Quarter to Midnight

Aaron looked up when the doorbell rang. It was Saturday. He wasn't expecting anyone, but he tossed his phone on the sofa and answered the door. The peephole showed a mousy kind of girl looking over one shoulder, and then over the other shoulder, but there was no-one behind her.

She carried just a purse, so she probably wasn't selling anything, and she startled when Aaron opened the door—as if she didn't expect anyone to answer. Aaron leaned on the door frame. "Can I help you?"

"I heard you might be lookin' for a maid or somethin'." She stepped back and swept her hair behind her ear.

"How did you hear that? I fired my maid service this morning—like, two hours ago."

"I heard some girls talkin' on the bus. They mighta been the ones you fired. They said you needed help and gave me your address.

"I need a job."

Aaron was impressed by her initiative if nothing else. "It's about to rain. Come inside and we'll talk." He guided her to the kitchen table and offered her a glass of water. He picked a chair and motioned for her to sit down across from him. "I'm Aaron Wheeler."

"Renée Sand." She set her purse on the table and settled into the chair. Her purse gaped open and a pack of birth control pills stood out. It seemed to Aaron like an odd thing to carry around.

"Did you bring references?"

Renée looked at her purse and hurried to close it. "No references, I have experience, though—kinda. I worked as a hotel maid when I was in high school."

Aaron set his jaw. Maybe he needed help, but this didn't seem very likely. "Can I see your ID?"

Renée dug in her purse for a moment before she passed her ID to Aaron. She sat back and looked around, and Aaron stood up from the table. "This is a big house for a single guy. What do you do?"

"Attorney. The house is an investment. Wait here. I'll be back."

Aaron left his office door open so he could listen to sounds from the kitchen, and he sat down with his laptop. It took a few minutes, but he checked Renée for priors and for outstanding warrants. She was clean—at least by that name.

Renée was wiping down the kitchen counters when Aaron took her ID back to her. He watched her for a moment and made a snap decision. "Look, I'll pay you fifty for a day, and we'll see how you work out."

He showed Renée to the broom closet and the cleaning supplies, and he detailed what he wanted her to do. Aaron kept one eye on her until late in the afternoon when the rain had stopped and the sun was dropping, and by then everything Renée touched was gleaming.

Renée put the clean linens away, found a little bottle in her purse, and Aaron watched her lotion her hands. "You didn't leave yourself much to do tomorrow, but you can come back on Monday." He counted out fifty bucks and was surprised when Renée was slow to accept it. She avoided eye contact for a moment before Aaron jumped to a conclusion. "You don't have anywhere to go, do you?"

"Nowhere I want to go. Nowhere safe."

That explained a few things. Aaron pointed to the kitchen table. "It's still wet outside. Sit. Where's your family?"

Renée dropped into a chair and looked at Aaron a little suspiciously. "'Family' would be my mom. She's a drunk, and I don't know which gutter she's in tonight." She waved her hand. "That's an exaggeration. She was a good mom until I hit my teens, and she taught me a lot before the alcohol took over. Now sometimes she has a place and sometimes she don't.

"What do you care?"

Aaron sat down across from her. "What makes you think I care? What have you been doing for a living?"

Renée laughed. "Livin'? I've been with the Eastside gang for two years—since I dropped out of high school. Now they think I took their money, and I can't go back."

Aaron slumped back in his chair and sorted his thoughts before he said anything. Should he send Renée off now? Did he care? Or maybe he just saw an opportunity.

"Look, you're going to be my next investment. I have a mother-in-law house out back and no mother-in-law. I've been thinking of renting it out, but I haven't found the time. It's mostly just storage. I'll let you stay out there, but everything is shut off, boxes have to be moved, and the bed needs to be made."

Renée looked at the money in her hand like she was seeing it for the first time. "How much?" She waved the bills. "This is what I have."

"We can work that out. If you get the place cleaned up, then that might pay the rent for a while." He sat up and straightened his back. "First I need to turn the utilities on, and then I need dinner."

Aaron found keys and led Renée through the puddles on the patio to the detached little house. He threw a breaker on the wall, opened the door and handed Renée the key.

Renée sneezed into the crook of her elbow. "It's dusty in here."

