Chapter 3 What's up with Crawford

'Seriously? You got the job!?' Miranda shrieked through the phone, causing Marjorie to cringe, her face contorted into a tight grimace.

'I did.' She answered, sitting by her window and staring into the night. She wondered what her employers were doing by this time. There were probably having dinner in a five star restaurant or laughing their heads off in their home movie theater having the most vintage wine from their wine cellar. She was sure as hell they did not care about what she did presently, defying them by phoning her friend. Then why did she feel guilt? And terror?

'Danielle? Her number isn't connecting. What's up with her?' Marjorie asked with a tight frown on her face, unsure if she was more worried about her other friend not taking her call or if somehow her employers had bugged her phone. Taking a sip from the now tepid cup of tea she'd made to calm her nerves, she sighed deeply and pretended to shake off the weird feeling in her gut.

'Dan is probably shooting a movie or network problems. I learnt they're shooting in the outskirts of town though.' Miranda added with a girly chuckle that was definitely unrelated to their conversation but to her fiance kissing her neck.

'Okay time to go! Stop it you naughty... Talk to you later, love you Marj...'

As soon as Miranda cut the call Marjorie's phone began to ring, it startled her a bit as she thought it was her employer. Though she had to admit she did not know what to expect, they might have been crazy enough to really bug her phone.

She checked the caller's ID warily only to realize it was an unknown number.

Pick it up dummy, your employer would not concern herself with your trivial life. She convinced herself.

So she picked up.

'Hello?'

'Hi? It's Zack...'

'Zack? Who's Zack?'

'Agnes' Son. I was present at your final interview.'

She frozed, her mind rumbling around the coincidence of his call the second she dropped the phone with her friend.

'Are you there Miss Marjorie?'

'Y..Yes I'm right here sir.'

'Okay. I'll send you an address, dress comfortably, we will be having our first fitness class.'

Wait? Her first fitness class? As in martial arts fitness class? She exhaled in relief. But with him...? She flushed.

'Miss Marjorie?' Her name coming from his mouth sent sweet chills down her abdomen. A vibration alongside an embarrassing heat that flooded her face and somewhere between her thighs.

'Errm? Tonight?' She wasn't sure what she asked of him tonight.

'Really Marjorie?'

Did he just get informal with her? Call her by her first name? Woah... She was getting really heated in the wrong areas.

'We are not witches. Tomorrow. 5:00am to be exact, not a minute more, and bring your liquid.'

Her liquid? She hoped he meant water and not her bodily fluid. Cause she had them already peeking for him.

'Okay sir.'

Beep.

That was close.

_______

Her lungs collapsed, causing her to cough repeatedly, mouth agape in effort to force air into her body. She staggered, almost falling when he caught her, a huge hand supporting her back from under and his other hand pulling her up professionally. He even smiled at her like he had not been personal with the kick to her chest.

'Breathe. Breathe. You're fine.'

His voice again!

But she was not fine, the impact on her chest had left her in sheer panic, mind disgruntled by the fact that her employer intended to hurt her and not train her. Though her upper body was in his arms, his glorious face looking down at her making her mind rumble carelessly so much that she rolled off him to sit up on her own, sending him scary glares that disguised her intoxication of him.

'Take it from me, you're one hell of a warrior. That blow would've rendered anyone unconscious.'

Err, was she supposed to smile? Throw her arms around him in gratitude? And yes, she could manage pain, that did not mean she welcomed it when it was unnecessary.

'Hey. It was not my fault.' Zack laughed throwing his hands up innocently, though his eyes said otherwise, that he enjoyed taunting her. 'I told you to defend, but you left yourself open. Lesson for next time I guess. Take a shower, my mother will see you in an hour.'

See her!? She should see a surgeon or a therapist, a lawyer or anyone that would save her from this maniacal requirement.

Patience. She chided herself. She would understand the reason for the requirements soon enough.

'Yes sir.'

'Good girl. I hope you brought formal clothes though? This one's all soaked in sweat.'

Obviously! No wait... She didn't think work resumed today, she had imagined herself arriving work in pink leggings, a strained white t-shirt drenched in her own sweat with locks of hair plastered to hair wet face.

'My clothes are...not here. I'd take a bike home and back, real easy.' She said, preparing to dash out of the gym without whining about how inconsiderate he was.

'Lies love. Lies. You won't make it in time. Well as it is your first day, I'd let this mistake slide, help you out on this one. I have a closet that should suit your need.' Marjorie burst into a hysterical laughter, coughing in-between. Did he really think she would wear his clothes to work?

'Have you seen yourself sir? I am a feet smaller and... Oh my goodness I'm sorry sir, I meant to say...' She clamped her lips shut with horror in her eyes for having disrespected him for a second.

Of course he was taking aback by the swerve of informality, as he blamed himself for having gone a little too soft on her. She should find her own clothes or let his mom deal with her ignorance.

'Female clothes Miss Marjorie. You should find a your perfect size at my house.' He explained instead, watching her mouth roll into an 'oh'.

His calm tone astonished her but in a comforting way, he was after all not going to fire her for the unintended insubordination. But she questioned going to his house, its not like it was closer or something. She did not trust him, or rather, trust herself. Like she had held her breath half the training, stopping herself from sniffing him like a dog or running her hand over his naked chest.

'My house is twenty minutes from here. But thanks.' She sounded convincing, though a little quaky at the end as she held her belly to curb the jab of pain that made her wince.

'Well mine is five minutes. In thirty minutes you should be prepared to meet your employer, or be ten minutes late and let her deal with you.' He countered wisely, ignoring her wince. She did a mental calculation and discovered he was annoyingly right, she would not make it in time and God help her, she did not want to get on Agnes' bad side.

'I'll go with you sir.'