“Hey, do you want to walk and talk?” I interrupt Grace, loudly, looking away from him.
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Okay. But we do have some time before the meeting.”
“I know. Let’s just go. Let’s impress Mrs. S with how early we can arrive.”
Grace smiles. She has light brown hair and kind, brown eyes. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”
I begin walking and with every step, I feel like my thighs are shaking even more than usual. My entire body is bouncing more than it usually does.
It’s him. He makes me conscious of my figure. I thought I’d forgotten all the mean things his minions would say to me when my boobs started growing back in the ninth grade.
But that’s the thing about bullying, isn’t it?
You never forget. Never. You might pretend that everything’s okay now. That it doesn’t affect you anymore, their little insults and jeers. That years might have dulled their effect.
But he’s bringing it all back for me.
“Who’s him?” I ask her nonchalantly.
“The new Mr. Prince.”
Mr. Prince sounds super weird. I only ever think of him as Zach, the asshole.
I decide to walk faster and not think about what that is doing to my body. The sooner I’m out of his sight, the better. “Nope.”
She chuckles. “Okay. Don’t tell me. But just so you know, he was staring at you.”
I try to swallow, push saliva down my throat, but it’s like my heart’s stuck there and it won’t budge.
I know he was staring at me. He still is. I can feel his eyes on my back as I keep walking away, trying not to be self-conscious in my own skin.
Maybe he’s not even thinking about my less than perfect body. Maybe he’s thinking about how best to spoil my day like he did yesterday, when he doused me with water and ruined my uniform.
I had to run back to the cottage and hunt down my back-up. By the time I was presentable again, the lunch hour was over and I had to go clean the windows. I was almost dead by the time I was off for the day.
“I don’t care,” I say.
“Got it.” Then she shrugs. “It’s against the rules, anyway.”
“What is?”
“You know, consorting with the people we serve.”
She air-quotes the word serve.
I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you’re adorable.” I side-hug her. “There’ll be zero consorting where the new Mr. Prince is concerned. Believe you me.”
No one hates him more than I do.
As soon as we come down the stairs of the service entrance, I smell pie. Grace walks toward the staff room while I make a beeline toward the kitchen. I need a piece of pie after all that staring.
Before I even make it inside the kitchen, I squeal, “Maggie! I love you, you know that? How did you know I wanted pie this morning? You have no idea how shitty my week’s been –”
My words get stuck inside my mouth when I find him, of all people, in the kitchen.
How did he even get in here this fast? Wasn’t he just outside?
Zach is sitting in the nook and Maggie is fussing over him like he’s a little kid. He has a piece of my pie in front of him and he’s just taken a bite out of it when I barge in.
He’s still sweaty from his workout. But thankfully, he’s put on a shirt. Or rather a vest-like t-shirt with sweaty patches that puts his biceps on display.
“Cleo.” Maggie beams at me. “Sit.”
I don’t. I stay standing at the threshold, cursing the fates. Is this what my life is going to be like from now until he leaves? Seeing him everywhere?
I don’t wanna see your face for however long I’m here for.
Then why the fuck is he in the servant’s wing?
I glare at him and he returns it with a cool look.
“Cleo?”
“Huh?” I look at Maggie. “Sorry. I just kinda checked out.”
“Did I hear you say something about a shitty week?” Maggie is cutting up a piece of pie and plating it, probably for me.
With my eyes on Zach, I nod. “Yup. Super shitty.”
His lips twitch.
“Why? What happened?” she asks.
I narrow my eyes at him, then. “Bedbugs.”
“What?”
“Uh-huh. They came back.”
“Came back? What do you mean? I thought we called in the exterminators last time.”
So another thing about our town: we have bedbugs, both on the south side and the north. It’s probably all the heat. And a couple of months ago, we had a big break out at The Pleiades. Mrs. S freaked the fuck out.
“I know. I thought the same.” I shake my head slowly. “I thought they were gone for good. But the fucking bastards came back.”
Zach lowers his fork and chews slowly as he stares at me.
His eyes are hot and they move like they did the night he came back. They stop at my breasts for a few seconds before going down and pausing at my belly.
I’m all covered from top to bottom, but his eyes make me feel… unclothed. They make me sweat. I’m very aware of the droplets sliding down my spine and even my stomach. I swear with the way he’s watching me, he can see that drop plopping into my belly button.
