Finn
Page 12
“We’re not fine. We’re barely hanging on. If we want to keep our business running and for all our employees to keep pulling paychecks, I’m going to have to take one for the team.”
Tara doesn’t look convinced. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to walk away. Just say the word. You’ve always supported me when I needed you and I know Daphne would say the exact same thing if she were here.”
I think about what she’s offering for only a split second before I discard the idea. Although I know that Daph and Tara would essentially bankrupt themselves to keep me away from Finn, I wouldn’t be any kind of friend if I let them do it. This is my mess. And I’ll be the one to clean it up. Literally and figuratively.
Maybe this is my chance to finally clean the slate of my past and offer heartfelt amends for my mistakes. Only then will I ever be able to move on.
“No, but thank you. I can deal with a vengeful ex for that amount of money. There’s nothing he can do that would be worse than what I did to myself.”
* * * * *
When I arrive at Finn’s place on Monday morning I’m armed with industrial strength rubber gloves and the determination not to let anything he does get to me. I used the weekend to get my head on straight and now that I know what’s going on, there’s no point in trying to make nice or ask for forgiveness. Finn needs to punish me for the way I hurt him years ago and I can’t pretend I don’t understand his desire to do so.
All I can do is grin and get through it because I need this contract even more than he needs closure.
I push the door open and the smell hits me first. As I walk past the kitchen it’s so strong that I have to cover my nose with my hand.
What the hell crawled in here and died?
I turn around and take in the rest of the apartment with growing dismay. There are clothes strewn all over the place, even on top of the television. There’s something hanging from the bookcase that appears to be a sock and the air is rife with the stench of old alcohol bottles even though I don’t see any. I guess he threw those away at some point.
Did he have a party over the weekend? Finn used to be the type that I could imagine hosting a drunken rager any day of the week but the man I met last week seemed more sedate than that. Then I remember his last words to me.
So this is how it’s going to be. He means to punish me and this is how he’s going to do it.
Once I walk in the kitchen and look down at the counter, I discover the culprit. Finn must have had a tuna sandwich yesterday and left the remains out overnight.
Ugh. He’s clearly committed to his make-Rissa-pay plan because the trashcan is right below the counter where he left the funky sandwich. I think it actually might have taken him more effort to leave it on the counter than if he’d just done the proper thing and thrown it away.
I blow out a sigh and survey the room. With a mess like this, it honestly doesn’t even matter where I start so I just pull on rubber gloves and unroll a trash bag. I walk around the room picking up debris. In some cases I’m not even sure if what I’m picking up is in fact trash but I’m not going to worry about it. He’s paying me to clean not think. Plus, he’s clearly rich enough to replace anything I accidentally throw away.
And this place is going to be spotless when I’m done. If he’s hoping to find fault with my work so he can void the contract, then he’s not getting that satisfaction. This place is going to be so clean that it would even pass my mother’s white glove test.
For the next hour, I work steadily. Most of it was surface damage. I’m pretty sure Finn just took a bag of laundry and tossed its contents as far as he could reach. But underneath it all, the place really isn’t dirty since I just cleaned it a few days ago. So after my initial sweep to get all the trash, I herd all the dirty clothes into a pile and wipe down all the surfaces. After that, I tackle the hall bathroom. When I poke my head in the guest bedroom, I’m hesitant, worried that he might have trashed it too. But it looks the same. The bed doesn't look like it's been touched. I dust the night tables and the headboard quickly before poking my head in the office. The only things in the room are a desk and chair. It doesn't take long to wipe them down.
All in all, the place looks pretty good. I’m surveying my handiwork with a satisfied smile when Finn appears.
When he sees me standing in the living room, he nods. “Oh you’re done. Good. I need you.”
“I’m already finished cleaning.”
He smirks. “You didn’t read the contract did you?”
I clench my teeth together to keep in the smart remark on the tip of my tongue. What the hell is up with everyone and this damn contract?
“Yes, I read it.”
“Then you know I own your time between the hours of eight and twelve.”
“But I’m done.” I gesture around the sparkling apartment. All of the furniture has been restored to its rightful positions and all the surfaces gleam. I’m not sure what else he thinks I can do in here.
“Not here. We’re going out. I need new stuff. And you’re going to help me choose it.”
My patience finally snaps. After working for the past two hours straight, my back is screaming and my feet hurt. I want to smack that grin right off his face, contract be damned.
"You know what, no. You are paying me to clean. You want to trash your own apartment just to get back at me, real mature by the way, that's fine. You want to make me pick up your skanky girlfriend's underwear and show off how many Magnum condoms you've used in the past few days, that's fine too. But I'm not some dog that you can snap your fingers at and expect me to follow. I may work for you but you don't own me."
