AnguiSH Read online

  I set my alarm and took showers at four a.m. now.

  I brushed my teeth at one of twenty white sinks in a row and went back to my tiny dorm room. Somehow Stephanie had managed to write on her face in neon pink while I was gone. I took the highlighter from her hand and lay it on the desk. After returning to the hallway to throw away her ice cream soup, I changed into my pajamas and fell asleep.

  The alarm sounded at four a.m. and I rolled out of bed to take a shower. I snuck back to the room without being noticed—score. Stephanie always slept late, so I slunk through the room pulling on a purple tank top and my low rise jeans with the holes in the knees. I tore through my straight black hair and misted myself with the closest body spray in my drawer. I wiggled into some black flip flops, grabbed my backpack and the note from the drawer, turned the knob silently and headed out. There was one coffee shop open at the buttcrack of dawn around here and it was calling my name.

  There was a guy in there named Ozark and the moment I walked in the door he ducked behind the cappuccino machine and emerged a few minutes later with my favorite drink in his hand. He’d written his phone number on my cup several times. I just didn’t feel that initial attraction—which was weird since he was exactly my type. I wanted to walk into a room and have my breath taken away. And I wanted to take his breath away, whoever he was and it just wasn’t happening with Ozark. I sat at a corner table and tried to ignore the stare of the barista and study. After a while, I saw him take off his apron and approach the table.

  “Hey, I’m on my break. You mind if I sit here,” he asked. I moved my books, shoving my notes into the textbook and pulling them towards me.

  “Um, yeah,” since he was already seated. What was I supposed to say? “No, go away.”

  We made small talk, well I made small talk, he nodded, until a girl with red hair called his name and pointed to her watch. I took the opportunity to gather my things and call the number on the flyer, letter, note, whatever it was.

  “Hello, Collins residence,” a poised voice greeted me.

  “Hello, my name is Ashland Cormier. I am calling in regards to the flyer in the library—the live in maid.”

  She huffed out a breath over the line and replied, “Good manners, I like you already. When can you come for an interview?”

  I checked my watch. Today was my free day from scheduled classes. “I am available all day today.”

  “Excellent. The address is on the back of the letter. Can you be here in an hour?” Her voice belonged to a one time pageant queen, turned PTA mom in a pantsuit.

  “Yes ma’am, I can. Thank you.”

  “I will see you then, Ashland.”

  I hung up first and hoped the pay wasn’t shit. But even if it was, I could save tons not paying for a place to live, plus there would be no electricity bills.

  I hope I don’t have to work for some slob or a frat boy with a Richie Rich complex.

  Breaker

  I worked myself into a frenzy after she’d left, scouring and scrubbing until everything sparkled. I stayed up all night, waiting for the opportunity to call my mother and tell her the fire was out, no need to hire a maid. I showered and changed clothes, feeling grimy after drudging through the filth all day.

  I spent the rest of the early hours before dawn hammering and cutting patterns into a belt I’d been working on. My father used to carve leather as a hobby until he invented a software program and suddenly he was flying all over the country in suits. He was a good father but it was almost better when we were poor.

  So when I was about twelve, I resumed his hobby where he’d left off. And then after I went ape shit, it became therapy.

  Before I knew it, the sun was up and I knew my mother was too. She was the woman who went to sleep last and awoke first. It was her way. The phone rang only once before she answered.

  “Good morning, Son. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “I cleaned the place up, Mom. I will keep it clean, I’m sorry.”

  I heard the static as she exhaled frustration into the speaker of the phone, “It’s too late. I was going to call you this morning. I interviewed four people yesterday. I’ve picked two but I’m waiting for the background checks to come through before I send them to you. It’s for the best.”

  “Mom, no. What can I do to make you change your mind?”

  “Nothing. As far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over. I love you, Son. And I understand you’re still going through this phase or stage but there are just some things I won’t stand for, especially since the house you insist on treating like a garbage dump belongs to your father and me. I will call you when the background checks come in.”

  She hung up after that and honestly, I didn’t have a leg to stand on. I was living in one of my parents’ rental homes, a mansion really, while I ‘recovered’. I didn’t pay rent and I was given a weekly stipend out of my trust fund. All of my bills were taken care of and my father paid off every credit card in my name after the freak out. They even paid for my online college.

  But I was still in anguish.

  It made me want to beat my fists against the pristinely painted walls. Sometimes I walked the inside perimeter of the house over and over again, wallowing in my agony. Logically, I didn’t understand myself. My brain could process through the whole thing in one instant and the next my chest became a speaker thumping to the bass turned up way too loud. Holly cheated on me, used me for my money and was an all around wench. I should be angry. I should be pissed beyond recognition. But instead what did I do? I had fallen into a full blown panic attack and blacked out.

  After therapy started, I realized I’d been having panic attacks for years. I’d thought it was just stress or growing pains or a pulled muscle. The words panic attack never entered my mind. But Dr. Mavis helped me realize them for what they were. She was a friend of the family but thank God she was bound by the Hippocratic, otherwise my mom would have a field day with all of my confessions.

