Authors: Selma Wolfe
Hope
waited until he’d given her all three to ask, “Why do I need three keys?”
“One
for the front door, one for your bedroom door, and one for the connecting
door,” Rick said.
Hope’s
eyebrows reached for her hairline.
“Why is
there a connecting door?” she asked.
A bad
feeling bloomed in her stomach and she had to stop herself from taking a step
away from Rick, who was looking at her calmly, with a tiny line creased over
his nose, like he was confused. It wouldn’t be the first time that Hope had
turned a client down on a job, but it would definitely be the fastest time. She
readied answers in her mind (
it’s not professional, it’s distracting, I just
don’t, stop talking now
) and tried to judge exactly how entitled Rick was
in the few fractions of a second she had left to decide how to behave.
Rick
blinked and an unsure expression crossed his face. He looked between the two
doors, and then back at Hope.
“I
thought… you’re my bodyguard, so I just figured you’d want to be close by. I
mean, you can go somewhere else - anywhere else, really, it’s a big house - but
the room’s right there, so…”
“Oh!”
Relief colored her words and made them sound brighter than she’d meant. Rick
perked back up and smiled hopefully. “Well, in that case. Alright.”
Those
bright green eyes focused on her and Rick frowned. “In that case…” His eyes
flew open wide. “Oh! Jesus.” He put his hands in both pockets and pulled them
out to show nothing but lint and seams. Hope cocked her head to the side. He
held out his palm, displaying the lone key in it.
“There’s
only one key between the rooms,” Rick told her, his face open and earnest. “You
have it.”
He was
honestly concerned that he’d made her feel uncomfortable, Hope thought in
disbelief. A warm feeling curled in her belly and she pushed it away, but not
before she gave Rick a rare small smile.
“Thank
you, Rick,” she told him, and he beamed happily at her. With his bright smile
and eyes and tendrils of dark hair falling around his face, Rick looked young
and boyishly sincere.
Hope
didn’t know if she could trust it; she barely even recognized sincerity
anymore. But she thought that, for the moment that at the least, this seemed
like a client she could live with.
The
next morning she woke up in slight confusion at the sound of knocking. Hope
stared at the 20’ ceiling and oriented herself. In a mansion, next door to the
client, need to get up and make herself useful.
“Do you
eat breakfast?” Rick shouted through the door.
She
cast an eye at the clock and groaned. Weren’t millionaires supposed to be lazy?
“Not at
7AM,” Hope shouted back. She rolled out of the comfortable bed and grabbed some
clothes.
“Yeah?
Well, I’ll be in the kitchen if you want some anyway,” Rick called, and she
heard his footsteps fade into the distance.
Getting
ready took five minutes. It was amazing how fast everything went when you had
consistent running water; she still wasn’t completely used to that. The only
problem with the bathroom was that everything had too many faucets. Hope eyed
the taps warily, having been burned (literally) the night before in the shower.
Who installed a tap that spat out boiling bubbles into their tub?
On the
way out the door she hesitated, looking over at the connecting wall. She
fingered the small key ring in her pocket. It was very tempting to go
through right now and examine Rick's room while she was alone. If he was going
to try to make her into a 24/7 guard (and she was going to have to give that
more thought) then she needed to do her job right.
But in
the end, Hope huffed out a sigh and left with the door still untouched. Rick
hadn't given her any reason to think he'd be uncooperative, she reminded
herself. She wouldn't break the rules... unless she had to, of course.
Hope
had no trouble finding her way to the kitchen, but she took her time, scanning
her surroundings and taking in the architecture. High ceilings meant lots of
echoes, she noted, though they were mostly muffled if she stayed on the red rug
that flowed down the center of the hallways. She noticed that in spite of its
luxurious look, it was on the thin side, probably a side effect of age. Even
with sunlight sneaking in the windows, the building still felt dark and
castle-like. It was interesting. Hope hummed silently, just the buzz of
vibration in her mouth.
"Bacon?"
Rick offered when Hope walked into a huge, chilly kitchen with a large wooden
table at the center and a counter spanning three walls. She was amused to see a
petite woman with dark skin was the one simultaneously cooking the bacon and raising
an eyebrow at Rick, who grinned at both of them from his seat at the table.
"No
thanks. Coffee?"
The
woman jerked her head to the right. "Hope you like it strong enough to
sear off your taste buds."
"Sounds
perfect." Hope crossed the kitchen to the coffeemaker. She accepted the
mug the woman passed over with one hand, and offered a handshake with the
other. "Hope Lasser, nice to meet you."
After
just a second's pause, the other woman shook her hand. It was strong and
calloused, same as Hope's, and they smiled briefly at each other. "Trinity
Taylor. I'm one of the fleet of housekeepers for Mr. Stone here."
"I
told you to call me Rick," the man called from his spot at the table where
he was busy flipping through white pages crammed with tiny black text.
"As
you say, Mr. Stone," Trinity said placidly.
"See,
this is what I have to put up with, no respect at all," Rick complained,
eyes still scanning the papers in front of him.
Hope
poured out a cup of coffee and took a seat at the table across from him - a
little bit of a liberty maybe, but she was in some kind of weird limbo between
employee and guest right now, and if she was going to figure out the
boundaries, it needed to be now. She took a sip of the coffee and almost moaned
aloud. Perfect.
She glanced
up to see Rick watching her over his papers. "You make that look like a
religious experience," he said, sounding amused.
"It
might be," she said, straight-faced. Rick grinned outright.
After
another long pull on the rich black coffee Hope set it down and focused on Rick
to get his attention. She flicked a glance at Trinity's back and tilted her
head.
