The Labyrinth of Love

Lettie, it's getting quite late, you should go on home, I'll finish up here" the rotund middle-aged man wearing a Levi's T-shirt and cargo shorts called out from the door post.

Scarlett flashed him a tired smile from behind the desktop she'd just switched off and replied.

"No worries Bert, I'll be done any time now. We can close up together. Plus, you're my ride." He returned her smile with a curt nod and disappeared into his office. She closed the door to her office and began to change from her uniform- a sunny yellow t-shirt with 'Angie's' engraved at the front, and a pair of black jeans.

The day had been unusually busy with the restaurant experiencing an unusual customer surge, which Angie's hadn't enjoyed in a while. Bert, the restaurant owner, suffered through the day from trying hard not to explode from delirium and trying to manage the bustle to ensure productivity and professionalism. It was almost impossible to maintain that balance as Angie's was grossly understaffed with just three waitresses: a chef, two cooks, a dishwasher, and a cleaner. So Scarlett, despite her position as assistant manager had to shuffle between bussing tables, being a sous chef, and bidding customers a wonderful day.

Bert nearly suffocated her with his apologies and appreciation and offered to take stock that night as compensation. She'd, regardless, ended up doing it anyway. The soft spot she had for him made her do it, and she realized that she could do anything for Bert. He'd been there for her in ways only family could and she was eternally grateful to him for it.

"Bert, I'm done here" she called out as soon as she had changed clothes and locked up her office.

"Can you wait for a second? I'm coming out now" Bert requested in a calm voice.

"Sure thing. Forgot you're my ride home?" He chuckled.

Immediately he came out, Lettie was certain something was amiss. Bert had not been himself for weeks now. The day's events had perked up his spirits but seemed to have lasted only so long.

"Are you alright Bert?" the concern in her voice was unmistakable.

"As a matter of fact, no. There's something I must tell you, Lettie. I've had a whole internal debate on how to break the news but I'd rather you heard it directly from me." Unsure of how to respond to that information, she pulled out a bar stool and sat, eyes trained on him. Bert shifted nervously on his feet.

"I got a great offer for the restaurant and will accept." His eyes didn't quite look up. It would have seen the bewilderment on Lettie's face if it had. It wasn't just bewilderment, it was also the confounding worry that came with processing the information and accepting the implication-she would be out of a job.

"I'm sorry kid. But I'm shutting down. I can't keep up. If only Angie were still..." He trailed off, his voice low and his tone solemn.

"I understand, Bert." She patted his shoulders, fighting not to let her emotions creep to the surface. He nodded again

"I know your mind's made up, and I know how crazy this might sound, but, what if the ads worked? Huh? What if that's the reason for today's turn-out? Please give it another month." She begged with hope in her eyes.

"Lettie..." He sighed, then continued "...I wish I could, but I can't afford to. The property taxes on the restaurant have piled up since... I can't afford to keep the restaurant running. I'm sorry."

She nodded with what she wanted to be a genuine and understanding smile, but her countenance betrayed her. It came out constipated and tight-lipped.

They locked up in tense silence and walked towards his vehicle.

If Lettie was being honest, it wasn't a big revelation. It was the wisest decision anyone in Bert's situation could make. The restaurant was suffering and this year had been the worst of it. Lettie knew that much, as she was in charge of the finances, at least the accounting part of it. The monthly turnover in the first half of the year was only enough to restock on ingredients and pay the wages of 60% of the workers and by the third quarter, it had grossly reduced to 40%. Lettie suspected that he'd been paying wages out of his income and that he didn't have much of a choice if she was being fair.

Knowing that did nothing to dispel the feeling of hurt and betrayal she felt. Bert knew how difficult she was at handling change. He knew how terrible the past two years had been for her, what with working multiple jobs and paying off what was left of her parent's mortgage, only to have that same property requisitioned by the State of New York a year later.

The letter of Intent had been sent long before she moved back into her parent's property, and, given the time the letter was dated, a month after her mom passed. She hadn't been aware of it, and frankly, she hadn't the emotional capacity to be in the house much less sort through her mom's stuff at the time.

It wasn't until she moved back in months later, that her affected neighbours informed her of the State of New York's exercise of its right to eminent domain over select properties in the estate and public notices that had been published and hearings to be held.

