I still can’t believe how much he spent. If I make it through this and everything goes as it should, I’ll walk away with over one million dollars. I won’t ever have to do anything like this again. I’ll pay off my debts, find a new apartment, find a new job, or maybe even go back to school. I’ll have options again. I’ll be free.
But only if I get through this.
As soon as Ethan leaves, ponytail comes back and takes me into the back rooms again. He instructs me to get changed, which I do, and he brings my bags. Once I’m in street clothes, and feeling much more comfortable, I carry my two bags full of all my earthly possessions out through a back door and into a big black sedan.
Ethan is sitting in the other seat, waiting for me. Once ponytail closes the door, I realize that I’m really doing this. I’m really going home with this man.
“Welcome,” he says. “Ready?”
I nod. “I’m ready.”
“It’s not a far drive. I live downtown.”
“Really?”
He nods as the driver pulls out. We head down Broad toward the center of the city. “It’s an old house. Well, six old houses. I bought them up and renovated them a few years ago.”
“You live in... six houses?” I can’t help but laugh.
“I know, it’s absurd. Too much space for just me. Truth is, I spend a lot of time in the office.”
“Good thing I’m coming to stay with you,” I say, smiling. “Someone will finally give your house some use.”
“That’s one benefit,” he says, grinning back. “Truth is, I have a full staff back at the house. They keep it all running without me. Plus, there’s Jenkins, and he lives there full time.”
“Jenkins?” I ask.
Ethan looks a little bashful, which is incredibly endearing on him. “Jenkins is my butler.”
I laugh out loud, shaking my head. “You’re kidding?”
“I’m not kidding,” he says, laughing along with me. “I really have a live-in butler named Jenkins.”
“That’s the most cliché rich person thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know.” He grins and leans back in his seat. “It’s all status stuff. I don’t need Jenkins, but he does make my life easier.”
“How so?”
“Simple stuff,” he says. “Jenkins runs the household. Pays the bills, manages the staff, makes sure food is ready when I’m there, makes sure nothing is wasted. You’ll meet him soon.”
I suddenly feel very, very nervous. We drive into a more residential area of town, one of the richest neighborhoods in the city. I’ve been here before, of course, but only while walking through. I live in the south part of the city, or at least I used to. Now I’m homeless, but I probably won’t tell him that.
Nobody wants some homeless, ex-addict girl living in their house. I need to keep some things secret from Ethan, because otherwise I’m afraid he won’t like the truth.
The car pulls up out front of a large beautiful building. It looks like an old brick row home, but it’s much wider, with many windows. It’s immaculately kept, which I assume is the work of Jenkins.
“Home sweet home,” Ethan says, getting out of the car. He comes around and helps me out, even carrying my bags. He waves off the driver, tips him, and sends him off.
The car speeds away and we walk up the stoop. Ethan hits a button on the buzzer, pauses a second, and then another buzzer sounds. He pushes open the door and we step inside.
The entryway is beautiful. The floor is all hardwood, gleaming and immaculate. Modern art is hanging on the walls. There’s a stairwell to the right, a door to the left, and a French door to the right, next to the stairs.
Ethan walks straight ahead and I hurry to follow him. I gape at everything we come across. The hall opens up into a large open space that’s obviously at least two townhouses wide. There’s an immaculately furnished living room area with a ceiling that goes up at least two stories. Back into the other townhouse, to the left is a large modern kitchen with beautiful appliances. I can’t help but stare all around me.
I’ve never seen anything so nice in my whole life. I knew he was rich, or at least I knew it on some abstract level. But now that I’m seeing his actual objects and the house he lives in, I can really appreciate it.
The place looks like a museum or a high-end hotel or something. It’s absolutely spotless and nothing is out of place. As we move into the kitchen and Ethan tosses his wallet and keys onto the counter, a door off to one side opens and a man steps out.
“Jenkins,” Ethan says, smiling. “We have a guest.”