Chapter 3
Amy
* * *
It took me the whole day just to clean the living room. I drove to the supermarket and got some cleaning sprays and cloths. I also got some super-thick rubber gloves to lessen the chance of contamination. I’d never been in a house so dirty. It was like one of those homes from hell shows that showed how dirty people could be.
Just from the living room alone I’d bagged up eight extra-large disposal bags. It was atrocious.
Kathy, my close friend from New York, and Tristan had sent me the standard “good luck on your first day” messages, to which I hadn’t replied. What could I say? This was hell.
Me, Amy Rose, the aspiring designer who wanted to work for Dior, was scrubbing floors and picking up underwear amongst garbage. It was a cruel joke and I didn’t know what stroke of bad luck had crossed my path to allow this to happen.
Even my clothes were ruined. Earlier I’d reached for a beer bottle on the shelf believing it was empty. It slipped out of my grasp and landed on me, spilling moldy beer with fermented bits all over my beautiful clothes. It stank to high heaven and I did too. I’d had to have a mini wash in the kitchen, which was surprisingly not as bad as the living room. Probably because it seemed like Mr. Mancini preferred fast food and beer to home cooked meals that would require the use of pots, pans, and dinnerware.
By the time I was done the living room looked livable and I could see my way into the sitting room. It hosted another mess, which I had managed to clear away but hadn’t cleaned.
At the end of my work day the bad smell had gone and at least the place looked like a person lived there and not like he was keeping animals. I didn’t know how he managed to do anything or eat in such a mess.
He hadn’t returned when I was leaving, which was fine, I didn’t particularly want to see him again for the day. At least I’d survived day one.
Barely.
Now on to my little room in downtown. I couldn’t even class it as an apartment. It wasn’t big enough. There was a single bed that looked like something you’d see in a jail cell, a unit with a stove top, and a sink. Next to that was a mini-fridge, the toilet, and shower.
There was just enough space beside the bed to keep my sewing machine and my mannequin that helped me to make my dress for the designer showcase.
I hid the dress underneath the bed in multiple plastic bags. With the rhinestones that covered it, and the fine red silk and taffeta mix, that dress was easily valued at between ten and fifteen thousand dollars. It would be a small fortune for anyone who stole it. I’d spent five thousand on putting it together, which I was luckily able to do before I’d had news of Mom’s condition.
My room was part of a multi-complex of other rooms and in the worse part of town. The locks didn’t work properly and I couldn’t take the chance of being robbed. If I was, that would be it for me. Right now I was living on an incredibly tight budget to enable me to fulfill my mission to help Mom and secure my spot as a Dior designer.
This was the third time that I’d applied to work for Dior. Their new designer recruitment process ran over the course of a year, starting with the standard application and portfolio, then on to an interview and presentation to pitch a design for any season of my choice. The designer showcase was the final stage. It was a massive event with a fashion show that allowed you the chance to display your main design. Passing that meant being accepted as one of their entry-level designers. It was onwards and upwards from there.
Every year Dior accepted between two to five new designers. It went without saying that they were extremely selective. Hundreds would apply, and in most years only a handful were accepted. Last year it was two people. The year before three.
In the first two attempts I got through to the second stage but went no further. It was quite disappointing and heart rending, especially since each time I was up against fresh graduates with new ideas. Now I was thirty-three, five years older than when I applied the second time around, but with more experience and names under my belt. It was my PA role that helped to boost my application on my latest attempt. I’d been able to talk about working with magazines and future prospects in the fashion world a lot more than on the first two attempts. I couldn’t have been more ecstatic to be invited to take part in the designer showcase in Beverly Hills in four months.
This was my dress, and I had to say it was truly beautiful. I’d gone for an elegant slim line.
I planned to go in with fire, guns blazing, and a no-failure attitude. I hadn’t allowed myself to think past the what if of failure. It simply wasn’t an option even with my mother being sick.
All I had to do was get through this job and hope that I wouldn’t lose my sanity. Tomorrow I would speak to Mr. Mancini when he was sober. Speaking to drunk people was a complete waste of time and energy because they wouldn’t remember half of what you said when next you saw them. I just hoped that tomorrow would be better.
Grabbing a microwave dinner of vegetable lasagna, I shoved it in the small microwave oven. Just like yesterday it sparked up a few times, stalled, sparked again, and then continued until it pinged minutes later when it was ready.
A knock sounded at my door and I wondered who it could be. I wasn’t comfortable in this place at all and, in all honesty, preferred to let whoever was knocking stay outside. I was also tired from the day I’d had.
I tiptoed towards the door, peered through the little peephole, and frowned when I saw it was the landlord. He was a big, butch, Eastern European guy with a creepy attitude and an accent that made you feel like you were in a Bond film, but not in a good way. He also had a twin brother who lived on the next floor up. I paid my rent for the month already and a deposit, so I really wasn’t sure why he was here. But, since it was him I decided I’d better open the door.
“Hi Mr. Krutz. Is there something I can help you with?”
