HAVEN

Another day, another dollar.

I reminded myself as I got myself ready to face another long and tiresome work day. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy my work. I chose this career at an early age and knew right away I wanted to help people, especially the sick. It was the actual clientele who left me flat and feeling like I should have become an accountant. This was my second private duty assignment since I’d graduated nursing school at the top of my class, proudly. I’d been the youngest out of the fifty or so men and women in the area. I decided that instead of applying to the top hospitals in the area, I would offer my services as a private nurse to any and all upper-scale clients who were willing to pay my agreed-upon salary. I wasn’t money hungry, nor did I have dreams of a lavish wardrobe or an expensive vacation. Every dollar made was deposited directly into my savings account, never to be touched until the time was right. I drove the rattiest car and lived in a rented room instead of a furnished apartment, although I had the means to pay for something better. None of that mattered to me. Keeping up with the Joneses could fuck right off. I had goals to keep and little time to mess around.

The evening nurse had phoned me at four thirty this morning and begged me to cover the rest of her shift due to a family emergency, one of many might I add, and usually on a Friday morning. She wasn’t scheduled to work the weekends and could have an early start to her drinking and partying like she often bragged about first thing every Monday morning. On the one hand, it pissed me off something fierce knowing she took advantage of me, but at the same time, I was happy to help out a colleague who had a healthy and happy social life. I didn’t have that luxury; fun and fancy free was a myth in my eyes, a fable told to young girls as a bribe to ward off growing up too fast and experimenting with sex. I didn’t have any friends I could call up and just hang out with and enjoy a nice dinner or a movie on a Saturday night. My time was spent working my ass off and saving every cent, unlike other twenty-something-year-old women in the world. I didn’t know the first thing about having a night of fun, free of responsibility and worry about where my next meal would come from. Some girls have all the luck.

I stepped out of the steaming shower and glanced at my weary reflection in the bathroom mirror. I hardly recognized the woman staring back at me. Dark shadows surrounded my eyes, more appropriate for someone twice my age. My grey eyes lacked any sort of natural spark to them, but at least they matched the bags underneath that were more like suitcases. I don’t remember the last time I laughed out loud at a joke someone told or smiled to myself while remembering a happy time from my childhood. Those memories were few and far between, not since my parents had died and left us behind to be cared for by a family member. I was twelve and my brother, Landon, was six when a cousin petitioned the court to become our guardians. They told us we were blessed that we were able to stay together, considering most siblings were separated when they entered the system. No one wanted to care for one child, much less two if they didn’t have to. We hadn’t been blessed; we’d been damned by a set of circumstances that were beyond our control.

I didn’t want to think about that, not now, not ever. I wrapped a towel around my chest and another around my hair, and made my way back to my room to get dressed. Dredging up the past was a colossal waste of time for everyone, especially myself. Nothing would change it, no matter how hard I tried. Luckily, my uniform was already pressed and ready to go, considering I’d be starting work at seven this morning instead of my usual nine o’clock. Freshly dressed and determined to push forward, I rushed out the door, hopped into my piece-of-shit Nissan, and began the short drive to another hard day’s work.

The senator’s mansion was a thing of beauty, so picture perfect, it belonged on page five of Home and Garden magazine. Manicured lawns, without those pesky lines from the mower like the other houses around the neighborhood. I often wondered how they managed that. It was as if, a giant alien spaceship came down and in one swoop cut the grass without leaving a trace. The sheer opulence of this place was staggering, completely over the top. Grecian fountains, tropical plants found in places like the Caribbean, and a six-car garage that was filled to the rim with everything from sedans to exotics. Maybe I should have thrown my hat into politics if this place was the standard. Then again, that’s the rich for you; they always live high on the hog. It wasn’t my place to judge, but how could I not? They made it so easy for someone like me to form my own opinion, someone who’s very…not rich.

