Chapter One

 

The semester was ending, and summer was approaching - along with exams, of course. The latter occupied most of my time, but for the former - I was looking for work. I was harassed, tired, and spending late nights studying. I applied, almost routinely, for almost anything that looked somewhat interesting and promised decent pay.

I wasn't surprised to get an email asking me to fill out an online questionnaire about a job I had applied for - even though I could hardly remember what the job was even about by that point. But I did it, answered what seemed like a sort of personality test, then got back to studying Business Accounting.

I was taking Business Administration, and there was a surprising amount of math in it, even in first year.

A week later I got an invitation to a job interview. That surprised me, and I had to go back through my notes and figure out what I'd even applied for. It turned out the job was as an assistant to a business manager at a consulting firm. Which told me almost nothing, really. The pay rate seemed promising, though. In fact, too promising.

I worried over whether or not they realized I only had one year under my belt, and very little experience. That sort of pay seemed to indicate they wanted someone with a lot more to offer than me. Still, I decided to brazen it out. I'm not shy, and I don't mind promoting myself if I can get something I want.

I put on my most professional business outfit, did my hair carefully, and even donned the glasses I sometimes wore when I wanted to leave the right impression. I don't actually wear glasses, you understand. These have plain glass. They have very thin gold frames, and make me look less like a well... like a cocktail waitress.

Which is the last thing on my actual resume. I mean, you don't get super sophisticated jobs right out of high school unless you have connections, and I didn't. And it's not like there was a whole lot of good jobs available here in Charleston. It's just not a very big city.

I headed to the job interview without an awful lot of optimism. Like I said, for the money they were offering they could afford better than me. I was under no illusions that one year at college made me terribly employable.

Charleston doesn't have a lot of tall buildings, so I wasn't surprised to find the interview in a small, three-story place downtown. It looked fairly fancy, though. It was in a very old building which had clearly seen some major renovations, and it was all very upscale.

I sat in a small waiting room in front of a receptionist for ten minutes, and then got up when she indicated I should, went to the door and knocked before entering.

"Come in," a man said. "You're Kristen?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"I'm Jordan Banks. Have a seat."

It was the kind of office you'd expect a successful lawyer to occupy. One whole wall was full of built-in bookshelves. There was a big desk in front of a pair of windows, and then off to the side were several stylish fabric-covered chairs around a low table.

Banks himself was a middle-aged Black man. He was short and slender, and wore what looked like a very expensive suit.

He didn't sit back behind the big desk but came around in front and sort of propped himself on it as he looked down at me.

"Do you know what we do here, Kristen?" he asked.

I was only slightly irked at him using my first name. Older men seemed to do that, and anyway, I wasn't about to protest.

"Well, only what I was able to find on the internet," I said. "And what I could figure out from the materials you sent me. You make business arrangements for wealthy clients."

"Correct insofar as it goes. We aren't lawyers nor accountants, but when our clients need a lawyer or an accountant, we have excellent contacts for the best. The same goes for public relations people, doctors, and, if they're needed, plumbers and electricians. Our clients are wealthy. Wealthy people prefer to let others take care of boring, routine or unpleasant matters for them."

I nodded my understanding.

"We'll take care of their investments, selling and buying real estate, and even arranging for the pool man to come over. Whatever they need done, we'll do it or find someone to do it."

"I understand," I said.

"We have a client you probably know of. He's a basketball player with the Charlotte Hornets. You follow basketball, I'm sure."

"Uhm, well, yes sir," I said, a bit surprised at his confidence.

He smiled. "I figured you did. You probably played it in high school. I'm surprised you didn't try for the team at college."

"I wanted to make sure I got my first year under my belt. I plan to try in the fall," I said.

I should point out I'm tall for a girl, at five feet eleven. That was no doubt why he was sure I liked basketball.

