Lily was screaming for her, grasping at her purse, her arm, her dress hem. The older woman dragged her away, kicking and screaming as Bailey watched her helplessly. She could still hear Lily’s piercing cry as the door slammed behind her.
Bailey wanted nothing more than to run at the door kicking and screaming. She wanted to demand her daughter back and to rescue her from this place. But she knew she couldn’t. She had signed the paperwork and agreed to play by the home’s rules. Now, she had thirty days until she could see and talk to her daughter again. Thirty days to prove that she could be a good mother.
Bailey handed back the pen to the woman at the front desk. The woman with her oversized reading glasses and her thinly parted lips spoke sympathetically to Bailey as she continued to stare at the door her daughter was ushered through, “It’ll get easier. Don’t worry about her. She’s a tough kid. I can already tell.”
Bailey muttered a soft thank you under her breath and then waited for the worker to make the last of her copies of the paperwork. Once she had her packet of items, she raced out the door and back to her car. If she lingered any longer, she did not know what she would do. Instead, she drove out of the parking lot as fast as possible, not daring to look back at the windows of the little red building of the Boys and Girls Halfway Home Center. She could not bare to think of her daughter watching her drive out of her life.
She managed to make it back to her apartment. Lily’s things were scattered throughout the floor. When they had returned to the apartment, she'd told her to pack a few outfits, a couple of toys, and some of her favorite books. She'd pretended that they were going on a vacation together, and Lily had happily set her toys out so she could pick the best one for the journey. Now there was a trail of stuffed animals, blankets, and books laying in a straight line on the floor by where they had been sleeping.
Bailey picked up a small quilt. It was faded and torn, signs of a long life. This quilt had been Bailey’s when she was Lily’s age. Her grandmother had knitted it herself when Bailey’s mom had suddenly passed away and her father had been forced to move back home. The quilt was her only sense of comfort and warmth those days. And when Lily was taken first from her father’s place and then from her grandmother’s home, it served the same purpose once more.
Her thoughts were broken by the sound of her phone again vibrating from inside her pockets. She had been ignoring it all evening. There was no one in the world worth Bailey talking to at this moment, but apparently, the caller thought she was worth the time. Bailey reluctantly pulled it out and checked the number. It was local to Chicago, she could tell that. It was also a different line from the hotel.
She took the bait.
“Hello? Is this Miss Reed of the Beacher Hotel?” A man’s buttery voice anxiously drilled her from the other line.
“This is her speaking.” Bailey’s heart dropped. This had to be about what had happened earlier with that fighter. It was probably the photographers or a gossip hound. Worse, it could be the police wanting to ask her yet another question about how she had discovered him.
“Miss Reed, my name is Jonathan Winters of Winters Talent.” He paused as if she should take this moment to take notice of how important he was or to at least give him some sign of recognition. She instead chose to remain silent. “Anyways, I represent a man named Leo Connelly. I believe you met him today in his hotel room at the Beacher.”
“I wouldn’t say I met him considering he couldn’t say his name when I found him…”
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s very unfortunate. He’s a good guy, a great man, an even better boxer. But he’s going through some troubled times. And that’s really why I wanted to get a hold of you immediately. At least, I wanted to speak with you before anyone else contacted you.” He again paused waiting for her to interrupt him. “Has anyone tried to speak with you about Mr. Connelly?”
“Besides the police, the EMT workers, my boss, and another hotel employe? No. No one that I know of has tried to contact me.” Bailey could not understand why anyone would care so much. She really had nothing to say, and she had no interest in talking to the press considering she didn’t even recognize the man.
“Great! Good!” Relief eased his voice a bit. “I thank you for not taking your story to other channels, and I hope that, in the future, you continue to remain silent regarding what you did or did not see. Mr. Connelly has a very important reputation to keep, and I wouldn’t want him to risk one night of overindulgence in ruining what he has built up over the years.”
Bailey grew impatient. She could care less about this talent agent or his drunk client. She decided to take the blunt approach. “So, you want me to not talk to the gossip magazines.”
“Yes, to be direct. I, and Mr. Connelly, would appreciate your discretion at this point in time.” Jonathan appreciated not having to walk her through this. Time was a commodity in his industry and wasting it on the runaround with those outside his industry was a task he did not enjoy. “To thank you for doing so, I'd like to offer you a bit of a monetary reward.”
She cut him off. She could not stand to take in a dime that wasn’t earned despite her situation. “I’m sorry, but unless you’re offering me a permanent job and a place to live, I have no interest in whatever money you’re going to throw at me.”
“Actually, there is a job available in Mr. Connelly’s home. He’s looking for a caretaker to help maintain the residence. It’s a rather large estate just outside of the city. He mainly keeps to a few of the rooms so you wouldn’t have much work to do other than to run some errands, do a few loads of laundry, and to make a couple of meals when he's in. Would that interest you?”
Bailey stopped herself from agreeing immediately. She had desperately needed this job, but at what cost? The person she saw in that hotel room was not the ideal boss she had in mind. Nor did she want to work as some rich jerk’s servant as they ordered her around their castle. She still had her pride and dignity to think of.
But then she looked down upon the quilt mashed up in her laps. The edges were frayed and torn. Its color had faded dramatically. The patches had begun to pull from their stitches so that little pills of fluff started to peek through. The vision of her girl holding it closely in her arms as she slept in her old bed at the apartment above her grandmother’s garage came flooding back to Bailey. Maybe this was the chance she was supposed to take. Maybe this was her opportunity to save up enough money and bring her baby back to a loving and established home.
