by Lily Zante
“It’s just me and him living here?” My heart skips a beat at the thought that I’m going to be living in a sprawling mansion with a horror writer.
“There’s a personal trainer, but he won’t live here. Ward doesn’t like people.”
I almost choke in response. “I don’t have to live here,” I reply. In fact, I don’t even need this job. I’ll find something else.
“I’ll double your salary.”
“You’ll double my salary?” My heart almost misses a beat. “Why would you do that?”
“I’m not paying you, I’m only the agent. The money is coming from Ward.”
“You sound desperate to find a housekeeper.”
“This guy is falling to pieces. I can’t help him. I don’t expect you to help him other than to cook and clean, and between you and the personal trainer—” he pauses, then looks towards the door, “Trevor, he should be finishing up now. Between the two of you, you might just scare Ward enough for him to hide in his writing cave and finish the damn book. That’s all I want.”
“Double?” I say weakly, partly because I’m speechless that he could double my wages so easily. He might as well have been a genie that popped out of a lamp. I start to wonder if I’ll get two more wishes.
“Double, and you stay. Don’t worry. I’ll figure everything out.” He flashes me a cheesy smile. “He’s harmless, and a recluse. You won’t see him. He’s also a slob. Messy and unmotivated. I need you to make sure he eats well and healthily. Trevor is here, hopefully doing a workout but I need to leave this city. I don’t have time to find anyone else, and goodness knows Ward’s not going to do a thing about it.”
The door flies wide open and a man charges in, all hair and wild eyes. “I am not listening to that fucking man!” he growls.
Rob lets out a slow exhale as he stands. “Mari, meet Ward Maddox, world famous horror author extraordinaire.”
The beast—because this is exactly what he looks like—turns and stares at me and I almost stumble back from the shock of his angry gaze. There’s a growth on his face, a good three inches of thick, prickly beard. His hair is long and unruly, longer than a man’s hair should be. He pushes it back from his face with a sweep of his hand. Menacing eyes, framed by dark eyebrows stare at me. He’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt which make him look flabby next to the other guy who’s just walked in. He too is dressed for the gym, but he is toned, and muscular, and fit. The contrast between the two couldn’t be more prominent.
“I don’t need this,” Ward tells Rob in an angry tone. “I have words to write.”
“And how many have you written?” Rob asks calmly.
“That’s not the point. If I didn’t have this bullshit stuck in my schedule—”
“It’s an hour,” Rob points out. “An hour, right?” he asks the other guy who I assume must be the personal trainer.
“An hour, but I’m happy to do more, just say the word.”
“Let’s stick with the hour for now,” says Rob, expertly ignoring Ward. “Trevor, meet Mari, the new housekeeper.”
Before Trevor can move forward to shake my hand, Ward explodes.
“She’s the new housekeeper?” He doesn’t so much look at me as give me the evil eye. His curt reply startles me. First of all because I assumed that all people who were famous were nice, and secondly, because I’ve done nothing wrong. The guy barely knows me.
“We agreed to this,” Rob says calmly. “You need structure.”
“This messes up my timetable.” Ward gesticulates with his hand, waving it in the direction of me and Trevor. Trevor gives me an apologetic smile.
“Excuse us,” Rob walks out with the writer in tow, leaving just me and the gym guy.
“Welcome aboard,” Trevor says warmly, then shakes my hand. I take an instant liking to him.
“Is he always like this?” I ask.
“This is my second day. So far, yes. He was like this yesterday.”
He’s going to be worse than the most difficult customers I’ve dealt with at the hotel. Still, I’ve always been good at my job, and I see Ward Maddox as a challenge. “Are you staying here?” I ask Trevor. I would feel so much safer with someone else under this roof, instead of it being just me and the psycho. Having met him, and knowing that Ward is a horror writer, fills me with dread.
