Chapter 9

Clara's POV

"Where were you?" Marcus said again.

My mind went blank: why was he searching for me? Wasn't my termination sufficient?

"I was just ..." I said incoherently.

"What were you exactly? Seeking to take a day off? You let me down just when I thought you were the least pitiful worker I've ever had." He said.

I was stunned and stood there. Did that imply that I had not been let go? And what about the entire Derek incident?

"I want you to know that you may bid your job farewell if you don't show up tomorrow. Perhaps I ought to assign your work to someone who is more eager to complete it." He said. "Be there eight a.m. sharp." He went on.

Marcus had ended the call before I could muster the courage to inquire.

I was still processing his statements ten minutes after we had spoken. Did he mean what he said? Would my job truly come back to me? Derek's reaction gave me a good idea that I wouldn't be getting my job back. Well, miracles do happen.

******

Getting out of bed this morning and getting dressed for work required every ounce of strength I still had.

I had plenty of time to accumulate all the bad ideas in my mind between yesterday night and this morning because there were many hours in between.

Marcus wanted me to go back to work, but was he just using this as an excuse to make me seem even worse? What if they intended to publicly humiliate me? Nothing would be impossible for him.

But I still needed this work, in spite of all my bad ideas. The possibility of the mayhem that might ensue was well worth the risk.

I arrived at work this morning one hour ahead of schedule.

I got off the bus and decided to walk to the motel.

"Clara!" My name was yelled at by someone.

Ivy was racing toward me, panting, as I turned to face her.

I paused so she could catch up.

"Ash, what's been going on? What made you not pick up your phone? Marcus's search for you yesterday drove him insane. Even though I phoned, the call went directly to voice mail. Ivy gasped in desperation.

I exhaled. "I have no idea where to start," was my response.

I then started outlining what had transpired.

If my buddy had been normal, I would have expected her to attempt to console me or show me sympathy, but she wasn't. Rather, she burst out laughing.

"You have to admit, it's a bit funny." She laughed, then spoke.

"I'm having a crisis right now," I said.

"All right, I'm really sorry," Ivy said, attempting to contain her laughter.

She attempted to keep a serious appearance, but I shook my head at her.

"How did Waylen manage to get past all that security," Ivy inquired.

"I don't know, all I know is that everything is a mess and now Derek thinks we slept together," I said.

Ivy chuckled. "Maybe you should tell him you are having his baby," she chuckled.

"This is serious, you didn't see how mad he was," I said.

"In addition, he departed early yesterday, so everything will be OK. Most likely not too long after your experience. Most likely, he was only unable to inform Marcus that you had been sacked." She said.

"You mean that up until he tells Marcus that I'm getting fired, I may continue working? That is very fantastic. I exhaled.

"What are your odds, come on? The man has probably already forgotten about you since he has a billion things to accomplish. All you can do is hope that you don't run across him again. Since Marcus believes he will never return, your odds are rather good. She went on.

That made sense; I doubt I remembered, and there was very little chance I would run into him again. Hopefully, he won't be back for at least another two years as this was his first visit to the hotel in those two years.

After stopping by the break room to grab a coffee, Ivy and I will begin our shift in around twenty minutes. Ivy and I were enjoying our coffee and some cookies while seated around a little table. A couple of additional workers were present in the space.

One of the security guys, Jeremy, came up to our table.

"How was the surprise yesterday?" Jeremy winked at me as he said.

"What surprise?" Confused, I asked.

You don't have to play dumb with me, come on. I am well aware of that." He said.

Placing a chair between Ivy and me, he did so. He was obviously come to obtain information.

"Your boyfriend was here yesterday, and I allowed him in because he said he had a surprise for you. It wasn't easy getting him past all those guards, so you really owe me." He clarified.

Ivy's mouth dropped open as the revelation struck both of us.

Ivy snapped, "You idiot," and smacked the back of his head. "So you are that one who let him in, how could you?" She said. She was still slugging his arm.

"Come on, did I do something wrong." He talked while deflecting all of Ivy's smacks with a single hand.

"You-shouldn't-have-let-him-in," Ivy said, smacking him on his sentences.

"I see you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," said Jeremy. Raising from his chair, he fled from Ivy.

Marcus came in, so I didn't have much time to get over my astonishment.

Marcus said, "If not for the girl who forgot she had a job," as he walked up to our table.

The other workers became terrified of him, and as they all walked to their stations, the room gradually began to empty.

"There has been a little schedule change, the boss has a special guest here that I would like for you to personally tend to." He addressed me. He said, "Can you try not to disappoint this time," and turned to go.

I nodded, not wanting to dispute the chanced schedule because problems were usually in store for new clients. I was just happy to be employed.

Ivy and I parted ways, and I walked to the suite via the elevator.

I gave the door a rap. I went, "Room service," out loud.

The man said, "Come in,"

I went into the suite.

He was reading a newspaper while sitting at a table.

He was an old man, about fifty years old.

I began by tidying the living room and then the kitchen.

I used a bucket and some cleaning soap to get the floor clean.

To wipe the opposite side of the room, I raised the bucket.

I knocked my leg onto the table, spilling the bucket out of my hands and the cleaning solutions all over the documents on the table when I wasn't looking.

Rushing to the scene was the man.

"I'm so sorry," I said, startled by the mess I had made.

"It's okay, these things can happen." He responded.

I didn't think he would say it since most of the attendees would have understandably lost it. I had anticipated that he would yell at me, which would have finalized my dismissal.

He snatched up a towel and hurriedly wiped the liquid from his paperwork.

In a hurry, I reached for another handkerchief to mop up the spill.

The detergents destroyed most of the documents, thus all of our hard work was in vain.

He got some of the chemicals on his shirt while cleaning, leaving a black mark.

I apologize once more.

"It's okay, I'll just ask my assistant to have them send me another copy of the documents." He responded.

"The least I can do is get your shirt cleaned." Embarrassed, I gestured to the spot on his shirt.

"Yes," he grinned in response.

Going to the bedroom, he exited the room.

Since most of the items in this room are historic, I merely hoped that cleaning up the remaining liquid on the table wouldn't damage the wood.