“The glass,” I say. “It’s perfectly clear. Perfectly. Not a single smear. Not a print. Not one.”
She puffs up her chest like a proud little peacock. “Thank you, sir, our cleaning staff are dedicated to the very highest levels of…”
I shush her with a shake of my head. “Yes, yes, Janet. I don’t need the brochure spiel, and this isn’t an award ceremony.”
Her mouth slaps shut, a little bit like a toad’s.
“There was a girl here last night. A cleaner,” I continue.
Her eyebrows go so fucking high. “You saw one of our cleaners?”
“Yes, Janet, I saw one of your cleaners. In here. Last night. I was talking, and she was…”
Janet Yorkley looks mortified. She holds out her hands, dithering in the air so as not to spoil the cleanliness of the table I just pointed out to her, and she’s waffling apologies, assurances that it won’t happen again, that the cleaner in question will be demoted. Fired. Dismissed immediately.
I tell her the table is perfectly fucking clean and she wants to fire the girl.
Imbecile.
I can’t fucking stand imbeciles.
The woman isn’t listening to a fucking word I’m saying, and I hate that. I think it’s probably my biggest hate – people who won’t shut their trappy fucking pie hole long enough to just fucking listen.
“I don’t want her fired,” I tell her, and my voice is irritated as sin. “I want her promoted.”
“Promoted?” Her eyes are like golf balls. “You wish to have her promoted?! The girl you saw? But she’s in breach of–”
“Yes, Janet, I wish to have her promoted. To my house. To my office. To anywhere I’ll get the best personal use of her talent.”
Janet Yorkley bores me.
I can practically hear her brain clunking around her skull.
“To my house, Janet. Do you understand? I have an extensive collection of gemstones. My tumblers are Dalton Crystal. My dining table is antique walnut. I want that girl to clean it. All of it.”
She nods. Her brain chugs around some more.
“She moved my laptop and she didn’t even look at the screen. Not even a glance. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find someone who cares so little for corporate snooping?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but she goes to answer it anyway.
“We value discretion, in our induction we vet our candidates for–”
I wave her quiet. “My old cleaner is leaving us, yes? I got a memo, did I not?”
“Your assistant… I sent it to…”
“I see all my assistant’s correspondence, Janet.”
“At the end of the month… Cindy’s moving away…”
Like I give two fucks who Cindy is or what she’s doing.
“That girl will be my new cleaner,” I tell her. “Make it so.”Chapter SevenMelissaWhen we’re summoned into Janet’s office at the end of our next shift I hope it’s only me who’s going down for my fuck-up, and not poor Sonnie too.
The apology is already on my tongue since I’ve been rehearsing it all afternoon. I wonder if she’ll let me off with just a slap on the wrist. Show mercy over one stupid moment of carelessness.
I don’t get the impression they give many second chances in this place, and I’m petrified, now more than ever, because I was so close to him, just him and me, and he spoke to me, smiled at me… just for one moment… but it’s a start… it’s–
“Sit,” Janet snaps, and I sit. So does Sonnie. “You girls know why you’re in here, I’m sure.”
Sonnie looks blank, shaking her head a little, and I feel so guilty. I should’ve said something earlier, at least she could’ve prepared for the shit storm.
I blurt it out, just to get it over with. “I’m really, really sorry. It was a mistake. It was dark, the roster said the room was empty…”
Sonnie’s eyes are so wide. I wish the ground would swallow me up.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I should’ve looked, should’ve checked, I was carrying things and I didn’t think…”
Janet looks seriously unimpressed, her mouth so tight and mean. “I’d dismiss you for this,” she tells me. “Discretion is one of our highest priorities, Miss Martin, especially where Mr Henley is concerned.”
I’m nodding, and Sonnie is staring right at me as the realisation dawns. “You walked in on Mr Henley?! This ain’t got nothing to do with me, Janet. Uh uh. No.”
“It’s got nothing to do with Sonnie,” I reiterate. “She doesn’t even know about it.”
Janet nods. “As I said, I’d dismiss you for this. Luckily for you, Mr Henley has other plans.”
She shuffles a load of papers and taps them on the desk as I gawp. She pulls out what looks like a pass on a lanyard from her top drawer, and a set of keys from a box she has to unlock with a special code.
“Other plans?” Sonnie prompts, and my heart is pounding.
Janet shrugs at Sonnie. “I was going to promote you, Miss Webber, but the decision was made for me. Miss Martin is going to be taking over from Cindy Harris as Mr Henley’s personal cleaner.”