Page 29 of Rhet

Placing my phone face down on my desk, I focus on her.

“If you take this job, you’re at my beck and call all the time. Even in your sleep.”

She bites her bottom lip. “I need Sundays off.”

“I can give one Sunday a month.” I shrug my shoulders.

I can give her the whole damn weekend if I wanted to. Do I want too? Fuck no.

“I’m asking for more than one Sunday. I want every Sunday off, or I walk.” She lifts her chin, looking me squarely in my eyes.

What the hell does she do on Sundays. Clearly, it’s important to her. Or she walks? Shit, I like her a tiny bit.

“Fine, Sunday can be your day off.” I tap my armchair.

“What’s my salary? My job description?” she asks.

Instead of wasting my breath replying, I write her salary on a piece of paper and slide it toward her. She reaches over and takes the paper in her hand. She swallows and tugs at her jacket.

“I will send you to HR. They will have your contracts ready.”

“Oh, okay great.” Her shoulders relaxes as if she is relieved.

“I need you at my home tomorrow morning at 5:30 a.m. Be packed to move in. Have my coffee from theScreamin’ Bean. Black, three sugars.”

I take out my pen and swipe a sticky note to write my address.

“TheScreamin’ Beanopens that early?” she asks and takes my address from me.

“How should I know? I don’t own it. Julian, however, gets to my house with coffee on time.” I stare at her, letting her know once again, that if she can’t…

“Okay,” she replies, nodding as she makes her notes.

“Tell me something, do you have better clothes than this?” I motion at her. I really want these clothes burned.

“Why?” She looks shocked that I asked.

“I will add a stipend for clothing onto your pay. I find the way you dress to be offensive.”

“It’s a pity your nerves are so delicate. To be offended by clothing—” She cuts off and tightens her lips.

Yes, she’s going to be a challenge. I will enjoy breaking her.

I pick up the phone and dial HR. “Michelle, I’m sending my newest PA. Work your magic and get her paperwork done.”

“No problem, Mr. Banner,” Michelle replies, her voice light and cheery.

As I hang up, I look back at Ms. Woods. “Be at my home 5:30 a.m. Don’t be late.”

ZEETA

I enter my home an hour after that crazy interview, the sound of the TV playing in the living room reaches me. My mom is asleep on the couch as TBN blasts. Grabbing the remote from her hand, I proceed to turn off the TV. Some of the cushions are scattered on the floor, our family photos hang from the walls.

I lean over and kiss her head. There’s a salty bitter taste to her skin. With a sigh, I take her in. The past months have been brutal, but she’s strong and will get better. My once plump mother has become nothing but bones.

The green scarf covering her hair slides forward on her forehead. Her once bronze skin is now dry and scaly. The clinking of plates in the kitchen gets my attention. I walk in that direction and call out the nurse’s name. “Helen.”

Ms. Helen is a godsend. She takes care of everything in the household on days I can’t. Walking into the kitchen, I see there are three bread pans with freshly baked bread. The kitchen smells delicious.

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