When things first happened, had I told anyone, they would’ve passed it off as fanfiction: it was that unbelievable! A lot of times, I refused to believe it, myself.
I was never an important person, maybe to my family but that was it. My life was mundane at best. The only exciting thing that ever happened to me was the decision to move to Persimmon Hills. I lucked up and found a job immediately after moving. Nothing glamorous: it was for a cleaning agency. They were very well known in the city, to the point where nearly everyone who wanted/needed top quality services used them.
How the agency worked was neat, in itself. If you were good, you were requested personally by numerous people. Solo workers of that quality had set schedules, as well as “commission” on top of hourly wages: whoever they worked for, paid them for their time as well. So, it was very beneficial for you to be a damn good worker. Because I was new, I did group jobs like cleaning out vacation homes before and after occupancy. I had no complaints because it was actually easy work: chores were divvied out, instead of one person cleaning an entire house.
Only time you were ever at headquarters was if there was an employee meeting, and of course when you’re going through your interviews and all that. The meetings happened maybe once a month and were hardly important for the most part but they were paid meetings: if they wanted to pay me to sleep, I had no problems with it!
It was the only reason why I was there and after the meeting, I decided to take a look at my physical schedule. It was also on their website but we usually knew ahead of time, especially the group jobs. It didn’t hurt to remind yourself though, and I made my way to the bulletin board.
What I saw across from my name puzzled the shit out of me but I was glad I decided to double check. The entire work week, I had solo jobs but it wasn’t the solo bit that got to me: the question mark in the slots where work hours usually were did. I needed an adult!
I scanned the area, to see if I could pinpoint any supervisor to discuss this with. I knew if I couldn’t find one, I could always try my luck at my own supervisor’s office but everyone was trying to head home. One woman caught my attention: I couldn’t remember her name to save my life but I was always good at faces. She had been with the company for quite some time and would know what my mess of a schedule meant.
When I stopped her, and showed the piece of paper, her eyes widened and beamed as she let out a small whistle. “How long you’ve been here?”
“A few months?”
“You lucky dog!”
“I don’t understand…”
“It’s not rare that someone who’s been here that long would get solo jobs. But, this–” she gave me the paper back. “–This usually means you’re cleaning a celebrity’s house. I’ve only seen it a few times, though and never on my schedule!”
“Oh. So, why the question marks?”
“That’s the main giveaway it’s a celebrity’s home, or at the very least a large house. They don’t know how long it will take you to clean. So, depending on the size of the home, it’ll be tedious. But the pay?”
“Commission.” I couldn’t help but to nod at the thought.
“Congratulations, honey! I don’t know what you’ve done but you impressed ’em enough to give you this assignment.”
I’d been at the agency for only six months. And in that small time, they felt I was ready enough for that big of an assignment? I had no idea what I done, either, to be rewarded like so. But, I wasn’t going to question it as I went on the website for more details. I put the address in my phone with a reminder and tried my damnedest not to think about it.
The morning of my solo job made me a nervous wreck. I was proud of myself that I refrained from looking the address up on Google beforehand: I wanted to be pleasantly surprised at who lived there. My mind wondered: would it actually be a celebrity… one that I knew? I still knew next to nothing about Persimmon Hills so I automatically assumed that if you were deemed a celebrity there, you were a sports one: the area was very well known for its professional sports teams, the only thing I knew for sure!
I parked in the driveway of the surprisingly moderate home before seven and downed the rest of my coffee. Unlike the group jobs, with solo, you had to meet your employer face-to-face. I refreshed my breath before getting out and continued to study the house. No celebrity lived here. Perhaps some high level corporate person who was either too lazy to clean or too busy to do so. I was more than likely to be greeted by their PA or spouse. A bit let down, I knocked on the door and waited. I suppose it was a good thing: I was no longer nervous about this job.
My hopes dashed through my veins: I wasn’t expecting to see who I saw when the door opened. I stopped myself from gawking at none other than John Davies but his small laugh told me I failed to cover it up.
“I suppose you weren’t expecting to see me, correct?” he’d been in America far too long: his British accent was faint. I laughed nervously along with him as I shook my head.
“I’m sorry but no. To protect clients, the agency only gives us the address and the hours.” I couldn’t help matching his smile as he let me in: it was that warm and inviting. Speaking of warm and inviting: I couldn’t help but look over the inside of his home. I wasn’t an art or decor expert but his home was indeed warm, inviting and modern. All I really knew was that things matched and said things looked expensive.
“Oh? Did n… huh.”
“Is there a problem?” as much as I liked looking around, I could tell by his tone there was.
“No one told you this was a live-in position?”
“I’m sorry, what now…?” I quickly turned from my visual tour and eyed him. John sighed but his dark brown eyes carried his amusement at my reaction.
“Damnit: I specifically asked for that.”
“Without even knowing who you hired? Wouldn’t it be better to have a trial run before making that big of a decision anyway, Mr. Da…”
“Oh, please don’t call me ’mister’: that’s my father,” he gave me the most gorgeous smile I’d ever seen and I felt a burn at my cheeks as I tried not to melt. “I trust your agency to provide only the best. It’s what you’re known for. I’ve seen the reviews and you were recommended.”
“No, the company overall.” he answered. Yeah, how pretentious of me. I was about to ask why he would want or need a live-in maid but then I remembered his schedule. John was still shooting scenes for that one popular series which was shot on location in New York and, in between time, would do some shows on Broadway.
The real question should’ve been why did he live in Persimmon Hills and not New York?
“Ah. Um… maybe I should call the agency to sort this thing out.” Not that I hated the live-in part but it was odd I knew nothing about that part!
“Only if you’d like. I’m curious: how long did they schedule you to be here?” it made me think back to the question marks. They finally made sense now… although the sensible thing would’ve been to just write that it was a live-in position.
“It didn’t say. I just assumed that it was just a really large house and that we would discuss the terms… now.”
“I see. I suppose that’s what we’re doing. If it makes you feel better, you don’t have to move in tonight but since you’re here, I don’t see the harm in you working right now.”
“Oh, that was definitely the plan: I wasn’t trying to skimp out of work!” it thrilled me that he laughed along with me.