Page 78 of Maid in America

“Yeah! My dog sitter said they were out there playing putt-putt down off 191. He said Barrett had his arm around her neck, whisperin’ things in her ear, being all flirtatious and what-not.” She burst into another loud laugh. “He… said… Chastity and him kept whacking him… in the leg… with the ball.”

“You don’t say.” Maggie fought hard against the urge to grind her molars.

Sue howled louder, tears forming in her eyes. Any harder, and she was going to pee herself. “He… he showed me the bruises!”

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“Alright. Let me seethe goods.” Maya clapped from the couch in her pink pinstripe blouse and gray slacks. Her black hair was clipped up, though her features seemed less youthful and vibrant than before.

Barrett happily obliged without a hint of hesitancy, posing confidently in her living room in a Roman-style toga draped over his shoulder, across his chest, and down to his shins. The ensemble was cinched at the waist with a decorative golden curtain tie, one that resembled a rope.

“So?” He stepped forward, sunlight glinting off a pair of gold sandals and a metal laurel leaf headband that pinned his raven-black hair against his temples. “What do you think?”

“The Romans would be appalled, but I love it.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, for starters, the rich wore the longer togas like that. They could afford the extra fabric. It was a sign of opulence. Second, they were made of wool, not cheap polyester. They were also pinned, not sewn together, and they were a sign of status, so… having you wear a long toga to clean my house would have been fairly offensive.”

Barrett laughed. “Hey,Man Maidnever claimed to be historically accurate, just fun.” He flexed his biceps. “Idarea Roman to make this outfit look this good.”

“The empire fell in 476 A.D., so none could really contest you.” Maya’s features softened.

The bags under Maya’s eyes were noticeable, and she didn’t hold her smile long.

He tilted his head, looking her up and down. “You alright? You seem exhausted.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… problems at work.”

“Tell me about it.”

She paused, spinning around. “I mean this with no offense, I swear, but… I don’t think you’d understand it.”

“So? I’m a good listener. Sometimes, talking it out helps.” He took her by the hand and dragged her toward the kitchen. “I can listen while I clean.”

“Dear God, where have men like you been my entire life?”

Two hours later, Barrett was still nodding along, listening intently as Maya wove a complicated tapestry of employee relationships and software jargon. She rambled on about software written in C++, which was, ironically, just about the grade he earned in his high school computer class.

She discussed the intricacies of code complications and how one small error somewhere could disrupt an entire software program. She’d been reviewing this particular section of code for three days and was unable to find the problematic issue.

“And now everything is starting to look like a blur. I have to fix this, but it’s like my brain is completely fried. I am having trouble doing basic stuff like… deciding what to make for dinner and what shirt to wear for work. I’m somewhere betweenfrazzledand needing ashrink.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” She nodded, reaching for the red wine decanter on the counter. Barrett tossed down his scrub sponge, wiped his hands on his toga, and took a seat beside her.

He watched as she poured herself another liberal glass of wine and held the rest of the bottle out to him. “Can I get you a glass?”

“No, thanks.” He studied her face up close. “No offense, but Maya, when was the last time you slept?”

“Last night.”

“For howlong?”

She hesitated, swirling the liquid around her glass, eyes intensely focused on it to avoid eye contact.

“Three hours, give or take.” She paused. “Ireallyhave to find this error. People are depending on me to find this one tiny little screw-up. Our clients are going to jump ship if I can’t get it figured out, likenow.”

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