Emma Riley

I annoyingly stared down at the time on my cell phone: 8:57 pm. As if focusing on it would somehow make a difference. "Might as well try calling her again..I guess" I mumbled to myself outloud as I rolled my eyes and redialed her number for the fifth time in a row.

I stood by myself in front the deserted, darkened bank in one of the worst neighbourhoods in the city. My purse drapped over one shoulder, crossing my arms over my chest. Both in annoyance and to protect myself from the chilly night air. My light jacket was no match for it. I made a mental note to myself to invest in a better jacket..whenever I got the money of course.

Voicemail..again. I let out a grunt as I hung up the phone and tossed it into my purse, letting it rest somewhere in between my perfume and my pepper spray.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement. I had worked at a Janitorial Service for the past four years. That was a long time at one place for a 21-year-old. We mostly cleaned offices, kitchens, and bathrooms for local businesses..but on occasion we would clean a private residence, if the price was right. This is what our boss, Carl called "A VIP." A lot of the employees fought to get on a VIP account, because it meant big bucks. Personally, I tended to steer clear if I could help it. Our VIP Clients were usually paranoid, rich people who look at you like you were trash and treat you as such. Perhaps there are some who will grin and bare it for the money but I am just not the one. My emotions are easily read all over my face whether I like it or not.

No, I was just fine with my simple little accounts like the accounting office downtown..and this small bank. The only negative thing about this bank, was Katie.

See, because of the time of night, the neighborhood, and frankly because we're women..we weren't "allowed" to start cleaning by ourselves. We had to have a cleaning buddy, so to speak. We entered the building together, we exited together.

Katie had been with the company for eight years and had seniority over me. The boss trusted her way more..Lord knows why. She really sucked at her job. But she was the kind of coworker that got away with things anyone else would be fired for. In case you hadn't figured it out..I wasn't the biggest fan. She's nice enough, but she just seems extremely lazy to me. She is late almost every single night and always has a lame excuse.

I pulled my phone out of my purse as I heard it vibrate. "Please let that be her." I thought to myself. I pulled it open to see one unread text message:

Katie
Two minutes away.

"That's what she said ten minutes ago" I mumbled to myself bitterly as I replied with the coldest "K." I could manage. She was supposed to be here thirty-minutes ago. She's always late, but this is ridiculous. How I wished I could go in and start cleaning while I waited, but besides the "arrive together/leave together" rule..Katie had the keys. Boss didn't trust me with them, ironically.

The most frustrating part? We had to be done cleaning the bank, have the alarm set and be out of the building by 10:30 pm. Apparently, the alarm company the bank used charged them extra if it was set after then. So the bank gave strict instructions to be done and gone by then. This is doable, if we show up at 8:30 like we're supposed to.

But since Katie decided to be thirty minutes late..now we will have to rush to not only not be late leaving here, but late to our other accounts. Basically..it makes the whole night suck ass.

As I saw her familar red Ford Taurus pull next to my white Dodge Durango in the otherwise empty parking lot, I rolled my eyes at what I was sure would be another lame excuse.

No matter. Now that she's here, I needed to focus. If we are late finishing I just knew Carl would find a way to place the blame on me. Like he always did.

I took my favorite bright green hair tie that matched the color of my eyes from around my wrist and tossed my long blonde hair into a messy bun as I watched her slowly get out of the car, lock it up and strolled to meet me in front of the bank entrance, a lit cigarette in one hand.

"You're late." I said the second she approached, fumbling inside her oversized purse for the keys with her cigarette-free hand. "Beautiful and observant. Remind me why you're single?" She mumbled it as if thinking outloud, heavy on the sarcasm without looking me in the eye once. I breathed in and bit my bottom lip, feeling my irritation get the best of me. She has balls the size of Texas to show up thirty minutes late with an attitude.

"No, seriously though." She continued, still seeming to be struggling to find the keys. "Why hasn't some lucky fella snatched you up yet?" She did little to hide the fact she did not actually mean it. The truth is..she wasn't a big fan of me either. What I saw as "being a good employee", she saw as "being a boring kiss ass."

No, Emma. Don't say it. I thought to myself biting my lip. "I keep waiting for your daddy but he won't stop playing games." Oh, God. I said it.