She had confided in Bert and he offered his help. Following that, he informed his lawyer about her situation and she consulted with her. The woman had advised her that nothing could be done about it as it was a compulsory acquisition and the government was enabled under the 5th Amendment to exercise its power of eminent domain over any property, personal or real. The only option she was left with was to accept the compensation she had been offered. Unless of course, she had enough funds to invest in a suit against the state of which the best case scenario would be an increase in compensation offered. It was however not worth the financial commitment such litigation required.

"The compensation is fair", the lawyer had said.

There was nothing fair about exchanging decades of memories for government money- it was in that house that she'd grown up. She'd celebrated birthdays, went to prom, lost her father, grieved with her mom, graduated college, lost her mom, and grieved for her. Yet life had taken that away from her too. She was sick of it. Sick of being a target. Sick of pain. Sick of going through the motions of healing over and over again.

"We're here. Take care of yourself, kid." He remarked as she got out of the car, his eyes apologetic. She paused to say, "I guess I'll come for my things tomorrow then.

"Yeah, sure. I'm notifying everyone tomorrow but we'll be open the rest of the week. I'm sorry again" She nodded swiftly, wrapped softly on the hood of the car, and left.

Once she was on the porch of her soon-to-be-demolished property, she placed her bags on the wall so she could open the door. Opening the door proved to be extremely onerous so she kept turning, reversing, and turning until the key got stuck.

She turned again, but nothing. Again, still nothing. She chuckled. "You've got to be shitting me," she said coarsely under her breath, and angrily pounded the door with her fists, in utter frustration. She felt a little rush of relief.

"Fuck my life!" she huffed under her breath simultaneously pounding the door that just wouldn't budge. Her frustration was surging slowly. Raw anger coming to the surface. She needed to break something. If only the door would cooperate, she would get her bat and bring down a wall or two. After all, in less than 72 hours, the requisitioned houses would be pulled to the ground.

Anger coursed through her like wildfire at the thought. It made her violently thrust her right foot into a vase on the porch, which pushed it into the wooden railing, and in quick succession broke the vase and a corner of the railing.

Pain, debilitating pain coursed through her from the impact.

"ow...ow...ow..." She squirmed as she hopped in a circle grabbing on tightly to her toe. The little earth dance didn't last for long, her good leg gave way and she landed on her butt.

She yelped. Chuckled. Snickered and laughed like a person who had their crazy on. She laughed so hard that her stomach began to hurt. She laughed so hard tears began to roll. And as they began, the torrents wouldn't stop, the laughs turned into sobs and snorts and whimpers.

She cried, not for the bodily pains. She cried for the unfairness of life. She cried for her mother, cried for her house, cried for her job, and cried for being left all alone in this cold world. When her mother left, she'd lost her only family, companionship, and true love. Now she was alone. Truly alone.

It took forever for the tears to stop. But, eventually, it did. The door flung open as if for pity's sake when she tried again. She didn't bother with showering, neither did she bother with pumping the air mattress. She just lay on the cold floor, eyes red and puffy, determined to, for the last time, revel in the nostalgia that was the home of her heart and relieved to escape her reality, even if for a few hours.

Tomorrow was an end to a phase of her life, she surmised, sleepily. She hoped the next wouldn't be nearly as brutal as this one was.

Scarlet woke up abruptly to someone banging on the door. Opening her eyes welcomed a terrible headache. For a moment she forgot that she'd been camping in her now empty house for the past week. She walked robotically to the bathroom to rummage through the medicine cabinet for aspirin. It was when she opened the doors to an empty cabinet that she remembered that she'd moved out of the house.

She decided to ignore the person trying to tear down the front door with violent raps; it was probably a government official, they'd come the previous morning to vacate her from the premises but she'd lied that she had forgotten a box of her things and had only come to collect it.

She sighed and turned on the faucet-cool water on her face might help ease the pain a little- only, water wasn't coming out. She tried again, slower, this time, but the water still didn't flow.

"shit... shit... shit... they cut the water. Bastards" she cussed through her teeth, frustrated. She looked at her reflection and her auburn hair was all over the place, like someone who'd survived the electric chair. The pallor of her skin was frightening and her eyes were quite swollen. She ran two fingers around her eyelids repeatedly as if it would reduce the puffiness, and pinched around her face to enhance blood flow. She quickly released her hair from the band that held it together in a ponytail, ran her fingers through and styled it into a low bun.

