Maid for Martin

by Samantha Lovern

  “Oh, yes. Where did you park the car? Was there a slot number? Or a card they gave you?’

  “Yes, here it is.” Randi reached into her pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to Celia.

  Celia took the card and tucked it into her purse. “Thanks for running that errand. Also, when you’re done cleaning, take Martin’s white shirt and just toss it in the trash. I kind of got in a hurry and ripped a few buttons off.”

  “Do you want me to have it mended?”

  “I don’t think so. He has plenty. Just throw it away.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Celia was tired of hearing the little tramp ma’am her. It was all she could do to keep from slapping her on the spot. How dare she come into this house and . . . well, she did think she was sleeping with the Limo driver and not Martin Taylor.

  Celia forced a smile and slipped out into the hallway. They both were going to get their due. It was tempting to stay around and listen to the fireworks, or even better, open the door when Martin stepped out of the shower and see the show.

  Randi wouldn’t believe a word he said. She’d cry or curse, but then she’d pack her things and be gone with the wind.

  Chapter 47

  Truth and Consequences

  Once the door was closed Randi looked around the room. It was a mess. She started by picking up the black negligee, the torn shirt, and the three buttons. She then made the bed. It was strange the way Celia was acting, as if she was all but gloating about something.

  Randi moved around the room as fast as she could, picking up the dirty glasses and throwing away the trash. If it wasn’t for the way Celia had been acting, she would be a little excited. She was finally going to get to meet Mr. Taylor. Her curiosity was all tainted, now, with ideas and thoughts of what Celia was up to.

  Celia had Martin Taylor. Why did she need Mike too? Randi could understand why she would want him. What normal woman wouldn’t? Even the thought of his kisses made her smile. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

  Since she’d been all but forced to stay with Emma, there had been no midnight rendezvous with Mike. Celia had won that round, for sure. The next one wouldn’t be so easy. If it came to it, Randi would quit and tell Celia what she thought about her.

  Emma had been very kind, and under other circumstances the overnight stay would have been enjoyable. She got to sleep with Bandit and Lady in the house, and she could see it would be easy to get attached to the dogs. Hopefully after Christmas she’d have time to work on getting the apartment over the garage to suit her.

  Randi kept glancing toward the bathroom door, and the towels. Was Celia correct? Did Mr. Taylor have one towel in there with him? A slight smile came to her lips at the thought of him streaking out to grab one. This thought caused her to move the towels to a chair by the bathroom door. At least this way he could open the door and reach around to get a towel.

  She was in no hurry to cause the man of the house to be parading around in his birthday suit. Again, the idea of Celia and what she was up to came creeping in. Why in the world would she want Randi in the same room with the man she supposedly was sleeping with?

  Was she trying to push her on Mr. Taylor in some strange way, so she could have Mike instead? Soap opera-like scenarios ran through Randi’s mind. She could catch Randi and Mr. Taylor and accuse of him of something and break it off, just so she could leave with Mike.

  An image of Celia and Mike riding away on the Harley infiltrated her thoughts. She and the faceless Mr. Taylor stood side by side on the doorstep watching them go. She in her maid’s dress, Taylor in nothing but a white towel.

  As she realized how crazy it all sounded she laughed and focused on cleaning. Next, she moved to the dresser. She picked up a rose that was lying on a folded note. She needed a vase for the expensive-looking flower.

  After looking around the room she found one. It had a sad-looking little candle that had melted and was leaning a bit. She removed the candle and looked at the vase. Of course she thought about going into the bathroom and stealing a little water, and of course she did not.

  Here she was, only feet away from a very naked, very famous, supposedly handsome, rich actor. Again, her brow furrowed. What was Celia up too?

  She’d seen to it, the night before, that Randi was out of the house so she could have Mike all to herself. Now, this morning, she called Randi to her room to clean while Mr. Taylor was in the shower. Randi just couldn’t figure it out.

  Trying to put it all out of her mind, she set the vase down and started rearranging the dresser. Bottles of perfume and makeup were strewn everywhere. She straightened everything up and made it look as neat as possible. In doing so, she noticed the note that had been under the rose go floating into the floor. When she was about done she bent over and picked it up.

  She was curious. Who was the note from or to? She looked at her watch. She’d been cleaning about fifteen to twenty minutes. Glancing around the room, she decided she was just about done.

  The room looked intact again. She held the note for a moment, and then curiosity got the better of her. As she started reading, her brow furrowed. It was only a few lines but still it had her mind diving into all kinds of questions.

  Celia, I’m very sorry I cheated on you. I will never do it again. I suppose I had pre-wedding jitters. Whatever it was, I’m sorry. I know haven’t proposed yet, but I will soon. Please forgive me. I want you to know I didn’t have sex with that maid, but I did do more than I should have.

  Randi looked at the paper and shook her head. It was all coming together like a jigsaw puzzle, one ugly piece at a time, and she didn’t like the picture it was creating. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. She closed her eyes and looked at the last few lines. It told her what she didn’t want to know or believe.