“God, no. I’m only supposed to give him a daily workout on weekdays. I’m supposed to encourage him to get into shape. Encourage him to go for a run or do a workout.” He snorts. “It would be a miracle if I could get the guy to get up off the couch.” He goes on to tell me about yesterday’s botched training session. “At least he got dressed today,” Trevor adds. “Yesterday he was floating around in his robe.”
“Why does Rob even bother?” I ask, finding the whole thing ridiculous.
Trevor shrugs. “As long as I’m getting paid, I won’t complain. I’ve been paid and the dude hasn’t even done one class. What are your duties?”
“To cook and clean.” I’m not even sure I want the job now.
“And you’re staying here?” Trevor asks, looking worried.
I feel his worry. A knot forms in my belly and I consider my original plan to start looking for an apartment. But then I remember that Rob doubled my salary on the spot, without even batting an eyelid.
I can do this. If the money is this good, I have to do this, and it’s only a temporary contract. For a few months.
Even I can put up with that caveman for a few months.
Chapter Four
WARD
* * *
“Let me remind you, I’m doing this as a favor because you don’t want to deal with these people.” Rob’s lips clench tightly as he closes the door to my writing room. “Can’t you at least open the blinds?” he asks. “How the hell do you write in here when it’s so dark?”
“You forced me to move here, at least have the decency to let me choose my writing environment.”
This house is too fancy, too bright, too beige and too modern. It’s not me. I like darkness. I’m used to it now. My home in New Orleans is stuck back in time. Four-poster beds, beautiful windows, rich, detailed architecture. My writing cave there is dark wood, rich red curtains, a thick blood red carpet. Those things create the perfect setting in which I can write.
I have struggled with the brightness of this room, but at least it has a fire and a couch. I despise the light gray carpet, but if I keep the blinds drawn, and light a few lamps, I can partially create the right mood for me to write in.
Not that it’s helped. I’ve only been here a few days and my skin is crawling with the thought of having to talk to these surplus people I don’t need. “Is this really necessary?” I struggle not to explode, and try to keep my voice as neutral as I can.
“It hasn’t worked. You’ve written six pages in how many months?” Rob paces around the room. “Your mother died. I understand this might have raked up all sorts of emotions.”
I inhale deeply. I’m dealing with it, in my own way. Shutting down, closing off more than usual. Rob doesn’t understand, and what he’s done has only made things worse. “Just get rid of them. Please. I can work better if it’s just me. I’ll get the book finished on time. I’m good with deadlines.”
Rob lifts his nose and pins me with a deathly stare. “You can’t. You couldn’t even get up off the couch, and I have that personal trainer on your back trying to get you to move.”
“I hate exercise.” I run my hands through my hair which is knotty and long. I’ve hit rock bottom, even I am aware of this, but I can and I will work through it in my own time.
“It’s eleven in the morning and you’re still in …. in … that thing.” He glares at me as if I’m wearing a thong.
“It’s a robe and it’s comfortable,” I reply defensively.
Rob clenches his fist. “You should know, Ward, that this is not what I’m supposed to do. I’m not supposed to babysit you.”
“You don’t have to babysit me. I’ll get my shit together. I’ll
get the book done.”
“If you wanted to, you would have by now.”
I have a better idea. “I’ll stay here. You’re right, maybe being back in Chicago might help.”
“That’s better. Go back to your roots and face your past.”
That I won’t do. “Get rid of those two.”
Rob looks at his watch. “Can’t do, and I’m not arguing about that. I need to be back in New York. Four days here has been too long.” He points a finger at me. “I only did this to help you. You need a manager more than you need me.”
“I don’t want a manager.” Rob has been a godsend, and I don’t want to piss him off.
“You have a personal trainer, and you have a housekeeper. When I next see you, I’d better see a new and improved version of you, and I want the first draft finished.”
“I can do that. It’ll be done. Don’t worry.”
He moves towards the door and says something that really pisses me off. “By the way, the new housekeeper, she’ll be living here.”