If anything, her overall outlook had improved a little bit. So she dashed down the stairs, picked up her bag and booked a ride. By the time she was out on the porch, the person knocking was fuming.

"Ma'am you can't be here" the spare official from the day before spat upon seeing her. His forehead creased in a frown.

"I was just leaving. I-"

"...let me guess you forgot yet another box? A label maker, perhaps" he cut in, evidently crossed.

"I...I... just came to say goodbye..." She improvised, her countenance solemn. He sighed in disgust.

"Ma'am, do you realize how misleading it is to state that the keys you handed over to us were the only keys to the house when in fact you withheld a spare? Even worse that you insisted that the back door had been left open when we had our little chat yesterday?"

"I realize how that might seem misleading but I swear I forgot about the spare." She lied, her voice low and her face bent.

He stared at her until her gaze met with his, he then peered into her eyes, passing a message with his, that he saw through the bullshit and knew she was lying. The part of the man that seemed to understand her predicament came to bear, his gaze softened a little and he sighed, resigned.

"Alright, off you go miss. You are advised to desist from any further acts of trespass on this property and its environs. This property belongs to the State of New York and legal actions will be taken if acts of trespass persist" He said curtly, his eyes looking straight into hers. She bobbed her head.

"Keys?" He demanded, his hands outstretched. She handed it over to him. She was about to thank him when her phone beeped and indicated that her ride had arrived.

"If you'll excuse me. That's my ride" She cleared her throat.

"Right. Have a nice day, ma'am."

"Likewise."

***

Aliyah Jeong, plopped shopping bags on the kitchen counter.

"Lettie, honey" She called out. Lettie grunted in response from the sofa, her eyes trained on the show that was playing.

"I brought Chinese."

"Thanks, babes, but I'm eating." She replied, mouth full.

Aliyah walked to the sofa, yanked the Cheetos out of her hands and grabbed the ice cream tub from the tabletop.

"Hey! I'm eating that!" Lettie protested, getting up and following Aliyah to the kitchen area.

"Cheetos is not food" She absentmindedly tossed the empty bag into the recycling bin and placed the ice cream tub back in the fridge.

"Duh, it's digestible and has calories and nutrients. If that's not food then I don't know what is and that shouldn't go into the recycling bin" She retorted and pointed at the Cheetos bag.

"You know what I mean..." Aliyah started, rolling her eyes, "Plus, you cannot continue living like this. Look at you, you're a shadow of yourself. You've not showered in nearly four days, and haven't left the couch unless to pee and sleep. You've been on a Cheetos, ice-cream diet, and all in that horrendous t-shirt. Where did you get that? Did you rob it off a hobo?" She finished with a grimace and placed the trash in the proper bin.

"Ugh... you're such a mom" Lettie grumbled.

"No, I'm your best friend. And I'm worried about you." Lettie sighed softly, and let Aliyah lead her back to the sofa.

"I'll be fine, I promise. It's just hard, you know. Going through the motions, over and over again" She said softly, her head now on Aliyah's shoulders.

"I know. And I'm proud of you for letting yourself feel but I don't want you to stay down forever. I want to see you win. You're so smart and beautiful. You mustn't give up. Promise me you won't."

"I promise." Her voice was thick with emotions. Aliyah patted her back softly and pecked her head.

"Okay, Lettie. Let's scout for some jobs after eating?"

"You mean to say some more jobs. I already applied to several companies, remember? I just haven't heard back from any." She sat up and grabbed the remote.

"Have you checked your email today?"

"Yeah, but in the morning and nothing." She turned up the volume a little bit.

"So? Check again. You've got to keep checking! Girl, give me your phone" Aliyah demanded, hands stretched forth. Lettie dropped the phone in her hands, a little smile etched on her face.

"Spam, Newsletter, Newsletter, another Newsletter.... girl, how many newsletters are you subscribed to?" She gave Lettie a look that made her giggle.

"Can't believe the amount of junk mail that is in here." She muttered to herself, continued scrolling until she came across a subject from Vortex, a subsidiary of Galanis Holdings.

Aliyah screamed. Lettie shot up and snatched the phone from her in a bid to see what had warranted that maniacal scream.

"What the fuck Lee! A little louder and you'd have surpassed the permitted decibel level for residential areas" Her gaze was fixed on the mail.

"Shut up! Galanis Holdings sent you an email yesterday. Girl that's a big deal, probably the biggest deal in all of New York." She all but screamed again.

