LUCY

 

His name was Rafael King. Sixty-seven years old. One marriage that ended in divorce. One daughter deceased. Breast cancer. Two grandsons. One twenty-five and the other one thirteen. Founder and owner of an internationally known cosmetics company.

One so famous I remember all my great-aunts using his lipsticks.

“Miss Lucy, I’d like to talk to you about a job. I saw how good you were with that boy. I think you’ll make a great companion for my grandson. The salary is far beyond competitive and there’s a signing bonus if you take on the position. If you’re interested, please set up an appointment with my secretary. I hope to hear from you by the end of the week.”

Mr. King seemed legit but I wasn’t about to take chances.

Several days passed while I did my due diligence. Light on details, the job was still incredibly tempting. I ran it through Mr. Luis only when I was sure Mr. King and his offer seemed to be the real deal.

“Lucy, por supuesto you should go and at least check it out. What’s the point of all those community college classes? It’s for opportunities like this!”

“But what about you and the store? Mr. Victor can’t do it all.”

Mr. Luis waved his hand. “Pff! We’ve got Mario. He’s a strong kid that one. Works like a bull even though it’s only been less than a week. We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Mr. Luis eyed me through his familiar filmy gaze, one I’d seen almost every day since I was thirteen. “Question is—are you sure? You don’t have to go, but don’t let it be fear that stops you.”

I was sure I wanted to go.

I wanted to go as soon as Mr. King handed me his card.

When luck knocked on the door—you answered it.

That was why I stood in the impressive lobby of King Cosmetics, wearing my best black interview outfit along with two inch heels. They may not have made me tall but they were comfortable. No sense in hobbling around in killer heels just because they were pretty. Besides, you never knew when you’d have to take off and run.

The staff was pleasant, nice even, as I was escorted up to the fourth floor. Nervous enough to make small talk, I said, “I didn’t think the elevator really worked.”

The security guard smiled as he closed the metal door. “It’s original to the building. Built in 1924.”

The cage lurched a bit before slowly rising up. Of course, it was original. Perfect. I loved everything around me. Rich warm woods, factory windows, and lots of industrial elements made this place hum with history and possibilities.

How lovely it would be to work here!

Although, I doubted I’d see this place again after today. I was sure when Mr. King said companion he meant nanny. Still, I liked kids. They were honest and rarely lacked forgiveness in their heart.

It was the grownups that you had to watch out for. Not because they were inherently dishonest, but because they forgot what it was like to be young and vulnerable.

This denial of their very essence made them hard, hateful even.

That was why I vowed to never really grow up.  I mean, on the outside, sure. I’d handle my responsibilities with the best of them, but on the inside, when no one but my trusted few were looking, that was when I’d be young and free.

Innocent. Vulnerable. Kind. Forgiving. Everything adult life tried to strip away day by day.

I’d been accused of having arrested development. It was most likely true, but so be it. There were worse things to carry around. A forgiving heart couldn’t be one of them.

“We’re here.” The friendly security guard opened up the gate and gestured for me to step out. A middle-aged woman, shiny hair still as dark as a raven’s wing, immediately got up from her desk and greeted me.

“Miss Martin? Hello, my name is Martha.”

I took her hand automatically. Her skin was soft, not a callous to be found. Miss Martha’s fingers were also manicured in a pretty pink color. They reminded me of my mom’s, before the alcohol took her.

Change the channel, Lucy.

“Hello, Miss Martha. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled, a dimple showing in her plump cheeks. “Just Martha is fine.”

I returned her smile, but felt uncomfortable calling her by her first name. I was raised to never be so disrespectful with an elder, but things were different here. The rules weren’t the same.

“Very well, Martha. Please call me Lucy.”

She brought me to a grouping of leather chairs. “Lucy, Mr. King is currently on a call. He asked for you to wait here. It should only be a few more minutes.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.”

My smile faded when Miss Martha…Martha…turned away. Was I being too ballsy by coming here? I mean, this chair probably cost a year’s worth of rent. Easily.

I knew I was a hard worker, honest, and strong of character, but did I belong here, possibly working for a multimillionaire like Rafael King?

I curled my fingers in my lap. Nervous, I did my trusty breathing technique.

Slow breath in, hold it, slow breath out.

That helped a bit.

If it doesn’t work out, then okay. At least I tried. That always counts for something. Fate will decide if I work here or not. I just needed to show up. So there. I did my part.

Cheered again, I sat up and reminded myself of my worth. Mr. Rafael King saw something good in me with Mario. I wasn’t interviewing completely blind.

Besides, I’d worked hard in school and with the help of scholarships, grants, and savings, I paid my way through community college. I’d been saving for school since I was fourteen, working for Mr. Luis, running errands for families in the neighborhood, walking dogs, anything legal I could do to make money.