He gave me that once over look most guys did, but on him with his thick masculinity and shaved head it made him look even more creepy.
“Call me Dom. I’m just checking to see how you are, blondie.” He smiled and ran his hand across his stubbly chin. That was the second time today that my hair had been referenced. Maybe I should dye it. If it meant I was safer, I could die it orange or something.
“I’m fine. Thanks so much for checking. I am tired, though, so I’m going to turn in for the night.” I was hoping that would give him the hint that I wasn’t in the mood for company, but it didn’t.
“Turn in? But it’s just seven. Come out for a drink with me.” He turned his smile up a notch.
“Oh no, I’m really tired and I have to be up early. Thanks though.”
I could tell he was the kind of man who didn’t like to be told no. I was also doing my best not to piss him off because the place came really cheap at seven hundred bucks a month. It was perfect for my budget, and since I wouldn’t be using my pay to replenish what I spent then that worked out even better too.
“You won’t come out for one drink?”
“Hey, if I can’t do my job then I can’t pay you. It’s the kind of job where you need to be sharp and on the ball.” I was hoping that his love for money would overpower whatever he wanted from me, and it seemed to have worked. He changed his stance and shifted his weight from one side to the other.
“Well I wouldn’t want that to be a problem.”
I offered a friendly smile. “Maybe with my busy schedule we could share a Kit Kat.” With men like him it was best to keep things sweet. Not let him know there was no way on God’s green Earth I’d consider him and his drink requests, or that if he were the last man alive I’d run as far away from him as I could.
He laughed. “Kit Kat, that’s original. Okay blondie, you let me know when you’d like to do that.”
How about never, I wanted to say but instead smiled and replied, “Absolutely.”
I felt relieved when he tipped his head and moved away. As he did, I caught a glimpse of his twin brother and some other g
uys across the corridor looking on at me quite keenly. I hadn’t seen them before. It was just that they looked like they were up to something. If I had gone for this drink with Dom would the others have been there too?
A chill ran down my spine, along with nervous tingles. Perhaps I should consider moving. It was one thing to get a cheap deal, but what was the point if I didn’t feel safe? I closed the door and went back inside, steadying my nerves and worries with deep breaths.
I’d eat, call Mom before it got too late, then go to bed. Tristan and his wife were looking after her at the moment. They were living at the family home with my two-year-old niece. I’d call as soon as I finished eating so it wouldn’t be too late. Then I’d catch some beauty sleep. I did indeed want to leave here early and maybe hang out on the beach by Mr. Mancini’s house so I could go over the details in the job spec that Zelda gave me. With the craziness of today I didn’t get the chance to look at it.
I just hoped that tomorrow would be a better day than today.
Chapter 4
Amy
* * *
It wasn’t.
I woke up with a headache but I still had a positive attitude. Mom sounded good on the phone and that gave me some added energy, but when I got to work I saw that Mr. Mancini had trashed the living room again.
Mr. Mancini.
Addressing him like that in my mind, or just by thinking about him, didn’t seem right at all. It seemed too formal for someone like him who’d come home, saw that the place was clean, then thought to trash it all again. Like an animal would.
And when I said trash, I meant it. The place looked like he must have had some wild party. Again, there were pizza boxes, bottles of beer and drinks, and bits of potato chips and Cheetos wedged into the cream carpet. And, that nasty smell I managed to tone down yesterday was back again.
What the hell was I going to do?
I hadn’t even touched my actual work yet. I’d managed to go over the list of my duties and I could see that there was a lot. The first and foremost thing being that I needed to make sure he was at the ESPN show. Since the show was early, like ten o’clock early, Zelda suggested trying to get him into a routine of waking up at around eight or nine. She’d cautioned that he liked to sleep in till all hours of the day because of his party lifestyle.
He was upstairs now and I knew those women were with him. I highly doubted that they’d played whose shoe is this all night.
There was no way that I was even going near that room. There had to be another way, and as for this mess I didn’t think I could stand it. Particularly if it was going to be an everyday thing. The last PA left over a month ago so I was expecting a lot of administrative work. I always liked to sort that out first before dealing with events or other activities.
Deciding to leave the living room for later, I made my way through the sitting room in search of the office. I wanted to see what I was up against and maybe make a list so I could prioritize.
As I walked through the room the mess grieved me even more as it seriously damaged the appearance of the house. This was such a beautiful home with its floor-to-ceiling windows, which provided an abundance of natural light and a fantastic view of the beach. The vaulted ceilings and wide-open spaces were refreshing and attractive. I could imagine having dinner parties and opening the sliding doors to let in the sea breeze and gorgeous sunshine.
I marveled at the antique-looking fireplace in the corner with logs set neatly inside. If this was my house I’d sit there at sunset with the fire on, even though it was always warm in Malibu. I’d sit there and get cozy with a good book and my special blend of hot cocoa and cinnamon, watching the sun go down.
