Chapter One

 

To be honest, I was surprised I was even getting an interview. I mean, I had sort of 'interpreted' the job requirements in a way which would allow me to stretch my qualifications quite a bit. The job was chauffeur. I had zero experience as a chauffeur, though I loved cars and loved driving cars.

Don't get me wrong: I'm a really good driver. I can drive anything! I've driven tractors and tractor-trailers! I've driven mack trucks and little Italian sports cars. I have really quick reaction times and a knack, an instinct for driving - preferably fast.

I also know a lot about how engines work, since my dad owns a garage and I spent a lot of time helping him out right through my teenage years. Some of the cars and trucks I've driven were in the garage for repairs, in fact. Most of the others well, they were owned by men who wanted to impress and please me.

And to be honest, I was easier to please with a car than with any other equipment men had, at least, most of them. Frankly, most of them don't know much about handling their equipment, much less mine. And that goes for cars too!

And then there's Jackson Stirling.

I was surprised my admittedly imaginatively written resume had gotten an interview, but even more surprised it was with the guy who owned the limo in question. I'd expected some flunky. But the man sitting across the desk was wearing a suit that probably cost more than I made last year, and that didn't include the diamond cufflinks or the gold watch.

Add those in he was probably wearing my last three years worth of income.

Yeah, times were tough. And if I didn't get something soon I'd have to go back to Wyoming to dad's garage - even though he didn't really need any help.

It wasn't just his suit that convinced me Stirling was no flunky. It was his look, his attitude. Before he even opened his mouth I knew this was not a guy to be screwing around with. There was a powerful, deliberate intensity to the way he was looking at me, and then at my resume. This was, I thought, one very serious dude.

"Miss Slate," he said.

"Danielle," I said with a bright smile.

He didn't return the smile.

Never a good sign.

I was standing before his enormous desk. There were chairs in the room, but none before the desk, so I had to stand for the interview. That was odd, but then, everything about this was odd. I'd expected, as I said, some HR flack, not a rich guy who actually rode around in the limousine!

He was, as I said, wearing a three piece suit, with a high silk collar buttoned up around his neck. The dark material fairly shone, and the red silk handkerchief sticking up from his breast pocket was even worse. It matched his tie perfectly, and I wondered if red and black - were his normal colors. He looked both powerful and stern.

And yet he wasn't the old fart I'd been expecting needed to be driven around. He was probably ten years or so older than me, say early thirties, with a well-built body and broad shoulder from what I could tell. He was handsome, too, with a square jawed face, but he had an old man's haircut, a banker's haircut, sharply cut on the side and swept across the top of his head. It had probably cost him a lot but I thought he'd look way younger and less stern with something more modern.

He had nice eyes, too, but way too intense. Man! I'd seen guys look at me like they were trying to undress me with their eyes often enough. This guy looked like he was trying to see into my soul!

Standing up left me little room to hide what I was wearing either. I had some nice dresses, but since driving a car is usually thought of as a 'guy' job, I hadn't wanted to wear a dress. I had one pair of sort of dressy pants. They were gray, low riding, and too tight, but I had figured they'd do for an interview where I would be sitting down the whole time.

"You have no experience driving a limousine," he said flatly.

"No," I said.

He looked at me, and he started to frown. I wondered if I was slouching, and straightened my shoulders. Of course, that tended to push my breasts out against the thin silk of my blouse, but I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"I've driven tractor-trailers, Porsches and Lamborghinis, Mini coopers, delivery trucks and dune buggies in the desert. I can drive anything anywhere," I said confidently.

For a wonder, he seemed to accept that.

"Tell me something of your knowledge of automobile repairs and your experience thereof."

Thereof!? Who the hell says thereof except a poetry professor, I wondered.

I was a little taken aback, but I described growing up around my father's garage, and how I started working on simple repairs at about eleven. I went on for about two minutes, because it was one thing I was pretty confident about, and stopped abruptly when he held his hand up.

"Let me clarify the job required," he said. "Notwithstanding the details were explicitly detailed in the advertisement I want there to be no misunderstandings on your part and no misinterpretations."

I nodded helpfully, feeling kind of eager, in fact, because him doing this meant he was actually considering me. Why else waste his time?

"I work long hours," he said, leaning forward, fingers interlocked. "I make a great deal of money when I work, and thus my time is worth a considerable amount of money. The purpose of servants is to minimize the time I need to spend on anything other than work. Are you with me so far?

