Some memories come to you like the wind, scintillating but capable of being easily forgotten. There are those written on the shore, almost as if they're here to stay until the waves come to wash them away. Then some memories linger like knowledge, maybe bad, maybe good, but they tutor you to not come around that same path again. Those are the fairest of memories, even if they hurt maliciously.

I remember a lot of things in the past years, but mostly one specific haunting image that's my deepest scar, frequently having a recurrence of how it was carved. This isn't my first time in proximity with the Wallace family. Sadie cluelessly documented their biography of what everyone knows about them, but I guarantee her she left behind two things about those people: pure ruthlessness and cowardliness.

"Lively, I will be open with you," Carol started as we stood by the front of a door labeled with the name that got me fighting against myself inside. "I like you. There are already members of the clubs commending your service. Your continuity here could be a great journey, or it could end the moment you leave this door. The Wallace owns this clubhouse. What they ask is conclusive; I can't add anything to it. Swallow your pride and serve them as they want. According to everything that doesn't breach the rules for you working here," she emphasized the last part clearly, pushing back a strand of her blonde hair. Her outlined reminder gave me a bit of ease, for I was getting nervous midway at where her statement was heading.

"I will do my best." My voice betrayed me; I sounded croaked. Carol smiled, her eyes softening, as though she had known me for a long time, probably to offer me some support. Could she tell I was nervous?

"Please," she stepped back and let me proceed to the room.

The light was warm, soft rich fragrances blew into my nostrils as I stepped into the room. The temperature was chilled from the AC. I would say it's fair for my eyes to wander since today is my first time in this clubhouse, and I haven't yet given myself a gratified tour of the luxury that is this place, but it wasn't the elegance of what's practically an apartment that I was curious about at this point. It was the genuineness of my reality that I was about to meet face-to-face with Aaron Wallace. The name sounded so dry in my mind after years of learning to hate him, yet puncturing now that I knew he was nearby.

"She woke up and said, 'I need a decadent holiday after all,'" a chilled man's voice said; it was deep and collected. He was talking about someone.

"When wasn't she self-indulgent?" another excellent voice said, deep too and enticing to the sanity. The more I approached them, the more the calm noises and fragrances got thick.

My legs stop in my tracks. I have the full view of the men and a single woman in the room now; their backs or focus wasn't on me. Two were playing visual golf and two were sitting and watching. I should say hello, but I caught myself feeling many ways at the familiar view of the neck, hair, and shoulder. A woman was seated next to whom I knew was Aaron Wallace, and this woman wasn't wearing anything I could ever own in my closet; it was a perfectly tailored garment, the blonde hair mopping over her head and nails, running through Aaron's hair affluently done. I can't even compare. She was the standard of the Wallace family, as I had always imagined fit for them.

"Who are you? Why are you standing there not saying anything?" says a snappy voice, causing me to recover from my thoughts, and condescending blue eyes pinned me, and chic soft wavy butter-blonde hair dangled by the sides of the assertive girl's face.

"Uh... hmm." I cleared my voice, clenching my fist so as not for my fingers to wriggle at the burns in my chest, but it was only getting worse. Feeling the nails threatening to cut into my palms. "I am attending to you today..." My voice shouldn't come out small.

"What happened to the other girl who's doing it just good? I can't start all over again listing my regular," the girl shook her head in cluelessness, twirling her fingers around the locks of Aaron's hair as the boys were engrossed in the one-on-one game between the two taking turns making shots in the simulations.

I shouldn't be affected by what this is, and think more about what I could get after the day is over. My smile returns; I try my best to focus on my job solely. "It will only be this time; you do not have to do anymore. I am good with memories."

"Yes! Hole in one." One of the Wallace cousins, Mason Wallace, standing, suddenly triumphantly fist pumps, swinging his golf driver and resting it in his palms, turning over to watch the calm reaction of the rest three boys who were observing the screen. Aaron rubs his temple and leans a bit on the fingers. From here, I could tell a few changes about him. His hand was toned, a sight thanks to his rolled-up sleeves. He wears a wristwatch now, around his bulging veins, that tells he is now a man of twenty-four years.

"She's going to make me talk a lot now," the girl who's made it her conquest to intimidate me whines like a little child. Her head falls back, and it is the only time her fingers leave the hair that is not theirs so she can massage her temples. "Don't you guys have a book where you record your regular orders? Why don't you go get it? Go get it," she overbearingly urges when she darted her eyes back to me.

Swallowing, I comply with a nod. "Okay!" I smile apologetically. It was tight as I retreated to the exit, hoping she wouldn't take offense at it.

As I close the door after me, my body impulsively collapses against the surface. I didn't know I was carrying weight until now that I felt it pressuring all over my shoulders and chest.

"Close your eyes, let go, and let yourself breathe, Lively," my therapist used to say. Letting go wasn't feasible; I didn't practice it, but breathing therapy works for my panic attacks and emotional breakdowns. So I am exercising the procedure right now, hoping it works.

"Look, isn't it the new girl?" A disparaging voice diverts me from my self-mental medication.

My eyes spring to find Maya, rolling her tongue against the wall of her cheeks in the same uniform as me, holding an empty tray.

"Hell already?" She sneers, milking amusement from my distress. Her smug stare skimmed my whole body. "Heard you got upgraded to the boss's space in a day. Who did you have to suck in the bushes out there while you sell water? I hope you know having any kind of relationship between a low-class who's here to get paid in this place and a VIP member means an automatic detonation out of this territory," she fires with a manipulative, knowing glare, which gets broken as a voice interrupts, "Maya is enough." It was of a male. I glance over her shoulder to see the boy who loaded my coolers advancing toward us.

