Page 3 of Shape Of My Heart
Amy nodded and fixed her red beret back onto her head. She was very unlikely to forget Zelda’swarning.
Well, here’s to her first day ofthisjob.
She was sure she was in for a veryinterestingday.
* * *
Amy pulledup in front of Mr. Mancini’s beach house in Malibu at eleven. Located on the oceanfront, it offered a panoramic view of the ocean and sandybeach.
She got out of her car and took a moment toadmireit.
Now this was the ultimate definition of modern and creative, eye catching for anyone with a taste for design. The house was truly beautiful and impressive with its extraordinary geometric design and architecture. Fashionable shades of cream and burgundy adorned the concrete walls. It had a flat roof and a grand wooden door that fit perfectly with the glossy windows that were as tall as they were wide. Cedar beams ran over the front porch, adding more character anddefinition.
Amidst the manicured lawn, cascade of fantail palms, and assortment of exotic plants, it looked like a cut out from a holiday brochure. She’d read that this area was a celeb haven. Amy could definitely see why. A bubble of excitement lifted within her and she couldn’t wait to see what was inside thehouse.
She wondered what he was going to be like. From the look of the house she could tell he had great taste and an interest in style. People like that tended to be outgoing and friendly, so maybe Zelda was wrong. Maybe she was one of those women who were over dramatic and jumped to her ownconclusions.
Amy stepped out of the way to allow a couple jogging with their two retrievers to go by. She then grabbed her purse and proceeded up the steps to the house and opted for ringing the bell as opposed to using the keys Zelda gave her to let herself in. She just thought it was the correct thing to do, especially for someone like him. She may have lived in a trailer park for a rough chunk of her life, but she was as much a southern belle as any of those upper-class girls raised in wealth, with impeccable manners and the correct ways ofetiquette.
Besides, if it were her, she didn’t think she’d be too happy if some stranger came into her house completely unannounced and uninvited. She wanted to start off on the right foot with him and didn’t plan to run off like the other PAs. She wasn’t going to allow anyone to push her out of this job, either. Those other PAs might not have needed to be here like she did, maybe theywereweak.
She waited patiently, straightened out her blazer, and rolled her beaded bracelets up her arms so they’d stop clinking every time she moved. After a few minutes she rang the bell again and continuedtowait.
Fifteen minutes later she was still outside. Maybe he wasn’t in. She moved over to the window but couldn’t see anything because the curtains blocked out any view of the house’s interior. She waited another five minutes before she decided to use the keys, hoping that it wouldbeokay.
As the door swung open the first thing that hit her was the strong, pungent stench of alcohol. The image of a cheap hangout came to mind as that damp, hadn’t-been-cleaned-everbeer smell filled her nostrils. Like the kind of place that would attract the likes of her father. The smell reminded her of him and discomfort filled her stomach at therecollection.
“Hello?” she called out, brushing the memoryaside.
There was no answer. She ventured in farther and was greeted by a landmine of garbage in the living room. Pizza boxes, bottles of cider, bottles of wine piled on top of each other. Packets of this and that, junk galore everywhere. The floor was covered and so were the sofas in the living room. What was worse was that there were dirty clothes mixed in with it. Men’s clothes and women’sunderwear.
The sight took away from the beauty and tasteful design of the room and from what she could see around her. She didn’t bother to look too much for fear of what else shemightsee.
There was another stale smell that she suspected was rotten food. Amy was a clean person who was obsessed with organization and having her surroundings tidy. She also believed in clean eating and eating for optimum health. This room and everything around her were an abomination to her and everything shebelievedin.
A series of female giggles pierced the silence. She looked upstairs to where the sound resonated and saw two women in barely-there bikinis running down the steps. Behind them was Joshua Mancini himself wearing a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. He was chasing thewomen.
Amy geared herself up to meet her new employer. Even if she was appalled at the state of the house, she had to make that first impression agoodone.
As he got closer she saw that he was truly handsome, indeed, with his sleek muscles and untamed pride. What she saw online was totally drool worthy, but those images had nothing on the real-life Joshua Mancini who was six feet six and extremely well built with a ridged wall of a chest that bulged against the soft fabric of his t-shirt. He was breathtaking to look at with his black, shiny, spiky hair, tanned skin, and piercing eyes with an unusual mix of blue andgreen.
Turquoise. That was the color. It was turquoise, like the sea in somewhere like the Caribbean. Not that she’d ever been, but she’d seen enoughpictures.
He was the kind of man that made you want to stare, even against your will. She quickly adjusted herself and her focus. It would do her no good to go all girlie weak-kneed and turn into some babbling buffoon in front of him. She had to lookprofessional.
He looked her over with appreciation as he made his descent down the stairs and stopped a few paces away from her, making her feel like a dwarf even in her heels that added an extra two inches to her mere five feet and four inches. The women joined him and giggled as they tried to fix eachother’shair.
“Good, the stripper’s here,” he said with a wide smile that revealed super-gorgeous dimples in his exotic high cheek bones. It took her a second or two to realize that he was referringtoher.
“No, no I’m from the agency,” she repliedquickly.
“Doll, you’re going to have to be more specific than that. What agency did you come from? There’s Kelly’s, Tina’s Angels, Bert’s Whore’s from Hell, but you don’t look like the girls he usually sends. And the list continues.” He was drunk. His words slurred and he smelled like wine and the beer that filled thehouse.
The women ran into the other room and grabbed theirjackets.
“Come on, Josh, we don’t want to be late,” said the dark-haired one that looked like a Barbie doll. Actually, theybothdid.
Amy decided to ignore thedebacle.
