Chapter 1 – Rae
The 427 engine purred like a mountain lion cub as I backed my prized possession off the trailer. The number of looks the open-air dolly received on the road trip north was priceless. Car enthusiasts honked, some of them drooled as they passed me on the highway. I smiled as I carefully tucked my baby in the double stall garage. Cherry Pie might be a work in progress, but this car was special. And anyone who knew anything about cars could tell.
I cut the engine, hopped out, and ran my fingers over the glossy red paint. There were a few knicks from gravel, but I could easily touch those up. It could have been worse. Such a small price to pay for transporting her this way, instead of spending money I didn’t have on a closed carrier.
My uncle stepped round the drive, and his usual constipated look was overcome with a moment of admiration. “When you said you were bringing a car, I didn’t realize it was this.”
I tried not to laugh at his penguin suit. Uncle Theo was a butler by trade, and mocking him for his work uniform didn’t seem nice when he’d opened his little cottage for me to crash in and finally get on my feet.
And why should I mock him for his strange garb? He probably thought I was the weirdo here with my black tank top and cutoff jeans that showed more leg than most people deemed respectable. It wasn’t like my legs were bare-bare. There was enough ink soaked into the skin to count as some kind of stylized covering. I was the one out of place in this posh world, not him.
“I would sooner die than leave her behind,” I quipped, running a hand lovingly over the hood.
Theo blew out an exasperated snort. “A car’s not worth dying over, nipote.”
My spine stiffened. Of course,hewouldn’t understand. I bit my tongue and jogged over to the ancient pickup truck to start unloading parts and tools. Inthe rush to escape, I’d left my upright chest back in my friend’s shed. That chest weighed hundreds of pounds on its own and had cost a summer’s savings, not to mention the thousands of dollars of tools I’d acquired over the years. But those could be replaced.
My Camaro couldn’t.
“You can put those things on the back shelf,” my uncle instructed. “But I hope you understand this isn’t our garage, which means you can’t be leaving them about or spilling fluids all over the concrete.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d reminded me.
Just as soon as I saved enough money, Cherry Pie and I were getting our own place. It was more than nice of Theo to offer me a roof—and a job—but living with strings attached was not how I saw my future unfolding. I’d done it. I left the small town that was a dead end to young adults like me, before I got into serious trouble like drugs or unplanned pregnancies. I broke free, while all my friends were putting down feeble roots in the red clay dirt. But that didn’t mean I was trading one terrible future for another. How he did it for nearly fifty years, always bobbing his head, catering to the whims of his employer, was beyond me.
Especially when the family he worked for wasn’t a normal family.
I smirked. What would he say if I asked how the mob business was these days? He’d probably pitch a fit!
The hot summer sun beat down on me as I moved piece after piece onto the slim wood shelf, that was little better than an ornament on the back garage wall. Theo watched me work, keeping his thin lips pressed tight. It would have been great if he offered to help.
He’d muss his uniform.
Oh, shit on the shingles! I was probably going to have to wear a hideous uniform too! I hadn’t thought of that.
The moment I placed the last bag of wrenches neatly against the wall—because the shelf was full and probably wouldn’t bear the weight of more tools—I dusted my hands.
“Go park that truck down in the staff parking. Tuck the trailer neatly by the trash encloser, and then report back,” Theo instructed.
Play nice,my inner voice warned. “Sure thing, uncle!”
I knew using the Italian word for uncle would please him. But while I knew a handful of words, my mother never bothered to teach me her native tongue, and I wasn’t going to start bumbling about, pretending to be something I wasn’t.
That’s exactly what you’re going to have to do to survive this place.
With a shudder, I climbed into the cab of my F-150, eased my combat boot off the brake, and crept away from the staff housing, down the winding path to the staff parking lot. Through the trees, the coned spirals of the Big House towered high, reaching for the heavens. The one and only time I was here as a child, this place felt like an enchanted castle from the story books I loved. Now it loomed as proof of how little prospect my life actually held. I hadn’t left Georgia because I was in trouble, but that was the trajectory of my future if I’d stayed. Dirt poor, I had no choice but to accept the job offer my uncle gave me. It mocked me with its sloping gingerbread roof. The seamlessly stacked bricks that made up part of the façade spoke of a world of wealth and privilege. A world that wasn’t attainable for people like me. The only thing the gothic Victorian mansion offered was a place to serve those who ruled the world.
While people like Theo were content with their lot in life, happy to bow and scrape at the boots of the elites, the house made me boil with hate. It was the enemy, built to suppress anyone not born into the right family or lucky enough to strike oil. There was them—and there was the rest of us.
“Screw them,” I muttered, undoing the hitch. I stretched and fluffed my thick mane of curls. A warm breeze was cool against the sweaty skin at the back of my neck.
This was temporary. A few chapters of my life to reorganize the chaos and give myself a cushion for a fresh start. Then it wasarrivedercimotherfuckers, and off to a place where I could breathe. Somewhere in the country, with a little plot of land, a huge work shed for big girl toys, and no snooty-nosed Boston Bluebloods to rule over me.
***
“You’ll be responsible for keeping the sheets washed and dried in between changing,” Mrs. Sanderson said, patting the rows of bright white fabric nested in thelabeled shelves. “There is always a spare set, should it need to be rotated, but we wash the old after we put the fresh set on.”
Washing sheets daily.
