Page 34 of Zimyra

“Got it. Later.”

I dial my mother immediately after I end the call with Peter and when she picks up, I ask, “Did you really say I wasn’t bred for the South?”

“Your father and his big mouth. He wasn’t supposed to tell you I said that.”

“What do you mean by that? I’mme. I fit in anywhere I go.”

“That’s what you think. That would be like one of them coming up here. They’ll stick out like sore thumbs and it ain’t no different with you down there.”

“Mother, I promise you, I fit right in.”

“Mmm hmm,” she utters, not believing a word I say. “How are you doing on your top secret mission? Your father won’t tell mewhyyou’re there – just that you’re working.”

“I’m doing well. There’s no need for you to worry. I know how you get.”

“Why did you have to go down there in the first place?”

“For work.”

“Be more specific.”

“I can’t.”

“Mmpt, mmpt, mmpt…just like your father. You two are going to learn your lesson one day about keeping me in the dark about everything.”

“It’s for your own good, Mother, now I have to get back to work.”

“It’s after seven. Don’t tell me you’re still on the clock.”

“Mother, I love you. Have a good night.”

“Goodnight, Son. I love you, too.”

After a quick shower, I lay across my bed naked and ask myself why I’m going to bat for a woman who hates me. Yeah, Zimyra is on my mind yet again and I seriously do not like it. I don’t concern myself with anything but my job – yet she’s managed to infiltrate my thoughts every night since we met. I have to break that cycle. It’s too much of a burden to be thinking about a woman all the time. I’d rather think about money.

Speaking of, I couldn’t believe her salary. With her massive workload and the amount of steady income she makes for Leverage, she’s worth so much more. I’m beginning to see why employees complain so much when it comes to management. If, as a manager, you know a person is going above and beyond for your company – your brand – why would younotpay them accordingly? I’ll have to address this issue across the board when I return to my real job. In the meantime, I’ll stay the course. Tomorrow is another workday, and I plan on getting my hands dirty instead of watching Mauricio do all the work.

CHAPTER 12

Mauricio comes by to getthe maintenance report for the day. On the list is a repair for 402-B, Mrs. Hernandez, who reported that her smoke detector is chirping, so I need the battery to be replaced. The other maintenance for the day is outside. There’s a pothole in the parking lot in front of Building 2. A rideshare driver backed into the handicapped parking sign overnight in front of Building 1. I saw it mangled as soon as I came in this morning, so I added that to the list. Then there’s the pool. It’s mostly not used during this time of the year because it’s late April. Still, it needs to be cleaned.

Again, I don’t see Axel. I hope I didn’t run him off. I do not want to go through the hassle of trying to find a replacement, so perhaps I could be a tad nicer when he’s around.

Anyway, the morning is breezing by. I finished notifying tenants of the maintenance that was completed yesterday. I also take the time to vacuum the fitness room and sterilize the machines. Afterward, I go outside to take in some fresh air and get the cleaning fumes out of my nose. Since I’m already outside, I do a walk around the grounds, just to visually inspect for trash and such or to see if anything is out of place or issues that need to be addressed. That’s when I see Axel heading my way. He looks hot and sweaty and for a man like him, that’s definitely not a bad thing. Even with dirty clothes and sweat running down his face, he looks like a million bucks. I’d never tell him that, nor do I act like these women around here who fawn over him. One tenant even asked me if he was single.

Steps away from me, but still taking steps, he asks, “How am I supposed to get ahold of you when you’re not in the office?”

“Is there a problem?”

“The problem is, I need to be able to contact you when you’re not at your desk.”

“Okay.” I take out my cell phone and ask, “What’s your number?”

He frowns a bit, but rambles off his number. I key it into my phone, and then dial his number. When I hear his cell ring, I say, “There. Now, you can reach me. Is there anything you need?”

He stares at me for a moment, or maybe it’s a glare. I really can’t tell. He says, “On the list for the day, you have a repair for the handicap sign.”

“Yep.”

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