RED SOX: You gotta believe, again!
KITCHEN BITCH
by Phair
Ash never expected shouting. Or tears, for that matter. Criticism and complaints and backhanded compliments were the anticipated responses when working her odd jobs. High pitched, shrill screams were totally out of the ordinary.
“I’m the one on the top rung of a six foot ladder with an open paint can in one hand and dripping brush in the other and she gets to yell,” Ash cursed under her breath as she tried to maintain balance.
“DA DAD DADDY!” MaryEllen wailed.
Ash glanced down to see her nearly hysterical former classmate. MaryEllen was staring at her like she was some sort of bug in need of squashing. Mary Ellen’s two best girlfriends stood behind her with nasty smirks on their pasty white faces and their bony thin arms folded smugly over their equally narrow chests.
“Go ahead and screw me over for breathing, you spoiled bitch,” Ash thought to herself as she steadied her nerves on the wobbling ladder.
“MaryEllen?” A strong male voice, clearly on the move form one syllable to the next responded.
“DAAAHHDIIEE!”
Ash could not help but roll her eyes as MaryEllen swooned into her friends’ waiting arms when the door burst open. “Great timing.”
“Oh my baby,” Mr. Stone reached the kitchen in time to rescue his daughter from full contact with the floor. “What is it? Tell your Daddy everything.”
“Oh Daddy, that girl is sooo mean,” stated with the pointing of an accusing finger. “She’s the one who ruined my graduation. She was always a getting into trouble at school. I’m so afraid of her. She’s been to jail, you know. Why is Melony letting her into my home? Why are you letting them torture me like this?” MaryEllen panted her statements and questions out from behind a veil of tears and trembles. “Oh Daddy!”
“Boy, this girl can act,” Ash thought to herself as she managed to make her way down the ladder safely.
“I’m sure you step mother meant nothing by hiring her. She’s just an oversight, sweetie.”
“Terrific, I’ve been upgraded. My mother said I was a mistake and now Mr. Stone says I’m an oversight.” Ash brooded, “If they keep this up I’ll be a tragic accident before long.”
“Daddy will take care of everything.” The fit but older gentleman returned MaryEllen to her feet. “Why don’t you girls get my credit card from the desk and go spend some money? Take the BMW. When you finish, life will be back to normal here, I promise.”
“What’re you gonna do to her?” MaryEllen asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
Ash cleared her throat and everybody in the room turned to face her. Her presence, while the cause of the commotion, had been momentarily forgotten to the dramatic father/daughter dialog.
“It’s finished. I was gonna pack up and go anyway,” Ash mumbled before bending over to reseal the paint can lid.
Mr. Stone squared his shoulders. He didn’t like having his thunder stolen. Especially, when he had audience. And most especially when the wet blanket was some prostitute’s bastard daughter.
“I don’t believe I care for your tone, missy,” Mr. Stone growled. “You have a lot to learn about being respectful of your betters.”
Ash said nothing as she continued to clean up her supplies.
“I AM SPEAKING TO YOU!” His shout rattled the windows.
Ash cringed. She learned early in life to be wary about certain tones of voice. This particular tone was so like the one that haunted her dreams of childhood.
“I…I…I heard you,” Ash stammered.
Mr. Stone grinned. He frightened her. “Good, people like her need a healthy dose of fear. And, a swift boot in the ass on a regular basis.” He thought to himself before demanding. “Get up. Let’s see what kind of work you do.”
“Oh fuck you, you fucked up fucker straight off the fucking F train from Fuckzonia!” Ash’s mind screamed but her body got up and followed Mr. Stone to the far corner of the room.
He inched along the wall which had been painted the day before. His eyes were straining to find a flaw. Half stepping forward and then a full footstep back, Mr. Stone scrutinized the work.
Ash’s arms and back and legs were aching from the two days of painting. She was squeezing the paint job in between working at Mr. Deming’s and her two lawns a day. Since graduation, she’d been working ten to fifteen hours daily, six days a week. Saturdays were a little easier because the Coffee Shop was closed. Ash usually spent the day doing three or four lawns and then helping Mrs. Ng. Now, she was sorry she wasted any of her precious time at the Stone house.
“LOOK AT THAT!” Mr. Stone announced near the door jam. “You got beige paint on the white door frame. UNEXCEPTABLE!”
Ash frowned as she inspected the speck. She could barely see it. There was no way to tell for sure it was fresh beige paint of a leftover from the previous paint job.
“You’ll have to paint the whole door frame again.”
“But, the frame wasn’t, she said not to do the white,” Ash struggled to come up with her justification.
Mr. Stone had moved on, “And here, look at the ceiling. You got paint on the ceiling tile.”
“It’ll clean up,” Ash had intended to go back and wipe it off.
“Oh it’ll clean up alright! You’re going to wash down the whole ceiling before you go! How much did my wife agree to pay for this mess?”
“Two hundred but she only gave me fifty so far,” Ash knew her face was beet red and that MaryEllen and her friends were giggling watching her humiliation.
“Hand it over!” Mr. Stone stepped in front of Ash with his palm out.
“It’s gone. I spent it on…,”
“Drugs? Booze? Hmmm, what did you waste my money on?” Mr. Stone questioned.
