Page 36 of Knot So Social

He takes his time looking up from his laptop and scanning the cut lawns, as if he hasn’t been studying them for the last hour. He leans far back in his seat.

“Do you mow Wally’s lawn?” He chucks his chin to the east.

“Mr Eoyvich? Yes, I cut his lawns too.”

“He’s got patterns.”

“Yes, I do those.”

His finger flicks out past the trimmed hedges. “Why aren’t mine in patterns?”

I squeeze my hands together behind my back. “It’s a premium service, sir. But it was in the brochure I gave you. It’s an extra $100 per acre because it takes a longer than your usual cut.

His upper lip curls. “Tad expensive just for patterns, isn’t it? Sure you aren’t trying to fleece me? I had a wog roommate back in college, you know? Always trying to squeeze money out of someone.”

My fingernails dig into my wrist. Just because my skin’s a shade darker than his, I’m somehow automatically a dishonest person? I can’t let the sting get to me, not when I need the work. But fuck if it isn’t getting old.

“I can assure you that’s not what’s happening—I like to earn my dollars fair and square, sir.” I hold eye contact. “It’s a different technique altogether and takes a bit more . . . finesse.”

Gotta choose my words carefully, or he’ll say I’m not doing the best possible job with the current cut. “If you’d like, I can do a twenty percent discount on your first one, so you can try it out next time.”

The businessman, whose property would be worth upward of twelve million, chews on his lip. “My wife’s throwing a party on the twenty-first. Can you do it before then?”

I groan inwardly as I check my packed schedule on my phone.

“I can do it on the twentieth, but the lines might not show up as clear cut as Mr Eoyvich’s lawns.” He opens his mouth to interrupt but I plunge on. “It’s because the grass won’t have enough time to grow from today, and I can’t cut it any shorter without damaging the roots.”

He huffs with irritation. “All right. Make it happen.”

I nod and pencil the change into my calendar. Merda, that will be an exhausting day, considering I can’t cancel the other scheduled bookings.

“Some people are getting robot lawnmowers.” He shakes one hand toward the sky, revealing his Mr Executive gold watch. “Runs on solar and just glides around all day.”

I flash him a smile. “Yes, I’ve been looking into them. From what I’ve seen, they’re still in development and only suited for small lawns.”

“Oh.” His face falls back into its perpetual frown state. “Well, see you on the twentieth.”

Great way to tell me how replaceable I am. I pack my things up and leave as fast as possible. My instincts urge me to bolt straight over to Willow’s place but considering I’ve sweated up a storm and smell like mower fuel and lawn clippings, I’d better wash first.

When I take my towel over to use the small bathroom that forms part of the pool house, the sound of splashing stops me in my tracks. Laughter and chatter from half a dozen voices tell me my landlords have guests.

Dammit. What now?

My shed quarters have a sink for washing hands and dishes, but that’s not much help to properly clean up. Time’s a-wasting. I shake my head and strip down.

“Bird bath it is,” I mutter, grabbing a face washer and wetting it.

I scrub myself down, splattering droplets over the concrete floors. No matter how much I wipe, I can’t seem to get rid of the grass clippings scent. Guess it’s embedded deep in my skin at this point.

After my wipe over, I settle for spraying a boatload of deodorant and a fresh change of clothes, before texting Willow that I’m coming over.

The way the nerves buzz in my stomach reminds me of the day I arrived in the States with just my visa and a dream to make something of myself. It’s the promise of something good to come.

And also, something I don’t want to mess up.

When I reach the big wrought-iron gate, it slides open before I even press the buzzer. Willow’s waiting for me. My heart speeds up as I follow the walkway to the house.

The front door swings open and Willow leans on the frame, half obscured by shadows. “Hi. Side gate’s open. You shouldn’t have any trouble reaching the fences.”