“Oh my. Nora is going to be very unhappy,” Maggie says and puts down my pie right opposite to Zach. “Come, sit. Master Zach is just having breakfast.”
I look at her and decide, why not. Why should I let go of my pie just because Master Zach is here?
Walking to the table, I reply to Maggie, “I bet. I’m unhappy too. In fact, I’m outraged.” I reach the table and slide the chair out. Staring at Zach, I say, “Freaking blood-sucking leeches.”
Then I dig into my pie and hear a soft chuckle.
***
Bedbugs.
It would’ve been a wonderful little prank.
Not to mention, I know a guy on the south side that could’ve gotten me some. For the right price, he could get anything. But his fee was a little high this time around: me. He wanted to hook up with me.
As if.
I’m not that desperate to make Zach’s life difficult yet, thank you very much.
So I have a new plan and I’m executing it right now.
I have the night shift at the main house tonight, meaning I’ll be sleeping in one of those on-call rooms, and it’s the perfect opportunity. Even though I’m exhausted after a full-day shift and then babysitting Art until Doris was home, I’m doing this.
I’m in the kitchen, which is illuminated by the usual night lights. And in my hand is a bottle of laxative. I bought it from the store when Tina and I went grocery shopping.
For the past three days, Maggie’s been making Zach’s favorite things – all of them sweet and all of them my favorite too – and so, he’s been eating his breakfast in the kitchen. Which means, he does a little eating and a lot of staring at me, ruining my mojo.
It’s time for a little payback.
God, I love payback.
I have it on good authority that Maggie has made English-style fruit custard for Zach. Well, she told me. And it’s in a white container that I fish out and set down on the counter.
I hate to waste good food so I dip a finger in it and taste the yummy goodness before it’s gone forever.
I moan. It’s the tastiest thing I’ve ever put inside my mouth. Too bad it has to be ruined.
Opening the bottle of laxative, I dump some in the custard and then stir it with a spoon. Perfect.
“This is for ruining my uniform that day, asshole. And for all the things that came before,” I whisper to the bowl before putting it back.
Just as I turn around though, I hear a squeal, which makes me squeal and I slap my hand at the wall by the fridge to turn on the light.
The room gets flooded with a glare and it takes a moment for me to take in the person who caused all the ruckus.
It’s a face I haven’t seen in a couple of years. It’s a face I never even liked to begin with. It makes sense that I’d see it now that Zach is back.
It’s Ashley Howard.
There were rumors that Zach and Ashley were an item and that their families wanted them to get married in the future. Maybe they will. They both deserve each other. Ashley Howard is to Zachariah Prince what Bellatrix Lestrange was to Lord Voldemort.
She was the one who hid my clothes and sent boys into the locker room that one time.
Right now, her eyes are wide and she has a wine bottle in her hands. “Cleopatra?”
I sigh. “One and only.”
She walks closer. I’m wearing a blue nightgown; well, I’m wearing the blue nightgown, with the lacy neckline and hem. It belonged to my mom. I have a robe on over it, but it’s not tied and I’m regretting that.
“I heard you were working here.” She smiles as she comes to stand before me. “I guess the rumors were right.”
“I guess so.”
Ashley has a tight black dress on and she looks a little unsteady on her feet. Probably courtesy of the wine bottle in her hands. Her blonde hair’s tied up in an intricate knot that I can never, not in a thousand years, copy and her high heels give her an edge over my bare feet.
Looking me up and down, she checks me out. Not in a sexual way but more in a way that my figure is something to look down upon.
“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”
I stand up tall. “And neither do I intend to.”
See, it’s easy to say these things.
I’ve said these things to her plenty of times. But that doesn’t mean her digs at my body didn’t make a home inside of me. For a long time while I was going to St. Patrick’s, I’d feel ashamed of my figure, even though I knew I shouldn’t have been.
And since Zach came back, those insecurities have come rushing back.
“So you’re what…” She takes a sip of her wine straight from the bottle. “The maid? Like, you clean and take out the trash kind of thing?”
I blush and tighten my fists.
Granted, I don’t like this job but there’s no shame in doing it. This wasn’t my plan but it’s okay. There’s an honor in honest work.