She stopped rummaging through her messy purse and looked up at me for the first time since she got here, startled by my response. "What's the matter?" I said with an over-exaggerated confused look on my face. "I thought sarcasm was our thing." I stared at her, daring her to respond with anything other than why she's late. I stretched my lips into a smile, although I felt no amusement or humor at the moment.

She glared at me for a moment, her hand still buried inside her purse and her cigarette burning. She seemed to be studying me, silently challenging me but deciding how she wanted to respond. I stared right back at her, my arms crossed and my head stubbornly held high. She knows me well enough by now to know I don't give a damn who you are. Don't be a bitch to me, I'm better at it.

She finally shook her head as if in disbelief and at last pulled out her set of keys, seeming to surrender. "You're quite the firecracker, Emma Riley." She said very matter-of-fact as she took a drag of her cigarette and began searching the keychain full of keys for the key that unlocked the front door.

I chuckled to myself, accepting it as a compliment..no matter how it was intended.

Ryker Fox

Meanwhile
In a much different part of town.

I sat quietly in my favorite chair on my private balcony, looking down at the view busy city. I enjoyed coming out here around nine 'o clock every night with a bottle of scotch and a Cohiba cigar. On my own and in silence, I'll sit in this very chair just enjoying the night. Some may think that sounds lonely. But I, find it peaceful. Ironically it was when I was around others was when I felt lonely. The more that time passes, the more I find myself craving solitude. I suppose you could say my people skills needed work.

I inhaled the smoke from my cigar with my drink in hand as I watched the fire crackling in the firepit in front of me. I exhaled the smoke and closed my eyes, wishing life was always as simple as this moment. It was only a matter of time before someone came out here and killed my vibe though.

I was reminded of how twisted God or whoever's sense of humor was as I heard the sound of the sliding door opening. I opened my eyes to see my assistant and sort-of friend Dexter standing over me, his hands folded in front of him in the Armani suit he had bought with the generous Christmas bonus I had given him last year. His face was apologetic with a slight hint of fear. He knew I hated when he interrupted me when I was on my balcony. Seriously..ten, twenty minutes out of my day to be by myself. Why is that so difficult?

"What is it, Dex?" I groaned, not looking up from the glass of scotch in my hand. "Sheila quit today." He said this as if it was supposed to be news. But I expected as much. I took a long sip of the scotch in my glass before setting it on the table and motioning for Dexter to pour me another. He rolled his eyes but knew better than to protest. I took a few puffs of my cigar as I watched him take the bottle of scotch and fill the glass a quarter of the way full before stopping.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. I never understood when people only filled the glass a few inches. "Thank you, sir..now may I have an adult serving?" Raising one eyebrow as I studied him. He let out a sigh before filling the glass the rest of the way. "You don't have to respond to everything with sarcasm, Ryker." He said, shaking his head with a hint of a smile. "Agree to disagree" I mumbled while taking another drink. "You were saying?"

"I said Sheila quit." He said, crossing his arms and studying me. There was an accusing tone in his voice that pissed me off. "What's your point, Dex?" I took a few puffs of my cigar while staring ahead of me at the roaring fire. "If she quit, she quit. Shit happens." I avoided eye contact at all costs as I could feel his judging eyes on me.

"That's the fifth cleaning lady that's quit. I had high hopes for this one, she was good at her job." He said, irritation showing in his voice.

"Yeah? She was good at a lot of things." I chuckled to myself as he left out a disgusted grunt. He appeared as though I had somehow confirmed what he already suspected. Sure, it wasn't a very tasteful joke. But not untrue either.

"I knew it! You slept with her, didn't you?!" He put his fingers to his temple as if suffering from a sudden headache. One giant headache named Ryker, getting drunk off scotch on the balcony. "More than once, if you must know." I said matter-of-fact as I stood up in my chair, my six-foot-three towering over his five-foot-eight. I took one last puff of my cigar before accepting my 'quiet time' was obviously over and putting it out on the ashtray sitting on the table.