  It’s over between us. It would be best if you fired

  Randi Sanders.

  Randi closed her eyes, moved to the bed, and sat down. She held the paper in her hands and it slowly fell from her fingers to the floor. “No, it has to be trick.”

  She looked up to the bathroom door and slowly, as if in a dream, she rose from the bed. She picked up the towels, and pushed down the questions that were screaming through her mind.

  She took a deep breath, really prayed this time, and then tapped lightly on the door. Her heart was beating in her ears, and she kept thinking, it can’t be.

  He wouldn’t do this to me. She heard a noise, assuring her that someone was behind the closed door. She tapped again, harder this time. Her worry was turning into anger.

  She heard a man’s voice as he came toward the door. “Celia, it won’t work. Go away.” Randi didn’t know what that meant. What wouldn’t work?

  She raised her hand to knock again. She just had to know. She had to see him to be sure. All of the moments they’d spent together came flying up around her.

  The taste of his kisses, the way it felt to be in his arms. The promise of something good, and lasting -- it was all crashing down around her, and this time she pounded on the door with her fist.

  She didn’t speak. She wanted to see his face, read what kind of reaction he had for her. She pressed closer to the door. There was the sound of something. A bottle rattled, water running. Maybe he was shaving.

  “You said you would be gone. I tried to tell you the other night.”

  Randi could hear him coming toward the door. She sensed that it was about to open. A part of her wanted to run and hide. Another part wanted to slap him the moment the door came open.

  The door had muffled his voice but she was pretty sure it was Mike. It had to be. It was the only thing that made any sense. She took a deep breath and stepped back two more feet as the door started to open. She didn’t want him to touch her, she didn’t want to do anything but look him in the eye and tell him . . .

  Chapter 48

  Then There Was Three

  Emma sat at the kitchen table, looking at the phone as if she could kill it, though it wasn’t the sma
ll white communication device that was her problem. It was pregnant women going into labor, and young women with temporary green cards who didn’t know how to drive that were causing her to want to scream.

  She let out a deep breath and tried to count her blessings. She sat looking at her phone. She should have known better than to expect things to go well.

  Juanita’s sister had just gone into labor and Maria just informed Emma that neither of them would be back to work until the baby was born. Maria spoke the best English, but she didn’t have a car or a way to work. So that left Emma with Ann, herself and Randi.

  Of course this would happen now. Emma rubbed her temples and knew that she should be on the phone with Nancy to see if she had anyone else that she could send over. She was dreading hearing the word no, and she was dreading telling Celia even more.

  She shrugged and decided to make the call so she would know what to tell Celia. She took the call out in the garage so no one would overhear her.

  Ten minutes later she learned exactly what she expected. There was no last-minute help coming. Everyone was booked up until after Christmas and she would have to make do with the girls she had.

  “You still have Randi,” Nancy began. “She’s a great worker. She will do her best to pick up as much of the slack as she can.”

  “I know she will, and I’m sure I can work out some kind of a bonus for her. Do you want to talk to her about it or should I?” Emma waited and after a few seconds, Nancy answered.

  “I think I should talk to her. She’s one of my best. I doubt if she’ll need any quotes on the extra cash, but it will be an incentive.”

  Emma worked the numbers out in her head and then spoke. “We can put an extra ten an hour in her pay for the extra work and time she’ll need to spend.” Emma’s biggest worry was that this whole party was about to blow up in her face.

  When Randi found out that Mike was really Martin, she had no idea what might happen. She paced and prayed the extra cash would keep Randi quiet. “Make that an extra fifteen an hour and a five hundred dollar bonus if she stays until after New Year's, and that bonus will come straight from me to her.”

  “Wow, you are desperate.”

  “More than you know. Can we do that? Give the cash directly to her?”

  “I’ll work it out. When you give it to her, say it’s a tip. The company can’t complain if it’s a gratuity.”

  “Good. When she calls, explain the bonus and I’ll make sure the money is there.”

  “Will do.”

  Emma thanked Nancy for the help, hung up the phone, and went to find Ann. She was in the family room, setting up the tables for the lunch buffet. The tables were to be set so that when the food arrived, if the company was early, everyone could start eating.

  Emma never wanted to waste time, steps, or money, so she picked up a small bag from the kitchen and took it with her. There were napkins, chips, and salsa inside. She found two tables set, and Ann working on the third.

  “Hey, how is looking?” Ann gestured to the table with a huge smile on her face. Emma knew that what she was about to say would ruin the girl's mood, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “It looks really nice. You’ve done a fine job of making everything look professional. It turns out that your talents may be put to good use.” The tired tone in Emma’s voice caused Ann to stop what she was doing. Ann set down a box of napkins and looked at Emma.

  “Are you okay? Sit down a minute. It’s just a party. We’ll get everything done.” Ann smiled softly and Emma did as she said, pulled out a seat and sat down.

  “It’s not as simple as that.” Emma ran things through her mind. She had a love triangle about to explode, a litany of guests that would need attending to, and two women and herself to help out. Well, Addison and Lillian would help, too, but that wouldn’t look good at all. Instead of saying any of this she smiled. “Some of the help isn’t coming.”