Aaron turned on the lights then leaned over a stack of boxes to reach the thermostat and turned it up. "It's probably going to get dustier when the furnace comes on." They heard the burners light, and Aaron went searching for the water shutoff. He found it in the little bathroom, and water started flowing into the toilet as soon as he turned it on.

Renée was moving boxes off the bed when he came back. She pointed to one. "This one's marked 'linens.' Are they the right ones?" the furnace fan kicked on, and they could smell the dust stirred up from the vents.

Aaron shrugged. "Probably. All this is from my old apartment. Right now, the dust needs to settle, and I need dinner." He opened the front door and looked back at Renée. "Coming?"

Renée watched Aaron over the freezer dinners he microwaved, and Aaron studied his phone without talking. She broke into his train of thought. "You have that beautiful kitchen, and this is what you want for dinner? I can cook, you know."

Aaron barely looked up. "I hired you to be my maid, not my cook." He laid his phone down and swallowed a bite. "How did you hook up with the Eastside gang?"

People hardly ever asked Renée about herself, so she was slow to answer. "One of the housekeepers at the Marriott was Carlos' Mom. She hooked us up.

"When I was a senior I was takin' care of me and takin' care of my mom—that's how I know I can cook—and I just got sick of doin' all that, school, and work all at the same time.

"The next time my mom went on a bender, I just left her, left school, and left work. Fuckin' some guy for protection was way easier."

Renée laid her fork down. "Now it all looks like maybe a mistake. I only had like two classes to finish and I coulda been qualified for college." She shrugged. "There wasn't money, but at least I would have qualified."

Aaron toyed with the last of his vegetables without looking up. "Did you take their money?"

Renée changed the subject without answering. "So, how did you get the lawyer gig?"

That was answer enough for Aaron, and he shrugged. "It wasn't easy. I was a foster child. I didn't own anything but my grades, so I got the best grades. There were grants and scholarships when I first got to college then loans later, and always jobs. Then, you know, hard work and connections.

"What did you do with their money? You don't have it now, right?"

Renée picked up her tray and Aaron's and stood up from the table. She answered over her shoulder on the way to the garbage. "It wasn't really their money. They took it off some dealer they shot, and I gave it to my fuckin' mom. Now they want me dead—but not until they fuck me up first."

Aaron turned to watch Renée in the kitchen. "You could go to the DA with that story, and maybe get some help from the police."

Renée gave Aaron a bitter laugh. "I can't go to the police. After two years with Eastside, I gotta have warrants up my ass."

Aaron buried his face in his phone again. What she didn't know wasn't going to hurt her.

Renée stopped at the door on her way out. "Thanks for dinner. I have work to do before I can sleep." Her lights were still on when Aaron went to bed. He shut off the lamp behind him, and for a moment before he drew the curtains he watched Renée from his window and wondered if she ever stopped working.

It was almost mid-morning before Aaron saw Renée again. He looked up from a bowl of cold cereal and found her outside, wearing an old dress shirt that he'd packed into a rag box. She hung her bra and spread her panties on a budding branch in the sun and disappeared into the house.

The next time Aaron saw Renée, he was on his phone with Bert—one of the senior partners. She stopped inside the kitchen door, still wearing his old shirt, and he shushed her with a finger to his lips. She turned back to shut the door, and for an instant the sunlight fell through his old shirt.

Aaron wasn't so distracted by Bert that he couldn't see Renée's silhouette—her small breasts and the curve of her hips. He just wished she hadn't put her underwear back on. Aaron turned away to finish his call then noticed that Renée was carrying the jeans and shirt she wore the day before.

Renée held her clothes up. "Can I use your washer?"

"You know where it is." Aaron cocked his head at Renée. "Have you eaten? It's almost lunchtime."

Renée was already walking away, but she stopped. "Not yet. I have that cash, and I can get to the groceries after my clothes are dry. I think we need to talk about the rent and stuff before I stock the fridge."

Aaron was making a baloney sandwich when Renée came back. He didn't have a lot to say. "Go ahead and stock the fridge if you want. I'll give you a month for cleaning the place up." He turned around and pushed the sandwich at her. "Eat this."

Renée looked at the sandwich and back at Aaron before she took it. "What do you want from me?"

"Someone I can trust to clean my house right." Aaron turned back to make another sandwich then joined Renée at the kitchen table. "I'm gone a lot, so I also want someone to be here."