He nervously swallowed before he continued. Most are afraid to speak their minds with me except for Dexter. I actually quite like that about him. He's annoying sometimes but he is one of the few who have my best interest at heart. "How many times must we go over this? You have got to stop mixing business with pleasure. You're developing a reputation."

I rolled my eyes and finished off my drink before sitting it down on the table. "I think that ship sailed tabloids ago, Dex." I shrugged while he stared at me like I had just spoken in a language he didn't understand. "What?!" I continued. "No matter what I do people will talk."

"So why even try, that's what you're saying?!" He shook his head like I was making no sense. "How do you expect me to respond to that, Ryker?"

I was starting to get seriously annoyed. I hated being told what I should and shouldn't do. While I appreciated his honesty, I definitely had a limit. I took in a deep breath, trying to remind myself that he meant well. "It was her decision to quit, Dexter. That's not on me." I said it, but I wasn't entirely convinced of it myself. The truth was, I knew she would end up quitting.

"Oh, really?" He said with a skeptical tone, studying me with his head slightly titled to one side. "Then who's fault is it? She seemed very upset."

"I never made any promises. But all these girls think they can sleep with me and then what..move in? She set her expectations too high, and that's on her." I knew how I probably sounded, but it was the truth. These girls will try to seduce me because I have a lot of money and then get mad when I don't offer to pay their bills for them so they can stop working. Just because we slept together, doesn't mean I owe you. So if you want to quit, quit. Save me the trouble from firing you.

"One of these days, one of these girls will try suing you for sexual harrassment and take everything you have." There was genuine concern in his voice. "I'm telling you for the last time..be careful." He warned.

"I have never sexually harrassed anyone. Fuck you for even suggesting it." His mouth dropped open in surprise as I angrily grabbed the empty glass and half empty bottle of scotch and took it inside to the kitchen. I could hear Dexter trailing behind me.

I didn't make eye contact as I set the bottle down on the kitchen counter and took the glass over to the sink, rinsing out the contents. With my back turned towards him, I could feel him staring at me.

"I wasn't suggesting you had actually sexually harrassed anyone, Ryker. But that doesn't mean you won't be accused of it." He said in a hushed tone, even though there was no one else here. I rolled my eyes, though something in me knew he was right. "Men with your status and power have to be cautious. You're always a target, you should know that by now. I'm saying this because I care." I turned to face him and he was absent-mindedly staring down at the marble counter, his eyebrows furrowed with worry.

I couldn't help but smile at his genuine concern. I haven't had too many people care for my well-being, not even my own parents ever did. So I suppose I wasn't used to it. "I'll be more careful, Dex. Alright? Don't worry so much." I said it in a calmest tone I could manage to try to ease his mind a bit. He took a deep breath before speaking as I wiped off my hands with the rag sitting on the counter.

"In the meantime, we need to find you another cleaning lady immedietely. In fact, maybe I should hire a fifty-year-old man with a beer belly just to be safe." He said with a hint of judgement still in his voice.

I chuckled and shook my head. "See that? You're mean. Just plain mean."

Emma Riley

Meanwhile
Downtown at Federal Credit Union Bank

As I wiped off the bathroom stalls with my wet rag, I found myself feeling much better now that I was getting some actual work done. Katie was off dumping the trash from the break room. That was the silver lining. As soon as we got inside the building, we could go our seperate ways until it was time to leave. I cleaned the bathrooms and swept and mopped the floors, while she cleaned the break room, gathered trash and vaccumed carpets. I preferred being by myself while I cleaned. That was one of the perks of the job. Being left alone to focus on my work.

Was cleaning toliets a glamorous job? Definitely not. But at least I could jam out to music on my headphones with no one around to judge me.

"I'm that bad type, make your mama sad type, make your girlfriend mad type..I'm the baddddd guyyyy...DUH!" I sung along to the lyrics outloud as I sprayed cleaning alcohol on the bathroom mirror before wiping it off with a paper towel as if it was some type of dance choreography. I had my headphones in and I'm sure I sounded horrible and looked ridiculous, but who cares? Life was much too short to not sing along with Billie Eilish.

