Jessie Pov
"I don't care!" I declare, turning to my friend, Layla, a smile playing on my lips. We've known each other since i started working here, and she knows me better than anyone... i think.
"I could never..." she insists, following me into room 350.
"They're just workmates, Layla," I shrug, pushing aside the photo of Grey and Talia that she posted on her social media.
"Work husband took me to lunch," she wrote, accompanied by a big emoji with the tongue hanging out, hiding Grey's face. But I recognized him by his favorite striped shirt. He always wore it on Lazy Thursdays.
Layla twists her head from side to side, a grin spreading across her face. "You are built different, Jessie. I want to have that confidence you have in people if I ever reincarnate."
"Please don't," I warn. "Don't use me as your role model."
I leave her on the bed and walk into the bathroom. As I restock the shelves with fresh towels and toiletries, my mind drifts back to the photo. I painfully sigh. Why do I keep pretending this doesn't bother me?
"We trust each other," I say, perfectly layering the façade, leaving it with a shiny and inviting coat.
I hope someday she will see through it, call me out on my pretense. Because I am tired of pretending.
"Mmh." She sighs as I reemerge from the bathroom. She is now lying on the bed. "I wish I had the same confidence in men.... or people in general"
"Not all people are the same," I lie again. She purses her lips and i can tell she doesn't believe me. "Your shift ends in a few. Lucky you," I change the topic, walking back to the bathroom.
"Nah. Fred is not around and you know how I feel being alone." She says, and once I am done restocking, I reemerge again.
"It is a new house and a very secure area. You should remember that," I say, trying to reassure her.
"I try, but as I sleep all I can think is what I went through previously." She shuts her eyes momentarily.
I too remember it, it was terrible and she prefers we don't talk about it.
"Have you considered seeing a therapist?" I ask her, even though I know how she feels about therapists.
She shakes her head, "Don't get me started on that, Jessie."
"Then talk to me," I suggest.
"It is not just the house, I don't want to be alone.... All I do is think."
I stop and stare at her. She now seems stressed. "Is something bothering you?" I ask her gently.
"I don't know how I feel. I am one year shy of my thirtieth birthday and I am nowhere close to where I thought I would be."
I shake my head and walk to her, "Look at you, you are a nutritionist to a multi-million-dollar hotel and also catering to a billionaire," I state, hoping to lift her spirits.
I do admire where she is. I had an opportunity to also be somewhere i wanted but i was a coward.
"I mean my personal life. I thought I would be married and maybe with a child. I can't say Fred is even considering that." She says in a mere whisper.
"I am sure Fred will soon surprise you with a ring," I reply, and I believe that too. They are lucky to have each other.
On the other hand, I don't think I am ready for that.
"I hope so," she smiles, though it doesn't reach her eyes.
I start dusting the room. "I know so," I respond and suddenly stop what I am doing. Why does the room feel strange? I didn't put that lamp that way. I stand and look around; even the flower arrangement is not how I normally put it. Did someone else come in here?
"This room cannot be cleaner than this. Do you have any idea who the guest is?" Layla asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I shake my head, looking around to see if anything else is amiss. Except for the bed Layla is lying on, and I know I will have to change the sheets again.
"Helen said a VIP is staying here, and the room must be spotless with only one person attending to it," I say, hoping no one saw Layla walk in with me, or we'll both be in trouble.
"Maybe it is the president. You will be attending to the president!" Layla squeals at her outrageous assumption.
"It could be," I say, though I doubt it. All I care about is coming in, doing my job, and going home.
"Or it could be a special lady. I hear the boss has a chamber he brings them," Layla says with a dark, mysterious excitement.
I turn and stare at her, "This doesn't look like a chamber," Naively, stating the obvious.
"You never know, maybe there is a secret button that leads to it," she continues with her conspiracy theory.
I just shake my head with a smile, i am used of her made up and hearsay stories.
"But he is handsome," She smacks her lips.
I shrug my shoulders.
We work for Oliver Cooper. Layla is a nutritionist and dietician while I am a housekeeper. I have never met Oliver Cooper face-to-face, but in the years I have been here, I have seen him thrice. He moves fast, rarely socializes.
"Ever wondered why, at his age, he has never married or had a kid?" Layla asks, her mind fixating on Oliver Cooper, a topic i thought we were done with..
"No. Do you want to marry him?" I tease her.
"I don't stand a chance," She says.
"Why?" Her assumption about herself is outrageous, she is pretty, educated, and most of all an exceptional girl.
"The rich always marry the rich. Don't believe those stories they sell in books and on television," she replies, standing up and taking the sheets with her, probably to help me change the bed.
"Not always," I say absentmindedly. My mind is shifting back Grey. I choose him.
"Today, you are a bore," Layla glares when i don't engage her with same enthusiasm.
She then helps me clean the room and rearrange things again.
It's around ten PM, and I'm hiding in the storage room, having a snack. The dim light and cool air make it my favorite spot to unwind.
Grey hasn't responded to my text yet he seems online.
Suddenly, my supervisor calls. At first, I consider ignoring her, but I've already received several warnings.
Reluctantly, I answer the call and listen to her talk, giving me orders to attend to a request in room 350.
I grab fresh towels and pillows, making my way to the room. Upon arrival, I announce my presence, but there's no response. I repeat, no response. I notice that the door is slightly open.
"Housekeeping." I say and wait for an answer.
No answer.
"Hello, housekeeping," I repeat.
I am met with another dead silence.
"I'm coming in," I inform the occupant as I push the door open.
I take cautious steps waiting to be called out and sent out but when i lift my eyes and see what is before me, my heart to leap into my throat. Every instinct urges me to run, but I remain frozen as the items in my arms fall to the ground, and a loud scream escapes from my mouth.
Don't forget to vote and comment. Thanks.