“No.” He clears his throat before proceeding. “Believe me, Keith. This came as a surprise for me too, for all of us. Clementine told no one until Vanessa gave her a final job offer. She also had no idea about Zach and Vanessa.”
“That’s convenient.” I sigh, my head lightly shaking in frustration. “This puts me in a bad place, Oscar. Zach Teager is my client. I provide personal security for him and his family.”
“I understand, Keith. But it’s only for three months.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Clementine has a trial period of three months. You might have already seen, she’s not the most responsible person in the world. She still lives in her head. At twenty-five she has no idea how the world works.” I can hear the irritation in his voice. “She’s working with Vanessa Hilbert who fires people just because her coffee is too hot.”
“I see you’re championing for the best brother award.” Somehow, I don’t like his words.
“That’s the truth. Think what you like.” There is a bite in his voice, but then he adds politely, “I’m happy she’s living in your house, Keith. Please bear it for three months. It might…even be less.”
After ending the call, I check my team’s ETA. They are still five minutes away. I rest my head back and look at the three-storied building, thinking about my conversation with Oscar.
The fact that Hawthorne Mansion is rooting for Clementine getting fired doesn’t sit well with me. I remember her crying over the cheesecake, looking in wonder when I showed her the loft, wrapped under the covers with just her scared face on display in the dark, huddled on my small couch bed, and this morning in the kitchen in my arms.
A tightness develops in my chest and I’m once again hit by a foreign feeling. I rub my chest, shaking my head.
I need to visit a doctor.
My team arrives, and I give them instructions about the cruiser before driving out of Vanshionista’s street parking.
8
CLEMENTINE
I run to the reception area. Even after Keith dropped me, I’m fifteen minutes late.
“Hello,” I squeak, breathless from my run. “I’m Clementine. I’m supposed to start today,” I tell the receptionist and show her my offer letter.
“You are late,” she comments, not bothering to glance at me as she types my information on her computer.
“I know. I was supposed to be thirty minutes early, but the bus…never came. There’s been some accident. But luckily my new landlord gave me a lift.” I run off at the mouth, telling her more than she needs to know.
Darn it! Can I be any more unprofessional?
“You know Vanessa doesn’t give a shit about that.” This time she peers at me before returning the letter. “Go to the second floor and find Ann. He’ll take you to Vanessa. If you’re lucky, Vanessa’s biting someone else’s head off and doesn’t realize you’re late.” The receptionist whispers a good luck, adding more fuel to my burning anxiety.
I bolt up the wide stairs, taking support from the oak banister. By the time I reach the top, my stomach muscles cramp.
If this is how my mornings will look, I don’t need any extra workouts.
A few steps into the giant lobby, I see the brand wall of Vanshionista. On one side are the recent awards won by Vanessa and on the other side is her life-size picture. Her haughty smile makes my legs move faster into the corridor and I search for Ann. I’ve already met him once on the day of my interview.
I’m still looking around when Ann, dressed in a mustard turtleneck, blue blazer, and checkered pants, which reach a little above his ankles, approaches me. My carefully selected clothes for the first day at work look pale compared to his attire.
He looks at his watch. “You are late.”
God! Will everyone please stop telling me that?
“I know. I had a problem with the bus.”
“You don’t have a car?” he asks, his voice loud in surprise as he jerks his head before looking me up and down.
I shake my head. My cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“Vanessa works crazy hours. You cannot rely on public transportation.” Ann looks at me over his shoulder as he leads me to an open-space office and grabs some papers out of a desk drawer.