"And we know this Galanis Holdings you speak of?" she asked innocently. Aliyah gaped at her in disbelief.

"Unbelievable! Patrick much?" Aliyah responded, shock replacing excitement on her face. Lettie looked confused at first then realization hit.

"I get it. Patrick because he lives under the rock. So, a half-assed metonymy." She tapped her temple smiling sheepishly.

"No shit. But, for real, are you telling me that you have never heard of Galanis Holdings or Leon Galanis? He inherited his father's business empire about 5 years ago or something. He's a freaking billionaire, and incredibly handsome." She just couldn't believe Lettie had never heard of him.

"Again, no, I haven't. Don't blame me, it has never been my job description to know the tea about rich and famous people." Lettie's excitement started building. If she could nail this interview 99% of her problems would be solved.

"Well, Leon Galanis is very low key so I don't blame you. Well, what are the details?"

"The interview is tomorrow. Damn, that was a close call. Thank you, Lee. I would have missed this one." Aliyah embraced her tightly and whispered "Anytime" before letting her breathe again.

"The office is in Manhattan if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, the address is written here. Broadway precisely. I hope the interview goes smoothly because the universe knows I need this. Is there any need to contact the company?"

"No, I don't think so. But you can contact them to be on the safe side. Plus, you'll do amazingly, you're smart."

"I sure hope so. I don't know the first thing about being someone's assistant. Hell, I can't even assist myself." Aliyah chuckled.

"You'll be fine. But for now we need to get you a suitable outfit. Right after we eat. The Kung Pao chicken must have gone cold. And I'm starving".

A bell rang, piercing through the stilly atmosphere of the room. Seconds after it went off, clipped footsteps approached, stopping outside the door. A knock and a responding grunt after, a middle-aged woman of average height and poised physique, walked in briskly. Her face was devoid of any emotion: not anger, not disgust, not anxiety, not joy, nothing. Her countenance was steely, her grey eyes, cold as winter, and her charcoal-coloured hair pulled down in a pristine chignon, not a strand of hair astray.

With a swift nod, she said, "Good morning, Mr. Galanis." Her eyes never met him nor looked down.

"Gladys" his deep voice returned, flatly, perhaps in greeting, but most probably in recognition of her presence. His head was bent over some paperwork, and a ballpoint pen positioned between his right index and middle fingers was being wiggled. It was obvious that he had been in deep thought before her arrival.

He remarked with nonchalance, never once looking up at her, "Sit down. Stop hovering."

Gladys did as she was told, with practiced ease and grace- within record time, back straight and not touching the backrest, legs crossed, head high, face forward, and countenance stolid. He stared at her, as though she had been the one who'd called him into her office and not the other way round. Her face remained on his forehead. He cleared his throat, still looking at her. It immediately dawned on her that she must have done something that demanded an apology without which he'd stare her down the rest of the day.

Wheels began turning in her head and she mentally went through the highlight of the previous day's events- They'd had a meeting with the legal department and management of Vortex towards the imminent acquisition of a smaller Tech firm, he'd had lunch with his mother and sister, golfed at the country club with three of his associate, visited miss Ivanov. She'd even documented the meeting and mailed it to him alongside his schedule for the next day. It was then she remembered that she'd only mailed the schedule this morning.

She cleared her throat and craned her neck even higher than one could think possible. "I apologize for mailing today's schedule later than usual. I had a bit of an emergency this morning." Her voice was stiff and her mouth dry.

"That won't happen again, Gladys. Every minute of my time is accounted for. Time is money." He said, slightly displeased, his tone clipped and his gaze disparaging. Gladys replied with a curt nod. She was used to his rather charming ways-unwittingly forthright, incredibly rude, well aware of his influence, affluence, and steely charm: which of course was only a nice way of saying 'arrogant', and often quite condescending.

Leon Galanis was famous for his enormous wealth, business acumen, and his physical appeal. He was an extremely handsome man; not in the soft beguiling sort of way, but ruggedly and arrogantly. The moment one saw him, they had to stare in, either awe or out of shock to their sensibilities. Everything about Leon exuded confidence and wicked charm, his features were edgy and rough but combined in a way that gave a godlike appeal. Everything about him was beautifully chaotic; where his hair was as dark as night, his eyes were as blue and bright as the morning sky; where his jaw was chiselled, he had dimples as beguiling as the song of a siren to seamen; where his nose was straight and uninteresting, his lips were as soft as a newborn and as pink as a swooned debutante. Having a perfectly toned physique, being 6'3 and olive-skinned added immensely to his mystique. Sitting in his swivel chair, Gladys thought he looked commanding, but she knew that if he stood up, boy was he domineering.

