Page 25 of Fifth Avenue Fling

The inter-word spacing is crowded. I hate the font. There is underlining and italicseverywhere. That’s why Ihatereading printed copies. Most of them aren’t dyslexia-friendly.

My reading pen is better with small amounts of text, not full-length novels like this beast. It’ll read it out line by line, but it takes forever.

Flipping through, I see reams and reams of text interspaced with images. Did Quinn really make his housekeeper, Mrs. Dalton, create this ridiculously detailed manual for cleaning his house?

Maybe it’s all lies. I’ll walk past a graveyard near Central Park and spot a grave markedMrs. Daltonwho died two days before my arrival.

The manual is split into sections—workweek schedule, detailed house layout, dietary requirements, health and safety, security, and emergency contacts.

I flip back to the first section with the heading ‘The Quinn family’s weekly schedule’.

Monday. Quinn gets up at 5 a.m. expecting his protein smoothie and coffee waiting for him before he goes for a run. His high-protein breakfast needs to be prepared by 6 a.m. At 6:30, he leaves for work.

5 a.m. Fucking yuck.

I run the pen over it a few times, hoping it’s faulty.

I only get up at 5 a.m. if I’m setting off on an early walk of shame or need to catch a flight. Mondays are hard enough without adding unnecessary torture. Billionaire brains must be wired differently than a normal working-class person’s.

Teagan wakes up at 7 a.m., and I need to have breakfast ready at 7:20 so she can leave by 7:45. I prepare a healthy snack box for her to take to school.

So father and daughter don’t even get to see each other in the mornings.

I slowly scan pages and pages of granular details with everything planned out for the Quinn family.

Everythingis planned to a T. Every breakfast, dinner, evening, activity.

Teagan does so many after-school activities that I hardly have to nanny her. I have to make sure she does her homework before dinner and check it when she’s done. Blah. I wasn’t great in school the first time around.

What about the days when Quinn’s had too much to drink and his head’s hanging out his asshole? Or when it’s pouring rain outside, and he’s not willing to brave a run?

Those days don’t exist. Not on paper, anyway.

Teagan stays at her grandmother’s some Tuesday nights when Mr. Quinn may have female guests stay over.Sounds transactional.

Discretion is expected when Mr. Quinn’s guests are visiting.

“Jesus,” I say aloud, blinking. Everything is laid out for Quinn, even sex. Is he ever spontaneous?

I wonder what his Tuesday lady friends are like. They’re probably high-flying executives who only have time for sex once a week. Like the beautiful one he was with in the hotel.

The company credit card will be used for all purchases. Domestic staff have a personal allowance of $1500 per week for food, clothes, and entertainment. Any increase must be approved by Mr. Quinn.

I read it again.

And again.

Then flop about on the mattress, thrashing my legs about the bed like I’m doing a backstroke.

The sound that erupts from me is pure, raw hysteria.

The next section really has my eyes hanging out of my head.

Off-limits areas.

The following areas are off-limits unless you have specific permission from Mr. Quinn. Off-limits areas are marked in red on the floor plan.

Sure enough, she has included a floor plan breakdown with red circles. I feel like I’m studying for a master’s program in maidhood.

---