Kayla’s work day started out the same way that it always does, early. At four in the morning she left her apartment and headed to the cleaning company where she works aboard a train. Upon arrival at four thirty she collected her cleaning gear, signed for the items, stashed it all in the back of one of the company cleaning trucks and then drove off for her first job of the day, Mr Abel.
That was hours ago and now Kayla is on her fourth job of the day. It’s still only ten in the morning and in total Kayla has fourteen cleaning jobs today. Each job pays by the hour but seeing as most of the jobs don’t last an hour and the company she works for has stiff competition that means she rarely gets to charge the hour rate. Instead, she is forced to charge for an hour minus ten percent. It might not sound like much but when you’re hourly rate is eleven dollars and you principally only ever get to charge nine ninety for each job you do it doesn’t matter how many jobs you have in a day it continues to mean that you end up with around a hundred and forty dollars.
If Kayla wasn’t on Antrej then yeah she could survive on such a wage but she is and has to take the pills in pairs four times a day. At four hundred dollars a pill and eight pills a day that amounts to three thousand two hundred dollars. Can you see where the issue lies? And no there isn’t a cheaper alternative. Antrej is the one and only way to stop her body, and everyone else might have a replacement limb, from suffering rejection.
Irrespective of her financial issues Kayla has to keep up appearances. She doesn’t want to but she needs this job. Work is hard to come by. Legal work anyway. And Kayla didn’t survive a criminal act of barbarous proportions only to resort to a life of crime herself. Hence, why to pay for Antrej she was and continues to be forced to borrow money and is now so in deep, debt wise, that it’s a miracle the bank hasn’t called for it to be settled. She’s waiting for the day. It will come sooner rather than later. It always does.
These are but some of the things that are going round in the black haired woman’s head as she cleans the homes of people far wealthier than her. None of them are rich but all of them have just a little more than they need and so are able to live comfortable lives.
Kayla would be jealous if the cause of her misfortune had come at the hands of these sorts of people but it did not. She can’t blame them, though it would be easy to. Other’s who had worked as cleaners for the same company she does have. It’s part of the reason as to why they are no longer in employment with them. Especially as most of them elected to steal from the clients homes they cleaned to sell said ill-gotten goods for extra cash to keep themselves afloat. The difference, other than theft, between them and Kayla is that generally their money issues were self-inflicted.
“Kayla, darling are you almost done in here?” Ms Ackerson queries once she has fluttered into the bathroom that Kayla has just that second finished scrubbing the large rectangular cream tiles of to a shine.
“Oh wonderful you have, and doesn’t it like marvellous in here?”Ms Ackerson is an aging woman who Kayla would pin as being in her late fifties. She has dyed brown hair perfectly styled without a single strand out of place and is always adorned in a gown of some glittering shade or another, but no shoes. Her painted toenails, currently a deep pink colour, as ever are on permanent display.
“Thank you Ms Ackerson.” Kayla replies as she finishes gathering her cleaning accoutrements to stuff back into the moulded plastic carrier that makes lugging them about a far simpler task than it otherwise would be.
“Come this way darling, I have a new task for you.” The middle-aged woman’s tone is playful and Kayla isn’t sure she likes it. Not that Ms Ackerson has ever done anything untoward, at least as far as Kayla can recall anyway. Ignoring her unease the black haired woman, who currently has her shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail, follows the older woman out of the bathroom, down a hallway and through another doorway which leads to a bedroom.
“What is it you need me to do Ms Acker…” Kayla turns in the direction she thinks her client had been heading only to stop mid-sentence now that she is met with the sight of the woman splayed out upon the large circular bed. Kayla’s jaw drops. She knows she should say something and yet she is at a loss for words.
“I need you to take care of me darling. I’ll pay you handsomely. Though we will need to record it and have you sign a waiver.” Ms Ackerson’s tone is casual and shows no hint that this is some kind of jest.
Kayla cannot believe her eyes and ears. Ms Ackerson, a woman she had an odd feeling about but that was based on nothing is… Kayla shakes herself free of her paralysis only to blurt, “No. No, no, no. I’m not doing anything like that. I’m a cleaner. I’m here to clean, your house.” Kayla stress, her hands raised defensively. Though, the thumb of her left hand is hooked so that the plastic carrier is able to hang freely off of it.
Ms Ackerson crawls off the bed toward Kayla who in response backs up and away from the advancing older woman. “What’s the problem darling? Don’t you like what you see?”
Kayla collides lightly with the wall that is now at her back. Before she can sidestep and escape through the nearby doorway which leads out of this pink walled boudoir Ms Ackerson has her hemmed in with an arm either side of Kayla’s head to block any prospective retreat.
“Come on, I know you want to. I’ve seen the way you look at me darling and you are such a pretty thing. You could make a lot of money. You like money don’t you? Oh what am I saying everyone likes money.” Ms Ackerson’s green eyes are shining brightly, her voice a flutter. It is clear she wants Kayla but the feeling is certainly not mutual. Kayla is here to clean houses not…
“No. This isn’t me.” The dark haired cleaning lady manages a quick duck under one of Ms Ackerson’s braced arms and then free to backpedal out the bedroom does so hastily. The fact that she is out the bedroom and into the corridor changes nothing and is why, at no point, does Kayla stop her retreat.
Her intent is to continue her backpedal all the way to the front door and then keep on going. She doesn’t care about the money. She can always get it another time, through her employer perhaps. It wouldn’t be the first time that they collected on behalf of one of their employees. Suddenly, it strikes Kayla that they’ll want to know why she didn’t get the payment there and then. I can invent a reason. I’ve got the rest of the day, she tells herself. She isn’t wrong about that and truth-be-told it’ll probably be easier once she is out of…
Movement behind Kayla wrenches her from her consideration and brings an unavoidable demand that she turn. She complies only to find a man blocking her path. He has a wide expectant smile across his face.
“Who are you?” Kayla blurts thoughtlessly.
“He’s… a friend darling. I think you’d like him. But I get my fun first. Rarr.” Ms Ackerson is closer than Kayla expected. As a result, unfortunately, the cleaner instinctively whirls round and delivers a hard slap that throws Ms Ackerson into one wall of the corridor eliciting a scream from the shocked woman.
“What the fuck! Why did you hit me?” Ms Ackerson bellows, holding a hand to her assaulted cheek.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You just were so close. It was instinctive. I-I didn’t mean…” Kayla trails off wondering why she is the one apologising. After all, it is Ms Ackerson who surprised her. Sure, Kayla imagines the slap would’ve been a shock but it would never have happened if not for…
“Get out you little bitch. Get out!” Ms Ackerson screeches at the top of her lungs. The guy blocking Kayla’s path recoils as she draws near affording Kayla an easy escape in the form of a quick rush past him. Now free and no longer blocked on two sides the cleaner grabs the remainder of her equipment and then hurtles out the front door of the apartment and down the corridor to the stairs.
She could’ve taken the elevator but was not inclined to wait. Doing so might have opened her up to being assaulted and/or berated by either the unknown male or Ms Ackerson herself.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 