Tara doesn’t look convinced. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to walk away. Just say the word. You’ve always supported me when I needed you and I know Daphne would say the exact same thing if she were here.”
I think about what she’s offering for only a split second before I discard the idea. Although I know that Daph and Tara would essentially bankrupt themselves to keep me away from Finn, I wouldn’t be any kind of friend if I let them do it. This is my mess. And I’ll be the one to clean it up. Literally and figuratively.
Maybe this is my chance to finally clean the slate of my past and offer heartfelt amends for my mistakes. Only then will I ever be able to move on.
“No, but thank you. I can deal with a vengeful ex for that amount of money. There’s nothing he can do that would be worse than what I did to myself.”
* * * * *
When I arrive at Finn’s place on Monday morning I’m armed with industrial strength rubber gloves and the determination not to let anything he does get to me. I used the weekend to get my head on straight and now that I know what’s going on, there’s no point in trying to make nice or ask for forgiveness. Finn needs to punish me for the way I hurt him years ago and I can’t pretend I don’t understand his desire to do so.
All I can do is grin and get through it because I need this contract even more than he needs closure.
I push the door open and the smell hits me first. As I walk past the kitchen it’s so strong that I have to cover my nose with my hand.
What the hell crawled in here and died?
I turn around and take in the rest of the apartment with growing dismay. There are clothes strewn all over the place, even on top of the television. There’s something hanging from the bookcase that appears to be a sock and the air is rife with the stench of old alcohol bottles even though I don’t see any. I guess he threw those away at some point.
Did he have a party over the weekend? Finn used to be the type that I could imagine hosting a drunken rager any day of the week but the man I met last week seemed more sedate than that. Then I remember his last words to me.
So this is how it’s going to be. He means to punish me and this is how he’s going to do it.
Once I walk in the kitchen and look down at the counter, I discover the culprit. Finn must have had a tuna sandwich yesterday and left the remains out overnight.
Ugh. He’s clearly committed to his make-Rissa-pay plan because the trashcan is right below the counter where he left the funky sandwich. I think it actually might have taken him more effort to leave it on the counter than if he’d just done the proper thing and thrown it away.
I blow out a sigh and survey the room. With a mess like this, it honestly doesn’t even matter where I start so I just pull on rubber gloves and unroll a trash bag. I walk around the room picking up debris. In some cases I’m not even sure if what I’m picking up is in fact trash but I’m not going to worry about it. He’s paying me to clean not think. Plus, he’s clearly rich enough to replace anything I accidentally throw away.
And this place is going to be spotless when I’m done. If he’s hoping to find fault with my work so he can void the contract, then he’s not getting that satisfaction. This place is going to be so clean that it would even pass my mother’s white glove test.
For the next hour, I work steadily. Most of it was surface damage. I’m pretty sure Finn just took a bag of laundry and tossed its contents as far as he could reach. But underneath it all, the place really isn’t dirty since I just cleaned it a few days ago. So after my initial sweep to get all the trash, I herd all the dirty clothes into a pile and wipe down all the surfaces. After that, I tackle the hall bathroom. When I poke my head in the guest bedroom, I’m hesitant, worried that he might have trashed it too. But it looks the same. The bed doesn't look like it's been touched. I dust the night tables and the headboard quickly before poking my head in the office. The only things in the room are a desk and chair. It doesn't take long to wipe them down.
All in all, the place looks pretty good. I’m surveying my handiwork with a satisfied smile when Finn appears.
When he sees me standing in the living room, he nods. “Oh you’re done. Good. I need you.”
“I’m already finished cleaning.”
He smirks. “You didn’t read the contract did you?”
I clench my teeth together to keep in the smart remark on the tip of my tongue. What the hell is up with everyone and this damn contract?
“Yes, I read it.”
“Then you know I own your time between the hours of eight and twelve.”
“But I’m done.” I gesture around the sparkling apartment. All of the furniture has been restored to its rightful positions and all the surfaces gleam. I’m not sure what else he thinks I can do in here.
“Not here. We’re going out. I need new stuff. And you’re going to help me choose it.”
My patience finally snaps. After working for the past two hours straight, my back is screaming and my feet hurt. I want to smack that grin right off his face, contract be damned.
"You know what, no. You are paying me to clean. You want to trash your own apartment just to get back at me, real mature by the way, that's fine. You want to make me pick up your skanky girlfriend's underwear and show off how many Magnum condoms you've used in the past few days, that's fine too. But I'm not some dog that you can snap your fingers at and expect me to follow. I may work for you but you don't own me."
