The good guys always win, at least that's what they say in movies- the good guy always wins. She couldn't think of a single movie where that wasn't the case, and even if it was, they always came back and saved the day. Meanwhile, the bad guys rotted in jail. They suffered the consequences, suffered for choosing to do horrible things to good people.
That's how it should be.
At this point, Hollywood couldn't be more wrong.
"...And while I'm sure you have excellent dog pee mopping and cabinet-dusting skills, we really have no use for someone who might crumble from exhaustion from just picking up a broom. And, I'm positive my own abuela is younger than you. So, no thanks granny. Next!"
Puck stared blankly at Santana, who was too busy waving her hand in dismissal at the frazzled, fragile-looking old lady to notice her comment had rendered him momentarily speechless.
Only when they were once again alone in the room did he turn to her in complete frustration, "Really?!"
Santana ignored him for a moment, crumpling up a piece of paper and tossing it in a nearby trash bin. She was aware of her cousin's growing aggravation, but work was work. The task at hand was a big one and she refused to slack off.
"Yes, idiot. Did you honestly think that mummy would have survived a day in this mansion? We need someone young, someone with stamina. Someone who isn't halfway to their deathbed."
Puck rolled his eyes, "Yes, and I agree. But you're giving our family a bad name by continuing to disrespect some of these people."
She scoffed and gave him a bewildered look, "This coming from you? Need I remind you of three nights ago when I found you fucking someone half your age in a public bathroom?" This was actually the fifth time she had brought that particular incident up today.
Puck pursed his lips in silent admission.
"Riddle me this; how is it that it's totally acceptable for you to go around doing shit like that, yet when I open my mouth to state the truth it's 'improper'? I'm not about to let this house succumb to double standards and hypocrisy, again, after all these years. So shut the fuck up."
Puck let out a long, loathing sigh, "Alright, feminazi. I get it, you rule this house? Fucking great." He stood up, defeated, and made to call in the last interviewee.
Santana hated her cousin, she really did. But it was her luck that she got stuck with him for the day, going through the applicants, carefully questioning and analyzing each individual. He was nothing but a pain in the ass. She was practically doing the entire workload while he sat by her side and threw the occasional 'you would totally rock that uniform' comment at them.
One would assume finding a maid would be a piece of cake, but Santana couldn't disagree more. The applicants had either been too old, couldn't speak English, or were just plain unworthy. Their last maid had a stroke mid-job. It started a chain reaction throughout her family, up to her dad who demanded any maid in the mansion over the age of 50 be fired immediately. The thought of him being responsible for another death freaked him out, and threatened his squeaky clean reputation.
Now Santana was stuck finding the last of five new maids after her aunt refused to take up on the job herself.
It was almost 9pm, and she was increasingly growing more impatient and uncomfortable by the minute. After sitting in the hard wooden chair all day, her back was so sore she could barely stand it anymore. Plus, it didn't help that her dress was fucking tight to the point of suffocation.
She finally saw Puck reemerge from the door with an odd expression.
"We have one more left."
"Thank the lord." The faster she turned them down, the better.
He returned to his chair and shuffled through his files; the stack of paper he never bothered to look over. "A little heads-up; she's different from the rest."
"How so?" Her question was left unanswered.
The door opened slightly and Santana could make out a head of blonde hair poking its way through the door.
"We don't have all day." Puck called out annoyingly.
The person on the other side still seemed hesitant. But, finally, the young woman emerged, entering timidly, from her safe haven behind the door.
Santana inhaled sharply. She faltered for a second, completely lost at the sight before her; a young, tall, leggy blonde woman. She was a few inches taller than Santana, with a strong, lithe body that Santana was immediately drawn to. Her eyes traveled up to sapphire ones, noticing the fear in them, but not caring much because holy crap!
This woman, based on looks alone, was the last person she expected to apply for a job as a maid. But at the same time, she was exactly what Santana was looking for.
The blonde, who was wearing a black blazer and a mini skirt that barely reached halfway down her creamy thighs, stepped before them, hands secure behind her back. "Hi. I'm Brittany."