Aaron had to explain to himself why he trusted Renée. He chewed in silence and realized that it was because she needed him. She was hiding from Eastside, and she was hiding from the police, and he could control her.

He motioned to the shirt she wore. "Are you going to keep washing those same clothes until they fall apart?"

"Might." Renée swallowed and set the rest of her sandwich down. "A couple more days like yesterday and I can go to Goodwill or Thrift Town.

"I turned the furnace down and left the house open to air out. Can I use your vacuum?"

"You know where it is." Aaron left the rest of his sandwich and pushed away from the table. He sat down beside Renée when he came back, and opened his laptop in front of him.

"You're setting up a house. You'll need your money—for a phone, if nothing else." He turned the laptop so she could see. "This is JCPenny. Order the clothes you need and I'll pick them up at the store. You can owe me."

Renée pushed it back at Aaron. "I don't want to owe you."

"Have it your way." Aaron reached for his sandwich and pulled it across the table then sat back in his chair and studied Renée. "How much mileage can you get out of my old rags?"

Renée squirmed. She crossed her arms and her legs and looked away. It took her a moment to make up her mind, and then she sat up and pulled the laptop to her. "Fuck you then. How much can I spend?"

Aaron laughed at Renée. He picked up the refuse from their lunch and threw it away. "Would you even know what to do with a lot of expensive stuff? Call me when you're done. I'll look at it."

Sunday was supposed to be a day off, but Aaron's phone was hot in his hand and the battery was almost drained before Renée called from the kitchen. "I think I'm done."

Aaron left his phone on its charger and sat down with Renée. She'd found a pen, and she had two scraps of paper beside her. He looked at her short list of practical clothes, filled in the billing and pickup details, and pushed the laptop back. "Done. They say I can pick them up tomorrow."

Renée handed him a scrap of paper with "IOU $238.15 Renée Sand," written in a meticulous hand. She wrote the same number on the second scrap and pocketed it.

"I moved my clothes to the drier a little while ago. They should be about done.

"About the boxes out there ... I looked at most of 'em last night, and they're all like, fulla junk." She motioned around the house. "Especially compared to what you got in here. What should I do with 'em?"

Aaron clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a moment. "It's hard for me to let go of things I own. That's why it's all still here." His phone rang in his office, and Aaron stood. "Keep it or get rid of it any way you want. Don't even let me see it."

Renée was scrubbing the floor in his bathroom when Aaron came home early on Monday. The TV in his room was blaring. He dropped the Penny's bags on the kitchen table and found Renée—with rubber gloves on her hands and a handkerchief tied over her hair—watching from the hallway.

"I have to pack and get to the airport." He searched through a drawer in the kitchen and held a key out to her. "That's the house front and back. Do you have work to do?"

"In here? About another half day." Renée wiped her forehead with her arm while Aaron sat down at the table and wrote her a check for seventy-five dollars. She turned the check around to read it then stood back while Aaron got up from the chair. "I know what to do with this. When will you be back?"

"Thursday, I think."

It was Friday night when Aaron got home. He closed the front door behind him and walked through the house without turning on lights. Everything was clean and neat, but he couldn't see that. He was tired. He was angry.

Light from the little house out back fell through the kitchen window and gave Aaron enough light to find the switch. He turned on the lamp over the table, left his travel bag, and looked up to see Renée peeking through the window. She smiled, and let herself in through the kitchen door. "You're late! I wish I'd known. How was your trip? It was really lonely here, but your neighbors are friendly." The words seemed to tumble out of her mouth.

"Stop." Aaron wasn't in a mood to listen to Renée's babble. "The trip was terrible. Leave me alone. I'm in a mood where maybe I'd feel better if I broke something."

Maybe she wasn't listening. Renée stepped closer, and Aaron looked down at her new shirt and new shorts. He bought them. He owned them.

"It's a long walk to the grocery store. I was thinkin' that next time you leave maybe you could give me the password to that old laptop you don't use. You could email me if somethin' changed. Or maybe I could get one of those flip phones. They don't cost much."

"Would you be quiet?" Renée was too close to Aaron. "You aren't safe like this." He inhaled her warmth and noticed the bra strap under her new shirt. His muscles tensed with the thought that he owned that, too. He owned Renée right down to the gusset in her new cotton undies.