“Paint. I bought the paint for the job,” Ash shot back the answer louder than she intended.
Mr. Stone grabbed her by her shirt front, “Watch your mouth! You little smart aleck, I teach you a thing or two. You’re going to repaint the door frames, wash down the ceiling tiles, and give me back the fifty dollars or I’m going to involve the police in this little scam of yours, you got that punk?”
“It’s not a scam. I did the work,” Ash tried to argue but Mr. Stone gave her a hard shake by the shirt front.
“DON’T TEST ME, KID! You don’t really want to find out how tough I can be.”
Ash went silent. She knew she couldn’t win.
“I guess this is why rich people are rich; they don’t pay for anything,” Ash thought as she resigned herself to slaving away in the Stone’s kitchen for another four or five hours.
Ash was dragging her butt. Not only did she do everything Mr. Stone ordered her to do to ‘fix’ the kitchen but then she had to walk home. Mrs. Stone was too frightened of her husband’s temper to drive Ash back to the boarding house as had been their agreement. Ash was left to walk the five miles home in the scorching July heat. So, here she was exhausted and more broke than when she started out this morning.
“At least, I can go right to bed.” She muttered as she fumbled for her keys in the dusky evening light.
“LINDSEY! You finally home. Good. You come here, now,” Mrs. Ng shouted from her first floor window.
Ash felt like crying. She was dirty and tired and hot. But, Mrs. Ng wanted her and she wanted her now.
“With my luck, she probably wants me to re-shingle the roof tonight.”
Ash entered the main house by the kitchen door. The most amazing smell teased her nose. She groaned as her hunger reared its ugly head. It had been a long time since breakfast with Mr. Deming.
“Lindsey, fix fan. I hold stool for you,” Mrs. Ng called from the living room.
Ash had to smile. Mrs. Ng was short and needed a long string tied to the chain control of the ceiling fan. Every so often, she’d pull too hard and the string would snap off.
“Ah, it’s so cool in here,” Ash sighed as her overheated body entered the chilly room.
Mrs. Ng shook her head no, “You say cool, I say cold. I right, you wrong. Shut off fan, please.”
“Do you have more string?” Ash asked with a giggle.
Handing over a freshly cut length, Mrs. Ng set both hands down on the step stairs to steady them. Ash easily hopped on the lower step and then advanced. She was pulling the knot tight when Mrs. Ng began to speak and the step stairs shook slightly.
“You be careful. No falling. Easy,” Mrs. Ng was intent in her instructions and did not notice Ash’s widening smile as the girl returned to the safety of solid ground. “Now, you sit. I made too much again. You eat.”
Mrs. Ng pointed to a tray with loaded down with food. It was positioned in front of the love seat, directly across from the air conditioner. Ash’s mouth watered not just at the food offered but also the deliciously comfortable spot in Mrs. Ng’s cozy living room.
“I shouldn’t. You were gonna eat. I should get out of your way,” Ash was embarrassed by the offer.
“You sit,” Mrs. Ng commanded.
The pair ate in silence. This wasn’t the first time Mrs. Ng included Ash for dinner. In fact, it was becoming quiet regular for the landlady to shout for Ash around a mealtime. It was always something trivial to do and then Mrs. Ng would insist Ash eat.
“You work too much,” Mrs. Ng finally spoke. “Careful or you get hard hands like me.”
Ash nodded slowly. Her landlady’s hands were a mass of rock hard calluses and disjointed digits. Ash knew Mrs. Ng was forced to do heavy labor at a reeducation camp in Viet Nam after the war. They never talked about what happened to Mrs. Ng but Ash could see the scars for herself.
“You get good money today?”
Ash shrugged. She didn’t want to lie but she didn’t want to tell the truth either.
“You get paid, right?”
“No,” Ash whispered feeling the tears creep up on her.
“What? Why no money? You finish, right?” Mrs. Ng was furious.
Ash wiped away her tears before answering, “He said, I did a bad job and that he’d have me arrested if I didn’t fix it and give him the money back. I only had twenty two bucks with me. I’ve got to walk back there tomorrow with the other…, um,…”
“Twenty eight,” Mrs. Ng provided.
“Right. Anyway, I lost money on the deal. I’m out what they promised me, money for their paint, and both my mow jobs for today.” Ash was disgusted with herself, “I blew it.”
Mrs. Ng was drumming her fingers on her own tray. Her eyes went dark with her thoughts. Ash half wondered if smoke would start to pour out of the woman’s ears.
“He a bad soul. He did this ‘cause he can. Bad. Go to Hell bad.” Mrs. Ng waived a finger at Ash, “This on him. You learn from it, Lindsey. Don’t get cheated no more. Get all money up front. Write out contract. And, police no arrest you for civil matters only crime. Don’t get fooled again.”
Mrs. Ng got up and went to her bookshelf. She ran her crooked index finger along the bindings. Pulling one out. Pausing then pushing it back. Finally, pulling another out.
“You read this. This how people should behave. If they don’t, don’t do business with them. If you don’t, so what. No crime but maybe they no do business with you.”
Ash looked at the book. “Etiquette?”
“Start there. After I teach you good business. First, you be social then you get savvy,” Mrs. Ng winked.
