Two fellow housekeepers chattered and ignored Raven. Her cart was stocked from the day before so she unplugged it and used the forward and backwards buttons to maneuver it out of the room and into the guest hallways. She rang the doorbell of the first green-lit room and waited a few seconds before she pushed the button again. No answer. She tugged on a key attached to a retractable chain on her hip. She swiped the card over the lock and the door flashed, allowing her entrance. She turned the handle and opened the door several inches.
“Housekeeping!”
No answer. Raven paused in the doorway and listened. Housekeepers, like cops, learned to be cautious when they entered a room. She sniffed the air for the smell of vomit, drugs or cooking. Nothing. She called again and waited for a bellowed, “come back later!” but nothing happened. Raven flipped on the lights and rounded the corner. Bed empty. She peeked into the bathroom and grimaced. Trashed. She headed back to her cart, snapped on gloves and placed her cart in front of the doorway to discourage people from entering. She kicked a rubber doorstop to prop the door open. It was a precautionary measure for the housekeeper’s safety in case the guest was psychotic. Also, most guests didn’t like the thought of someone “cleaning” their room with the door closed. It was better on both sides if the door was open at all times.
Raven cleaned quickly and methodically with experience gained from homes, motels and restaurants. She worked in a circle, taking care of one section in the room before moving onto the next. In Raven’s opinion, the best thing about being a housekeeper was working alone. For the most part, the only people you talked to during the day were the guests you passed in the hall. The downside to this was you had too much time to think and she developed a tendency to talk to herself.
Raven glanced out of the window that ran along the whole length of the room. Looking out over Las Vegas wasn’t particularly inspiring, but the fact that she was cleaning a room with this type of view made her realize how far she’d come. Gone were the days of cleaning pay by the hour motel rooms. She made it. She took a leap of faith by applying at this hotel and she nearly passed out when her prepaid phone rang one dreary morning and told her she got the job. She was making almost fifteen bucks an hour, six dollars more than what she was used to. Cleaning was all she knew. Having housekeeping experience was like having secretary experience for middle class women. It was something to fall back on when all else failed. Raven was used to getting paid under the table and in the past, preferred it. This was the first legit job she’d ever had and even though she scrubbed toilets and picked up used condoms, she was proud to be here which was why she was determined to ignore her panicky compulsion this morning and stick it out.
Five hours later, Raven rode down to the ground floor and dashed to the cafeteria, which was a beehive of employees dressed in bland hotel uniforms. Raven passed the front desk girls who were all beautiful, thin and fake and a jaded cocktail waitress counting her tips, her ass hanging out of her “uniform.” Raven walked down the buffet line, loaded up her plate and paused to find a place to sit. Housekeepers, the largest department in every hotel, were spread all over the cafeteria. Raven sat at the end of a table with some other gray uniformed maids.
Raven listened to them talk as she ate. She knew each person at the table. Martha had an abusive husband and Jolie kept telling her to leave him. Marie was young and always ready to party; despite the two kids she had waiting at home for her. Banchi was serious and rail thin, here to work in America on a work Visa from Ethiopia. Jack was married and sleeping with one of the housekeepers and Ted spent most of his time hiding in storage closets, refusing to answer his phone when the supervisors called for him to deliver items to rooms.
Marie noticed Raven and smiled at her. “You want to come out tonight?”
“Where are you going?” Raven asked without much interest.
“I think we’re going to start at XS Nightclub at the Wynn and hop from there,” Marie said with the faintest hint of a Southern drawl. She wrote her number down and handed it to Raven. “It’ll be fun. You have a man?”
“No.”
“Then you should definitely come! Call that number if you show up.”