You could say I had a bit of a weird personality, but because I was somewhat attractive..it was considered "quirky." My ex-boyfriend used to say it was cute and charming. But as time went on, I just embarrassed him. He was embarrassed by the way I spoke my mind. He was embarrassed by my job. He was embarrassed that I was also broke and worrying about money. He was embarrassed I didn't wear fancier clothes or a lot of makeup. Towards the end it seemed like everything about me embarrassed him. Finally one day I got tired of his attitude and told them if he was so humiliated by me, go find someone else. He didn't argue. Truth be told, I didn't expect him to actually leave, we had been together for a year. But as much as it hurt at first, I knew it was for the best. Before my mother died she told me to never settle for anything less than respect, and I promised her I never would. I intended to keep that promise at all costs. So as far as I was concerned, he did me a favor moving on to someone new. So refreshing to see the trash take itself out for once.

I must admit, there were certain things I missed about being part of a "we." I'm still human after all, I get lonely. But my failed relationship had turned me off to the whole "domesticated" thing. Who needs someone constantly in their business telling them what to wear and who to talk to? I'm just not built for that. No. I'm much better off just concentrating on myself. At least for now.

As if fate, the playlist on my ipod changed from Billie Eilish to "Independent Women" by Destiny's Child. I couldn't help but laugh at the irony as I refilled the paper towels.

Just then I felt my phone vibrate in the right pocket of my gray "cleaning" sweatpants. I groaned, disgusted at the interruption. But I took the phone out of my pocket, not having a choice. We are required to have our cell phones on at all times as it's the only way our boss can reach us. Luckily, we barely have to see or talk to our boss unless there's an emergency, a new account, or it's payday. Apart from the occasional surprise inspection which they don't do unless they have to because they're lazy. It's one of the perks of this job. Management leaves you the fuck alone for the most part.

Sure enough, I checked the caller ID to see it was my boss, Carl calling. Playfully saved in my phone under the name "Satan Himself" My heart sank as it was rarely ever good news when he called. I paused my music and took out my headphones from my ears. Sorry girls, being an Independent Woman will have to wait.

"Emma speaking." I said in my best 'I get paid to be nice to you' voice. I could only hope he didn't realize how late we were starting the building. I can guarantee you that no matter how late Katie was I would be the one who was yelled at for it. Sometimes I wondered if Katie was putting just a bit more in her mouth than just those cigarettes, but that's none of my business.

"You almost done?" His voice sounded on edge and suspicious, as if expecting to find me slacking. But that wasn't abnormal though, and I've come to realize it wasn't personal. He was just a dick in general.

"I'm almost done with the bathrooms and then I'm starting on the floors. I don't know how far Katie is." I awkwardly balanced my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I gathered all my supplies and headed to the Janitor's Closet to get the broom. Hearing his voice reminded me I needed to hurry.

"Why aren't you further along?! You should be almost done by now!" His voice was harsh and defensive. Completely overlooking that I wasn't the only one who wasn't finished yet. "We were late getting started tonight. I had to wait for Katie to show up. Again. Perhaps if I had my own set of keys this wouldn't be an issue?" My voice was more snippy than when I originally answered, my sweet and professional facade slightly crumbling at his tone. Sometimes I'm too damn sassy for my own good.

"Stop asking for your own set of keys. You need to prove your trustworthy first." I stopped what I was doing and bit my lip in frustration, silently deciding how badly I needed to pay rent. Four years. Four years I've been with this company, and I'm a damn good worker. Nobody can ever convince me otherwise, and I haven't proven myself?! I'm not asking for the goddamn key to Narnia you egotistical motherfucker. "Why don't you tell me what I need to do to prove myself that I haven't already done?" I knew there was just a bit more attitude in my voice than there should be considering it was my Employer  I was speaking to, but how I speak to you all depends on how you speak to me. 'Mess with the bull, you get the horns' As they say. I don't give out respect like candy on Halloween. You're going to have to earn it. I guess Katie was right. I am a firecracker.

"You can start by doing your job and doing it on-time. But luckily for you it's not why I called." I poured the soap into the yellow mop bucket as it rapidly began to fill with water. I really wished he would just get to the point already, but I need to chill. Part of being an adult is knowing when to stand up for yourself and when to shut the hell up because you don't have what it takes to become a stripper.

