Page 8 of Maid for My Billionaire Boss
“I brought your smoothie.” I held up the shaker before I slid it in front of her. “Try it.”
She opened the flip lid, taking a small sip. Then she lowered it, leveling it with her eyes as she studied the outside. “That’s good. Not at all what I was expecting.”
Josiah cut in with an amused voice, “You’re lucky you didn’t get the prototypes.”
Her eyes that matched Trey’s locked on him, and her pale lips bent up at the corner. “Were they that bad?”
Josiah pretended to dry heave. “It was like eating garbage.”
Mrs. Michael pointed to the shaker in her hand. “But you’ll drink this one?”
“That one is acceptable.”
“Well, if this helps control my weight, I’ll be your biggest fan.” She started to take another sip, but her action was thwarted when the front door flew open and shut. I turned, expecting to see Trey, but instead, it was a tall ginger-haired woman who had curves that would make a Southern back road jealous.
“Well, good morning, Tonya,” Mrs. Michael called from her place at the table. “It’s early for you to be here.”
Tonya’s gaze held forward. “I’d have to say the same thing to you.” When her breath blew out, it brought the smell of meatloaf with it and not like a soul-food, cooking from the South meatloaf. More likea soggy, left in the fridge for days, but I gotta choke it down to avoid being wastefulscent. It made me wonder how a woman so pretty could overlook a detail that foul-smelling. My stomach hurled at her meat-infused breath as I watched her blow right past us, down the hall.
“He’s still upstairs in his room,” Mrs. Michael called after her, but the only sound we heard was footsteps ascending the stairs.
“She seems like a lovely woman,” I said, a little dismayed.
“She’s not really,” Mrs. Michael said into the open lid of her shaker before taking another generous drink.
I struggled to hold back a snort, and thankfully, somehow managed to leave that comment alone by acting distracted as I checked the time on my watch. I moved toward the steps before calling back, “Enjoy your smoothie. I need to get started upstairs today. Your son had said something about making sure the entertainment room was cleaned because he’s having company tonight.”
“Oh, yes.” Her voice sounded like it was inviting gossip. “It’s investor suck-up week.”
“Really?” Looking back at her, I waited in case she wanted to expand, but she didn’t. That was okay, because her comment had put me in a melancholy mood, reminding me of my own husband, who had also been a businessman—well, an accidental one.
My husband had lived with the soul of an artist and all he ever wanted to do was create. For him to bring his art to his customers, he had bought an old brick building right on the main drag of our small town. It drained every penny we had ever saved, and even then, some more. Without even one buck left over for renovations, we taught ourselves every handyman skill we needed to remodel it into a studio.
The art studio paid for itself, but not any extra, so to pay our bills, he had bought the building next to it to put in a gift shop. The following year, the building on the other side of the studio went into a foreclosure auction. We eagerly acquired that building to expand into a large events venue. None of his businesses ever became overly lucrative, and we always had to stretch to take on more debt. I remembered clearly how stressful those investor meetings had been. Now the stress which had clouded those moments had been lifted and I saw those memories through a gilded filter.I’d give anything to go back.
A storm of footsteps unleashed, barreling down the stairs. Tonya flew around the corner, and I thought she would ignore us again, but instead, she stopped, squaring her body with Mrs. Michael, who was still at the table. Trey was right on her heel and first to speak. “Tonya, let me handle this.”
Tonya parked her hand on her hip and gave Mrs. Michaela please go check yourself into the nursing homeglare. “Are you finally going to tell your mom to butt out?”
Mrs. Michael sucked in a loud gasp, her eyes flying to her son.
Trey immediately cut in, “No, I’m not going to say that.”
“Trey,” Tonya seemed to be almost pleading with him. “She got me a T-shirt that said, ‘Nobody’s Home.’ She was basically telling me I’m dumb.”
His chest rose slowly, and his eyes locked on his mother. “Tonya and I were talking, and she’s a little hurt by the gifts you gave her last night.” His eyes bounced back to his girlfriend for a moment before bringing them back to his mom. “I can understand why. I know you didn’t mean to offend her, but maybe in the future you can stick to gift cards?”
Mrs. Michael triple blinked while she looked back at her son. “I don’t understand how you can be mad at me for getting her presents.”
He moved closer to his mom, reaching an arm around her shoulder. “We can talk more about it later, but right now everyone needs to calm down.” His stressed eyes landed back on Tonya. “Right?”
“Not right.” Tonya stuck her jaw forward. “I want an apology.”
Trey buried his free hand deep into the front of his dark hair, letting it slide down the back of his head, before hooking it on his neck. “I know you do, but I don’t think she is going to see it your way. It’s best to give us all some time to think and let me talk to her later.”
Mrs. Michael’s head turned to stare at her son. “Talk to me about what?”
Nodding his head like it would help him get his words out, he said, “This whole thing. We need to talk, but I can’t do it now. I have prep to do. So”—he spread his arms out in front of him and pushed them to the sides, like he was wiping a desk clean— “can we let this go for now and I’ll come back to it next week?”
