Queen's Favor
Chapter 7
The bed hurt her back.
The blankets were flimsy and scratchy. One of her neighbors screamed in time with the clanging of metal on sheet rock and that damn dog barked in response each time, like it thought they were communicating.
Her shower wasn't that great, either.
She stared up at the ceiling, refusing to move from the bed that felt much like she'd just went ahead and lied down on the floor. "...I'm gonna sue him for emotional anguish." Three days living in the lap of luxury just made her modest apartment feel less 'affordable' and more of 'a hole in the wall that led directly underground into a troll's cave'.
She groaned and crossed her arms over her face with a sigh. "Well. If I just got to keep that job, I could eventually afford to get that, too...never." She couldn't kid herself: one didn't ever catch up to the person paying them, or their roles would end up reversing.
The briefly flitting image of her employer stuck cleaning her big ol' penthouse somewhere did cushion the discomfort of her bed.
Regardless, the pay would go back to where it was before, but at least her workload would also go back to something easy. And the risks of the cat being mauled or kidnapped while on her watch were vastly reduced. That was good for both her job security and her lifespan.
Her phone lit in the darkness, the vibration of an incoming call just audible around the rest of the sounds of the night. The caller ID showed a bunch of random numbers she didn't recognize, however, so she rejected the call. It seemed a bit late for a spam caller, but then...maybe it was some foreign company going down a list of numbers.
Still, since she'd moved again, there was no reason not to turn the television on. Yes, her television was smaller and about 8000p less crisp than the one in the penthouse, but it was also much closer to her face while she was comfortably lying in bed than the ones scattered through that house.
She propped her hand on a cheek as she flipped channels.
And startled herself as a the middle of some loud note cut through the room. A trio of actors spun on a stage, singing some song about dogs. Was it that one stage production of 'Not All Dogs Go to Heck'?
"Someone from this city was in it, right...?" She mumbled to herself, tapping her cheek with one finger. One of her coworkers had mentioned wanting to go see it, which was the reason she knew the name.
Well. That presumed there weren't other stage plays with a bunch of attractive men dressed up as dogs in them running recently. I wouldn't know. Who has time to go to plays when there's whole penthouses to clean?
She scoffed lightly in the dark.
The final note of the song focused on some pale man that the camera tried (and mostly failed, given its distance from the stage) to zoom in on while he sang. "Now there's a dog I'd pet."
Still, once the actors broke and moved on to the next scene, she turned the channel again.
No way was she going to watch a bunch of men dancing on stage dressed up like dogs just because one of them was extremely pretty.
So of course she ended up on 'Makeover My Already Beautiful Home'.
..
The soreness was really just a placebo. Mostly. Falling asleep watching television wasn't the most comfortable position she could have laid in all night, but she refused to accept that her body was actually ruined for her normal bed.
No! She wouldn't be so weak. Three nights in a heavenly bed - two, plus a rockin' couch - wouldn't break her!
Standing in the empty apartment (really more of a house) in her uniform. This was much more familiar and comfortable. She always felt a bit guilty when ordering food from room service, and had been sure each time she sat down in her night gown on the couch to chow down on a pint of ice cream the enigmatic owner would just pop into the building suddenly. Now...! He still might pop in suddenly, but she at least knew he'd mostly just ignore she existed and let her do her job.
Speaking of her job.
While crawling under the guest bed to catch the hidden dust and hair trapped underneath, unmistakable little paws dropped down on the small of her back, walked a step over to the swell of her hips, and then evidently lost their grip and slid off to the ground with a sudden thump.
"...Really, Elizabeth?" She turned her head, too trapped under the bed to move much more without risking getting stuck (she absolutely refused to add that to the list of things her boss caught her doing when he returned home). Fortunately, the cat was in view at the edge of the bed anyway, blue eyes blankly staring at her. As if offended she had a problem.
Or maybe just offended she wasn't there to play with last night. Who knew?
"It's not my job to play with you today. I'm not gonna take a break right when I got here. Your dad would know."
"I suppose I would."
She screamed.
Also, hit her head and nearly knocked the bed down on herself.
"Ow, ow, owww!"
With what seemed like surprising swiftness - but who knew, with how hard she'd just whacked her head - hands appeared at her waist and the elbow not under the bed. The man behind her pulled her out from under the bit of furniture and righted her quickly enough to leave her dizzy. Or, again, the possible concussion.
The face of her...damn...employer...scrunched up in concern for a few moments, as he brushed fingers through her hair, apparently searching for damage. Weirdly, she was pretty sure the fingers that he withdrew from the back of her head were redder than they should be.
