Her head hurt like hell, but she roused herself at five a.m., took a real shower, and got dressed. With a cup of coffee in hand, Azrael stared out the small living room window at the stained brick wall, which was their only view. Smellicious nipped on her ankles, and she wrinkled her nose. Tomorrow she would need to go by the butcher shop and buy him some scraps with what little money they had. Today the stink demon was just going to have to eat some moldy cheese. The saddest part was that the cheese smelled more appealing than her temporary pet.
Azrael rinsed her cup in the sink and put Smellicious in the bathroom with his food, barricading the door just in case he became impatient enough to try and hunt her down. With a sigh, she headed downstairs to Lance’s office.
The door was open. Lance was hunkered over a thick ledger. She raised her hand, considered knocking, but then lowered it again. She didn’t want to appear hesitant, not after last night’s debacle.
“Good morning,” she announced, stepping inside the sparsely decorated office.
He didn’t say anything or look up, only pointed to a small stack of paperwork on the desk. Stepping over, she picked it up.
Ugh…new hire paperwork.
Grabbing a pen, she looked around for a place to sit. The desk was scattered with loose folders and papers, and the only chair available seemed to be the one he was sitting in. The lobby was empty—only dents in the linoleum gave any indication it was furnished in the past. That left her two choices—either leave to fill it out, which was what she was sure he wanted her to do, or sit on the floor. Not wanting to give him the pleasure of her leaving, Azrael sat down on the floor, crossed her legs, and began to fill out the forms. Two minutes in, she heard him get up.
He stopped in front of her, his scuffed black loafers close enough to touch her shins. Figuring he’d ignored her when she came in, she did the same. After a moment, he cleared his throat.
“Here,” he said, handing her a clipboard when she looked up. “You can sit at my desk. I’ll be back in a few.”
She took the clipboard, noting the tenseness of his shoulders and hawk-like gaze.
Guess he’s still pissed, she thought irritably. At least he’s allowing me to sit in a chair now.
He walked away, and she took a seat in his warm chair. Azrael rubbed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t have her work a full first day. She could use a nap.
The paperwork was the same as most other places. She filled out her work history, address, and phone number enough times to make her head throb. On the last page, her mouth dropped open. The pay rate was way more than she’d been expecting, considering it was supposed to be a minimum wage job. Suspicious, Azrael pulled out her phone and looked up the position online.
As of yesterday, the job was showing to pay $7.75 an hour. Azrael’s paperwork showed nearly twice that amount.
He’s paying me more—but why?
Briefly, she thought it might have something to do with experience but then cast the idea down. Even if he paid by experience, she had none on record when it came to maid work. Maybe he’s just the asshole landlord with a heart of gold, she thought with a snicker, but the longer she stared at the amount, the more she wondered. She finished the paperwork and waited for him to come back.
Lance took the clipboard from her and handed her a set of keys on an old ring. “Each key corresponds to the apartment number assigned to it. Cleaning will be done before noon. That includes straightening up, vacuuming, mopping, cleaning linens and bathrooms. They pay for this service, so you will do a good job. The code to the laundromat is nine-six-three. At noon will be lunch, and then you will work on cleaning the lobby and reorganizing the basement. Be sure to fill out a time sheet and leave it on my desk by three. Do you have any questions?”
Azrael grabbed the keys, trying not to show her irritation at him for speaking to her like a child. He kept a steady gaze on her, his eyes glinting.
He wants me to mouth off, to give him an excuse to fire me.
“No, sir,” she said, forcing a smile. “You can call me Azrael, by the way, or Az, like Caleb does.”
“I will do no such thing. Now get to work.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she suppressed it. She made her way to the door and stopped, saying over her shoulder, “It’ll be a lot more comfortable to work together if we call each other by our first names.”
With two long strides, he met her at the door. “We don’t work together, Miss Larken. You work for me. I’d suggest you don’t do anything that makes me have to remind you of that again.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her out of the office. The door slammed behind her.