"Very wise of you. First things first, right? In any event, Michael Roberts is our client. As you know he was born here in Charleston and has a house on the coast. We take care of all sorts of things for him so he doesn't have to. And one of the things he needs right now is a personal assistant to take care of a number of housekeeping matters."

"Uhm... housekeeping matters?"

"Now that the season has ended for the Hornets he's back home and has time for other matters, for the kinds of things he doesn't worry about during the season. He needs a person to sort of act as our liaison between us and him, so I don't have to go out there every day so he can show me things and deal with... him."

He made a slight face. "You see, Mister Roberts is what you might call a very aggressive man, a very hard-charging, A-type personality. He doesn't have a lot of patience, and he's not always pleasant to deal with."

I was starting to feel alarmed at that!

"But that's for men," he said with a disarming smile. "It's a kind of male thing, a rivalry thing, a dominance thing. You understand? He's gotta prove to every man he's tougher, stronger and faster. And it doesn't apply to women."

"Uhm, okay," I said uncertainly.

"Anyway, as a young woman, especially one with knowledge of basketball, you should be ideal."

"What... would I be doing, Mister Banks?"

"Just about whatever Mister Roberts tells you to do, honey," he said with a smile. "Mister Roberts does not keep a staff because he likes his privacy. Everything that's done there is done through agencies; cleaning, gardening, maintenance, pool, you name it. You'll see to dealing with them all, as well as the construction people that come by for the upcoming renovations."

"Well... I uhm, suppose that doesn't sound too difficult," I said.

"It's well within your ability, I'm sure. Most of what he wants is routine chores. Wash the cars for example - oh, that doesn't mean you wash them personally. But you can drive them to the car wash for him, and drive to the laundromat for his things, or go grocery shopping or deal with whatever else needs doing."

"Uhm, that sounds like I'd be working at his house?" I asked.

"It's a large house and a large estate."

"On the coast?"

"Just up a little from here. It's about a forty-minute drive."

"Uhm, well the things is - ."

"That you have no car," he said. "Not a problem. One will be provided to you."

I blinked in surprise.

"It's still quite a drive every day."

"Oh no, my dear. You'd be staying there."

I stared at him in surprise.

"There's a cottage - well, it's called a cottage but it's a comfortable house on the estate. You can stay there."

"Uhm, oh gee. I don't know," I said.

"Free. It comes with the job."

My mind raced through how much I'd save not having to pay for a place in the summer and added that to the comfortable salary.

"Why don't I drive you out there and you can see it and meet Mister Roberts and see if the two of you get along?" he said.

I couldn't turn that down, so we went downstairs, and I got into the first BMW of my life as he drove me out of town.

I should probably point out that I don't have a home. My mother died when I was young, and my father is a raging alcoholic. I left home at sixteen and stayed with friends until college. Right then I was staying in a dorm room. So this job coming with a free house, even if it was pretty spartan, would be amazing!

Like I said, it's not a big city, and we were soon headed across the bridge to the west of the city and down towards the coast. It was nice country, and an easy drive, and since Mr. Banks didn't keep to the speed limit very much we made good time.

Soon we were driving down quiet streets with big houses. The ones on the side facing the ocean were bigger, of course, but they were all a lot better than I could afford. We zipped past them and then there were no houses for a while, just brush and trees until we came to a gate.

The gate was tall black metal spikes set in the middle of a whole lot of greenery. You could honestly not see a thing past it all. Banks pressed a button on a remote control on his visor and the gate slid aside, allowing him to drive through.

He made a sharp left turn almost immediately, then another right. Only past that did you see the big house ahead, across more greenery, and what looked like a huge pond with high rocks along the far side. When I say huge I mean over sixty feet wide. The rocks were about twenty feet high and water was pouring down them. It was a really pretty scene.

Past that was the house. It was very modern for this part of the country, sleek, with huge tinted windows looking out onto the pond and waterfall and all the well-pruned and manicured bushes and trees around it. We pulled up in front of it and got out, and I felt a sudden sense of heat and humidity as I got out of the air-conditioned car.

