Page 28 of Liar Byrd
I swallow, trying to project confidence I don’t feel. “I’m here for the job.”
I wait ten seconds, then start looking for a camera, assuming the woman doesn’t like the sound of me. I’m about to speak again when I jump as the black gates slowly swing open.
I look at the four or five-story Gothic-style stone house in the distance, take in the vines creeping up it, and try to ignore the sense that someone is watching me as I walk inside. Every moment feels like a movie, and not the happy-ever-after kind.
A woman in a light gray dress and white half-apron swings open a big black door before I can knock.
She looks to be over fifty, her dark brown eyes are suspicious, and stains cover the front of her apron. Just thinking about food makes my stomach growl, and it's so empty that I feel like I ate that cheese and ham sandwich a lifetime ago.
“I’m here for the job,” I tell the woman when she does nothing but stare at me.
She opened the gates when I told her what I was here for. Now she’s taken one look at me, and it’s clear she doesn’t like me, trust me, or think I’m up to the task of being a maid.
She’s right to do all three. I’m about to open my mouth and tell her nothing but lies, and I have no experience as a maid. First impressions count, and the shitty dye job, hoodie, and jeans probably don’t help with her impression of me.
Clearing my throat, I brush my hands down the front of my jeans, offering up a smile. “I know it’s not interview wear, but I wanted to come up and ask about the job as soon as I heard about it in case someone else beat me to it.”
Mainly because I have no food, no money, and nowhere to sleep tonight, and the other big thing this job comes with is a room. I’d be sleeping on the streets or likely in the forest otherwise.
The woman is getting ready to shut the door in my face—I can tell because her fingers tighten around the side of the door—when a man calls out from behind her.
“Let her in, Nance. I didn’t hear a car, which means she came all this way on foot. The least we can do is interview her for the position.”
He sounds nice. Nothing like the serial killer I was expecting to meet after the grocery store owner’s warnings.
Nance’s lips flatten, and slowly, reluctantly, she releases a sigh as she pulls the door open and takes a step to the side, giving me room to walk in.
The house is as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside.
Outside, it was gray stone with vines twisting around it, making me feel like I was in a fairy tale. Inside, it resembles an English manor house with deep chocolate brown paneling, a sweeping staircase, and a portrait of a beautiful woman wearing a brilliant green necklace hanging in the entryway.
“You’re not from town.”
I jump, my eyes flicking to my left.
While I was busy ogling the incredible house, the man who told Nance to let me inside was watching me. His hair is a deep brown, his eyes are a gold-caramel color, and his clothes look expensive.
He stands in an open doorway, hands in his pants pockets, watching me. “Sorry for startling you.”
“You didn’t startle me.”
Bang.
My feet leave the floor when Nance slams the door shut.
She, I can’t help but notice, doesn’t apologize for scaring me shitless.
A small line appears between his dark brows. “Why don’t you get back to the kitchen, Nance? I know you’re busy with dinner. I can interview her for the job.”
He sounds like he came with the house. His voice is low, but cultured, and he speaks confidently.
Nance walks away without a word.
The man refocuses on me. “My office is this way.”
I have seven dollars and twenty-five cents in my pocket. I don’t just want this job. I need it. Licking my dry lips, I follow him into the room he disappeared through.
His office is immaculate.