She relented as she softly asked, “What are the details, Mr. Winters? I'd like a night to consider the offer.”
“Mr. Connelly is one of the wealthiest athletes in the world. He pays very generously and offers an extremely competitive benefits package. You and any dependents you may have will be well taken care of. In addition, you will be given an apartment within the compound. It’s a one bedroom suite outfitted with furniture, appliances, a full kitchen, and necessary electronics. The last keeper had previously lived in the home for over forty years.”
“Why did she quit?” Bailey was genuinely curious. She had not known someone so loyal to a job to leave when they were obviously near retirement.
“To be honest, and you should know this before you agree, Mr. Connelly can be difficult to work with. While you will most likely not be interacting directly with him for the most part, he'll try to test your patience. Unfortunately, Gilda could no longer work in that type of situation so she chose to leave before the end of the contract. Mr. Connelly has been staying at the hotel until I could find him a replacement for her.”
“I’m not sure—”
He stopped her, “Please, Miss Reed. I understand that this may not sound appealing, but I assure you that we will compensate you for the troubles. I know that you lost your job over what happened in that hotel room. And for that, we’re forever grateful. Come work for us, and we promise to make it up to you. If you’re interested, come to his estate at 1484 Cherry Lane in Quarter Park tomorrow at 10am. I’ll be there with a contract. If you don't show, I’ll take it as a rejection and I’ll instead send you a little check for your silence regarding the hotel matter instead. But I hope you will take this opportunity instead.”
Without saying another word, Jonathan hung up the phone leaving Bailey standing silently alone, millions of thoughts running through her head. He had thrown her a lifeline without knowing, but what she would have to endure to save herself may not be worth it.
She stayed unmoving in her spot on the floor of her studio apartment going back and forth about the pros and cons until a letter was slipped under her door. Bailey slowly opened it and then read through the harsh scribbles from her landlord. It was an eviction note. She took the letter and crumpled it up in her hands and then tossed it into the plastic bag where she was keeping her garbage.
Bailey then crawled back to the blankets where she had slept. She took Lily’s pillow and wrapped it in her arms as a replacement for the warm body that had slept next to her for so long. Tomorrow, this place would be a distant memory. Tomorrow, she would have to move on once more to a complete unknown at the mercy of some alcoholic’s will. Tomorrow, she was going to become Leo Connelly’s maid.
***
Leo attempted to turn to his side, but the IV line kept him in place. A machine beeped at him angrily in return. He had come to again for the third time since being wheeled into Chicago General Hospital. But just like the last two times, he had very little recognition of where he was or how he had gotten there.
He looked up to see a familiar person. He cleared his throat loudly and called out, “Jonathan?” His agent in his slick pressed skinny blue suit was standing next to his bed with his back towards him. He was talking to someone on his phone that was obviously giving him a hard time. He kept throwing his hands up and then moving them from his hips to this neck.
When he finished, Jonathan turned back towards Leo with a stern smile upon his face. Without breaking a sweat, he launched into Leo, “What the hell, man? What were you thinking? Trash a hotel room, get yourself tanked, bleed all over the place, leave evidence and a witness? You know better. Now I’m busy dealing with the freaking mess you left behind while you dry out in General!”
“Whatever, man.” Leo could not care what Jonathan had to do. It was why he paid him. “Just do your job, and mind your own damn business. What I do in my personal life means nothing to you.”
Jonathan stepped back as he reined himself in. Leo was one of his most difficult clients, by far. “I just spent the last three hours trying to track down some hotel maid to make sure she wasn’t talking to the press. And no, it isn’t your personal life when your dumbass actions managed to get that woman fired!”
Leo pushed himself back further into the folds of the sterile, thin hospital bed pillows. A hazy vision of a woman with sky blue eyes floated before him. She was kneeling in front of him, calling to him. It was her. She'd saved him.
“How much to keep her quiet? Or did she already find Celebrity 411 and blabbed?” Leo did not want to know the answer. He wanted to keep his idea of her pure as possible.
“You got lucky, man. She hadn't even called a reporter, and she didn't want a dime. She wanted a job.”
Leo laughed sarcastically, “A job? With me? What is she, a trainer or something?”
“No, she’s a maid. I gave her Gilda’s job. If she accepts it, I’ll ask her to start right away so that when you get out in a day or two, the house and her will be ready for you.”
“I’m not going back to that house, Jonathan.” That place was a prison to him, a place to be tied and tethered to. He did not want to spend a moment churning up the past as he wandered the halls and grounds. He wanted to run from it all, to spend his money on booze and lavish hotels for the rest of his days.
“Then I quit.” Jonathan was deadpan.
“You what?”
“I quit. You need to detox, man. You need to go back to that house and get out whatever is in your system. And then you need to get back in the ring. There’s no point in having an agent if you're not willing to even try fighting again. And you’re not going anywhere chugging down two bottles of liquor a day.” Jonathan was serious as can be. He hated to admit it, but Leo was more than just a client. He was a friend.
He had been with Leo in the beginning when he was just another suburban wanna-be entering the ring for the first time at an exhibition fight. After the match, he approached him and offered his services for free in return for loyalty when Leo’s career grew. It had, and Jonathan was there for every step, every punch, every fall from grace. But now, he could not bare to waste his time and energy on a guy who was far from the man he knew years ago. This was his last olive branch. And Leo knew it.
Leo rolled his eyes and turned his head away towards the private room’s windows overlooking the river. “I’ll go home. I’ll sober up.”
“Great man—”
Leo kept his focus on the river flowing powerfully before him as she spoke. “But I’m not gonna fight again. I’m not going back in that ring.”