On this Sunday, Pearl was in a pissy mood, but she knew better than to show it. Whenever she spoke, and that wasn't often, she kept a docile tone.
Instead of working with her favorite group, the mostly Lumbee women, the current manager, Greg, had told her to work with the older couple of women. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but these women were telling her she was taking too long. They even told her, again, not to remove the toilet seats to clean the hidden nooks and crannies.
Why did Greg do this? He'd said he was worried that Pearl was too slow with her work and this would be a good way to get her speed up.
So ... he'd fucking sent her to the slow ass women that he KNEW were half-assing their work?!
Pearl wanted to break something.
It was then that she'd decided that this would be her last week here. She'd send a polite text that would explain she had "private personal problems" and she would no longer be able to work for him. Thank you for the opportunity and all icing based nonsense.
Halfway through the day, she heard that Greg had to leave again. It was Britt's turn to tag in. That didn't mean much to Pearl, wouldn't mean anything at all after everything was done.
When Pearl was sweeping the bathroom floor out, one of those women went in to scold her about how long she was apparently taking.
For some reason, that was the last straw. She'd been scolded too many times. She was a grown ass woman who cleaned houses like a grown ass woman. She didn't purposely leave spots behind. She was meticulous and sometimes almost neurotic. She didn't deserve to have her work insulted by these lazy old cunts and the stupid, myopic managers!
She secretly texted Darren, asking him to call her and pretend there was an emergency. That way, she'd have an excuse to leave early.
So, Darren called, asked her if she was okay. Physically, yes. Emotionally, no way. After she hung up, Pearl politely apologized and said she needed to go.
She left that unit with a frown on her face. She was debating asking for what little money she'd made this day. Was it even worth it? She didn't have Britt's number. At the very least she had to find him to let him know she was leaving. When she happened to see him walking by with a vacuum that might've been broken, she marched over to him and said she had an emergency and was going to leave for the day.
"Okay," Britt said, "clock out and meet me up front to get your cash."
Oh, so that problem was solved. He was going to pay her anyway. Pearl shrugged and said, "I'll put my supplies up first."
That took her a good few minutes. She wanted every item to be in its assigned place. Then she clocked out and went up to the private unit where money and likely other things were kept. It was a sad little trailer, really. At the front door, Britt took out his keys and said, "It's hot out here. Why don't you come inside for a minute?"
At that moment, Pearl was the myopic one.
It was pretty hot outside, to be honest.
The interior was cluttered. Not filthy, just full of stuff. Boxes and file cabinets of stuff. Papers, tools, lawn ornaments, etc. Britt stood near a stupidly old computer and used it to calculate how much money was owed, even though he could've just used a god damn 1970s calculator instead of a 1980s computer. It would've been much faster and less stupid. And all this was for half a day of work. Maybe this wasn't worth it after all.
But he didn't give her money right away. Smirking, he stepped forward and asked her, "Are you really thirty?" Did his tongue dip into a corner of his lips? "You really don't look it."
Pearl's spine felt like ice had been rubbed up and down its length.
She grimaced and said very sweetly, "Oh, I need to use the bathroom. Do you have one?" His head jerked towards a door. She tried not to run there, but she probably did. She locked herself in the bathroom, silenced her phone, and texted Darren. The house was maybe five minutes from the lake.
"Get over here now. It's probably nothing. I'm probably fine, but get over here."
Pearl flushed the toilet and ran the water. She checked her phone. Darren had given a text very quickly.
"I'm coming. If you need to call the cops, do it. If you need to kill someone, go for it."
She gave basic directions to the unit she was in, just in case she'd end up stuck inside. She put the volume on her phone back on and exited the bathroom. Britt was lingering near that door, which made her gasp. And he didn't even have her money yet! This really wasn't worth it, never had been. She should've just gone straight home.
"Oh," Pearl said as she walked a half of a circle away from the man, "so where's my money?"
Britt tried to change the subject again. "Do you have any kids? That might be why you look so good."
"Look, if you don't want to give me the money, then fine. I don't need it." She nearly tripped on a cardboard box of old summery decorations. The fright had distracted her enough to look down to see why that had happened. Then, there were quick footsteps and a grip on her arm.
Nope!!
She tried to shove him off. "Let me go!"
Disturbing recklessness in his eyes, he truly licked his lips then, and he only pulled her closer. He reeked. Celebrity approved cologne, sweat, and dust. Pearl twisted his fingers, which made him yelp, and then she tried to get away.
The asshole actually moved forward and slapped her, back of the hand across her face.
Maybe he thought she was actually poor or something, desperate to keep the job. Maybe he thought she was an easy target, simple to intimidate. Maybe he thought that because she was on the shorter side and not portly in any way she could be physically manipulated with little consequences. Maybe. Maybe so. Or maybe he was just mentally unwell. Maybe he was on drugs. Pearl didn't know, and frankly she couldn't give any less shits about his reasoning behind all this.
Yes, she did bend to the force of the blow. She couldn't help it. He was physically stronger then her. But when he said she'd better shut up or she'd lose her job, that was when her brain jolted and her eyes ricocheted in a panicky search for a weapon. She happened to see an old looking hammer. Why the fuck not? She had to dive out of the man's path to get it.
A standoff.
Angrily staring at each other.
Six seconds of furious silence.
Pearl broke it.
"You done fucked up, Dipshit."
She tried to walk around back to the bathroom, hoping to lock herself back in and call the cops. No good. He covered the space between them. Alright. Well, he'd hit her first.
They lived in a Castle Doctrine state.