No student loans for me. No way was I going to get killed with debt. That was how my little family unraveled in the first place.

Credit cards, repo men, nope. Not for me.

Along the way, I’d again had offers to do…other…things, but no. Not anymore. If it wasn’t legit I wanted no part of it. Things would’ve been easier if I’d taken those jobs, and I probably would’ve been able to go to a traditional school, but a clean conscience was worth its weight in gold for me.

Still, I’d also learned the hard way that while I may have aced my classes, it was hard to compete for jobs against prestigious university graduates. That was why I still worked for Mr. Luis.

But this interview might change everything for me. Granted, it wasn’t in the same direction as my business degree, but where you started didn’t necessarily mean that was where you stayed. My life proved it.

“Miss Lucy?”

I popped up as Rafael King walked towards me. Despite his age, it was clear he still had pep in his step. Vitality. Dressed in an elegant three-piece suit, he was still a devilishly handsome man. He would’ve killed women dead in his youth. He probably still slayed even now.

“Hello, Mr. King. Thank you so much for taking the time to see me today.”

He waved me off before taking my hand in both of his. I noticed even his nails were manicured too.

“No, Miss Lucy. Thank you for coming down to see me. Please, come into my office. Martha? Can you bring something to drink for me and Miss Lucy? Maybe a cafecito and some of that pan dulce Miss Maria brought in today?”

Cuban espresso and Mexican sweet bread. Yum.

His office was much like his building. Warm wood, big windows. Except there were bookcases filled with pictures and rows of leather bound books. Several glass cases displayed gorgeous cosmetic packaging along with tubes of lipstick, compacts, and other assorted beauty items. Like a mini-museum.

I’d love to take some time to look at them.

Mr. King pulled out a chair in front of his desk and waited until I sat down before taking a seat in the matching chair. I was a bit surprised considering I assumed he’d sit back down at his desk. After all, it was an interview.

“Did you find the place rather easy to get to?”

“Yes. No problems with the trains. I was glad that you’re right by the station.”

“It was a bit of luck for our factory. A lot of our people use the subway. Makes for an easy commute.”

I smiled, not really sure why we were talking about trains instead of getting straight to the point about the job. Miss Martha…Martha came in with a tray. She set our espressos down in front of us along with a plate of sweets. The pink, white, and yellow colors reminded me of spring. The nervousness in my stomach eased up.

How could I ever be nervous when all I was doing was taking coffee and dessert with the owner of King Cosmetics?

Tummy knotted again. Yeah. No biggie.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to come all the way down here for an interview.”

Smiling politely, I answered, “Yes. A little bit.”

“Let me reassure you. This isn’t an interview on you. You’ve got the job if you want it. The interview is on us. The Kings.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that. Instead, I took a sip of the espresso to buy some time. My eyebrows practically shot up to my hairline. “This is good!”

Mr. King grinned. “It should be. It’s the recipe passed down from my family’s side. You know, from Cuba.”

I loved the way he said it. Koo-ba.

And I did know. Mr. King’s branch emigrated to the United States a few years before Castro took over. I didn’t bother asking if he’d ever been there. I knew the answer was the same as it was for thousands of other families.

No.

“Back then we were ‘Rey’ but changed our name to better fit in with our new country. Things were different then. We had to…assimilate…for better opportunities.”

“I know. It was a different time. Much harder than it is now.”

Mr. King laughed. “You say it as if you were there. Don’t tell me you’ve got a secret formula to make you look so young. If so, name your price and I’ll buy it!”

His gentle teasing caused me to color a bit on the cheeks. “My great-aunts on my mom’s side talked about those things all the time. That was why my mom couldn’t speak Spanish and why her dad was German.”

And why my dad was also blond-haired, blue-eyed. Assimilate. Don’t stand out. Still, the gene pool made no guarantees.

My skin was fair, but my hair and eyes told the tale of a people whose empire once ruled ruthlessly over Central and South America. My temper, when pushed, was a testament to those ancestors.

I did everything in my power to keep it in check.

He nodded sagely while stroking his neatly-trimmed gray beard. “Much the same with the Kings. My father married my mother—a nice upper middle-class girl from Virginia. My daughter married an aristo from Austria.

“But still, not all of us have forgotten our roots. That’s why my grandsons carry my name. We do it the traditional way, tu sabes? Father’s surname in the middle, mother’s as the last. At least with them. King isn’t Rey, but it’s better than Von Hügel.”

Nibbling on the sweet bread, I nodded but didn’t carry an opinion on it one way or the other. There wasn’t much on his daughter’s divorce from Peter Von Hügel but I assumed it was contentious based on Mr. King’s tone. I also didn’t dig considering it wasn’t really my business and had little to do with the job.