South Carolina in summer is... well, not something you want to be wearing a business outfit in! Especially not today! It was a hot, humid day, and I was quickly panting just walking across to the big double doors.

He stopped outside and rang the bell, then waited, turning to smile up at me. It took a while. He rang again, and I wondered if Roberts was even here.

"Maybe he's not home," I ventured.

He shook his head and headed down along the house.

"He's probably out back," he said.

I followed hesitantly, and we walked around the big house, then down a path that led out towards the rear, which faced the ocean. The house was on a rise, with some big rocks along the edge of the greenery there, and a narrow path leading through them and down onto the beach.

"There he is," Banks said softly, almost as if he was talking to himself.

We looked out and saw a man coming in from the ocean along the sand. Banks headed for the opening in the rocks and I followed

"Good afternoon, Mister Roberts," he called.

Roberts didn't answer, and I felt my anxiety rise.

Like Banks had suspected I did follow basketball, and the Hornets were the closest team to us so I followed it pretty well. Michael Roberts was not noted as a genial, friendly guy. He was, as Banks said, aggressive to a fault. He often got a ton of penalties, and suspensions weren't rare. He was nicknamed 'the wall' because he was so solid on defense.

Some basketball players have a kind of lanky frame, as tall as they are. Roberts was more compact - if you could call a man six feet eight compact. He had broad shoulders and a broad, powerful chest. Which was easily visible because he wasn't wearing anything but a swimsuit.

He had long dark hair, done in dreadlocks, but pulled back tightly into a kind of thick tail, and a short, tightly trimmed beard and mustache. He had a broad nose, a high forehead, and very dark skin which glistened wetly with water. He had extremely well-defined muscles along his chest, and the best washboard abs I'd ever seen. They looked like you could punch him in the belly and hurt your knuckles!

But he did not exactly have a friendly look on his face.

"Banks," he said. "What you got for me?"

"Michael," Banks said jovially. "This is Kristen. She's a student at the College of Charleston, and I'm considering having her take care of your routine business matters this summer."

Roberts walked right up to me, towering over me the way few men can, and actually kind of getting in my personal space as I cocked my head back a bit nervously.

"You play basketball?" he asked.

"I - ."

"She was on her high school team all the way through, and a high scoring center," Banks said. "But she's decided to give it a pass for her first year at college and apply this fall."

I felt a bit confused at that. How had Banks known? I hadn't told him. He must have checked me out!

Startling me, Roberts reached out and slid his truly enormous hands around my arms, squeezing before letting go.

"You need to work out, white girl," he said. "Those arms need more muscle."

"Uhm I uhm... plan to... Mister Roberts," I gulped.

"I'll see that you do," he said. "Let's go inside before you melt."

I followed him gratefully across the back lawn and then onto the patio and into the house - which was mercifully air-conditioned.

I have to admit to surprise. I had imagined it would all be garishly decorated with lots of bright, gaudy things, much like Donald Trump's gold toilets. Instead it was restrained, even staid, with thick, comfortable looking sofas in dark browns, tasteful paintings and even a grand piano.

I reminded myself that Roberts had been in the NBA over a decade, and had a degree in Chemistry. He wasn't a dummy, and he wasn't 'fresh from da hood'. Even if he was a jock - with all that came with it.

"Did Banks tell you I'm not a very nice guy?" Roberts asked.

"Uhm, no, sir!" I said.

Not in so many words...

"I know what I want done, white girl, and when I want it done I want it done without arguments. That's been a problem between me and Mister Banks in the past."

"I only have your interests at heart, Michael!" Banks exclaimed.

"Yeah. Me too. And I get to make the decisions."

He turned and glowered at me. "You have problems taking orders, white girl?"

"No, sir," I said.

That was the third time he'd addressed me as 'white girl' and I wondered if that was a problem for him.