  “How many?” Ann looked worried now.

  “Two.” Emma watched Ann sink into a nearby chair.

  “Who are we left with?”

  “You, me and Randi.” Emma tried to sound upbeat. “The news just winded me. We can do this.”

  “Sure we can. Will any of the caterers stay around when the food comes? If they help place everything on the tables that will a big help.”

  Emma brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that. That will help, and they’ll be back later in the day to pick up the discards and such. I’m getting too old to deal with disasters like this.”

  Ann, feeling revived, rose and went on with her task. “Oh, it’s not as bad as you think. We’ll just need to be coordinated, and if the children become an issue, I have some friends that can come over to help baby-sit and generally keep an eye on things that break.”

  “What would they charge?”

  “Not much. A few of them can’t get home for the holidays. If you let them eat and have drinks, I can work the rest out. They’re good kids, most of them brainiacs."

  “That’s great. You’re a dream. Give two of them notice, and see if they can find something semi-matching to wear, white or black shirts with jeans. That reminds me, we need to change soon before the guests start arriving.”

  “I was hoping you would forget.” Ann looked down. “My legs just were not meant for skirts.”

  Emma rose from the table and let out a sigh as she turned to look at Ann. “Just wear dark slacks. With everything that will be going on, I doubt if Celia or anyone will have time or inclination to even notice.”

  Chapter 49

  Water Works

  Martin was going to get his chance to face Celia, but he wanted to be wearing more than a towel when he did so. He should have known she would try something like this. It’d been a while since they’d had sex, true, but he wasn’t an animal. Seeing Celia naked or half-dressed wouldn’t be enough to cause him to take her to his bed.

  She’d knocked twice already. He’d been wearing the towel ever since he climbed from the shower. In his line of work, there were very few places that one felt enough at ease to be totally naked. You never knew when some maid or some fan might barge in and plaster pictures of you all over the next day’s papers.

  Martin was finished shaving, leaving the goatee and 'stache. He bent down, washed off the shaving cream, and then washed his hands. He ran his fingers through his all-but-dry hair, looking at the door. He might as well face her now and get this over with.

  He’d gone over the speech so many times in his mind that he knew exactly what he was going to say. He’d rehearsed it and memorized it so that even if his emotions took over he’d be able to tell her exactly, word for word, that it was over, and that it had been for months.

  Martin checked the towel at his waist and then placed his hand on the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but the moment was at hand, and he actually felt good about it.

  Now, once and for all, he would be free to date Randi, and to talk to her about what had been going on the last few days. He opened the door slowly, not sure where he would find Celia.

  He gave the door a push and raised his eyes. He expected to see Celia, in some form or fashion, but instead it was Randi. His mind exploded with shock and the look on her face answered most of his questions. He stepped forward, reaching out to her, but she stepped back.

  “No. Don’t touch me.” Her eyes were showing him nothing but anger. He had a feeling she’d like to slap him, but she didn’t seem the type for physical violence.

  “Randi? How did you –? What’s going on?”

  Instead of speaking, she moved forward a few steps and held out a piece of paper. “Why don’t you tell me?” She started looking him over, around his neck and chest. She was right. Celia liked to mark a man, but he’d not been with Celia.

  Martin took the note, trying to understand what was going on, but as his eyes moved over the paper, he knew. Celia had done this. Well, in a way, he’d done it to himself.

  He cursed and wadded the paper, throwing i
t on the floor. “None of it’s true. I didn’t have sex with Celia. I haven’t touched her in weeks. That letter is nothing but a lie, something she fabricated.”

  “It doesn’t look fabricated to me. I just made the bed the two of you slept in and picked up the clothes she ripped from your body, and read the note you left on the dresser. You lying, cheating dog! How dare you string me along like this?”

  Martin was wrong about one thing. She was the physical type. His first clue was the flower vase she grabbed from the dresser and hurled in his direction.

  The second was the wine bottle, but thankfully her aim wasn’t perfect and neither hit their mark. The flower vase and wine bottle both landed to his right and to his left, thankfully falling to the plush carpeting without breaking.

  Before she picked up anything more dangerous he rushed her. He recalled a fight scene in a movie he once read a script for, and reacted with haste.

  Catching her by her shoulders, he pushed her down on the bed, pinning her legs down. She tried to push him away and almost broke loose but he wrestled her to the bed, holding her wrists holding her down.

  “I suppose you’ll call the cops now," Randi spat.

  “What? Of course not. I just didn’t want any flying missiles hitting the mark. I’m not wearing protective gear at the moment. Or maybe you didn’t notice.” Martin could tell her mood was changing, her eyes softened and she stopped fighting.

  Her eyes moved from his gaze, down his bare chest, to the towel, to his right leg that was about to escape the towel he was wearing. When she managed to look back, it was with a different frame of mind to say the least. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t normally act like this. I promise I wasn’t trying to hit you, or break anything. I wouldn’t hurt you. This is just making me crazy.” At this point she opened her eyes.