I nodded, pretending eagerness.

I mean, I was eager for a job, but not necessarily this one. I'd take it, though. Jobs were hard to come by right now.

Servant?

"Orally, Slate. I do not like mime."

Orally? What... ? Oh!

"Yes, sir," I said quickly.

"Many of the places to which I must travel have parking in short supply. I don't want to waste my time driving around trying to find a parking space, then trudging several blocks to where I need to go. My car is also efficiently set up so I can work in it, but not while driving. Adding you as an expense thus increases the time I can bill to others."

"I understand," I said.

His eyes narrowed. "How can you understand until I'm finished speaking?"

I pursed my lips. Arrogant SOB.

"You are young, unmarried, childless, and currently unattached. These are among the main reasons you are under consideration for this job."

How did he know I didn't have a boyfriend, I thought.

"Your former employers speak well of your attitude towards your job. I hire on character here, more than strict qualification. I need someone who will be there with my car at four in the morning or ten at night, with little or no notice. For this, someone young, healthy and unattached is a logical choice."

"Uhm..."

He held his hand up and again I felt a flicker of annoyance.

"That is the last time I want to hear you start a sentence with 'uhm' he said. "It's annoying. If you have a statement or question to make then make them."

"What precisely are my hours to be, sir?" I asked.

My parents would be proud of the way I controlled my voice there, I thought.

"You will be available twenty four hours a day and I expect you and the car to be no more than one hour away from me at any time."

"But - ."

He held his hand up again. I was getting tired of his attitude!

"I live in The Cliffs. I understand you currently live in Rockland in a bachelor apartment. You will move into my house, into the servant quarters above the garage. Your room and board will be in addition to your salary."

I paused in surprise. That hadn't been in the ad. Free room? Free food!? Wait a minute, his house? He didn't look like a sexual predator but what did a sexual predator look like? Mind you, well, it's not that I have especially slack morals, but this guy looked like the kind I would seriously consider if he approached me in a club.

"Your duties at the house will be limited to the garage. There is a live-in maid and a live-in butler. The cook and another maid come during the day, and there is a security guard at the gate."

This must be some kind of house, I thought.

"In addition, any illness will be seen to by my physician."

Health care? That was nice, though I rarely needed any.

"I'm not being generous, Slate. If you claim to be too ill to work my physician will determine the veracity of that claim."

This guy must have swallowed a dictionary.

"I don't call in sick when I'm not," I said, barely hiding my irritation.

I wondered if Stirling was actually a lot older than he looked.

He stood up and came around the desk. I stood up as well. He was of average height, while I was tall for a girl, but he still topped me by several inches.

"Slate, I have been described as a man with an abrasive personality," he said. "I don't care how people perceive me. I don't need to be nice to people. I don't care if they like me. I have a job to do and I do it well. If you can say the same you'll do fine. If you expect me to smile and pat you on the head and say thank you every time you do your job, look somewhere else."

I thought about it. "Okay," I said.

"Sir," he said. "I do not cultivate personal relationships with my staff. I will not use your Christian name and you will not use mine. Clear?"

"Uhm, yes sir."

His eyes narrowed.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"I find speech disfluency irritating, Slate. People who irritate me do not, as a rule, continue in their employment for extended periods."

Speech what?

"Sorry, sir."

"As a young woman, and an attractive one, you'll be used to being treated in a certain deferential way by men. Men, in other words, have a strong tendency to be nice to pretty girls. Do not expect that from me."

"No, sir," I said.

I liked that he thought I was pretty. I mean, he was a pretty good looking guy - though he could use a new haircut - but now wondered if he was gay. He didn't look gay, but how could you ever really be sure?

"You will report, when I am not around, to Chalmers, the butler, at my home. Any issues surrounding your work will be dealt with by him."

He handed me a piece of paper with an address on it.

"You may attend him now."

I looked at him uncertainly and he sighed.

"Go and see him and he'll see you get properly set up."

"U... Yes, sir."

He returned to his desk, giving me a brooding look. "I dislike hiring new people, Slate. I cherish certainty in life, and new employees are inherently unreliable. Be predictable, Slate, be consistent."

"Yes, sir."

"You may go."

I wondered fleetingly if I should bow my way out of his office, but instead just turned and left.

