“Well, look at that. Easton Reid is his name.” I roll the name around on my tongue as I push my cart to the next room. My mind is stuck on the meeting of the handsome stranger as I work down the lists of rooms that need to be cleaned first. I put my headphones in at my next stop and get lost in my work. It’s hard work cleaning hotel rooms, more than I ever thought before. Somedays, there are two of us to a room, but for the most part, it’s just me by myself. I don’t complain, though. Working with someone else can be more of a hassle than it’s worth.
When I went to Easton’s room, I was in the middle of finishing the last of my three rooms left to do on my shift, calculating that I have a couple of hours until I can make it back to headquarters, take care of the laundry that’s in my cart, and then call it a day. Today seems like it’s taking a toll on my body. That could partially be because I almost peed my pants when Easton Reid pulled a gun, but regardless, the muscles that I don’t always use are aching today, not to mention my feet. “What I wouldn’t give for a massage,” I mutter to myself as I walk into the next hotel room.
The stench of liquor, smoke, and sex permeates the air. I nearly wretch. Zooming out of the room, I take in a breath of fresh air before I look for my mask. Once I find it, I secure it in place, knowing this is only going to get worse before it gets better.
This isn’t the first time I’ve had to clean up someone’s night of debauchery. And that’s the only word that could sum it up in a nice manner. You would think, at the rates that this hotel goes for a night, the clientele wouldn’t treat their room like a frat house. Yet, at least three times a week, it’s my lucky job to clean up after them. I don’t get the luxury of getting another girl to help me either. Nope, I’m stuck doing it on my own.
“Get it over with, Cam,” I grouse. Talking to myself is something that comes normally, probably because I’m always alone. My parents are gone, and I’m an only child. It made for a lonely life, being shuffled around to family members’ houses at the age of sixteen. I so badly wanted to emancipate myself, but at that age, it would have been so hard. Plus, I wanted to graduate. So, I stuck it out until I graduated and lived with my dad’s sister and her husband. It was rough, but I pushed through. I went to school every day, got a part-time job after school, and saved every penny I could. They left me alone, for the most part, until it came time for dinner. Then, it was like who could hurdle the most insults at me. It got so bad that I started eating outside of the house.
The day I graduated high school, I was done. I couldn’t handle it anymore and left in the middle of the night, the same day I received my diploma. Sure, times were tough, but I was tougher. I worked two jobs at one point and had three roommates in the beginning. I quickly got tired of that and found a tiny house to rent close to school and work.
Now, here I am at twenty-one, six months from completing my college career, and doing it all on my own. I wanted to go full-time, but I needed a job to pay for the roof over my head in order to go to said school. Not to mention, I did it without financing a single penny. That in itself is hard to do, but not many people will loan money to a single woman with no credit.
I walk back in, mask firmly in place, and look around. “Yep, gloves it is.” I pull them out of my uniform pocket, tackle taking the sheets off the bed, and get grossed out every minute of my time spent in here. Used condoms are sandwiched in between each layer of sheets, some even by the pillow. I try not to gag behind my mask, but it’s not an easy task. I strip the rest of the bedding and throw away the trash. Then I work on all of the liquor bottles and cigarette butts that they left everywhere.
“So much for our no-smoking room policy,” I say to an empty room. I finish cleaning the room, then tackle the bathroom. “Oh my freaking goodness. You have to be kidding me,” I say to the nastiest bathroom I’ve ever had to clean. I walk out and make a call back to headquarters to let them know this room needs an extra night to air out before someone can occupy it. Then I tackle the bathroom. It’s in worse shape than the hotel room itself. I mentally count down the number of months, then weeks, and even days until I’m through with this job. When I finally finish and head to the next room, I’m thankful it’s in much better shape. Right now, my life is as follows, rinse, wash, repeat. At least, today, I got to feast my eyes on a drop-dead gorgeous man. Maybe that will keep my mind active for the rest of my shift.