Bad Boy Blues(17)

Leslie, one of the maids, is extremely happy that he’s back. “I can’t believe how hot he’s become. Did you see that body?” She waves a hand over her face. “Man, oh man. I want him.”

Tina shushes her. “Keep your voice down, would you? If Mrs. S hears you, you’ll be on toilet scrubbing duty for the rest of the month.”

So Mrs. S has a rule: no sleeping with the masters of the mansion or the people they fraternize with. She says it’s bad for her reputation. We won’t be a clichéd house, where maids have affairs and end up pregnant.

I’ve only worked here for a few months but one of the girls got fired for sleeping with a guest who was here on the tour. I wasn’t there but rumor has it that Mrs. S caught them red-handed, doing it in one of the guest rooms in tower three.

Leslie waves her hand. “She isn’t here. Besides, there are ways to get around her. You don’t think everyone follows the rules, do you?”

Leslie is loud and fun and even though she’s a terrible gossip, I’ve always liked her. I just don’t believe everything that comes out of her mouth. But seeing that she’s talking about the guy who more or less ruined my entire education experience, I come up with a plan.

Nothing diabolical, just something fun. And I’m going to save Leslie a lot of heartbreak in the process.

“You don’t want to break the rules for him, trust me,” I tell her, leaning over so only she and Tina can hear me.

“What do you mean?” Leslie asks, interest written all over her pretty face.

I look left then right before focusing on her. “So, last night, at the party? There was this girl talking to one of her friends. And she was saying that when she tried to hook up with Zach earlier, he had a little problem.”

“No way,” Leslie breathes.

I nod and hold my finger up before folding it down. “And you know what, I don’t think that was the first time either.”

Leslie’s eyes go wide. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I went to school with that guy.” Unfortunately. “I know things.”

Tina snorts. “Really?”

She knows I’m lying.

Leslie grabs my hand in excitement. “Are you serious? What things?”

I smirk. “Look, it could be just gossip. But back in school, I heard a rumor that he, you know, couldn’t perform, per se. So he had to take like, a pill or something.”

Leslie gasps.

Tina snorts again.

“I mean, listen, I don’t believe that blue pill thing. I think it was an exaggeration but… the not-performing thing could be true. But who knows? Gossip is gossip.”

Leslie nods. “Makes sense. Gossip is gossip. Such a shame though, if it’s true. That guy is fine.”

I sit back in my seat, satisfied and smiling. “Oh yeah, definitely.”

Tina shakes her head at me and I shrug. By the end of the day, everyone on the staff will know of Zach’s little problem. Whether they believe it or not, they’re going to wonder and that’s all I care about.

Fuck you, Zach.

We all go quiet when Mrs. S enters and starts firing off instructions like always. One of the girls is sick so I volunteer to take up her duties. It’s good. The more I work, the better. They’ll compensate me for the extra time and I’ll be that much closer to my goal.

But ten minutes later when the meeting is dismissed and we’re supposed to go about our duties, my triumphant smile courtesy of my little revenge and extra work melts off my face.

Because one of the duties that I so enthusiastically took over is to clean the room of my former bully.





The prince of The Pleiades lives in tower two.

I’ve been to his room before, of course. My first time in there, I went a little crazy. I snooped inside his closet and all his drawers. Not that I found anything interesting. He’d been gone for a couple of years by then and his room was empty besides the furniture. Except for dust bunnies, there wasn’t anything interesting in there.

I wonder what I’ll find now that he’s back. Not that I care but still.

It’s nearly lunchtime; I’m done cleaning the other rooms in the tower. Except his. I’ve been avoiding it so far but I can’t. Not anymore. I have to do it.

I push the cart with all my cleaning supplies and laundry bag, along with fresh towels and sheets, and go to his door. His room is located at the end of a gleaming corridor made of Italian marble and adorned with paintings made by expensive, foreign hands. There’s a tall window – which is a pain in the ass to clean – tucked away in the corner, overlooking a courtyard with a water fountain.

I press my ear to the door but don’t hear any sounds.

Actually, I’m kind of hoping that he isn’t here. Maybe after last night’s party, he met up with his minions and got trashed, and is now sleeping off his high somewhere. He’s been known to do that. Every Monday he used to either cut school or come to his classes after lunch, all hungover and sleepy.

Whatever the case, I’m not going to know unless I knock.

Grimacing, I raise my fist and do it.

Nothing.

Puffing out a breath, I knock again. No response.

Oh my God. Could it be? Could I be so lucky that he isn’t in there?

I can’t control the grin that overcomes my face. Fist-pumping the air, I get out my key and slide it into the lock. The lock gives easily and I push the door open. Maybe I’ll be done before he returns and I won’t have to see his handsome but cruel face.