“What?”
“She needs a place to stay. She said she needed a week to find a place to stay. I told her she could stay here.”
He knows I hate people. He knows I hate having anyone around. He knows. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“You want the truth? Because I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” As if having that woman living here is going to help me.
“You were a mess last time, Ward.”
“Last time was different.” Last time I was in love with a woman who was crazy.
“This is not negotiable.”
I follow him out into the entrance hall. “This isn’t going to work,” I tell him.
“Make it work. Face your demons. Write the damn book.”
* * *
MARI
* * *
Trevor and I are laughing when the others walk back into the kitchen. I’m holding one of Ward’s books and it must look as if we’re laughing about that. Feeling guilty, I quickly put the book down.
“Ward is ready for your training session,” Rob says. Ward has a scowl on his face. He looks anything but ready. Or maybe he always looks that miserable.
“Good luck,” Trevor whispers under his breath as he walks away.
“Is he always this difficult?” I ask when it’s just me and Rob. He slips on his jacket and looks as if he’s ready to leave.
“He’s an acquired taste. He takes some getting used to. Stay out of his way, and he’ll stay out of yours.” He chuckles. “Get him a box of donuts if you really want to make a good impression.”
“But what am I supposed to do? What do I cook? Is there a cleaning schedule? Where are the cleaning supplies?”
“You look like a smart woman. You’ll figure it out.”
I rush after him. “What does he eat? Where do I buy the food? What hours am I supposed to—”
He lets out a groan, and from that one simple sound, I can tell that this guy doesn’t have it all figured out. This is as new for him as it is for me. He grabs his briefcase and looks at his watch again. “Take this,” he slides a business card out of his jacket pocket. “Call me if you have any questions.”
“I have questions now!”
“I have a plane to catch, and I don’t want to miss it. I’ve been stuck here for four days waiting to find a housekeeper. You’re perfect for the job.”
Lucky me. I feel as if Rob has washed his hands of Ward and dumped his duty to me. I rush towards the door as he prepares to make his exit. He can’t leave me alone in this house with that beast.
“I’m not sure I want this job.” It’s a last-ditch attempt because my fear has overtaken me.
Rob spins around fast. “You have to take this job.”
“Why?”
“Because I need you to do this. That guy can be a piece of hard work. He’s not always like this, but …” he shrugs. “His mother died last year and the guy is a mess. He won’t talk about it, but he’s had stuff to deal with. Problem is he also has a book to finish. This is my way of getting him to finish it. Him getting fit and back in shape wouldn’t be a bad thing either,” he mumbles.
My head is spinning and a trickle of compassion oozes from my heart. He lost his mom? I feel sorry for him because caring for my mom and losing her to dementia has ripped a hole in my heart.
“Fine then. I’ll stay.” Let’s face it, what other choice do I have?
“It’s only temporary. Until he finishes the book.”
“Easy enough for you to say.”
“Call me if you need anything, or,” he pauses then looks at me, “or if you can’t get anything out of him.”
“You haven’t even shown me to my room or taken me around the house. I don’t even know where everything is.”
He lets out an anguished groan. “I cannot miss my flight. I’ll call Ward and get him to show you around. You might as well bring your things over as soon as possible. Goodbye, and good luck.”
I wonder how much of that good luck I’m going to need.
Chapter Five
MARI
* * *
Excitement mingles with fear and apprehension as I make my way back to Jamie’s place. I have to start packing. I don’t want to take much, even though I could move all of my things into the mansion and the author guy wouldn’t even notice.
I think about it for a few seconds and let the idea go. Ward Maddox is a rude, feral, short-tempered man.
I don’t want to give him ammunition to get rid of me. As things stand, he already seems to hate me being there.
