Yale…

I’d taken a cab that morning since my Mercedes was parked under the DA’s office, and then had completely forgotten that it was there and had taken another cab home. It pulled up in front of the green carpet, under the matching green awning that was trimmed in gold, leading into my building. Clive, the doorman, opened the back door of the car for me. I stepped out, but my eyes were on Ally, sitting on one of the stone benches flanking the door.

“Mr. Parnell,” Clive said with a nod.

“Hello, Clive. How long has she been here?”

“A little over two hours, sir. She said she had a six o’clock with you?”

“Yes. Yes, she does.”

“Very good, sir.”

The Calvert building was way above the pay-grade of a city-waged prosecuting attorney, but money hadn’t been why I’d taken the job. I had money, in spades. Granted, it was mostly my father’s money; when I’d turned twenty-five, he’d put me on a sort of payroll-without-conditions. His companies ran themselves, and I got a pay-out that was far more than enough to live on even for the Calvert building.

I believed in living below my means, and for the fully-restored 1920’s building to be below my means? Well, that gives you an idea of just how much money I had at my disposal on a monthly basis.

My father wasn’t greedy. My mother, on the other hand, loved to threaten to get my father to stop handing me a free paycheck anytime I displeased her ‒ which I believe I did just by virtue of drawing breath.

Ally had her headphones in her ears and was reading on some sort of tablet device intently. I took a moment to take her in and admitted to myself that this was, very likely, one of the worst ideas I had ever impulsively decided to follow through on, which was so very unlike me.

“Ms. Blaylock.” I called and didn’t receive any sort of answer. Clive and I exchanged a look of amusement before I strode up the green-carpeted walkway to put myself in front of her. My shadow fell on her, and she jumped, looking up guiltily from her e-reader.

“Sorry,” she said, and popped the earbuds out of her ears. Music blared from them, and I raised an eyebrow.

“You’re early,” I declared.

“I’m sorry… it takes three buses to get here from the café; I didn’t want to be late,” she said defensively, coloring. I dismissed both the apology and the excuse and held out a hand. She took it, standing, and I gave it a firm but gentle shake.

“That’s all right; I want to introduce you to Clive; he’s the doorman for the Calvert building. Clive, meet Ms. Allison Blaylock. She will be cleaning my place. I will be giving her a key and access to my security system so that she may come and go as she pleases and as it fits her schedule.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Blaylock,” Clive said politely and shook Ally’s hand.

Ally smiled and said faintly, “Please, call me Ally.”

Her shyness was absolutely adorable. As I watched the interaction, I realized how I, perhaps, took Clive’s presence here for granted a bit, realizing that Ally and he were almost on the same level, both of them hard-working, blue-collar individuals. Clive smiled and returned his white-gloved hand to the back of the other, equally white glove, clasping his hands neatly in front of himself as his position with the building dictated.

“Come with me,” I murmured, and Clive opened the polished, brass-handled, glass-and-wooden door for Ally and me.

She smiled at him and murmured a nervous, “Thank you,” and Clive beamed.

“Not at all, miss.”

I gave Clive a nod and followed her into the building’s ornate lobby. She froze, open-mouthed, and I nearly crashed into her, stopping short so I wouldn’t. I waited patiently for her to drink in all the brass and bronze. The walls glowed with a light golden paint past the fittings, the floor; a highly-polished honey oak parquet done in a chartreuse pattern.

Of course, the only reason I knew that was because the real estate agent I had secured my condo through had used it as one of her selling points. I resisted the urge to tell Ally, though she struck me as the kind of girl who would both appreciate and absorb the information like a sponge. I had watched and listened to her exchanges with other customers in line at the café, and she always seemed genuinely interested in what they had to say, especially if it was a piece of information she hadn’t previously known.

Not why she’s here, Parnell… Stick to the plan.

I moved to the ornate stairs leading to the second floor and started up them. I preferred them to the old elevators by virtue of being somewhat of a fitness junkie. I had expected her to follow, but she was transfixed, her gaze thirsty for the beautiful things inside its reach. I let myself get nearly halfway up the staircase before I stopped and watched her look. Still, the spell must be broken; regrettably, I didn’t have all night, although I could surely watch her look at the building’s lobby for that long and more.

She held such a beautiful and whimsical innocence to her and it exacerbated the urge to open her eyes to new things, darker things that held no less beauty to them, all the more. I frowned at myself, I couldn’t help it; and before I could stop myself, I called down to her.

“Ms. Blaylock, if you will come this way?”

She shook herself as if waking from a beautiful dream and looked up at me sharply. She blushed, flustered and stammered out yet another apology and said, “Of course, I’m coming right now.”

She moved up the stairs with a feline grace that I secretly took pleasure in watching and when she was but two steps below me, I turned and put myself into motion again. I bypassed the landing on the second floor, taking the switchback to the next set of stairs leading to the third floor.

Ally drifted up behind me nearly silently, following me along the hall, our footsteps hushed on the thick forest-green carpet with golden trim along the polished wood baseboards. She stopped with me at the heavy, dark wooden door under the Art Deco stained-glass light. Matching stained-glass sconces flared upwards like torches on the walls to either side of every door along the corridor, each portal labeled with bronze number plaques. Mine happened to be ‘3A.’

I held out a ring with two keys on it to Ally; she blinked those brilliant green eyes and reached out a hand, grasping them lightly. I didn’t let go of the ring, not just yet.

“You can come whenever it is convenient for you. I will leave an envelope with money on the dining room table. One hundred dollars a week for you, plus more for whatever incidentals you may need. Cleaning supplies, for the dry cleaning, et cetera. Do you understand and agree to these terms?”

She blinked and nodded dumbly for a moment, in total shock and surprise, before her voice caught up and she said, “Yes! Absolutely.”

I turned back to my door and stuck the key in the top lock, sliding back the bolt. I did the same to the lock in the doorknob, and, with no hesitation, opened it for the both of us, letting her into my home, my private space, my sanctuary.