I wondered if this was the part where he’d ask me if I was fluent in Spanish. Unfortunately, I wasn’t but I understood it perfectly and spoke it well enough to get by. No matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t seem to nail down the accent.

But I had to nail this down. My future depended on making the best of this chance.

Although Mr. King said I was to be interviewing him and his family, I was pretty sure he was just being polite. Clearing my throat, I set my treat down, folded my hands in my lap, and made my case.

“I hold a bachelor’s degree in Business and Finance. I’ve been employed at the same business for ten years. I’m reliable and when I give you my word it’s as good as gold. I’m rarely sick and I can get along with anybody. I’m really good with kids. What you saw with Mario isn’t the only way I can be.”

Mr. King waved his hand. “I know all of this, Miss Lucy. When I say you’ve got the job, you’ve got it.” He took a deep breath, smile fading from his animated face. “I mentioned the job title when we first met.”

“Yes. As a companion for your grandson.”

“Sí. He’s a good boy, but rather difficult. There’s much frustration in him. I’m afraid I’ve not helped the situation.”

Pausing delicately, I said, “Please don’t think me too forward, but your daughter’s passing probably has had an adverse reaction on him.”

Mr. King’s blue eyes widened as if surprised I knew. They drooped a moment later. “Ah, you’ve looked us up on the internet.”

I shrugged in apology. “I just wanted to prepare for the interview.”

Which was 100% true. I demanded my privacy and respected the same of others. Things were not my business unless you shared it. Period.

“No, it’s your right. The world is different now. The tools are different. Information doesn’t stop even when you wished it would.” Mr. King got up and paced to the window and back to the desk again.

I’d offended him. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Belatedly, I apologized to him for his loss.

He stopped midway between the window and desk. “Thank you, Miss Lucy. My Theresa was a wonderful daughter and an even better mother. Yes, her loss has been hard on all of us but especially my grandson.”

Instead of putting my foot in my mouth again, I waited for my potential employer to lead the conversation. The espressos cooled as he shook his hand in visible agitation.

Mr. King turned around and paced back to a spot by the window. Looking out, he confessed softly, “I love both my grandsons. Everything I do is for them…but I’ve reached my limit. I don’t know how to reach him. He’s lost, angry, and…closed off. Every time I try to talk to him I make it worse.

“It’s my temper, you see. I get so frustrated I lash out. I tell myself to have paciencia, be patient, but then I do it again. I don’t understand how to help. No one ever taught me that. In my day, we didn’t talk about feelings. We put things behind us, moved on, but…it didn’t help. Not really. We took up other things instead. Drinking, women, fighting…bad things.”

The sadness in Mr. King’s voice filled me with empathy. I may not have known what it was like to have grandchildren, but I knew what it was like to lose someone you loved to grief.

To not be able to reach them no matter what words you used.

To fail at connection.

To watch them become a shadow of themselves before even that was gone too.

I wouldn’t wish that kind of helplessness and loneliness on my worst enemy.

Standing up, I joined Mr. King by the window. The impressive view seemed endless, but it was a façade. There was always an end. Time didn’t stop for anybody. All the prayers in the world couldn’t turn it back either.

We had to make the most of what we had every day. To live in the moment, even if that just meant surviving one after another until things turned around. I could teach that to Timothy King. I knew I could. He was still young. Barely thirteen.

“Mr. King, I can do this. I can help your grandson be better.”

He blinked rapidly, drawing his shoulders back, and assuming a position of authority. Still, his eyes gleamed a tad bit too bright. I pretended I didn’t see it and he allowed it.

“He’ll be demanding, Miss Lucy. His tongue is like a viper’s. He’s undisciplined. Defiant. He looks for trouble just to thumb his nose at our name. At me.”

“I’ve dealt with worse.”

I was worse once upon a time. Furious with the world and all its unfairness that first took my father and then my mother, I sought trouble out too. I still carried the scars from all the fighting I did. Boys, girls, didn’t matter. I’d fight anybody, anytime.

Stealing came later, as well as other things I didn’t want to think about, but thank goodness Fate and Mr. Luis were there to nip my burgeoning criminal career in the bud.

Without him, I would’ve ended up dead, in jail, or a mother to several babies by now. And while I loved kids, I wouldn’t have been ready to be anyone’s mother when I was a teen.

Mr. King assessed me shrewdly. “I can see you have. I saw it last week and I see it now. You’ll make an excellent companion, Miss Lucy. I have no doubts about it.”

“What would my start time be? Would I need to be there before he goes to school or after? Or if you want, I can do both. I can get to the house first thing, see him off to school, go back to Mr. Luis’s, and then go back to meet him after school. It’s up to you. I can clock in and out so that way you won’t have to worry about paying me while I’m working at the bodega.”