I throw things into my suitcase and my shoes and toiletries into another bag. I don’t want to take a lot, which means most of my life’s belongings will stay here at Jamie’s place. He hasn’t complained one bit. Jamie has been the kindest soul to me, letting me keep most of my stuff here. His apartment isn’t as tiny as mine, but that’s not the point. The point is I have so much stuff. I had to take everything with me when the landlord told me to leave. I’ve got a lot of my mom’s things with me as well. A part of me thinks she’ll come home. In my head, I tell myself that her nursing home stay is temporary. That one day I’ll have a better job and I might be able to bring her back home, when I have a home, and then I’ll be able to hire a private nurse for her. My imagination goes wild sometimes.
I bet I could match Ward Maddox when it comes to making things up, though I wouldn’t want to fill my head with gory things. It has to be shiny, happy things in my world. Unfortunately, right now, my world is anything but that.
I don’t want to dwell too much on my current predicament: that I’ve landed a job in a beautiful home, with a beautiful salary. The nice things are overshadowed by the beast of a man I will be living with.
I can’t wait to tell Jamie.
He walks in a few hours later and sees my suitcase by the door.
“What’s this?” he asks, glancing at me with a dour face.
“I got the job!”
“Already? This is the interview you went to today?”
I nod excitedly. “Incredible, right?” I clap my hands together, trying to make myself feel good about this even though it dawned on me earlier that I’ll be living with a total stranger, and a guy who’s not really nice at all. The house might be a luxurious haven but this guy looks scary.
“You were offered the job on the spot?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Wow.” Jamie takes his backpack off his shoulder and leans against the door, as if the shock of my news isn’t what he wanted to hear. I expected more from him. A little bit of excitement for me, given the bad week I’ve had. But even when I tell him that the guy offered to double my wages, he doesn’t flinch. “Aren’t you worried about that?” he asks, adding more fuel to the fire that is my worry.
“Guess who the mystery man is?” I ask him, “the guy who I’ll be cooking and cleaning for?”
He looks confused. “I have no idea.”
“He’s
someone famous. Someone world famous.”
Jamie’s eyes widen. “World famous?”
“Not like a movie star or anything. Someone more low-key. You might know of him though.”
He looks at me as if I’ve asked him to marry me.
“Ward Maddox,” I pause and let that sink in. Jamie blinks twice.
“The Ward Maddox? The guy who wrote The Attic? The guy who writes horror?”
I nod, relieved to get some sort of reaction from him. “Isn’t it exciting?”
Now he’s buoyed up and asks me all sorts of questions. I answer them as best as I can, while leaving out all negative stuff about Ward. I tell him everything about the house, the parts of it that I have seen.
Later, I pack my belongings into my car, but Jamie insists on coming with me to help.
Somehow, having Jamie by my side for as long as possible, is a great comfort to me.
* * *
WARD
* * *
This situation stinks like a rat’s ass.
What the hell am I doing here in this house that isn’t even mine?
With two people I barely know?
Screw Rob.
I can replace him in a heartbeat. There are enough New York agents who would gladly take me on.
If only it was that simple.
Rob is more like a friend.
I’m stuck with him or, rather, he’s stuck with me.
Screw Rob.
How will I survive the next few months? He’s left me with no choice but to get on with it, but he hasn’t made it any easier. He likes to think he’s helping me, but he’s not. This book won’t get written any faster even with this new setup.
Like I told Trevor, the trainer guy, I’m up for exercising. I used to do it before. My career will kill me. Sitting at a desk all day long is bad for my health. I’m aware of the problems. I just can’t fix everything at once. I can’t write and get healthy and fit when I’m in a funk. I told Trevor that I need to take things slowly. He showed me around the entire gym room and told me how each piece of gym equipment is used—like I don’t already know. He’s a cocky, arrogant guy. I’m not stupid. I see him judging me. Just because he’s got the muscles, and I have the flab. I can look like him, I have had that type of physique, maybe not as pumped as him, but not far off. If I choose to put my mind to it, I can get it back, but my mind has been elsewhere, lately.