Raven took the number and stuffed it in her pocket. Less than ten minutes later, she dumped her tray and rode up to the sixtieth floor where there was a penthouse suite on each corner of the hotel. She stopped in front of the double doors to the penthouse and felt her heart trip a little in spite of herself. The penthouse ran for five grand a night, more than she made in two months. Raven took a breather and leaned against the metal cart, her constant companion and occasional crutch when she was tired. Raven looked into the brown metal at her reflection and blotted her shiny face. She tried for a friendly smile and managed a sneer. Giving herself time to gather what professional skills she possessed, Raven filched her room assignment paper out of her pocket. She smoothed out the wrinkled paper and squinted to read the name of the guest in the penthouse, Rich Henson.
Raven took a moment to guzzle water from the bottles the hotel charged eight dollars for. She was behind schedule because of the other rooms. An Asian couple, judging from their toiletries and the rice everywhere, made it their mission to cook enough for everyone on their floor of the hotel. Another room had six people staying in it and the mess they created made Raven wonder temporarily if pay by the hour hotels weren’t that bad after all. She tried to smooth away the wrinkles and questionable smudges at the bottom of her tunic. No such luck. Flicking off a grain of rice that clung to her arm, she straightened her shoulders and rang the doorbell. Secretly praying that Rich Henson wasn’t the father of five, she opened the door.
“Housekeeping!”
The entrance hall was grand with high ceilings and a glittering chandelier that threw prisms of color on the white marble floor. Trying not to goggle, she took a step in and called out again. No answer. She stepped into a bathroom on the left and found it untouched. So far, so good. She closed the door, walked down a short hallway and faced the main room and stood for a few seconds, speechless.
The penthouse was as big as a house. To her right was a top of the line kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a marble island. Floor to ceiling windows two stories high surrounded her, highlighting the beautiful room. Beyond the kitchen was a huge living room with two TV’s and stylish, chic furniture. A sweeping staircase made of glass led to an upper floor with two double doors on either side of the stairs.
“Housekeeping,” Raven tried to yell but her voice was curiously weak. She cleared her throat and managed a louder, “Houseke
eping!”
She sensed there was no one in the penthouse but she wanted to be sure. Raven started up the stairs, which was a pain for a housekeeper but it sure made an impression. The glass wasn’t frosty but as pure as Cinderella’s slipper and completely transparent. She felt as if she were walking on solidified water. Only the light that bounced off the stairs made her aware of where one stair ended and another began.
She turned to the right and knocked on the first set of double doors, called out and waited. No answer. She opened the door to a room with a king, size bed, sitting room and a spectacular view, which drew her like a moth to a flame, but she resisted the call. The bed was a little mussed and she had to dust in here, she thought critically. She walked into the connecting bathroom fully equipped with a jetted tub, shower stall with double showerheads and TV. Only one towel was used.
Raven backed out of the room and went to the second set of double doors and repeated her knocking routine. This other room was untouched, as was the connecting bathroom. Raven glanced at her watch and did a little dance. She had two hours left and she only had to replace a towel, dust and make the bed. Raven found it odd and over the top for one person to pay this much to have the penthouse to themselves, but who understood the rich? Definitely not her.
She rushed back to her cart, slid on gloves and nabbed her duster, micro fiber rag and cleaner. She polished the doorknobs and any smudges on the dark wood walls. She quickly dusted the baseboards, checked that the temperature was seventy-four degrees (company standard) and rearranged the magazines and remote on the coffee table in front of the massive TVs. Raven snapped the bed sheets so the wrinkles disappeared, dusted and replaced the used hand towel in the bathroom before she moseyed down to the impressive living room/ kitchen.
She wasn’t familiar with kitchens since she never cooked. She was a take out/frozen meals girl, but even she was impressed. Raven restocked the fridge with more water and spent an inordinate amount of time polishing the kitchen appliances. She kept looking around the room, wondering what she was doing even cleaning a place like this. She was lucky Rich Henson hadn’t trashed the place so could absently move the duster over the spotless windowsills. One side of the penthouse looked out over the Strip with all of its facades while the other half looked out at the red mountains in the distance.
