CHAPTER TWENTY

The gated community was surrounded by a twelve-feet-tall brick wall when the cab driver pulled up to the guard booth outside of the gate.

The guard, a young man, came up to the driver side window. "May I help you?"

"I'm dropping off a Miss Vivian Ellis."

"Which residence?"

"The Janardi estate."

The guard went to the computer and pulled up that estate. When he saw that the household was expecting her, he came back to the car. "Okay, you're cleared," he said. Then he looked in the backseat at Vivian. "You're Miss Ellis?"

She was nervous enough. "That's right."

"The new housekeeper?"

"Correct."

"Live in?"

Why was he asking her all these questions? How was this his business? "Yes," she said firmly.

Then he shook his head. "Good luck with that," he said, went and pressed the button, and the gate parted.

Vivian looked at him as the car drove past. He was shaking his head as if she was on her way to purgatory or somewhere else horrific. Then she thought about the last time she met Giorgio Janardi. And how he was so rude to her and she, who never backed down from a fight, gave that rudeness right back to him. He didn't even remember her. At least he acted like he didn't. And this was the man she was going to work for? What was she thinking?

But whatever it was, she was in it now. And man was it a beautiful neighborhood. Every house looked like a mansion. Every lawn was so perfectly manicured that they looked artificial. And this was where she was going to live? In a neighborhood like this? She was going to stand out like an elephant among ants. She didn't know how to live in a world like this.

But she forced herself to calm down and to not panic. She reminded herself that she needed a job. She needed a place to stay. If she made sure to stay out of his way, and do her job and do it well, she should be just fine. At least that was her prayer.

When they pulled up to what she assumed was the Janardi residence, it was gated too. A gated house in a gated community. It seemed like overkill to her. But what did she know?

The driver pressed a button, informed whoever was on that speaker who he was dropping off, and the electronic gate parted. And Vivian entered Janardi world for the very first time.

What she liked about it was the energy inside that gate. Groundskeepers were clipping hedges, edging sidewalks, blowing leaves, mowing the various sections of the massive lawn. Busy. She liked busy. It made the workday go faster.

The driver pulled up to a circular driveway surrounded by what looked like six garages. Then he got out and opened the trunk as she got out too. When he handed her the suitcase, he seemed to get in a hurry himself. "Good luck," he said as if he wanted no parts of that place, got back in his car, and took off.

Vivian felt as if she was walking into a wonderland that was just the opposite of wonderment, but she exhaled, steeled herself, and made her way up to the tall front double doors. She rang the bell.

It took a second ringing before the door was finally opened by Frank Kabecky, Giorgio's bodyguard. When she saw that he was a black man, she felt somewhat better. None of the groundskeepers were white, but they weren't black either. She immediately felt as if she had an ally.

Until he gave her body a perusal that made her feel so less-than that it hurt. They might have shared the same hue, but he was already of that world. "Good evening," she said. "I'm Vivian Ellis. I'm the new housekeeper."

But he kept staring at her. Then he, like the guard, shook his head. "I don't see it," he said.

"You don't see what?"

He stepped aside and allowed her to walk on in. But Vivian thought it rude of him to make an observation and not explain himself. "You don't see what?" she asked him again.

"Right this way," he said and led her through gorgeous rooms that appeared as if they had never been lived in. Outside was vibrant and alive. Inside felt cold and quiet and dead. And where were the people working inside of that humongous place?

But she knew that guy that answered the door wasn't about to tell her anything, so she didn't bother to ask. She followed him down another quiet, empty hall that led to an office. He opened the door, motioned for her to go inside, and then he closed the door back again and left.

An older white woman sat behind the desk. Was she the housekeeping supervisor? "Good evening," Vivian said with a smile.

But Rhonda was still typing. Vivian stood there. Did anybody have any manners in that house? But she remained patient.