Jeeze, I thought. Could I actually work for this dick? The salary was okay, nothing to write home about, but if you added room and board to that it was actually quite good. I mean, normally my food and rent took up most of my check. With this job I wouldn't have to spend money on much of anything!

***

"This will be your room," Chalmers said.

He was dressed in an honest-to-God butler outfit, complete with tie and tails. He was about forty, tall and slim, with slicked back black hair and a stern attitude. Well, I suppose it would have been unlikely for Stirling to employ a giggling, good humored man in his house.

The room was impressive, and furnished! I mean, it wasn't exactly a luxury room, but it was bigger than my apartment, and the furnishings were definitely higher quality. The bed was real wood, and surprisingly big. There wasn't much closet space, but boy, nice view out the big windows!

There was even a big screen TV on the wall!

"Nice," I said. "I could do without the carpet but - ."

"The carpeting is to muffle sound. Mr. Stirling is of the belief servants, like children, should be seen and not heard."

"No wild parties. Gotcha," I said.

He raised his eyebrows. "No parties whatsoever, and no visitors. If you go to the kitchen, use the back stairs. Understandably, Mr. Stirling does not wish people walking through his house and disturbing his peace and privacy."

"He lives alone?"

"He does."

"What a shocker."

He scowled at me.

"It is not for us to judge our employer," he said sternly. "It is for him to judge us."

I shrugged.

"Mr. Stirling leaves for the office precisely at Six each morning. It is a thirty minute drive. Be sure it is not longer. His departure from the office is less predictable given the variety of tasks at hand there on a given day. You can expect him to desire you between the hours of Six and Eight."

"Wow, twelve hours a day?"

"Mr. Stirling works very hard."

"So what do I do between those hours?"

"It is likely he will need transportation during the day, as well, perhaps to a luncheon or dinner date, or to a meeting at another building. He will generally inform you of this in the morning, but needs can arise without notice and it will then be your responsibility to ensure your vehicle is there within the hour if not sooner."

The vehicle was a black Cadillac DTS limousine. There was also a black Escalade for a spare, or for foul weather. They sat side by side in a five car garage which contained a workshop that was better than my dad's garage. There was a black Porsche there too, which surprised me, but what didn't surprise me was it was two years old and had twenty nine miles on it.

The idea that this would be where I worked and I was, basically, in charge of it, filled me with glee.

'You will also be responsible for maintaining these vehicles," Chalmers said. "If a vehicle fails to function as expected Mr. Stirling will not be pleased, and will want to know why. And they are to be polished and ready at all times."

I moved into my new room that day, after going to a uniform place downtown and being measured for a tailor made suit. I was surprised it wasn't black, but it was such a deep blue it might as well have been. It was a mannish, with a hip length, single breasted jacket, and vest. It had no tie, though.

"Mister Stirling dislikes ties on females," the crone who measured me said.

It had a scarf instead, in a blue just a shade lighter than the suit.

Stirling apparently didn't like colors much either.

Well, so what? You don't need to like your boss, right?

Next I went to a hair stylist. Chalmers had said my hair was 'ragged' which was true enough since I cut it myself, and my appearance reflected on Mr. Stirling. The stylist cut about two inches off my blonde hair, leaving it about shoulder length, and cut it in a layered look with no bangs which kind of curved in a little, a few inches under my jaw.

It wasn't that different than what I was used to, and it was flattering, so I didn't mind. Hey, free haircut! And the place looked expensive too!

The suits, when they came, fit perfectly. I'd never had anything tailored before, and was surprised at how comfortable they were, particularly the white shirts and the pants. The pants were actually tighter than I prefer, though perhaps form-fitting, would be a better description, but since the blazer was hip length that hardly mattered.

The shirts were likewise form-fitting, but they didn't squeeze, just followed the lines of my body, and did so very well. The shoes were black, lace-up flats, which were to be polished, Chalmers warned. In addition, there were thin black gloves (so I didn't pick up and spread germs) and a cell-phone I was to never use. Only Chalmers and Stirling would have the number.

I was not to wear earrings, necklaces, or any other jewelery other than a watch, which I must wear, and which was provided. I was not very impressed with it, but didn't much care. I had a job! That was the important thing! And I would have no real bills to pay! Even cable and internet were supplied with my room!

I'd have to see how many hours I wound up working before making a final decision, but so far things were definitely looking up!