Chapter 5 Hire someone

As I stepped out of Clara's shower for the second time, I heard the sudden, frantic pounding on the door of someone in dire straits.

Rushing, I wrapped the towel around me and opened the door, stepping back just in time to avoid being trampled by Clara's desperate race to the toilet.

At the sound of her stomach emptying, I grimaced and looked away.

Out in the bedroom, Sierra appeared to be stirring. Based on the amount she'd drunk last night, she'd be following Clara's example momentarily.

Not wanting to have a front row seat to this particular duet, I grabbed my bag and walked out, setting it down on Clara's desk.

When I heard Sierra stand and make a mad dash for the bathroom, I waited until she left the room to drop my towel before the mirror and begin to dress.

As I pulled on my bra, I caught sight of one of the hickies George had given me. The bright red blemish adorned the underside of my left breast. I blushed, remembering some of the other places he had marked me last night.

Pulling on a turtleneck and a pair of jeans, I stuffed the silky nightgown down into the bottom of my bag. As I was running a brush through my hair, I noticed that the worst of the retching had stopped.

"You guys okay in there?"

"Yeah." Sierra's voice croaked distantly.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Water. Ice water." Clara demanded.

I closed my bag before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

The entire open-concept living space on the first floor was empty, a fact that did not surprise me. George had been pretty worn out when I'd left him a few hours before.

Smirking, I pulled out a couple of glasses and went to the refrigerator, dispensing ice and chilled water.

Upstairs I stepped into the bathroom to find it mercifully vomit-free. Clara sat next to the toilet while Sierra stood over the sink, furiously brushing her teeth.

"Here." I handed Clara her drink first, then Sierra.

Clara scowled at me. "How are you not hungover?"

"Oh, I am. I just woke up earlier - even had time to take a shower after." I pointed toward my still-damp hair.

"How?" Clara whined, "You drank more than we did."

I hadn't. It didn't take much to pretend to be drinking around people who were actually drinking.

Shrugging, I answered. "I think it's the Xanax. It's my prescription, so I've got more of a tolerance to it than you do."

Clara downed half of the water in one continuous gulp, followed by a loud belch.

"Ugh, God. What time is it?"

"Like ten?"

"Fuck. Is my dad up?"

I shook my head, "I didn't see him."

The last time that I had seen him, he'd been dozing on his bed as I'd been sneaking out.

"Okay. We need to get un-hungover before he wakes up."

"You guys get showered while I start on breakfast?"

Sierra gave me a thumbs up while Clara could only groan.

"Any more eggs?"

I nodded, picking up the frying pan and scraping the last of the contents out on Sierra's plate.

Clara nudged her remaining pancake with idle disinterest, looking like she was struggling to keep her breakfast down.

In the distance, I heard a door open and felt my spine tingle with anticipation. Clara straightened up and gulped down the rest of her orange juice.

George appeared at the end of the hall, hair wet from a recent shower, dressed in the grey sweatpants and white t-shirt he'd been wearing last night.

You mean, not wearing...

I looked back down at my plate, fighting a grin.

"Morning, girls!"

"Morning, Dad." Clara called back, failing to match his energy.

Gosh, I wonder which one of them got laid last night... I sipped at my own juice, letting my eyes rake over his form.

"So, how was the movie?"

Movie? I felt confused for a moment, before remembering, Oh, our cover story.

Clara shrugged. "It was fine."

"Oh? What about the pizza place?"

"I -uh," she pressed a hand to her stomach, "I think it might have given me a little bit of food poisoning?"

"Really?" Walking up, he laid his hand against her forehead.

Clara put on her best, "helpless" face, "I just feel so queasy..."

"I guess that means you won't be helping me clean out the basement?"

Clara shook her head, "Dad, you really should just hire someone to do that."

I perked up. "Do what?"

Clara shot me a glare, but George answered me. "Just a chore we've been putting off for a while – some things that need to either be sold, donated or thrown away."

"Oh? I could help with that."

Clara and George paused and turned to stare at me, Clara looked like she was ready to take my head off, but George had a curious glint in his eyes.

I explained. "My mom and I do a lot of thrifting – we resell some of it online. I'd have to work around school and my job, but I could do it."

It would take a lot of afternoons and weekends, odd hours when Clara would be busy and George would be alone.

I watched him bite back a smirk.

Clara narrowed her eyes. "Okay, that's super sweet Kelly, but that stuff is left over from Mom and Dad's divorce, so it's kind of personal, y'know?"

"That's probably why it's taken you so long to go through it. You guys have memories attached to each item, so parting with them has to be pretty painful." I shrugged, "I don't have those attachments, so it'll be easier for me."

"Kelly-"

George interrupted his daughter. "She's got a point, Clara." Addressing me, he asked, "What would you want for payment?"

A sequence of wickedly erotic images ran through my mind, and as I looked at George, I felt like he could tell. "Um... how about two hundred dollars and ten percent of any profits?"

Clara glanced between us, "Dad, you can't-"

"One hundred," he countered.

"One-fifty."

"Done. When can you start?"

"Monday?"

"Dad!"

George turned to Clara. "Honey, you told me to hire someone." Back to me, he said, "I'll have a spare key ready for you."

I bit my lip. That wouldn't be the only thing he'd have ready for me.