Finally, after nearly three minutes of just standing there, Rhonda finally stopped typing and looked at her new hire. And when she saw her, she became worried. Although she was prettier than she remembered, she wasn't as tall as the women the boss fooled around with, nor did she have that straight up and down, skinny body type he seemed to favor. She was a slender woman, and had all the right curves in all the right places, but skinny she was not. And since all fashion designers were superficial people – that was their stock and trade - she wondered if Jonni actually did like her even though she wasn't his type. She wondered if she had made the right call after all.

But no point in crying over spilled milk. She was here now. "My name is Rhonda Kabecky. I'm Mr. Janardi's secretary. The man that escorted you into my office is my husband. He's Mr. Janardi's longtime bodyguard. And yes, he's younger than I am. Eight years younger. And you'd better keep your hands off of him."

Vivian frowned. "I don't want him," she blurted out.

Rhonda inwardly smiled. This girl knew how to cut through the bull. She liked that. "Good," she said.

"Are you the housekeeping supervisor?" Vivian asked her again.

"There is no housekeeping supervisor. You will supervisor the housekeeping staff on the two days per week they show up."

Say what now ? Vivian was confused. "On the two days they show up?"

"That's right. On the remaining days when they are not here, you will do the day-to-day cleaning."

"You mean I'm to clean this entire mansion by myself?"

"There won't be hardly anything to clean. The staff is very thorough. But if you see something, yes, you clean it. That's how it will work."

Vivian felt awful. It seemed like she was put there as an afterthought. It made no sense! But beggars couldn't be choosy. "Yes ma'am," she said.

Rhonda stood up. "I'll show you around the mansion, and then I'll show you to your room."

After two hours of showing her how everything worked in the expansive mansion, and after showing her the various rooms, although some of the places were off limits: like Mr. Janardi's design studio. Mr. Janardi's office. Mr. Janardi's library. Mr. Janardi's bedroom. Mr. Janardi's private balcony.And on and on and on. Anything that Mr. Janardi seemed to utilize was off-limits for Vivian. "At least for now," Rhonda said to her. "Once he gets used to seeing you around, then you can venture into those spaces."

He sounded like an untrained dog to her. But she was in no position to complain.

After the tour, she was escorted upstairs to her bedroom – if it could be called a bedroom. Because it had no window, it immediately felt like a cell to Vivian. She, in fact, began to panic as soon as she walked into it.

But she didn't let her employer see her anguish. She accepted it as if it was a palace.

"I'll see you downstairs tomorrow, eight am sharp."

"Should I need assistance in the night, which room will you be in?"

"Which room? I don't live here. My husband and I have our own home."

Vivian was surprised to hear that. "Oh."

"I'm his secretary. Why would a secretary live in? I'll see you tomorrow morning, eight sharp. Good night, Miss Ellis."

"Good night," Vivian said. And Rhonda left.

But as soon as she closed that door, Vivian could feel her heartbeat quickening. But she tried to hold it together. She took a shower – there was thankfully a bathroom attached to the room. And she put on her pair of pajamas: a pair of silk short-shorts and a skimpy matching silk button-down blouse that Nayla gave to her as a get-out-of-jail present, along with the rest of her clothes she had bagged up and stored when Vivian was evicted by her landlord after her incarceration.

But when she got in that bed, and she felt how hard that mattress was, it felt like prison again. And when the darkness settled all around her, that made it too real. She quickly got up and turned on the light.

But even that didn't seem to help. Because as soon as she got in bed again, she felt as if she couldn't breathe. She was having a panic attack!

And that was when she made the decision to not sleep in that bed. She, instead, grabbed the bedspread, put it on the floor, grabbed a pillow, put it on the bedspread, and then she opened the bedroom door. She laid down on that bedspread and slept right near the open door.

She laid there on her side, wondering if she would ever find contentment again. She knew it wasn't going to be where she was. That house felt so creepy. It was as if nobody was in it but her. At night, when she was incarcerated, she felt that same way. When would it ever end?

A tear slowly drifted down her face, which she quickly wiped away. Then she turned onto her back and eventually, hours later, fell asleep.