To be absolutely honest it was a bit of a problem for me. I mean, I was born and raised in South Carolina, okay? We might not be the 'old south' anymore but old attitudes die hard. And I wasn't so much feeling an emotional issue because of some old South attitude as because he had a reputation for aggressiveness and even violence.

And violent black men not being exactly uncommon, I think I, along with almost everyone else, was a little wary around a man his size.

"Stand on your right foot," he said.

"What?" I stared at him, startled.

"Stand on your right foot," he ordered.

I stared at him, then at Banks, who seemed equally nonplussed, and then hesitantly raised my left foot.

He came over to me and looked down at me, scowling.

"Girl, you need to improve your balance if you want to make a college basketball team," he said.

Okay, so I was wobbling a bit.

"And you also need to do what I tell you when I tell you without arguing and asking questions - like this guy has never been able to."

He stuck his thumb back towards Banks.

"Yes, sir," I gulped.

"I'm sure she'll be - ."

"Get lost, Banks."

"Yes, sir. I'll do that," Banks said, heading for the door.

"Uh..."

"You got a driver's license?" Roberts asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Then you don't gotta worry that your ride is leaving."

I remembered that Banks had said I'd have the use of a car.

"Does that mean I'm uhm, hired?"

"Unless you piss me off, yeah."

"I'm not finished exams yet, Sir," I said.

"You got one today?"

I shook my head.

"Fine. Come on, then. I'll show you where you'll be staying."

He led me back to the door, then halted.

"Leave your jacket."

I shrugged it off and draped it across a chair, then followed him out into the heat and humidity.

"Nothing like the smell of the ocean to remind you where you come from," he said.

We walked along the rear of the house, then out to the side a bit, the path curving upward along a rising hill, then through some trees to a small bungalow. It looked like it would have a nice view of the ocean!

He opened the door and we walked into a comfortable looking place that was fully furnished. He showed me the kitchen, then down the hall to the bedroom.

"There's only one," he said. "I never hired no one with kids and didn't intend to. It had two bedrooms but they got combined in a reno."

It was a nice sized bedroom, with a big, king-sized bed. It also had a big screen TV on the wall.

"Wow!" I said. "This is nice!"

He turned to look at me and I felt an odd little squirmy sensation. I mean, I was alone in a bedroom with this great big black man who was mostly naked! That it was Michael Roberts, known as an aggressive and often angry man only made that more anxious.

Not that I thought he was going to attack me or anything!

But still...

"Get yourself a pair of shorts and a tank top, white girl. Nothing fancy around here. It only gets hotter as the summer wears on."

"I was born here," I said.

He led the way back towards the house, then around front to the garage. We went through a side door and I looked around with interest. It was certainly the nicest garage I'd ever seen. Everything was so clean! And instead of a concrete floor this one was tiled.

There was a shiny black pickup, a shiny black SUV, a shiny black Mercedes sedan, and a shiny black Porsche in the garage.

"I guess you like black," I said without thinking.

He turned to me with an odd expression, then a bit of a smile as I blushed a little.

"Black is beautiful, baby. You never heard that?"

"I never heard it about cars before," I said.

"Every other day you drive one of these to Mazilla Auto-body and let them clean it. It's on the car's nav system."

I nodded.

"When I send you for errands take the GLS," he said, pointing at the Mercedes SUV.

I nodded.

"You a good driver?"

"I guess so," I said.

"You better be. That's a hundred thousand dollar car. You bang it up I'll bang you up."

"Uhm, I'll try," I said anxiously.

"Do better than trying."

"Maybe I should take the pickup," I added.

"The pickup is over a hundred grand. The sedan is a hundred forty," he said. "I don't have any cheap shit here, white girl. My mom had a big ole strap she'd apply to my ass if I damaged her property. I still got it somewhere. Understand?"

"Er... uhm, yes sir," I gulped.

Not that I thought he was serious, of course! I mean, he couldn't be!