"Hello, Brittany." Puck said in a voice entirely too inappropriate for the job at hand. Then again, they had left 'appropriate' by the door at the start of the interview process.
Completely disregarding Brittany, Santana leaned towards Puck and whispered "This is what I'm talking about." He nodded in agreement.
Santana knew ten minutes from now she would berate herself for making such a lewd comment in with the other woman present, but she couldn't help herself. She was too ecstatic at the prospect of finally having the maid of her dreams. Someone who she was positive wouldn't give out on them like the last one. The woman was hot, young, and strong. Seemingly, at least.
Okay, Lopez. Quit making assumptions; back to work.
She cleared her throat and scanned the paper on the desk. "So, Miss Brittany Susan Pierce, tell us a little about yourself. Who are you, where are you from, what are your credentials?"
Brittany visibly gulped and quickly looked away from Puck and Santana's scrutinizing gazes. Here eyes were now focused on a spot behind their heads as she spoke. "Uh, I'm, um...I'm from nearby. I live a few metres- miles, sorry." She laughs nervously. "I live a few miles away. In a house. Uh, with my cousins and parents. Actually, wait, I'm sorry, just my parents." Santana narrowed her eyes and glanced uncomfortably at an equally baffled Puck, "My cousins don't live with me anymore, I mean, they do, but- ugh, can I start over?" She was now rubbing her forehead in embarrassment and Santana found it a bit adorable.
"Take a deep breath and start over." She assured the young woman, mindful of how stressful these interviews could be. While Brittany gathered herself, Santana jotted down some notes. She looked up when she heard the blonde's voice; "I'm Brittany, not to be confused with the Disney star. I live with my parents in Parkview. I have two cats and I love dancing." At the end of her small speech, she nodded briefly and smiled, as if getting that one sentence out coherently was an accomplishment in itself for her. "I really would love to have this job because I love to clean."
Santana had heard that one a million times. She was smart enough to know it was a lie every single time. No one loves to clean. Except if you're Monica Geller, but there's a reason why she's a fictional character.
"What are your strengths?" Puck asked. He was playing with his pen, clicking it rapidly, a habit of his that had always annoyed the hell out of Santana.
"Like I said, I love dancing." Santana could tell that with each passing moment, the blonde was gaining confidence; her smiles were getting wider and her words were less jumbled. "I love interacting with people. It's like second nature to me," Brittany shrugged.
"You realize the only thing you'll be interacting with most of the time is a bucket of water and a broom, right?" Puck chastised. Santana elbowed him swiftly, "Ow."
"Ignore him." Santana stated bitterly. But Brittany seemed to be doing the opposite. She was clearly panicking; going over what she said, backtracking herself. "Brittany."
Brittany's frantic eyes flickered up to the brunette at the sound of her soothing voice.
"Relax. You're doing fine." Refusing to lose eye contact until the blonde looked more relaxed, Santana continued, "Tell us about your experience. Are you in college? Any current part time jobs?"
"I'm unemployed and temporarily out of school." Brittany began quietly, "I know you may not like the sound of that, but I dropped out of college during my second year."
Brittany deflated at the accusation in Santana's voice, nervously looking down at her hands before looking back up at Santana,"We were going through some rough patches, and I had to take care of my little cousins who were still too young for school." She bit her lips and cleared her throat, a new surge of confidence running through her, "I don't regret it, if that's what you're thinking. My family comes before my education, always."
There was a shift in Brittany's tone when she spoke of her family; it became more challenging. Puck snickered at this sudden change and Santana could feel his eyes on her, awaiting one of her trademark snide remarks, but none came.
She was too preoccupied to care though. Her dark orbs were now locked in a silent battle with piercing blue ones. Chills ran down her spine and incidentally, it was Santana who involuntarily recoiled from the stare. Her cheeks began to flush. She quickly changed the subject to minimize the embarrassment and discomfort she was now feeling as a result of the interaction. She looked down at her board, "Motivation."
"Hm?"
Santana glanced up, avoiding eye-contact this time, "What is your motive?"
Her mouth fell open slightly, and her previously confident look turned fearful, "I don't have any motives...I-I just want the job. The money." She winced at the last statement.
It's never a good thing to bring up the money in an interview.