"Where are we on the nanny front?" He paid his attention fully to the documents he was leafing through and signing.

"Nowhere sir. I'm afraid the agencies are quite weary with us" She replied carefully.

"And what might that mean, Gladys? Weary' that is" still not sparing her a glance.

"Weary because, every candidate that has been sent to us, has not met your standards, sir. Which is, of course, impeccable ..." She chipped in quickly before continuing, "...but constant rejection has seemed to make the agencies quite reluctant to send us any more candidates, sir." In Leon's presence, one had to be careful with their choice of words.

"That's stupid. Do they not know who I am?" He snapped, tearing his eyes away from the document, finally, and glowering at her as if she was in charge of the agencies.

"I'm quite sure they know who you are sir."

"Well, put a call across to Melanie, have her call as many agencies as there are in New York, and get me a damn nanny."

"In danger of sounding impudent sir, I've already spoken to Melanie today. It's impossible to get a nanny for the rest of the week and some. The only option is waiting a week, the chances would have improved by then." She left out the tirades that Melanie had thrown at him, and the fact that she'd maintained quite vehemently that it didn't matter if there were a hundred available nannies, not that there were, she was sick and tired of assigning and reassigning nannies only to have every one of them returned. Not even one had been given a trial run. Some hadn't even been interviewed before he sent them away. Gladys understood her frustration and knew how difficult being out of a job could be, so she'd quickly invented the a-week story rather than throwing Melanie under the bus.

"Damn Bertha for leaving us high and dry and making it so damn difficult to find a nanny nearly as perfect as she was." Bertha had been an old, almost permanent fixture in the Galanis household. She was a stoic German who'd started as an au pair to Andreas Galanis-Leon's Father- young, new to America, and barely spoke any English. She'd stayed on and had become a nanny to Leon and his sister, and when Leon's daughter Anastasia was born she resumed her work as a nanny. Nanny Bertha was more a governess than a nanny-her method was strict and austere and so was she; prim and her physique statuesque, the model of proprietary and discipline, class and sophistication. However, Nanny Bertha had become too old to keep up with the effervescence of a toddler and had begun to slack. And if her ageing bones and softening tone weren't enough to indicate her need to retire, taking ill and constantly daydreaming of returning to Berchtesgaden her hometown and where she must be buried, had driven home the point. So two months ago the Galanis family had sadly said their goodbyes to her and had her settled in a little cottage in her hometown with a caregiver in tow.

Mr. Galanis placed Nanny Bertha as the standard, and if one was being honest, nobody could measure up, as one had to be as stoic, plain, and austere as she was. One had to steer clear of colour, and soft material, one had not to smile unless it was extremely necessary and in such circumstances, a ghost of a smile was the only right kind, one had not to engage in playful activity and trivialities with the child, one had only to feed the child wholesome and healthy meals-soups, fruit and vegetables, and one had to possess the uncanny ability to fade into the background, be seen and not heard, speak only when spoken to-curtly and politely-with great reverence to their employer.

It was no great puzzle why no nanny had swayed him- No one in the 21st century could be a Nanny Bertha. Not even Nanny Bertha could be a Nanny Bertha had she been born anytime between the 80s and 90s. But it seemed a great puzzle and a cause for frustration to Leon Galanis.

"Can we get a Temp to cover for the week? I can't afford to keep the house manager distracted with having to care for Anastasia, and in two days we'll be headed to Santorini." He asked then mused.

"I'll see to that sir."

"That will be all for now Gladys." She nodded and rose to her feet, motioning towards the door.

"Oh and Gladys, I can trust your discretion not to mention the trip to Miss Ivanov?" His gaze fixed on her retreating figure.

Not turning back, but stopping in her tracks, she replied, "Absolutely, Sir."

"Good."

Leon returned to going through the enormous paperwork on his desk hoping to get through half of the pile before the day. These documents had sensitive information and as scrupulous and leery as he was he had to personally work through them, so far only Gladys had shown loyalty, but even with her, he was extremely careful, his father had taught him that much.