They made their own rules when it came to just about everything, hiding behind expensive lawyers, PR reps, and non-disclosure agreements. Lies to everyone else became truth in their eyes, as long as they were the ones telling them. It never mattered if the story was completely over the top, boarding on fantasy; as long as you had enough money, you could somehow make it fact. It was one big game to them, reinventing themselves while creating their own realities. I would never understand it, nor did I want to. I didn’t need to get to know them as human beings or appreciate their so-called “hard work” that got them to the top. I left that up to the status quo. I only needed one thing and one thing only: their money. To hell with the rest. I was determined to use them just as much as they used me to get what I wanted. As long as I kept my head down and performed my daily duties like I was hired to do, I would walk away with a loaded bank account and a glowing recommendation I needed for the next client. That was one thing I could say about the rich: they didn’t mind sharing the hired help, as long as you did what you were told and followed the rules. I had no problem signing non-disclosure agreements. Who was I going to tell anyway? Did I see and hear strange things that made me wonder, what the fuck? Sure, but it wasn’t my place to make waves or ask questions. I was hired to be a nurse, not an investigative reporter. This assignment would end soon enough and I would leave it all behind just like I did the last one.

I pulled my old jalopy toward the back entrance that was designated for servants and other hired help, when I spotted a strange mound of … Wait? Is that a body? I immediately slammed on my breaks, which caused them to squeal, and bolted from the driver’s seat to get a closer look. I didn’t bother wasting time turning off the piece of shit; chances were the engine would cut off on its own. I stood over the body and recognized right away that it was a man lying on his back with is eyes closed. There was no blood or visual signs of trauma, but I had to get closer in order to be sure. Thank God, my nursing instincts kicked in automatically and I sprang into action and tried to help the poor guy.

He was breathing on his own, which was a good sign. I didn’t have my face shield, and the last thing I wanted to do was suck face with a complete stranger. I ran back to my car and grabbed an old sweater I kept in the backseat in case of emergencies and carefully placed it behind his head. He was young; if I had to guess, I’d say under thirty years old and in relatively good health. He was well dressed, judging from the quality of his clothing. Although they were wrinkled and stained, they were brand names, right down to the leather loafers he wore on his feet. I reached for his hand to check his pulse when I noticed the manicured nails; it had been a while between visits, but that last one must have cost a fortune. His pulse was a bit elevated, but it was strong at one hundred beats per minute with no signs of any breathing obstruction. Maybe he was tired and just decided to crawl up on the senator’s front steps and take a nap? As a trained professional, it was a stupid assessment, but hey, I took a shot. Since there were no other signs of distress, I needed to find a way to wake him up so I could get a better idea of what the hell was going on. I patted his scruffy cheek as lightly as I could and tried not to startle him. I spoke calmly toward his prone body, my face mere inches away from his.

“Okay, buddy, rise and shine.” I continued to gently pat while I held his wrist, still checking his pulse for spikes.

“That’s a good boy, come on, open your eyes.” He gave a long growl deep from within his throat then reached down with his free hand and…Are you fucking kidding me right now? Mystery man grabbed his junk and slowly began to massage his balls through his expensive jeans right in front of my face. That’s exactly why I hated men in general, always thinking with their dicks instead of using common sense. You’re lying on the ground passed out, and the first thing you think of is to grab your cock? Asshole. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, but since it was obvious he wasn’t really hurt, I decided to end this little charade as quickly as possible. One hard smack to the face to get his ass up and moving along. I needed him and his stupid cock out of my hair, nursing duties be damned. Slap

“What the fuck.” He jackknifed forward from his position and shoved me backwards with enough force to leave me flat on my ass with my legs spread eagled for the world to see.

“Jesus, woman, what the hell did you hit me for?” We were both breathing heavily, him from the slap and me from being thrown to the ground unexpectedly. The shock left us both speechless, staring at each other like two fools who couldn’t come up with a single word at that moment. Just like that, he went from extremely pissed off to Peeping fucking Tom when he noticed that my legs were open far enough to see my cotton underwear. He stopped scowling long enough to lick his lips and…did he just moan out loud? What the actual fuck? I gave my head a shake to clear out the cobwebs, jumped to my feet, and straightened out my now dirty uniform before I issued him an order. I squared my shoulders and pointed down at his shocked but handsome face.

“Find someplace else to sleep, asshole. This isn’t a halfway house. Move along before I call the cops and have you arrested for trespassing.” I hightailed it back to my car, happy that it was still actually running, and hit the gas. I was too pissed to look back and see if he took my advice. That’s the last time I’d stop to help someone in need. Fucking pervert. Good riddance.