I thought it was a wonderful proposal. Best of both words. I could help out Mr. King and still be there for my dear Mr. Luis.

“You misunderstand.”

I did?

“You’re not to be a companion for Timothy. No, you’d be a companion for Killian.”

Come again?

My shock apparently made Mr. King say, “He’s the one who needs the most help. Timothy was too young to remember much of his mother, but Killian suffers the most because they were so close. I’ve tried with him, but we butt heads more than anything. His stubbornness…ah. He can be impossible.”

I mentally scrambled to piece together what little I’d read about Killian King. He was just two years older than me. Graduated summa cum laude from MIT with a degree in chemical engineering.

And oh yes.

He was ridiculously good looking. I’d only let myself see a handful of pictures before clicking away. Still, I remembered. Dark hair, blue eyes looking more like the sky than the sea, perfect cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a bottom lip fuller than the top.

Yes, I definitely remembered more about Killian King than I should’ve.

At the time, I assumed I probably wouldn’t even cross paths with Mr. King’s elder grandson. I read he worked at King Cosmetics and just assumed my employment would be with Timothy.

I should’ve paid more attention to Killian’s facts and less to his gorgeous face. How embarrassing!

“Miss Lucy? Do you think this will be a problem for you?”

Yes. He’s too handsome. I don’t do well with handsome.

Blinking quickly, I focused my scattered attention back on Mr. King. “It’s a bit unexpected. When you say companion, do you mean personal assistant?”

“In some ways, yes. You can help him with tasks if you want. Or if he asks you to—which you can count on Killian either ignoring you completely or running you ragged.”

That didn’t sound promising. At all.

“But mainly you’d accompany him throughout the day, making sure he goes to scheduled meetings, no cutting out, and stay with him until the end of the workday. See him off at his car.”

I did the math. We were talking twelve hour days with commuting. Minimum. There wouldn’t be much time left for me, much less Mr. Luis.

This job seemed too good to be true for a reason.

“Mr. King, please don’t take offense at my question, but are you asking me to be a glorified babysitter?”

I didn’t offend him, but I did pain him, as if the reality of his request was insupportable.

“Plain-speaking, Miss Lucy? Yes. That is the job. Although he does it, Killian hates coming to work because he’d rather spend his time with ladies of…questionable…morals. Or just sleeping. He’s too smart for his own good and as I said—he loves to defy me more than anything.

“I need someone who can keep him on the right path. Someone to show him there’s a different way than the life he’s been living. Not judging him, but understanding him and why he is this way. I believe you are that person.”

Oh my, my, my.

Silently, I stood there looking out onto the world. One that didn’t look the same anymore.

Taking this job would mean I’d have no personal life, no more working with Mr. Luis on the weekdays, and being in the presence of a man who seemed to hate all the gifts the world had given him because it took away the one person who mattered.

Incredibly good looking, intelligent, and rich beyond imagination, Killian King sounded like a man whose suffering didn’t soften his edges, but made him obsidian sharp. He would see right through my position. He’d turn his nasty tongue and bad attitude on me. My job would be thankless and full of stress.

 “He’s lost, angry, and…closed off. Every time I try to talk to him I make it worse.”

 “Miss Lucy, if you’re still unsure I would like to remind you of the signing bonus.”

I briefly put my hand on his arm and shook my head. I needed a bit of time to think this through. Keeping my gaze fixed, I scanned the horizon while going through a game plan. Mr. King respected my silence and waited.

You can do this. Fate had you cross paths with Mr. King for a reason. Don’t deny Fate.

Paying back Mr. Luis’s kindness to me was my life’s purpose. This right here? This could go a long way in doing just that. All I had to do was be brave enough to meet this challenge.

Gut check. Was I that brave?

“My offer still stands. I believe I can help your grandson.”

“Even though he’ll be ugly and hateful?”

“Yes.”

“He’ll do whatever he can to make you quit.”

“I’m sure.”

“He won’t appreciate a thing you’ll do for him.”

“I don’t expect him to.”

“Why would you accept this job then?”

I tilted my head. Now that he had my cooperation, Mr. King seemed to be second-guessing himself. Poor man.

“Because there’s obviously so much good in Killian for you to go out of your way to find someone to help him. That’s more than enough reason for me to take a chance.”

“Dios te bendiga. God bless you, Miss Lucy. You are just what my family needs and I will never forget this. Never.” Mr. King leaned down and kissed me on both cheeks.

As I smiled and thanked him for his blessings, I couldn’t deny a large part of me wondered if I’d just severely overestimated my ability to help Killian King.

Worse—what if I ended up regretting ever saying yes?