"We just landed a new VIP client!" His voice briefly perked up as he thought about the money. I childishly stomped my foot in frustration before shutting off the water. It's easy for him to get excited. He doesn't have to do shit and he keeps the majority of the money.

"That's really great Carl..but what does that have to do with me?" It came out ruder than I had intended it to. But I wasn't his usual "go-to" with VIP Clients.

"How about letting a man finish huh? God, what's with you women? Talk talk talk." He said it in a sexist, patronising tone that made me cringe..but I bit my tongue. "This client is big. Really big." He continued, his voice sounding like an excited child on Christmas Eve. "Oh my god! Someone big?! Is it Shaquille O'Neil? He's my favorite baseball player! I saw him in one of those talking picture boxes when I was baking my man a homemade apple pie, I just love when he gets a hole in one!" I did very little to hide my sarcasm, but I couldn't help it. It's no wonder this man was single. He carried all his dick in his personality.

"Is this attitude what that boyfriend you had put up with? No wonder he left you." His tone was cold, and teasing. Oh hell no this man didn't go there. After all this time working here, he's gotten to know my personality enough to know exactly how much it would piss me off. I could feel him waiting for me to go off. "You have no right to bring up my personal life, Carl. Now why don't you tell me what you needed so I can get back to work?" I grabbed the mop propped upside down against the wall and put it in my mop bucket, grabbing it, the broom, and leaving the Janitor's Closet.

I heard him scoff, as if disappointed in my response. But I was fiesty, not stupid. As much as I disliked him, I didn't mind my job. Plus..I needed the money.

Luckily for both of us, he finally decided to move on with the purpose of his call. "This VIP client needs someone right away. As in, tomorrow morning. As you know, Katie is about to go on vacation so she's not going to be able to do it." I didn't know that. But thanks for the heads up. "In the morning? We usually work at night." Not that I was against working during the day, I was just surprised. "Well, he wants someone during the day and for what he's paying he can have whatever the hell he wants." He sounded annoyed, like I was stupid for even questioning it.

"I want you there at 9:00 am sharp. Don't be late, he has a thing about punctuality." He started rattling off an address. "Wait, Carl. What exactly would I be cleaning and how often? For who? Am I cleaning alone?" I knew I would annoy him with so many questions, but I really didn't want to do it. I could definitely use the money, which was why I didn't say no right away. But the least you can do is give a bitch details.

"For God's sake. You women with your endless questions. His assistant said he wants us to do a deep cleaning of his penthouse three times a week in the morning. He had someone quit at the last minute or something which is why they need someone right away. I told the man I couldn't give him a quote until we see the place but he said money was no problem. They only need one person so it will just be you. Any other questions?" He said it in a tone that told me asking more questions wouldn't be a good idea, even though he hadn't told me who it was. I suppose that didn't much matter.

I took in a deep breath and shook my head. Part of me was wishing I could say no, but he didn't seem to be giving me much option. "Fine, then. Tomorrow morning at 9:00 am. Text me the address please so I can put it in my GPS." I said it in a rush, ready to be off the phone.

"Well, good. By the way, no sweatpants and no headphones." He said it very casually and I paused for a long while, not believing what I had just heard. "I beg your pardon?" I cocked my head to one side in confusion. No sweatpants or music?! That's like the best thing about this job, you sadistic prick. Why don't you just punch me in the face, it would be less painful.

"Look, you're not used to doing these VIP accounts and I get that. So let me enlighten you." He spoke way slower than necessary and pronounced every word as if speaking to an illiterate. Lord Jesus, give me the strength to not run him over with my Durango. It would ruin my car and I can't afford to get it fixed.

"VIP Clients wants to know they have hired professionals. They are paying us big bucks, so we need to look alive. I'm not saying it has to be something fancy, but just don't look like you just rolled out of bed. Above all else, watch that mouth of yours. I hear he's got a short temper." He said it with a hint of fear in his usually arrogant voice and I couldn't stop myself from asking.

"Who is this guy, anyway?" I asked with genuine curiosity as I attempted to lift the mop bucket up the stairs with one hand while holding my phone with the other.

"It's Ryker. Ryker Fox." 

author's note: please don't forget to vote if you enjoyed this chapter! :)