F i v e

"What I wanted to talk about is this," he started showing me a two-page document with instructions. We sat at the small table in the kitchen area with a jug of fresh-pressed juice between us and Lin's presence in the background. For some reason, he had asked her to stay with the promise of dropping her home.

I sat straight as a board, listening to the words coming out of his mouth. It was simple, I was to live in the house and also work while I lived there. Some kind of assistant with a list of chores, supervising, and so on. My pay would be raised. I was mute, listening to all this. Fetching mail, dry cleaning, and keeping the house running like it had been since day one. It wasn't much to it. The staff already knew what to do. I just had to report any issue with Westbrook's office assistant, no longer Jameson. No, he had escalated higher and was now seated behind some desk doing actual work. He was proud of himself. I'd be too.

"Is a good opportunity." He said. "You'll live rent free and have a contract with the company, insurance and even holiday."

"This all sounds really good," I stared. "I can't help but wonder, where's the catch?"

"Excuse me?" His confusion was apparent, but my suspicion was strong. Why me? What was I ordered to leave my apartment and suddenly offered another job on top of the one I already had? Don't get me wrong, I knew this was an excellent opportunity. Still, in the back of my head, my brain was calculating the possibilities of all this being a fraud.

"Is all sounds too perfect."

"I know and I'm sure anyone in their right would question all this," He looked about the room to emphasize the luxury around. "I did too when I was called and look where I am. I'm just saying try it out. Liam needs a person inside the house to see the documents and papers while he's away. He doesn't trust people around his personal stuff."

"But he doesn't know me."

"That's what I told him."

"I'm just saying try it, if you don't feel comfortable we'll look for a solution."

A trial.

I wasn't even done with my testing period. I sighed and agreed to try it for a little while.

"Does that mean I don't have to run out when he comes back?"

"No," his eyes moved away from me to Lin. She sat quietly tapping onto her phone with her back to us. "He expects you to be here."

I didn't want to keep going around the same thing. I had already met the man, and he had been nice enough to let me borrow his computer. I was sure I could handle one or two minutes in his presence without combusting or turning into puddle water.

We said our goodnights and made Lin promise me to call once she got her ass back home. Jameson looked harmless, but one could never be careful enough, Lin knew how to take care of herself, and she saw it as a chance to save some money when he offered to take her home. I said goodbye to both and walked back slowly to my messy bedroom. It would take me a couple of days to settle everything. In the meantime, there was a little mountain of clothes, books, and crap in the middle of my room.

I decided to check the second page. An e-mail had been assigned to me, the password was somewhat generated by a computer. I tested out and was immediately logged on. A single e-mail was waiting for me.

The first assignment read; Please sort my mail into two piles, personal and work-related. You are allowed to open the personal ones and write down and e-mail me a small resume of all of them. One of my cars is to be picked up Thursday at 4:00 pm, be sure to be at home at that time. I have attached the dealership phone number. Contact them and work out the time if you can't make it. I won't be arriving until next month so communicate to Sandra for anything you need.

It was nerve-racking.

I hadn't even said yes, but there it was like he knew there was no way I would refuse. This e-mail made it all real.

For the next couple of weeks, I put aside time to complete the tasks. I even e-mailed Mr. Westbrook back the results. He invitations to events and talks on the phone with his personal shopper, car dealership, landscaper, a few women calling him, and even his own mother. Polite woman. I even got her birthday present delivered to her home, obviously handpicked by him. It had arrived on a sealed box with instructions on the day and company to use for the delivery, accompanied by white roses and a previously handwritten letter. Which I peeked into but didn't dare to read, too personal.

At first, I was scared that I wasn't going to do all that and school. Still, it was so easy to just receive the e-mail early morning from Monday to Monday, sort out the mail and see what was to be done first. Being a personal assistant was easy, at least being his was. He was very organized and direct. I didn't have to worry about not understanding, just one phone call to Sandra, and she just directed me where I had to go and do. I took cabs everywhere. Picking up packages and dropping letters, documents, and even jewelry he'd order me to buy, well placed under his tab for female friends. I was nothing but the kid who took care of his business to them, not a threat. They even tipped me. One even hugged after I dropped off a fantastic pair of diamond earrings.

What I liked most was that he never called. It was just e-mailed. I had dozen of them on my inbox, impersonal demands and unsigned. I knew that by the time I opened my eyes every morning, there would be a new one sitting there, waiting to be read. Demands. Orders.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to check with Sandra tomorrow about the party, he hasn't answered me if he's going or not. I have until Monday to notify if he's attending."

We were on our way to watch the last Sandra Bullock film.

"Would you stop looking at that phone and listen to what I'm saying?"

"Sorry." I pushed it back onto my back pocket and hooked my arm with hers.

"He hasn't called."

"Bastard."

"I don't get why he would ask my number, text me and call for the past weeks and now he is suddenly mute."

"I don't know honey, maybe Jameson is busy."

"For the last three days." She raised her voice a little, well, maybe a lot. "Why would he kiss me and then not talk to me again?"

"I have no idea Lin. He didn't seem like a coward."

"No he didn't. And he's such a good kisser." She whined.

At least she got quiet after we sat down, and the previews started playing. We shared a big popcorn and sipped our cokes as the plot deepened. The movie was good, good at least for me, but Lin wasn't feeling it. Maybe it was the thing with Jameson or that it was political, and she didn't like that kind of movie.

Just as the credits started rolling in, my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I had two guesses, but since it was the weekend, I had no intention of checking, at least for now. I enjoyed my night out, or at least tried to. I had shots and ate my weight it fries and melted cheese. I danced with Lin's cousin to some weird upbeat music and then shared drinks with him while I fanned my sweaty face. I knew I was drunk, but I was in good company. I was safe here, so I allowed myself some freedom and laughed and drank and danced. I didn't even regret it the following day, with my pasty skin and the sour smell of alcohol on my clothes.

After a quick shower and strong black coffee, I took the bus home. I made a mental list of things I had to do, and since Monday was a slow day for me, I could quickly finish the tasks that would be sitting in my inbox right now.

I had pulled my hair in a low ponytail and covered my eyes from the shiny sun rays. The hangover was intense, and I was clumsier than ever. My head throbbed, and the inside of my mouth felt like sandpaper. I still didn't regret it, the best night so far. I even got to flirt with a few boys, nothing serious.

I stopped dead in my tracks. There was a big black SUV parked in the driveway, and for the cool feel of the hood, it had been here for a long time. I took out my phone and discovered a couple of missed calls and texts, e-mails, and voice mail. My phone had blown up in the middle of the night while I had been drinking and partying. I wasn't supposed to feel guilty, technically weekends were my days off, and Sunday was my day off. I was to do whatever I was pleased with it and still, I felt like I should have answered all those calls. I decided to use the backdoor, just in case. I climbed in carefully onto my bed and checked the clock, a few minutes to eight. The staff would be coming in shortly, and they knew what to do. I could easily pretend to have never left the house, but maybe he already knew.

Do not panic, I told myself.

The rest of the morning went slow. I clicked through the e-mails and sorted the mail. I had asked as a favor to have all correspondence brought closer to my room. I no longer took trips to his private office. Just when it was necessary to retrieve some files. I had set up a tiny office and even bought a small storage plastic archive drawer to keep everything organized. He would be proud, and yet I had failed to pick up the damn phone. I hadn't even dared to call back. I was afraid that our first phone conversation was him calling out how irresponsible I had been, actually second. I hardly remember what was said on that first one, so it doesn't really count.

I felt his presence inside the house, but all I could hear was the staff making everything spotless. Even more. I saw them tiptoe around and talk in hush voices.

"He wants so to see you."