Authors: Natalie Frost
“No, sir. I wouldn’t say that we were.”
“So Margaret it is,” he said taking a seat at the desk. “Come sit here,” he said motioning to the chair across from him. As she stood to move she could feel his eyes burning into her. “Where are you from, Margaret?”
“Upstate,” she answered quietly as she took her seat.
“I see,” he leaned back in his chair. “What do your parents do for a living?”
“I’m sorry?” She looked up at him, taken aback by the question.
“What do they do? What job do they have?” he repeated himself slowly as if he were talking to a child.
“My mom is a teacher and my dad is an accountant,” she said, not sure what that mattered.
“Did you have a good childhood?”
“I guess,” she shrugged. She didn’t understand why he was asking her these questions, but she was too intimidated not to answer.
“Do you have siblings?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Do they live close by?” he asked her leaning forward.
“No. One still lives at home, the other is in Virginia,” she explained.
“Good.” He leaned back in his chair. “What size do you wear?”
“Excuse me?” she looked at him, her eyes large.
“What size clothes do you wear, Margaret?”
“That’s really none of your business,” she said defensively.
“Well, I’m making it my business.”
“Mr. McGuire, you’re making me uncomfortable,” she said, biting her bottom lip.
“Interesting,” he said standing to his feet and walking around the desk. Once he was directly in front of her he sat on the edge and leaned down to look at her. “You see, Margaret,” he began. “I’m very selective of the people I choose to have around me. If you want to be one of those people, you’re going to have to get used to being uncomfortable.”
His statement surprised her. She wasn’t sure what exactly he meant. She wanted to ask, but she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know the answer. She looked around the room, not letting his persistent stare overwhelm her completely, like it threatened to. “May I ask, Mr. McGuire, who will I be caring for? Provided I get the job?”
“I thought that was obvious,” he said standing up quickly. “Me.”
“You?” she asked. What did he mean? How was she supposed to take care of him? She had the sinking feeling that it meant a lot more than she was willing to do. Did he expect to hire someone to take care of him sexually?
“I’ll be in touch,” he said walking across the room and opening the door. “Thank you, Margaret.”
As she exited the building, her thoughts were filled with one question after the next. While Joshua McGuire was an attractive, obviously wealthy man, if she was right about her assumption of what he wanted from her, she was sure she didn’t want to be a part of it.
CHAPTER THREE
“Are you nervous?” Carrie asked Maggie backstage.
“Of course! Are you?” Maggie asked her in return.
“A little,” Carrie shrugged. She was the only close friend that Maggie had in the city, or at least, the only semblance of a close friend she had. They met at a casting call a few months back, and kept in touch, meeting up from time to time.
Carrie was similar to Liz, however. She had been living in New York City for a while now, and she always seemed to carry herself with a sense of superiority when she was around Margaret. She was as skinny as the hundreds of other girls who Margaret had to compete with for parts. On top of that, she kept her hair dyed blond—a very fake bleached blond—and had big, blue eyes, and a small, adorable little button nose. Her favorite topic of conversation was Maggie’s diet. She thought that through subtly giving her eating tips, she was somehow addressing the question of weight politely. This morning was no different.
“I mean, I was nervous enough that I could barely finish my breakfast this morning,” she added, eying Margaret carefully. “What about you?”
Margaret shrugged, “I guess.” She didn’t want to have this conversation again, especially right before an audition.
“You should really try eating some fresh fruit for breakfast, Maggie. It really gives you an energy boost!”
“Thanks,” Margaret smiled at her meekly, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I mean, I’m sure they don’t really teach you all those things back home. But here in the city, we’re very health conscious.” Margaret decided not to answer. There was no stopping Carrie when she got on her rants, so it was just better to shut up and wait for it to be over. “Really, Maggie. You should maybe take a class or something on nutrition. If you want to get the good roles, you’re going to want to…”
Maggie was interested to see what she would say. She always found interesting ways to phrase “lose weight”.
“You’re going to want to tighten it up a little,” Carrie finished. “And you need to let me take you out shopping.” As she spoke, Margaret wondered why it’s so hard to find real friends in the city. Her friends back home were never so superficial. They never criticized her. She didn’t have a problem with the way she looked, and they didn’t either. Why can’t people here seem to get that?
“Your outfits!” Carrie continued. “I’ve always told you; they make you look like you’re going to the local flea market—not like you’re hoping to be the next big thing on Broadway. I mean, you can always be a supporting…”
Thankfully, her speech was cut short. A man, probably in his mid-twenties, came up and tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to pause in the middle of what she was saying. “Carrie,” he said in a friendly tone.
She turned and let out a quiet squeal of excitement. “Mike!” she exclaimed as she threw her arms around his neck. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he said smiling down at her. He was attractive enough—tall, dark blond hair, green eyes. “Are you trying for the female lead?” he asked his friend.
“Yes. Oh my God! Are you going for the male lead? Ah!” she screamed a little louder than before. “What if we both got the leads? Wouldn’t that be great? We could work together!”