"Oh,
Trinity's been here for years. You can say whatever in front of her," Rick
said with a wave of his hand.
Hope
gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. "I can see why these mysterious bad
guys are having so much trouble with your airtight security," she told
him.
"She's
right," Trinity said over her shoulder. "I don't know what you're
doing wrong but you better go ahead and fix it, Mr. Stone. We'd never had one
problem with burglars before, and then there's two break-ins in the last three
weeks. Two! I don't mind telling you that if this keeps up, I am out of here on
a fast horse."
Rick
clutched theatrically at his heart. It was pretty effective in his simple
(though undoubtedly expensive) black tee-shirt that clung to him and hinted at
a surprisingly fit torso. It made Hope look at him, anyway.
"Trinity,
what would I do if you left me?" he said mournfully.
The
woman brushed hair out of her face with one hand and used the other to set down
a plate of bacon that Rick immediately fell on. She shook her head fondly.
"You'd forget me by 2:00, that's what."
"Never,"
Rick said, voice muffled by bacon - and yet somehow he managed to avoid both
chipmunk cheeks and looking like was talking with his mouth full. Maybe talking
and eating gracefully was something they taught millionaires.
Trinity
rolled her eyes and walked back over to the stove. "You forgot who Karen
was just last week."
Rick
frowned. "The redhead? So?"
"So
she's worked here for nine years."
Rick
shrugged and turned his gaze back to his reading. "Oh well. So I have a
few flaws."
"You're
not wrong," Trinity muttered, though she smiled as she said it.
Outwardly
Hope didn't smile, but she was more than content to sit back and listen to
their comfortable banter as she sipped the rest of her delicious coffee. Not
every morning would be as easy as this, she was sure. She would take her peace
where she could get it.
The
papers on the other side of the table shuffled, and Hope glanced up to see Rick
shuffling them neatly before tossing them right into the recycling bin next to
the table.
"You're
done already?" Hope asked, not even thinking about it.
Rick's
eyebrows shot up and then he relaxed.
"I'm
a fast reader," he said carelessly. Hope studied his tousled hair (genuine
post-sleep article, or tousled? She didn't know enough about hair to tell),
designer clothes, and easy smile. She wondered if maybe he just liked to be
thought of as somebody who read.
"So..."
Rick clasped his hands together on the table and leaned back in his chair.
"You've got questions, I take it."
Hope
set down the mug. "In a manner of speaking. But I have to be up front with
you. You're paying me to be here, but if you don't listen to what I say, I'll
be ineffective. So I'm asking questions, but I'm only going to listen to
certain answers. Alright? I'll cooperate with you whenever I can, but at the
end of the day..." she took in Rick's careful attention and decided on
full honestly, "most of my job is to prevent you from accidentally getting
yourself killed."
He
seemed to think about that for a second. Then, oddly enough, the corner of his
mouth tugged upward.
"You're
interesting," he told her, his brown eyes as honest as his words. Hope
didn't really know how to respond. "I'll try my best to behave.
Promise."
He gave
her a full-on grin that made Hope doubt extremely the effectiveness of that
promise. Off to the side Trinity snorted quietly.
Hope
propped her elbows on the table and brought her hands up in front of her lips,
like she was praying. For patience, maybe. Or luck. "So you want me to
shadow you 24/7? You should probably know I haven't done that before. Most
people haven't. It's not industry standard."
"Will
you do it anyway?" Rick asked. His face was serious for once. His eyes
flitted compulsively toward those notes he'd tossed into the trash. Hope
wondered what that was about.
This
house was interesting, and Rick was interesting, and honestly, she had nothing
else to do. Her internal debate raged for about a quarter of a second before
Hope nodded and said, "Fine, but in that case we need to establish new
ground rules. I need to know what your expectations are. If I'm not just
clearing situations at events and outings, then I need to know what it is you
want me to do in your house."
"That's
fair." Rick pursed his lips and drummed his fingers along the top of the
table. Even through the thick wood, the tapping reverberated across its surface
and up Hope's arms. Disconcerted, she pulled her arms away and folded her hands
in her lap.
After
mulling it over for a moment Rick said, "I guess I just want you to stick
around in case something happens. It would be good to have someone in the house
who knows what to do, and how to keep things safe."
"Things?"
Hope asked softly.
For the
first time, all of the charm and carelessness fell away from Rick's handsome
face. He looked suddenly solemn, even stern.
"I
meant... I meant people, of course," Rick said, holding her gaze in a way
that made Hope feel like he was evaluating her.
She
wanted to press the issue, but his uncharacteristic seriousness and the pages
in the recycling bin made her pause. Later, she decided. Hope was certain she
wouldn't get anything else out of him now.
"How
close to you are you expecting me to stick?" she asked instead.
The
tension cleared from Rick's face like a breeze had blown it away.
"Oh,
you can do whatever you like," he said brightly. "Hang out, explore
the house, whatever. Just stick around the grounds and keep this on you."
Hope
watched as he dug in his pocket and produced a small, almost flat rectangle.
Rick placed it on the table and shoved it across to her. The kitchen lights
glinted off its metallic surface and Hope realized it was technology. She
caught it carefully.
“Uh…
thanks.” She picked it up gingerly and eyed it. Was that the ‘on’ button at the
top, or…? “I’ll try to take care of it.”
Rick
shrugged. “It’s yours. Do what you want with it.” He pushed his chair out and
stood up. “If you need anything, just call - my number’s in the phone. I’m off
to do some paperwork.” He smiled lazily. Yeah, sure, Hope thought. He looked
more like he was about to drink mojitos by the pool.
“I’ll return
the phone to you when the contract is over,” she said firmly. She peered at the
thing. “Um. And. How do I…”