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.
The business end was swung. She didn't do so well. The thick metal grazed his cheek. He grabbed the arm with the hammer, but she wouldn't drop it. He apparently didn't think to grab the hand itself. Just the arm. As for the free arm, Pearl used it to put a punch at his throat, all while screaming, "LET ME GO!!"
Okay, so her aim wasn't very good. She didn't quite punch his throat. She ended up putting a smart tap on the side of his neck. That wasn't enough to get him off her.
It was only then that he seemed to understand that he needed to do something with the hand holding the hammer. He seized her full fist and tugged. Her whole body moved forward with that, and she hated it, but she wouldn't let that hammer go.
Instead, she rammed her knee up, hoping to get his crotch.
Aaaaaand she missed and tripped. God damn it. Her bark really was worse than her bite. She didn't even have much of a bite.
One of Britt's legs moved up and his foot stomped on her leg. It fucking hurt, especially since he had on sneakers. Crying out, Pearl collapsed onto the floor. That arm with the hammer was behind held in the air. Britt's thick fingers dug into her hair and pulled hard, forcing her back up. She screamed at that.
The entrance/exit door was slammed open.
Apparently, Britt had been too much of a dumbass to lock the door.
Exhilaration and relief swelled in Pearl's chest when she saw Darren sprinting over to the scene.
Within those thin seconds, Pearl gained enough confidence to know that Britt had really done fucked up, as she'd told him before.
It took what felt like no time for Darren to get Britt off of her. Pearl was so at ease that she sat down on a closed box and put the hammer in her lap. While Britt was suffering under the wrath of six feet and nine inches, approximately 2.057 meters, of thick muscle and healthy fat, Pearl leisurely opened her backpack to get her phone. She called the police.
When the dust was finally settled, when all the cleaners were watching with fallen jaws, the police took Britt away. He looked like he needed an ambulance along with his jail time. Darren had bloody knuckles and a few bruises, but he looked fine. He was far more concerned with Pearl, hugging her and angrily murmuring about how he'd wanted to break all that man's fingers.
Pearl looked over the the nice Lumbee women and said, "Tell Greg I fucking quit!" Then she said to Darren that she wanted to go to a hospital. She wasn't sure about herself. That stomp she'd gotten was rather painful. "But maybe you should get some treatment too," she said. "You might be more hurt than we know."
In the hospital, while Pearl was being examined, she was already getting texts from Greg, the other manager. Apologies, asking if she was okay, and of course, when would she be back to work. Pearl texted back that he no longer wished to work for him, but she thanked him for the opportunity anyway. Greg persisted, although, to be fair, he wasn't being particularly hateful. He was mostly being whiny.
Darren didn't like it.
First, Darren asked the doctor if it was okay to talk on the phone inside the hospital. The doctor said it was fine. Then, Darren asked if it was okay to yell. The doctor put her foot down then. Darren said fine. He could go to the parking lot. Pearl whined a little. She wanted to hear Darren rip the guy a new asshole. Chuckling, Darren said he'd record the phone call just so she could listen to it later.
It was actually pretty funny. The one-party consent law was in play here, not that they planned on using the recording for anything other than personal entertainment.
What Pearl listened to on the drive back home was hilarious.
First, Darren was polite. Unrelenting, but polite. No, Sir. Pearl's not going back to work. She'd said so herself. Well, poor Greg hadn't known what he was getting into. He kept asking if he could speak to Pearl instead. Normally, he'd have a good point by saying that, but Pearl had already told Greg that she'd quit and didn't want to come back. And ... well ... there was the fact that she'd been fucking assaulted on the job by his brother!!
Greg's persistence was his undoing.
"You know what's weird?" Darren had said with a rising tone. "You haven't mentioned a damn thing about her fucking medical costs!! She was clocked out but she hadn't been paid yet, and instead of giving her what was legally fucking owed, ONE OF HER MANAGERS ASSAULTED HER WHILE HE WAS WORKING FOR YOUR COMPANY!!"