  Exhausted from my cleaning session and the all night worry, I climbed the stairs and went to bed for a few hours. By the time I got up, it was noon. The sun blared through my now clean windows to show me the sham called my backyard. There were probably small children or a Crown Victoria lost in that wilderness. It used to be maintained by a gardener but I ran him off for mowing the grass at six a.m. on a Saturday morning. My mom still thought he worked here. She must not have looked through the back windows lately.

  I briefly considered mowing the grass. Briefly—and then forgot about it. There was no one out there, after all. I quickly dismissed the notion and moved onto making myself cereal. I missed home cooking. I craved dinners with my parents and my sisters. I was terrified of so many normal things now. And they refused to cater to my weakness by bringing dinner to my house, afraid they were furthering my cripple.

  After finishing my cereal, I threw the bowl in the sink. I went to the office and chugged through my regular routine. I checked my e-mails, checked all the social media sites, logged into my virtual classroom for messages and grades. But in less than an hour, I was back to boredom. I’d read every book in the library, my library, not the actual public library. I got on my iPod and listened to music until I calmed down the nervousness of someone visiting my house. I wondered if they would only come once a week or more frequently. The next thought hit me with such force; I faltered in my steps and nearly went through the wall behind me.

  What if it’s someone who knew me before? She wouldn’t do that to me—would she?

  The next three days I was consumed by the impending visitor. I finally got a call from my mom on Thursday afternoon saying the background checks came through and she was sending two people to the house, one at three and one at three thirty. She threatened my life if I didn’t answer the door and I believed her.

  By two thirty, I was a wreck. My palms were sweaty, my stomach shook and I was having trouble swallowing. But a new bud had sprouted yesterday with my session with Dr. Mavis. She told me it was an
opportunity to test myself, to see if I could handle some interaction with strangers. And some small part of me wondered if I could handle the challenge.

  The doorbell rang exactly at three and I answered it but not before hesitating five or six times. I looked like one of those people with OCD who checked to make sure the door was locked, touching the doorknob over and over. On the other side was a woman, older and pudgy. She reminded me of Mrs. Doubtfire without the glasses or the huge purse.

  I cleared my throat and bit the bullet, “Hi, I’m Breaker. Come in, please.”

  She stepped in while responding, “I am Lucy. It’s very nice to meet you. I won’t beat around the bush, young man. I don’t make small talk. I’m not very sociable. I don’t watch TV and I don’t like pets.” She took a gander around the room and confirmed there were no pets.

  “I’m fine with that,” I said more confidently than I thought possible.

  “Good,” she said as she swept her fingers under the lampshade and then tsked at the dust she found there.

  “Well, I’m assuming you’ve already met with my mother. She’s forcing me to see another person in about twenty minutes but as far as I’m concerned, the position is filled.” That last part came out sounding a lot like my father and it surprised me.

  “Well, thank you, young man, I’ll let your mother know that you’ve decided.”

  “Goodbye, see you soon.” And with that I shut the door on my new housekeeper. This wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  I was so content with my new arrangement that I completely forgot about the person who was to come in just minutes later. I pulled off my shirt and sat on the couch and flipped through the channels on TV when the doorbell rang. I decided not to even bother answering it since I’d already decided Lucy was just fine.

  Minutes later my phone rang, my mother. She was probably calling to confirm my choice.

  “Breaker James, if you don’t answer the door, I swear, I will come unglued. I don’t care if you think you’ve picked your new housekeeper. The final decision is mine and you will see both choices.”

  I groaned with my hand over the speaker, “Fine, I’m going to the door. What did they do call you and rat me out?”

  “Yes, and that was her instructions. Now, answer the door.” And she hung up. I threw the phone on the couch and stomped towards the door like a child.

  I pulled it open, aggravated as all hell. “Look, the position has already been fill…” My lungs took notice of her beauty before my eyes could catch up. They constricted and froze. I was complexly dumbstruck.

  “Hi,” she said, like everything was just peachy, “I’m Ashland, you must be Breaker.” Her voice was feminine and sweet, all honeysuckle and sugar. Holly was always trying to make her voice low and raspy. It made me question whether or not she smoked. But in the place I was, even if she smelled like smoke and had one in her hand—I would’ve believed any lie she told me.

  “Um, hi—I’m Breaker.” Focus man, focus! “Like I was saying, I’ve already hired a maid so…”

  She came in, ducking under my arm. My eyes closed as she passed, she smelled so damn good. It wasn’t any fruit or heavy perfume. She just smelled—clean.

  “Your mom said you would say that. She also said you wouldn’t let me in; that you would try to dismiss me at the door.”

  She looked around, her black hair was tied up in a ponytail. She had on some jeans, dark colored and some kind of white frilly top. And red heels that made me want to question her intelligence status. But damn, they looked so good on her. Sweat beads popped up along my forehead. She needed to leave, and now.

  “It’s not so bad around here. It’s boy clean, not girl clean. But not too bad.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I spout out defensively. Maybe if I’m rude to her, she’ll go away.