It was a nice thought. Perhaps one day I could have a nice place of my own. I’d never be able to afford somewhere like this even if I got the position at Dior, but I’d get a nice place.
I moved on to the study and immediately felt like I’d invaded his privacy. The room was filled with family photos. There were lots of pictures of who I guessed were his mother and sister. They looked very similar, but he looked exactly like his father. I walked out of the room, resisting the temptation to snoop around. It didn’t feel right.
The room next to it had to be the office. The door was closed but the giveaway was that he’d thrown all his mail at the entrance of the door. It looked to me like there was at least a year’s worth of mail there and I wasn’t looking forward to sorting through it. I gathered up what I could and moved it to one side so I could open the door, which only exposed more filth.
The wooden floor was covered in bits of paper, as if someone had bit it up and spat it out. It was weird. That was how the whole floor looked. There was also dust and cobwebs all over the desk. This didn’t look like it hadn’t been used in over a month. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years.
I walked in and switched on the lights. As I did, I was certain I heard something scuttle past me, but there was nothing there when I looked.
I grimaced at the sight of open files all over the place, in disorder just like the rest of the house, but since this was within my job description I thought I’d keep myself in here today.
Then maybe I’d brave the task of getting him up early tomorrow. He was an athlete and looked in great shape, so I was sure he wouldn’t be averse to a morning jog or stroll, especially if that was on the beach.
Right now I’d clean up the floor a little and then get on to sorting through the documents, files, and mail. After that I’d deal with the emails.
I went to get the vacuum cleaner from the cupboard where I left it yesterday and wheeled it into the office. I then plugged it in and started going over the floors, sucking up the bits of paper. Within five minutes I had to empty the holder because it was so full, and I wasn’t even a quarter way across the room.
I honestly needed to speak to Zelda about a maid. This was completely ridiculous. Sure, I was getting paid for doing something a tad easier than my job, but by doing so I wasn’t getting to do what I was required to do.
“Hey, what the hell is this damn noise !”
I whirled around so fast I nearly tripped over the vacuum’s cord. Joshua Mancini stood in the doorway looking like he would incinerate me with his fiery gaze. Even though he’d just gotten out of bed he still miraculously managed to look good, with his hair ruffled, a white jersey top showing off his defined muscles, and loose sweatpants that hung low on his hips.
The vacuum was still going so he moved over to the plug and yanked it out of the socket.
“What the hell are you doing here again?” he yelled, returning his gaze to me.
“Work,” I replied, trying my best to keep my tone under control.
“No, you damn well aren’t, get out of my house and don’t come back,” he bellowed.
My cheeks burned from the embarrassment. I’d had a rough upbringing but in all my adult years no one had ever spoken to me like that, and I felt it even more because I really needed this job.
What was I to do, though? Insist that I was staying?
I couldn’t do that, but I couldn’t leave, either. My mother needed me, and as bad as the place was I had to put up with whatever crap he threw at me.
“I was hired to be your PA. I’m just trying to clean the office.” I thought I could reason with him by explaining.
“I don’t need a PA, and the office doesn’t need cleaning.” His eyes bored into me with darkness and anger.
I was trying to focus on what he was saying but I swore something scurried past again. The dirt was one thing, but there was one thing I hated more than anything and that was…
I screamed from the depths of my soul as I saw the long thick tail of a rat disappearing behind the desk. And again when the said rat diverted and scrambled back towards me in a frantic pursuit with its thick brown furry body and beady eyes. I stumbled, not knowing which direction to run, and tried to gather myself.
Higher ground. I needed higher ground, so I turned to make a run for the desk,
trying to avoid the filthy creature.
However, I didn’t see the second rat that charged towards me in blind panic and ran straight over my foot. All I knew was I could feel its nasty claws over the exposed skin of my feet in my sandals, and its body was wet and slimy. The cherry on top of the horror was its disgusting long, pink tail whipping out at my ankles as it went by.
That was all my brain was able to establish before the air left my lungs and I fainted.
* * *
Josh
* * *
Jesus Christ.
What the hell was I supposed to do with her now?
Was it too much to ask to be left alone? I just wanted everyone to leave me to do what I wanted, but people kept forcing themselves on me. That damn Zelda. And my whole damn team, for that matter.
They all needed to back the fuck off and leave me be. Now look. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate, I had this woman to deal with. She’d fainted before me and crumpled into a delicate heap with her mass of golden hair sprawled out on the floor.
Shit. Who fainted at the sight of an animal? Sure, it was a rat, but fainting was a little dramatic. I looked at her wondering if I should just leave her there, but saw the creatures running around the room and felt a bit bad.
From somewhere inside me, I couldn’t tell where, I felt bad to leave her there in the midst of something she was clearly afraid of.
So, with deep annoyance, I picked her up and carried her to the sitting room so I could lay her on the sofa.
“Hey, wake up.” I nudged her, poking her arms. “Wake the hell up.”
Nothing, she was out cold and completely unresponsive. Panic made me check her breathing as the thought occurred to me that she may have hit her head.
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