Page 20 of Maid in America

Ava sat in the chair at the desk, her black blazer and skirt making her look every bit the fierce businesswoman she was. Will stood beside her in sweaty gym clothes, staring at Barrett.

“I just have one question,” Will muttered.

“What’s that?” Barrett struggled to make eye contact.

“What… thefuck, dude?!”

“What?” Barrett shrugged, trying to downplay his disastrous afternoon. He jostled his camo-clad knees nervously. “The hiccup at Mrs. Thompson’s? So I murdered some broad’s bathroom rug and put a hole in a towel. Big deal. That ain’t evencloseto grounds for notonebuttwohead slaps.”

“Hiccup? This wasn’t a hiccup, Barrett! Thompson was a regular client! I’ve been cleaning her place for almost a yearnow. She pays on time and tipsgen-er-ous-ly. This was a huge account!”

“Some chick already gavebirthon those towels, or whatever! They werealreadyruined with afterbirth... or placenta… or whatever-the-fuckgoocomes out of a woman when she calves out!”

Ava leaned back and bit her tongue, looking out the glass front door at the traffic outside.

“Besides the rug and the towels, she said you did sub-par work on the kitchen and the bathroom. And, probably worse than all of that, she said youpropositionedher. Said you asked her right off the bat if she wouldn’t rather start in thebedroom. Sue said you came onto her.”

“Hey, isn’t that what this is all about? Servicing horny old women while their husbands are at work or some shit? Or am I just… misunderstanding.”

“You’remisunderstanding!” Ava yelled, her voice booming powerfully in the small room.

“Wow. I’m at a loss for words,” Will said, hugging his damp chest with glistening, ripped arms.

“Dude, come on! It was my first day! I’ll get ’em next time,” Barrett said casually.

Ava shook her head.

“There won’t be a next time,” Will spoke quietly. “We gotta let you go, Bud.”

Barrett swallowed the lump in his throat. “What? No. Over arug? That’s what insurance is for. Take it out of my pay or something. Don’t fuckin’fireme.”

Ava growled, “You tried tosleepwith her! You left the house in more of a mess than when you arrived!Then,you fucked up her dryer with the rug. It wasn’t a cheap oneeither, Barrett. It wasindustrial. And apparently, her towels and rug were worthmore than my first fuckingHonda.” She moaned and rubbed her eyes. “Now our insurance is gonna take a hit.”

“With the repairs and replacements, you just put us in the red this month for the first time since I started this business. Look around you, Barrett. I’m not running this place out of my pickup truck as a side hustle now. This is a real business. One with a veryparticularclientele. Rich women, Barrett… theytalk.”

“One negative review takes about ten positive ones just to equal out,” Ava said, chiming in. “Plus, we can’t have you jeopardizing uslegally, either.”

“Ugh, what the fuck are you even talking about?” Barrett flopped his head backward.

“Hey, that’s my futurewifeyou’re talking to right now,andyourboss—”

“For another, what, thirty-nine seconds?!” Barrett threw his hands up and let them flop on the overstuffed arms of the chair with athunk.

“I don’t care if you’re my best friend or not. You can talk tomehow you please, but youwillshowhersome goddamnedrespect.”

“Fine. I’m sorry, Ava,” Barrett grumbled. Ava didn’t acknowledge him.

Will continued. “Thompson is a paying client. If you’d have slept with her, that’s calledprostitution. It’s illegal. This isn’t Vegas. You don’t work at theBunny Ranch. You even offering made her uncomfortable. A major part of this business we are trying to build relies on female safety andempowerment. These clients,they’rethe ones in control. Not us. I’ve seen her. If Thompson wanted to get laid, she could go to half the bars in this town and pick up a horny knucklehead that she can dose with her husband’sViagra.”

Ava interjected. “You’re not the only six-pack in town, Barrett. We’ve got a line of guys fromSwolewho want to join thefleet and have a lot more domestic experience than you. This was a favor to Will, bringing you on.”

Barrett stared at Will like he was Judas Iscariot from one of Pastor Erikson’s New Testament sermons. “Cleaning isn’t that complicated, guys. You don’t need some kind of a degree to be a fuckingjanitor in hot pants.”

“Says the man whose apartment hasn’t been clean since the Bush administration,” Will said with a scoff.

“Senior, not ‘W,’” Ava added.

Will gave her a look that begged for her to let him handle it. “Ava will cut you your first and final check. I’m sorry this didn’t work out.”

---