"What is wrong with you?" Puck chuckled at Brittany.
"Shut up." Santana hissed. The one time he chose to voice his opinion just had to be with the one person she actually thought they had a good shot with. "When I say motives, I'm just asking what's motivating you to apply for this position? What do you seek to gain from this job? And why should we hire you instead of the fifty other applicants we interviewed today?"
"Well, she already said she wants the money..." Puck whispered mockingly under his breath. She kicks his leg. "Jesus!"
A look of realization fell over Brittany's face, and Santana could almost read her thoughts. The blonde was probably mentally scolding herself. For what, Santana had no clue. She wondered what could have brought that fear into those pretty eyes.
"Oh, right. I'm sorry." Santana had to bite her tongue to stop herself from reassuring the blond once again. She didn't know why she kept doing it anyway. It was not in her nature to help people out. "My motivation? Um..." Blue eyes flickered across the room, searching for an answer, "To...to get to know...more people...?"
Santana's heart dropped in disappointment, though she managed to conceal it. With Santana at a rare loss for words, Puck spoke up, "Alright, Blondie. Thanks a lot. You can head out now." He sat up from his slumped position on the chair and nodded towards the door.
Santana and Brittany gaped at him. Brittany seemed like she was on the verge of tears. "What is your problem?" Santana nearly shrieks.
"What?!" Puck yelled back with just as much rage, "She isn't fit for the job! She doesn't have any real experience, and it's obvious she has no idea what she's doing!"
"Just who the hell do you think you are? You can't just kick her out! Do I have to remind you it's my decision who to accept or not? You have no right to do this without my consent!" She was up out of her seat before she knew it.
He followed her right away, a fire burning in his eyes, "Of course, everything is your decision! If you took your head out of your ass for just one second, you'd realize your decisions were pretty fucking shitty! Half the people before her were excellent for this and yet you seem to only be interested in the least fit!"
"For Christ's sake, idiot! This isn't fucking rocket science, we're finding a suitable maid, not America's next top chef!"
"She's going to fuck things over—just like the other maids!"
"No, she isn't. God, what sort of crime did I commit in my previous life to deserve a fuck up like you for a cousin?"
"I don't know, you tell me! You're the smart-ass with all these brilliant decisions!"
Santana groaned loudly, throwing her head back in exasperation.
It took her a few seconds to realize they were no longer accompanied by a third party. She stood up quickly, eyes scanning the large room, hoping Brittany was lingering in the shadows somewhere.
"What the fuck, Puck! What did you do?!" She hissed at Puck, who only now realized someone was missing.
She vaguely heard him yell out "Me?" before she found herself running out the door and down the large hall, searching for blonde hair. Her eyes scanned the long, winding staircase leading towards the magnificent double doors. Even with the distance between them, Santana could make out the jet of tears streaming past Brittany as the blonde dashed out the opening doors. It pained her- knowing it was their selfishness that had caused her tears.
But before Brittany made it out completely, Santana called out in a desperate attempt, "I'm sorry! We'll call you!"
With no apparent response from the blonde, she fell back on her heels in defeat.
"What the fuck just happened?" She heard Puck voice her thoughts as he walked up to her, nonchalantly. As though he didn't just ruin some innocent woman's day and, perhaps, life.
"If you ever want to see the light of day again, I advise you to steer clear of me." Her voice was less threatening than she intended, but she was fucking tired and extremely overwhelmed to care.
Puck's ability to completely miss the point of half the things she said never failed to impress her. "You know," he began and she closed her eyes, "I'd rather her not be our maid, but..." She heard him chewing on something that sounded like chips, "It's honestly a win-win situation for me. If she's in, fine, whatever. She's hot, I could probably hit it. I'll have fun with her, you know? If she's out? Then I'm right. And I like being right. So, it's your decision, boss."
Her blood boiled when she felt the light touch of a wrapper being tossed at her feet.
A/N: So I've been working on this story for a looooonnngg time. I have a couple of chapters already done and ready, so based on the responses to this prologue I'll go ahead and add them up in a week or so.
Feedback greatly appreciated!
Thanks to my beta, I couldn't have done this without you!