  She turned around with a smile, and my lungs seized up again. “You should close the door, you’re letting all the bought air out. And you know, boy clean. Boys clean around things, girls pick them up and clean under them too. Like this blender,”

  Why is she still here, touching shit and insulting my cleaning?

  She picked up my blender and underneath it was a film of dust, she showed me by swiping her hand along the countertop.

  “See?” she showed me.

  I closed the door. Then I realized, I did what she’d told me to do. Dammnit! She’s aggravating the fire out of me.

  “So, do you want to ask me any questions?”

  I wanted to ask her some questions all right. I wanted to ask her why she was still here—what part of ‘the position’s filled’ was unclear—and how she managed to smell that damn good. Wait.

  “Nope.” Yeah, I really needed to practice being mean in a mirror or something.

  “Well, then I guess I’ll just tell you about myself. My name is Ashland Cormier. I’m a junior at LSU. I plan to be a vet. I’ll be twenty one on July fourth. I’m reliable. And I could really use the job.”

  Ashland

  His face was a replica of many before him who’d told me that I talked too much. It was a cross between the verge of strangulation and train whistle ears, steam blowing and everything. His fists hadn’t stopped squeezing an invisible stress ball since I’d entered. I decided to dismiss myself before I told him all the details. I swore sometimes I got on such a roll, I told people what size panties I wore.

  “Ok, well, it’s clear you don’t care and you’ve already made your decision. I’ll leave now.”

  I’d just made the biggest fool of myself in front of the most attractive, aloof and cold-hearted, but still hottest, guy I’d laid eyes on in a long time. His hair was black and cut pretty short, some of it spiked out in different directions. And it didn’t help matters when he answered the door without a shirt on. He was thinner than what I actually went for but he still had nice abs. And his eyes were the color of smoke. Too bad he was a jerk, a very pale jerk.

  “I’ll let myself out since you’re obviously just gonna stand there.” I rolled my eyes and made for the door.

  He cleared his throat and beat me to it, opening the door and silently letting me out. I exited onto the stoop and took one look back, just for eye candy’s sake. When I did, I was taken aback by the look on his face. It was pure despair, the exact opposite of what I expected, not that I expected the door to be open at all. His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second and then he looked to the ground before closing the door. I didn’t know what to make of it.

  As instructed, I went back to Mrs. Collins’ house to give her a debriefing. It sounded a little off to me, but I needed this job.

  I waited outside of the office within the walls of the extravagant Collins’ mansion. Marble floors beneath my five dollar flops, my back, swathed in an eleven dollar clearance rack shirt against a Mahogany carved bench. I was a run-over, scraped up nickel amongst fourteen carat Double Eagles and it made me squirm.

  An older lady walked out of the office and shook hands with Mrs. Collins one last time before turning to me and saying, “Age before beauty, Dear.”

  I wonder if my job at the restaurant is still good?

  Mrs. Collins invited me into her office but what was the point? It was obvious she’d already hired the lady before me and judging by Breaker’s attitude, he agreed.

  Mrs. Collins sat in her big leather chair and gestured for me to take a seat. I should’ve been paying attention but I couldn’t get Breaker’s face out of my head and the questions that came along with it. I wanted to know why a guy who obviously had a lot going for him could be so sad.

  “So, I think it’s best that another person fill the position. She’s got lots of experience…”

  “My dad owns a commercial cleaning business. I’ve been helping him since I was a kid. I know how to clean.”

  She smirked at me but shrugged her shoulders, “Well, the fact is, I’ve already hired someone else. I’m sorry.”

  I’d done it. I’d let myself get my hopes up in vain. I thanked h
er and got up to leave. But since I wasn’t getting this job, I decided to take a chance and ask her one more question.

  “Mrs. Collins,” I prompted and she looked up at me, slightly irked.

  “Yes?”

  “Why is he so sad?”

  She cleared her throat, “Who?”

  “Breaker. He was kinda rude at first but then I thought—nevermind, it’s none of my business.”

  I walked out, not giving her time to respond.

  I got home and called the restaurant to confirm I’d be taking the position and buckled down on studying for the rest of the night. Stephanie came in hours later after a movie and dinner with her other friends. It was no wonder she didn’t get good grades, the girl would do anything not to study.

  “Gross Ash, have you been studying all day?” She plopped on the bed.

  “No, I went to the coffee shop and a job interview and then I studied.”

  She contorted her face in a sideways grin, “Did you see Ozark? Did he fawn all over you? That boy is hot.”

  I rolled my eyes, “He made my coffee and then came to sit by me on his break.”

  She flung herself back on the bed, “He’s so dreamy. I can’t understand why you won’t give him a chance. Those blue eyes, damn.”

  I shrugged. He just didn’t do it for me. I couldn’t explain it. But gray eyes got me going good. Apparently so did a foul attitude and a dusty house because I hadn’t stopped thinking about Breaker since I’d left his place.

  “So did you get it?”

  “Get what?”

  “The job. Wait, what aren’t you telling me? I see that look on your face.”

  “No, I didn’t get the job. And I’m not telling you about the guy I met today, not doing it.”