“That would be great,” he said, taking his eyes from Carrie and turning his attention to Margaret. “And who are you?” he asked extending his hand.
“Maggie,” she blushed slightly.
“Nice to meet you, Maggie. I’m Michael. Are you trying out for the lead as well?” He looked her over as he spoke, but not in the judgmental way that everyone else at the casting calls always did.
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“Well, playing the lead opposite you wouldn’t be half bad either.” He winked at her, causing her cheeks to turn a bright color of red.
She wanted to continue talking to him, but suddenly she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. “Excuse me,” she said apologetically as she pulled it out and turned away from Carrie and Mike. “Hello?” she said as she held the phone up to her face.
“Ms. Johnson?” She recognized the voice immediately. It was Mr. McGuire’s butler. Why was he calling? It had been two days since her interview, and she was sure that she didn’t get the job.
“Yes?” she asked, nervous.
“I’m pleased to tell you that you’ve been selected for the caretaker position.” His voice didn’t sound pleased; it had the same dry, almost monotonous tone it did the last few times she spoke to him.
“Oh,” she said, flustered. “I didn’t expect to…”
“You start immediately.”
“Immediately?”
“Yes. Mr. McGuire says that you’re to come as soon as possible.”
“I can be there in a few hours…”
“Sooner,” the man said firmly before hanging up the phone.
“Wait. I can’t…” she tried to object, but it was too late.
She walked back over to where she left Carrie and Mike. “Who was it?” Carrie asked, being nosy as always.
“It was this job I applied for. I got the position,” Margaret said, staring down at the phone in her hand.
“That’s good, right?” Carrie asked, trying to read the expression on her face.
“I have to start now—like right now.”
“Margaret Johnson!” a voice called out from the side of the stage. “The next reading will be from Margaret Johnson!”
“That’s you!” Carrie said, pushing her in the direction of the woman with the clipboard.
“No!” Margaret said quickly. “I can’t! Not now! I’m…” It didn’t matter, though. Carrie kept shoving her, and somehow she found herself standing next to the woman.
“Ready?” the woman asked smiling at her.
“No,” she said, her voice shaking.
The woman just laughed and gestured for her to make her way onto the stage and into the spotlight. “They’re waiting.”
The reading was the worst Margaret had ever done in her entire life. Throughout the entire process, her voice shook as much as her hands. She wasn’t worried about the part, though. All she could think about was going back to the penthouse and facing Joshua McGuire again. He was beyond intimidating. Not only was he straightforward and blunt, but he was attractive and confident. He made her feel both excited and completely frightened at the same time.
“Next!” the voice of the director called out from one of the seats in the second row of the large auditorium.
Margaret didn’t even get through four lines. She had completely tanked the audition and all because she couldn’t get her mind off of Mr. Joshua McGuire for even five minutes. She sighed deeply as she quickly gathered her things to rush off to the penthouse.
CHAPTER FOUR
When she got to the penthouse, she had already set her mind on trying to make the most out of the new experience. It couldn’t be worse than her currently situation, anyways. Liz was a little too eager to get her out of the apartment. Margaret had called her when she left the audition, telling her about her new job and living arrangement. When she got back to the small apartment to collect her things, she found that Liz had already taken the liberty to pack her suitcase for her. She had set it outside the door, with a note reading: “Good luck!”
“Ms. Johnson,” the butler greeted her as soon as the elevator doors slid open. “I’ll take that,” he said reaching out his hand for her bag.
“Oh, thank you,” she said handing over the suitcase containing the only things she possessed in the whole world.
“Thank you, Henry,” she heard Joshua’s calm voice say. She hadn’t noticed him sitting on the large leather couch before. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks and what she could only assume to be an expensive dress shirt. He stood to greet her as she walked towards him. “Take her things to her room,” he continued speaking to the butler. “I’ll show her there momentarily.”
As the small, white-haired man hurried away down the long hall on the far end of the room, Joshua motioned for Margaret to take a seat next to him on the couch. She moved across the room slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor in front of her. Whenever she looked at him, she felt her stomach begin to turn nervously, so the best option was to avoid it as much as possible.
“Margaret,” he began once she was seated. “I’m glad you could come.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said weakly.
“Please, call me Joshua.” His tone didn’t have the same authoritative, almost demeaning ring to it that it had had during the interview.
“Joshua,” she corrected herself.
“I can see that you’re very nervous, Margaret.”
“I am, sir… I mean, Joshua.”
“I don’t want you to be nervous around me,” he said kindly.
“I thought,” she finally looked up at him. His eyes seemed to be an even darker shade of blue than she remembered. Maybe it was the shirt he was wearing—but they were intense and deep, and fixed on her. “I thought you wanted me to be uncomfortable,” she said, recalling his comment from the interview. “That being uncomfortable was part of the job.”
“Being uncomfortable and nervous are two different things,” he said.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
He sighed softly. “You see,” he started to explain, “being nervous means that you’re afraid; that something around you is making you feel vulnerable.”