"You're injured."
"No, no." She shook her head, which was a mistake. The whole room spun. "It's just..a placebo."
For a terrible moment, a wave of nausea crashed through her and she thought she'd vomit right on her employer.
Fortunately, she just headbutted his chest.
..
As it turned out, it was a very mild concussion. Which was, frankly, pretty reassuring. Knocking herself out and giving herself a mild concussion just from getting startled doing absolutely nothing wrong was enough. Getting anything worse was officially Too Much.
This job was well paying, but she had a growing suspicion it wasn't his finicky nature or cat that kept people away, but the peril that somehow came with the job.
That was probably just the concussion talking, though.
She thought for a full minute that the figure sitting primly in a chair near the bed was also a result of that, but apparently mild concussions didn't cause quite that level of hallucination, as the doctor eventually spoke to him.
"...Although it wasn't my intention, it seems I caused you injury." He spoke coolly, but there did seem to be a certain amount of penitence in his voice? Yeah. She was pretty sure that was the case. It wasn't a terrible sound.
Well, anyway, if they were saying it for the record, she caused her injury. But it sounded better his way. "Technically, it was the bed."
His lips quirked up into a barely there smile for a moment. "I'll press charges on it immediately."
Charges...
Wait...was he waiting here because he'd come home with some complaint...?
Was it that cat kidnapper?! Did Mina say something?
"This visit has been paid for. And of course, you'll get your full pay for however many days you need to stay home to recover as well." He stood, taking a step closer to the bed. "If there's anything else that you need, any follow-up visits, extended time off-"
"No." She shook her head - which made her slightly less dizzy this time. Good! Getting better already! "It's fine! It's honestly not the first time I've worked through a mild concussion, and most of the time I'm not doing anything strenuous anyway. I'd rather just get back to work. Uh...tomorrow, I guess..." Since a bout of unconsciousness ending up in a hospital bed probably drained all her working hours away.
His brows knit. "What?"
"It's fine, really!" She waved her hand. "Honestly, this is all my fault anyway. If I'd been paying more attention I wouldn't have been so startled. And that last weekend left me with more than enough to cover anything frivolous!" Although it did kill any vacation plans or saving up for penthouses..
"Besides, if anyone else does your house, they won't know how to take care of Elizabeth and she'll get lonely or start shedding, and my work will be just that much harder when I get back. And they probably won't be prepared for that weird friend of yours to try to sneak in and get her anyway, who knows how frazzled she'll be by then..."
Oh, she was still rambling. She could tell because the man just stood there staring at her with an expression that said something like 'oh no, my weird maid has brain damage and can't stop talking about my cat'. Or...okay, honestly, she couldn't read his expression at all, but it's what she'd be thinking.
So she shut up.
He remained silent for a few moments, before giving a small nod. "If you're working, then the standards of your work will be the same regardless of any injury."
"Yes, sir!"
He hesitated a moment longer, before nodding and turning to leave. Evidently, now that there was no danger of her trying to sue him, he had no reason to linger. Which did make sense. Yes.
"...Wait."
He did. Huh.
"You were home really early, right? What was that about?"
He looked back at her, blinking in silence a moment, as if trying to comprehend her question. Finally, he said. "I had forgotten my watch."
Oh.
Alright then.
..
Walking back into work felt a little like walking into a battlefield.
Like the price she paid for the sweet paycheck wasn't the work itself, but the heavenly dice rolling each time she stepped inside, just to see if she got a good, normal day, or if something awful and painful would happen that would leave her sore for days over some stupid thing.
The supplies she'd brought in the day before were neatly arranged near the door. A folded piece of paper and a small box sat atop the largest piece of equipment. Likely a note from the owner.
One hand picked up the letter, while the other picked up the nondescript box. The box was a bit heavy. Which probably meant he left some kind of apology chocolate.
She had to give him credit. The man did not want to be sued.
Inside the letter read -
My apologies for the mishap yesterday.
I've been told it's best to provide a gift for this sort of apology.
In the future, please be careful with furniture.
"Says the king of jump scares."
She sighed, setting the letter on the key stand near the door, and flopped the box open.
Then nearly dropped it right to the ground.
It was a charm bracelet in the shape of a diamond, with the face of Elizabeth the 3rd painted onto the charm. More importantly, though, the chunky bracelet and charm were solid gold. Or at least they looked that way when she opened it. And also felt like it when she finally plucked up the bravery to touch them.
"This...has got to be inappropriate."
She still pocketed it, though.
She wasn't insane.