Maya rolled her eyes and rudely proceeded to chew the gum that was unexpectedly in her mouth the whole time she talked. "What do you want?" She starkly asks me.

It's not like I have options for whom to ask about where the record information for the Wallace family servings is; it was only Sadie, and she was driving a cart around the 36-hole courses of the 500-acre golf course. I am alone on this one right now.

"Who worked at the Wallace's section?" I give in and ask Maya. I hope she drops whatever this is and gives me a valid answer because the people I am serving somehow expect me to swirl a wand and magically read their interests.

"Uhmm... she's not here, Duh!"

Okay!

Sighing, I mentally knock my head, considering Maya is incapable of empathizing with anyone but herself.

"Maya?" The medium-height guy next to her scolds her, and she shoots him a side-eye that says 'zip up' before she lets out a defeated sigh and sets her focus on me again, "Jacqueline," she enunciates, and her lips spread into a wicked smile. "She's not here, apparently. That's why you existed in the main clubhouse, because if the quality level is a concern, the management wouldn't even hire you in the satellite clubhouses, let alone here. So yes, you should be grateful to the bitch."

I overlooked ninety-nine percent of what she said because it was valueless. It was the only one percent that I picked for use.

"There must be a notepad she left with the drafts of the section," I said, not wanting to return to the private simulation room with nothing to offer and then have to face that worse than Maya Blonde conveying threats that my job was hanging on a loose thread.

Maya's mouth drops open in amusement as realization sinks in. My face must have given away my feelings. "You are fucked, aren't you?" She laughs, slapping a hand over her mouth. She's so cruel. "They want everything as it is, and they can't start over," she said it as it is. My heart broke as vulnerability cuffed me. It took me everything to hold my tears back.

"Maya, do you know where Jacqueline had it?" I said subduedly.

"Even if I know, I wouldn't tell," she darted.

"Maya?" her friend warned. As much as he was on her team, it seems he was against her deranged attitude.

"What?" She shrugged at him. "It's not like we knew Jacqueline was going to run away without a warning. She just flew, leaving nothing behind," she tells him and furiously grabs him by the arm, looking back at me with a smirk, "So good luck dealing with insatiable Wallace boys, you will soon run away even if they beg you to stay."

The sound of her footsteps was fading, and just like that, I was alone in the hall, holding only a work digital notepad and a pen.

"Fuck!" I'm screwed. I'm losing this job; it's inevitable. It's not like I had much hope left for the job anyway the moment I learned I would be privately serving Wallace's family, which made it unavoidable to escape Aaron Wallace. From what I know, I could have memorized every detail about this family, but my ruin here is bound to happen. Even if that gorgeous girl caressing his hair didn't have me fired, the moment he laid eyes on me and remembered me, he would utter the word and have security seize me out of his family's property.

Blowing out a breath, I dab the tears at the edges of my eyes and compose myself. With a message, I request the kitchen in my notepad for some refreshments to hold off the members before I figure out how to handle the situation.

"You're back with our orders?" The blonde reluctantly says as soon as I step in, pushing the stroller with treats I audaciously came to bargain with.

About that... I don't know their usual order. And it now feels like the blonde has something against me; she's basically the only one who notices my movements, since none of the boy's care.

She's back to clinging to Aaron, who looks preoccupied with the competitive game his cousins are playing.

"Jacqueline... your former attendant left nothing for us to work with but—I," I said in a shaking voice, struggling to control the nervous pauses. I swear I could feel my job extinction looming. "But I have chilled water with me, spring rolls, and bruschetta for appetizers, and I will jot down everything you need me to know. Your next visit, everything will be right in order." I'm convinced it's over; she's laid her first stone to my weakness. My voice is quivering with pain; all I can think of is Bubble.

"I'm allergic to garlic, and do we look like we want bread?" She abruptly spats; it literally shakes the fiber of my being.

"Ruby, stop screaming." Finally, he speaks collectedly in a voice slightly familiar to what I used to know but flawlessly altered by age. It wasn't even loud, but it wielded a kind of authority that you just wanted to follow without questioning.

"Sorry, babe." The woman apologizes, pouting. "I'm just getting annoyed."

"Just tell us what you want to have; the amount of talking you are spewing would've been enough to detail everything." He didn't sound happy she was distracting him from the game.

The girl blows out an exasperated breath heavenward, so dramatic, and while she's at it, one of the Wallace cousins, Dane Wallace, sighting to hit as an opponent of Mason Wallace in the digital game, eventually looks to me. His facial expression was pure frustration, but his tone was contrasting to it. "Dom Pérignon," he demanded.

I know he was talking to me, but I didn't quite catch that. "Humm?" I hate I had to ask again; he sounded gentle, and I didn't want to get on his nerves.

He had gone back to aligning the ball; he just confirmed without looking back again, "That's what I'll have."

The thing is, I didn't hear the order. Now, my conscience is asking me if this is the job for me.

"Dom pre..." I stutter, and the blonde woman, who must be Aaron's girlfriend, snorts at my expense.

"Dom Pérignon," Dane repeated to me, surprisingly put together; he sounded aggravated by the blonde's behavior and this time I heard him better.

"Dom... Perignon," I struggle to write it down.

"Okay!" Dane says after taking the shot. "Not bad," Aaron complimented. "Yeah, man," Dane agreed, changing positions with Mason.

"What's your name?" It caught me unexpectedly. It was the woman asking me. But she's right; I needed to introduce myself since I am serving them.

"Lively... Lively Kelby," My eyes shut. Now it's either he remembers me or not.