"What happened? I guess I just need to talk."

Aaron wrapped his hand around Renée's arm to stop her. "I need you to stop talking."

Renée glanced at Aaron's hand on her arm, and she realized when she looked up at his face that she was in trouble. She tried to pull back. "That hurts. Would you let me go?"

"I own you now." Aaron opened three buttons on her shirt, and Renée slugged his arm.

"You can't fuckin' own me!" She swung at his face, and he blocked her hand. Renée's warmth and the way she struggled hardened Aaron's cock.

Renée twisted her arm out of Aaron's grip. She took one step back then ran without a plan for getting away. Aaron caught her in the hallway. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and her knees buckled under her when he pulled her down.

Aaron didn't have more to say. Renée threw her elbows back into his ribs, and he pushed her down on the carpet with his hand on the back of her head. He shoved his pants to his knees to free his hard-on, yanked Renée's shorts down, and then her cotton panties.

Renée gasped and swore at Aaron. "Fuck you! Fuck you to hell!" He bent over her and took three hard thrusts to bury his cock in her cunt. His shaft burned inside her, and he pounded her into the carpet. He pounded the air out of her.

It didn't take Aaron long. Renée was still trying to struggle away from him when he slammed against her bare ass and let himself go. He collapsed on her back when he was done and groaned in her ear, and both of them laid still for a moment.

Aaron moved first. He pushed himself off from Renée and sat back on his haunches. The hallway was lit by the angled light from the lamp over the kitchen table, but that was enough for him to see his cum seeping from between Renée's legs.

Renée scrambled away from Aaron until she hit the wall, and she turned around and glared at him like a cornered animal. Maybe she didn't have words for what she wanted to say, so she just sobbed into her hands.

"I— I'm sorry." The words escaped Aaron before he even thought about them. He pulled his pants up and sat back against the wall, then he saw the growing bruise on Renée's arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"What did you fuckin' mean to do?" The tears on Renée's cheeks glistened in the dim light from the kitchen. "Just tell me what you fuckin' meant to do."

Aaron didn't have any way to explain himself.

Renée wiped her face with the tail of her new shirt and pulled her pants up. "You aren't the first asshole that's done that to me, but I hoped it wouldn't happen again. And now you're a fuckin' sorry asshole."

Aaron climbed to his feet and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He found a white slip of paper inside and showed it to Renée. "Your IOU." He tore it into scraps that fluttered to the carpet. "I can't change what I did, but can I get you to stay?"

"So you can do it again?" Renée looked away, and a new tear streaked her face. "Where the hell would I go?"

* * *

Counting Aaron and Shelly, there were seven couples at Aaron's little party: Aaron presided over the dining table and a poker game for six players, a few watched an old movie streaming on TV, and the rest talked on the patio where the late-spring night was comfortable and fragrant and Pandora ruled the playlist.

Renée got eighty bucks to be invisible for five hours. She made sure that drinks were fresh and the snack bowls were full, and she kept things neat and clean. She spoke when she was spoken to, and she stayed out of the way.

Aaron played a few hands, gave his seat to Bert, and found Shelly on the patio where Carol kept her eye on Sam. He settled his arm around Shelly's hips, and Carol laughed at them. "You two do a great job of playing 'couple.'"

Shelly squeezed herself a little closer to Aaron. "If he keeps playing nice like this, then he might even get some action tonight." She watched Renée working, and pointed her out to Aaron. "Who's your help?"

"Renée? My tenant and my housekeeper. I hired her for light cleaning, and two months later she's my housekeeper."

Shelly laughed. "For some reason, when I hear 'housekeeper' I think of chubby little women with curly, blue hair—not a girl that every guy around has his eyes on." It was true. Renée was no longer the mousy girl that Aaron found at the door. A place of her own, new clothes, and makeup made a difference, and as much as she tried to be invisible, she was too pretty to get away with it.

Carol watched as Renée delivered a new beer to Sam. "So you finally cleaned the little place out so you can rent it?"

Aaron shrugged. "Renée did it, and I haven't asked her for rent yet. I figure that if she had to pay rent then she'd need to charge me more to take care of the house, and it's easier just to call us even."

There were only three couples left when the clock ticked past twelve and Aaron followed Renée to the kitchen. "You're off the clock now. You can go, but why don't you stay and have a drink?"