say if I broke them? I pushed the car out into the hallway, nodding at a fashionable couple walking by. They ignored me. Where are they going? To the theater? The opera? It was easy to get lost in fanciful dreams working at a hotel, and to pass the time, I permitted myself to think about what it might be like to lie in a bed of freshly pressed linens and fluffed pillows. While dusting the golden trim, I’d peek into closets and admire the couture clothing hanging within, the jewels spread across dresser tops, the perfume bottles that cost as much as six months’ rent. I once dabbed a little on my wrist, breathing in the exotic floral scent of wealth and luxury, until I thought of Estella, then quickly scrubbed with soap and water.
As I made my way through each suite, I’d dream up stories about the lives of the guests, always wondering what it would be like for me, for Daniel, if our circumstances were different.
I stopped at room 503 and knocked. Music played inside. Jazz, maybe. “Just a minute,” a female voice called out, followed by the sound of giggling.
Moments later the door opened and a beautiful woman appeared, about my age. Her breasts brimmed over the edge of a pale pink lace nightgown cinched tightly around her waist. Her short hair, dyed to a striking yellow blond, curled slightly at the ends, just like in the advertisements. When she looked down at the cart, I could see the dark of her natural color peeking through the roots. “Oh, goody,” she squealed, running her index finger along the edge of the cake and then licking it, ignoring my presence entirely. “Lon,” she cooed into the room, “you devil, you. You know champagne and chocolate is my weakness.”
I followed her inside. The air smelled of musky cologne, and my cheeks burned red when I noticed a half-clothed man lying in the bed. With the coverlet draped at his waist, he looked like a king propped up against a bevy of pillows. “Just set it over here by me, doll,” he said kindly, looking straight into my eyes. I turned away, embarrassed at the sight of his bare chest, tan and dewy, like he’d just exerted himself.
“Oh,” he said, grinning, beckoning me to hold eye contact with him. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Are you new here?”
“No, sir,” I said. “I mean, well, yes, sir. Just six months.”
The woman looked very annoyed by our exchange. “Lonnie,” she whined, “let me feed you some cake.”
“In a minute, Susie,” he said without taking his eyes off me. “I’m Lon Edwards. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you.” He extended his hand. The woman brooded.
I took it awkwardly, unsure of what to say, so I squeaked, “I’m Vera. Vera Ray.”
“Pleased to meet you, dear,” he said, tucking a crisp one-dollar bill into my apron pocket.
I stood back and curtsied. “Thank you, sir, er, Lon; I mean, Mr. Edwards.”
“I hope to see you again,” he said, grinning, before turning his gaze back to Susie, who appeared starved for his attention—and the chocolate cake.
“Yes, sir,” I stammered. “Thank you, sir. Good night.”
As the door clicked closed behind me, I exhaled, just as I saw Gwen waiting for me in the hallway. Short, plump, with an unfortunate scar on her left cheek, she rarely frowned or complained, which is why I had taken to her immediately.
“Estella sent me up to help you with this floor,” she chirped. “Big group coming in. We have to work fast.” She grinned. “I see you’ve met Lon.”
I shrugged, patting my pocket. “He tips well.”
Gwen grinned. “He also has a thing for maids.”
“Gwen!” I puffed. “You’re not saying that I would—”
“No, no,” she said, poking my side playfully with the edge of her feather duster. “It’s just that the woman with him now—Susie—she used to work in housekeeping, before you started.”
“You mean, she was…?”
Gwen nodded. “Just like us. And now he keeps her in his suite, all fancy and made up, at his beck and call.”
My cheeks flushed at the thought. “How perfectly terrible.”
Gwen shrugged. “Susie doesn’t seem to think so. He gives her a hundred dollars a week, and access to his car and driver. Sure beats scrubbing the floors.”
“A hundred dollars a week?”
Gwen looked wistful. “A fortune.”
“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath and then exhaling away the thought. “I’d never put myself up for sale like that.”