Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

The restof dinner was much more natural, and Misha joined us at the table. I so desperately wanted to speak to her and ask her why she was leaving the job that was now mine. But as I looked down at my overflowing plate full of fresh, sizzling, and organic food, my stomach protested, and I thought of something my mother used to always tell me. "When you're in a hole, stop digging. Because if you don't, it'll be easier for someone to throw more dirt over you and impossible for you to get out." Why would I dig myself deeper into a hole when I had a chance to finally climb out of it?

This was a bunch of rich people drama—matching staff, a housekeeper they loved enough to buy a gown for and celebrate, her probably saving up enough and moving on to the next stage of her life. Maybe they enjoyed helping desperate, young women and then letting them go like a caged bird finally freed.

Nodding, I pinched my lips to the side as I studied the shiny silver forks. "This one." Conrad tapped one and smiled at me kindly.

"Thanks. I was about to brush my hair with one." I winced at my childish joke based on The Little Mermaid—the last movie I had watched… with her.

"I'm glad you're part of my world now." Conrad winked at me, and I swear it took every ounce of willpower for me to not hysterically cry or hug him.

"Conrad…" I began, but was tapped on my shoulder.

Flinging around, my eyes widened. She was even more beautiful up close. "Hello, I'm Misha." Her gaze held onto Conrad's for a moment and I could have sworn she look pained when he turned away. She sat in the empty seat next to me and put her hand out. She was very thin, but unlike the other girls, she wore a full face of makeup.

"Hey, I'm Demi." I took her hand but was stunned at how cold it was.

"You're… so different from what they prefer," she said in a saddened whisper.

"Yeah, I guess they needed their minority quota," I added with a small chuckle.

Apparently, Misha didn't find humor in my statement as she just looked at me blankly. "After you finish obtaining your nutrition, Bradley will bring you to my room. They'll let me discuss details of your new position that may be helpful for you, dear Demi." She clasped my hands between hers and blew out a small breath of air. "I have a good feeling about you. I really hope it'll be these beautiful soft fingers on the harp next." She lifted my hands and intertwined my fingers with hers.

You know those moments someone is doing something extremely disturbingly eerie, but you're in shock and you can't get out of the situation?

Yes, this was exactly that moment.

"I hope they'll let you keep this beautiful raven hair." She released my hands and tucked the straggling curl that had fallen out of my poor attempt at a bun. "But she's going to love wearing it…" Her eyes looked distant as she drew her fingers down my cheek.

"Misha, stop it," Conrad cut across me and pushed her hand off my face while I sat there like a statue, unable to move.

This girl was clearly mentally unstable. Maybe that's why I was replacing her? Maybe she had lost her mind entirely.

"You must protect her, Con." She smiled sadly before standing and smoothing out her long gown. "Goodbye my handsome, Con. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough. I'll see you in a bit, darling Demi." She wiggled her fingers at us and glided to the other end of the lengthy table. Looking back down at my barely touched meal, I lifted the biggest spoon and began shoveling it into my mouth. I wasn't going to be that girl who said she lost her appetite over an unsettling conversation—those were the people who had the luxury of knowing when their next meal would be.

The scent of sandalwood and cedar floated off Conrad as he leaned in and whispered, "Hey, don't worry about what Misha said. She's… a little off."

"Sometimes I think the people who are accused of being a little off are the ones who are the most truthful. Perhaps it is the ugly truth that makes them seem off?" I chewed some creamy potatoes while feeling Conrad's eyes still on me. I hated how the job, with everything I needed, had a house full of unsettling opulent people. I started to think about how long I'd need to work to save up and find a new job and a new home.

Hmm, with no bank account—and maybe three dollars and some change to my name—I'd need this job for at least the next… I don't know, infinite years. Middle class families could barely afford their groceries, so how would a girl like me afford to survive?

I needed to stick to what I was here for. I'm here to clean… But the thing that had the pit in my stomach growing was thinking about what kind of messes I was actually here to clean up.