Maid For Him

Julia Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the door. I did not want to do this. After remembering everything she did, I would rather sleep on the street. She was the reason why I moved out in the first place, but now I had to move back in with this green-eyed witch all because of one old pervert.

Mr. White was old enough to be my grandfather, and he was nothing but an old geezer. I had to quit my job after he tried to make a move on me for the fourth time. I know I should have quit the first time, but I desperately needed the money. I had rent and bills to pay but ended up getting kicked out of my apartment anyway because the rent was due, and I was unable to get another job in time.

I wiped my tears and knocked twice. I called her yesterday after having to search all over for her number. I had it written down on a piece of paper two years ago—the very same day I left the horrible town of Greengrove.

There wasn't much opportunity in Greengrove for a young girl to make something of herself, so I had to move. Education here was limited and so were good jobs.

Gina Parks opened the door and leaned against the doorframe. A cigarette hung from the side of her mouth and her hands folded across her chest as she looked at me. It was one p.m., but that did not stop her from dressing in an ugly green nightdress, pink and orange hair rollers, and blue house slippers. Her nails were every cat’s dream, and if it weren't for the wrinkles on her face along with her taste in fashion, no one would believe that the witch was forty-five-years-old with a twenty-three-year-old daughter.

She happened to be one of the worst mothers to walk earth.

“Well, well. Look at what the dog barfed up. Little wannabe princess had to return to mother dearest. What happened, did the kitty get overworked?"

I roll my eyes at her. It's not like I was expecting a warm welcoming hug. The only time this woman ever hugged me was the one time in freshman year when she got so wasted that she had to use me to support her feet. I'm not even surprised she thought that I was a prostitute. The saying did go, like mother like daughter, but this was not the case. In no way or form would I ever be like this woman.

"I won't be here for long. I'll pay you for my stay, beer or cigarettes?" I asked before grabbing one of my suitcases and pushing past her.

"Both," I heard her say as she followed me to the basement, otherwise known as my bedroom. The house is a small two-bedroom with a basement, two bathrooms and a kitchen that she made into a living/dining room. The other room was too good for me, so she rented it out to perverts, criminals, and prostitutes.

"After you're done putting your shit away you can go to the store and get them. You're in charge of dinner too."

Dragging the suitcase in my old room, I slammed the door in her face and leaned my back against it. I didn't want to stay here for long, but there wasn't much in my savings, and I had no idea what I was going to do.

I have never felt so lost before.

Rome "Berkeley, can you hurry the fuck up? I'm already running six minutes late."

"It's Bentley, sir, and there's a bit of traffic," my new driver replied.