Bunny

1

"Where ya headed?" my dad asked as I grabbed my keys.
"I have an interview with a new family."
"Ah. How far?"
"Only like a ten minute drive. They're actually pretty close to us. They live on Marecott."
"Wow, that's a lot of money. You nervous at all?"
"Extremely." I snickered.
"I figured. But don't worry, kiddo. You got this in the bag."
"Thank you, I'll try to keep that optimism."

I left out of the door and got in my car, praying she'd start as I buckled my seatbelt.

She roared and squealed a few times before finally giving in.
"Oh thank you." I sighed.

I put her in reverse and went on my way.

I'd been working as a maid for rich families for a while now. It was mostly to have money while I was in college but now it's to have enough to get an apartment and a new car. Until then I still live with my dad. Demetrius Parker. The town's "fix-it" man.
My dad is my biggest supporter and my best friend. We talk about everything together and he's one of the best single fathers in the world. He's who everyone goes to if they need something repaired. Tire, injury, truck, roof, if you broke it, he can probably fix it. My dad had a rough life as a kid but obviously it came with some perks.

I made it to the house and it was definitely one of the biggest homes I've seen.

Marecott was the neighborhood that was only occupied by doctors, lawyers, engineers, and government officials. It was diverse with the richest families living on the street. I was now self conscious about driving my very old car through it. I soon noticed that a lot of them actually had older cars in their driveways, like keepsakes. My dad always said the money should go into your house and not your vehicle because the house holds more value. Maybe that's what these people try to do too.

I parked my car and had to give myself a pep talk.

"It's like any other interview. You go in there. You tell them your name. Your experience. And you feed them a smile. Nothing too hard. You've done this before and you've gotten the job. Everything's fine."

My mind began wandering.

"What if they have pets...I'm allergic. What if they have babies? I'm not allergic but...ew."

I shook it off then got out of my car and headed to the front door.

I knocked three times and waited patiently.

I was shaking like usual. I hated having to get a job only because of the interview process. Meeting these people is always so nerve wracking because the entire purpose of it is for them to judge me. I hated that. I don't speak to many people. Not because I'm scared of them, I just don't ever feel like it. In fact the only person I talk to is my dad and whoever hires me (I usually don't see them during the day. They speak to me if they're giving me the day off or it's payday).

The door opened.

"Hi, can I help you?" asked the really pretty older woman.
"Um...Hi...I'm Willow...I had an interview with you today..."
"Oh! My goodness, time flies. Last time I checked the clock it was 9am."
It was 2:30 now.
"Well, I'm Ms. Thomas but you can call me Pam if you like. Come in, sweetheart." She held the door open wider for me.

I stepped inside and looked around. This house was huge. The ceiling had to be 30 feet tall and it had a second floor.

"Follow me. Do you drink tea?" she asked sweetly as she led us into the kitchen.
"Um...Yes, ma'am."
"Sit. I'll fix you a cup."
I sat at the island.

"So tell me about yourself, Willow. Very pretty name you have."
"Thank you..."
"No problem, hon."

She set down a mug that held a tea bag on top of a saucer then poured in the hot water. She then took honey and sugar cubes to sit in front of me.

"Go on." she insisted and took a seat with her own mug of tea.

"Um...Okay...well...I've been cleaning houses for a while now. Since I was 17."
"And how old are you now?"
"21."
"Oh okay. You're around my son's age. He's 22."
I guess that's better than a newborn.
"Continue, I'm listening."
"Um...Well, I originally did it to survive while I was in college but now it's to move out of my father's home and start a life on my own."
"Oh, you've graduated?"
"Yes, ma'am. I took summer classes to graduate early. I also finished high school at 16."
"Woooww, beautiful and intelligent. There aren't a lot like you." she smiled and sipped her tea.
"Oh...Thank you." I smiled back.
"Of course. Now I do have a question."

I nodded for her to go ahead.
While I sat there, I could hear a loud bass from someone's radio coming down the street. Who in this neighborhood would do that? It sounded like it was trying to shake the house.

"What is your preferred schedule?" Pam asked me.
"Um...I don't really have one. I'm pretty flexible." I focused back on her.
"Oh well that's great."

I heard the door slam open then shut close.

"Whose old '67 is that in the driveway?!" some male asked as he walked through the house.

"Well, my son is home." Pam stated. "Isaiah, come back down here please!" she begged.

I heard footsteps and became nervous. More judgement? I actually would have preferred it if she let him keep going wherever he was headed. I don't need to meet everyone at once.

"Yea?" A deep voice asked.
"This is Willow." Pam introduced.
"Okay? Who is she?"
"She'll be the new house cleaner. Willow, turn around, honey. Become acquaintances."

Why?
Probably because he lives here too...but still.

I turned in the chair and looked to see who she was forcing me to speak to.

This can't be her son.
There's no way in hell.

Pam was, small, brunette, with soft features, and a kind smile.
Isaiah was tall, dark brown hair, he was covered up with a hoodie and sweatpants but the skin that did show had tattoos. Including his knuckles, back of his hands, his neck, and something small on his face.
This isn't her son. I refuse to believe it.
This was an inmate that she was housing for extra money. Then again what exactly would she need extra money for?

"You speak?" Isaiah asked me.
I just sat there.
"She deaf?" he asked his mother.
"No. Just a little shy probably."
"I'm goin' upstairs." he stated and walked off.
"Be nice!"
"Nice to meet you." he replied back, dryly.

"I'm sorry about him." she stated. "He doesn't really like it here. So he's got a bit of a 'tude."
I faced her again. "You guys aren't from here?"
"Nope. We moved here a year ago after winning the lottery. We're from Westdale."

Westdale?

Westdale was the scariest city in this state. A lot of gangs hang around over there. It's so bad that cops don't even patrol the area anymore because it's too much to stop and often times the cops don't even make it out alive. Drug deals, prostitutes, excessive violence, Westdale has it all.
My only question was how Pam survived that lifestyle. She seems like a sweet soccer mom, not a gang leader.