Tough Shit (Rejects Paradise 1)

I gawk at her, my eyes bugging out of my head as I suck in a deep gasp. I stop walking just so I can stare at her. “Up into your asshole?”

Mom sputters out a laugh and tugs on my arm, pulling me along. “Shhhh,” she scolds, glancing around to make sure there’s no one out here listening in on our absurd conversation. “You can’t be saying stuff like that around here. These people aren’t going to understand your humor.”

I shake my head, still reeling with the thought of this bidet thing. “That wasn’t humor. That was disgust.”

“I know,” she groans as we pass the massive abstract water fountain in the center of the circle drive, a water fountain that could possibly be bigger than the home mom and I were just kicked out of.

We reach the grand stairs that lead up to the front entryway and all conversation about how rich people wipe their asses comes to a stop. We both stare ahead. I can’t believe we’re about to walk into this place. People like mom and I could only dream about visiting a place like this, let alone living in one.

“It’s now or never,” I tell her when we’ve hovered around the bottom step for long enough.

Mom lets out a heavy sigh and nods her head. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

With that, we start making our way up the three flights of stairs and I find myself counting.

One, two, three … sixty-six.

Sixty-six fucking stairs just to reach the front door. Who the hell needs this shit in their life? Mom is practically in a hot sweat. I’m surprised there isn’t an escalator to get up here. My old school didn’t even have thirty stairs over the whole campus. It’s like a work out just getting this far. My ass is going to be hella toned if I have to walk this shit every day. I can only imagine what the inside of this place is like.

Every disastrous thought about the stupid stairs disappears as Mom reaches forward and presses the golden button for the doorbell.

This is it. My world is about to collide with another and I’m not sure that I’m ready.

I expect to have to wait at least a few minutes for the door to be answered but within a matter of seconds, there’s someone there, pulling the door wide open.

A man appears before us in an expensive-looking suit and nods his graying head in greeting. “Good morning,” he says in a flat tone before looking over us with distaste. “May I help you?”

Mom’s eyes flick to me and I watch from the corner of my eye as she raises her chin, not liking the way this man is looking down on her. Though, she should be used to it, just like I am. This is the way anyone superior to us has always looked our way. “Hello. My name is Maria Munroe. I am here for the live-in housekeeper position.”

Understanding flashes in his eyes. “Ah, you’re the new maid,” he says as his eyes flick toward me. “And this is?”

Mom’s brows furrow before quickly glancing my way again. “This is my daughter, Oceania Munroe. It was put in my contract that she would be staying here with me. Mr. Carrington assured me that it wouldn’t be a problem.”

The old man who I’m starting to assume must be the butler looks over me, his eyes scanning from top to bottom and I see the same assumptions that I get from every adult—trouble.

I grin, catching his eyes and confirming exactly what he already knows to be true. I’m going to be more trouble than his fancy-ass can handle and if these rich pricks insist on treating me and mom like trash, then I’ll show them just how much trouble I can be.

Fuck, I can’t wait. I’m just begging for one of them to try and start shit with me.

“Yes, of course,” the butler says, squaring his jaw and silently reminding me who’s the boss around here. I swallow back and bite my tongue. He’s not my boss but he’s going to be Mom’s and I can’t fuck this up for her, no matter how much we don’t belong. I can make trouble another way. “That’s no problem at all. Her enrollment at Bellevue Springs Academy was finalized just a few hours ago.”

Mom smiles as my eyes bug out of my head. A private school? What the fuck is that about? I’m not going to fit into a private school and I guarantee that mom can’t afford the fees that go along with that.

I study the side of her face and watch as she focuses extra hard on the butler, refusing to look my way. She knows what I’m thinking and I don’t doubt that she’s trying to avoid having this conversation in front of this douche canoe.