Quarter to Midnight Pt. 01

Renée rinsed a glass and racked it in the dishwasher. "I'm not going to drink. It ain't like I haven't, but I'd like to keep my shit together."

Aaron turned around, leaned against the counter, and watched the stragglers while he talked. "You look great tonight."

"Yeah? Well I don't much like being hit on by married drunks with their wives watching. I apologized to Carol because of Sam."

"Their Uber should be here pretty soon." Aaron turned around close to Renée and stroked her arm. "I should thank you for all you've done."

Renée pulled her arm away and stepped back. "Do I have to apologize to your girlfriend, too?" She glanced at the clock. "I'm going. I'll be here in the morning to do my laundry."

It was mid-morning when Renée shifted her laundry basket to her hip and unlocked the kitchen door. She stopped inside with the door still open behind her. Shelly was at the table. She set her phone down and smiled at Renée. "We didn't talk much last night. I'm Shelly."

Renée set the laundry basket on the table and stepped back to close the door. "I'm Renée. Is Aaron up yet?"

"He just got in the shower." Shelly looked at the clothes in Renée's basket. "It doesn't look like you're keeping a guy out in the little house."

Renée rolled her eyes. "Oh God, no! I'm tryin' to get away from every guy I've known for the last two years." She paused a moment. "Look, I'm not after Aaron, either. He's all yours."

That made Shelly laugh. "I don't want him either." She stood up from the table and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "I was just going for a walk. Why don't you come with me? It's a beautiful morning, and we can talk."

Renée hesitated. "Sure. I have time." She gave the laundry basket a little shove. "This can wait all day if I want."

Shelly walked past Sam's car with long strides, swinging her hands at her sides, then slowed to a comfortable pace when Renée couldn't keep up. It took a moment for Renée to catch her breath. "Have you known Aaron very long? I haven't seen you around."

"Seven year? Eight years? We dated in college, but that didn't work out. Now we're friends." Shelly shrugged. "Occasionally with benefits. That isn't going to last much longer. I want something more stable, and not with Aaron. Do you get along with him?"

"I stay away from him when I can. I don't really get him at all."

"Yeah, he's a mess." Shelly turned a corner, and they walked uphill with the morning sun behind them. "It seems like Aaron has a great future, but he doesn't have a great past. His biological dad killed his mom when he was too young to remember, and he grew up in foster homes.

"He's smart and aggressive, but sometimes he's neurotic as a cat." Shelly shaded her eyes with one hand and pointed up the street to a shady park at the top of the hill. "It's a half-mile around the park, then down hill back to Aaron's.

"So, is being a housekeeper your life plan?"

Renée wasn't sure how to answer. "I didn't have plans 'til I started taking care of Aaron's place. Now I'm doin' his house, and two of the neighbors. It pays some, you know, but I think I want to finish high school and maybe see where that takes me."

They turned the corner at the top of the hill to circle the park. The high-pitched sounds of children's voices carried over the lawns, and people walked their dogs along the tree-lined streets. Shelly waved at an old couple they passed then watched Renée for a moment. "I might be able to help you with that. I work at the community college. The summer semester starts in two weeks. A lot of the classes are online, so you wouldn't even have to go to the campus."

Renée watched the pavement in front of her then glanced at Shelly. "The money for that is goin' to have to come from somewhere. Maybe I can use Aaron's old laptop for the classes. I dunno."

"Don't worry about the money. There are public and private programs to fund returning students. We'll work it out."

"That all sounds like what I want." Renee had a lot more to talk about, but not right then. They watched kids playing in the park until they turned the corner, and they were walking down the hill into the sun before Renée broke the silence. "How crazy is Aaron?"

"He's not really crazy—usually. Sometimes when he's stressed—you know, tired, frustrated—he can get impulsive and kind of violent, and then he regrets it. He's also got this thing about ownership. I guess that's really why I couldn't date him very long. He wanted to own me, and I had to say 'whoa,' and back out."

Shelly turned her head to watch Renée. "I'm surprised you haven't run into problems yet." Renée set her jaw, and her expression was enough to tell Shelly a story. "So that's why you stay away from him?"

"Pretty much. That, and because he's a little odd." Renée covered her mouth and laughed. "He bought a French maid uniform and wanted me to wear it when I cleaned his house. No way."

Shelly laughed. "One of those kinky, frilly things?"

"No. I think he wanted it to be like that, but it had this big, awful apron, fit like a sack, and went below my knees. I wear it when I clean the Graingers. Mrs. Grainger is like, from Paris, and she likes it—or maybe she just thinks it's funny."

Sam's car was gone when they got back to Aaron's. Renée got a glass of water from the fridge, and she dropped into a chair. "Now my legs hurt." She stretched them out in front of her, flexed her ankles, and talked without looking up. "I guess my laundry will wait for a few more minutes."

Renée's laundry waited most of the day. Aaron was digging through the freezer trying to find the dinner he hated the least when she walked through the kitchen. The laundry basket on her hip was full of dry and folded clothes, and she held her little flip-phone to her ear.

Aaron backed out of the freezer as Renée closed her phone, and her eyes were wide when she looked up at him. "They know where I am. That was Mom. Some Eastsiders found her, and she told them where I was so they wouldn't beat her up.

"Mom doesn't know the address or anything, but she knows enough for them to find the neighborhood."

Aaron dropped a box on the counter in front of the microwave. "So now what do they do? Cruise the neighborhood until they find you?"

"They've done it before. Not to me. I saw 'em do it to some pimp they wanted to get rid of, and it worked."

"You'll have to stay inside until they get bored looking for you." Aaron turned around, tore the box open, and set the time.

"I can't work that way. I have to walk to the Grainger's. I have to walk to the Minton's. I have to walk to the supermarket."

Aaron pulled into his driveway after work on Wednesday and found three dark and sinewy guys watching from a sunburned sedan across the street. He jumped to the conclusion that they were Eastsiders. If they were waiting, then they knew where Renée was, but they didn't have her yet.

Renée met him in the foyer. "They saw me when I was comin' back from the Minton's. I barely got the door locked behind me. Now they're waitin' for somethin'—for dark maybe."

Aaron left his briefcase where Renée met him. His eyes searched the expression on her face. He caught his breath and decided to do business with the devil.

"Wait here, and be ready to call for help." Aaron was still in the suit he wore to trial when he locked the door behind him. He walked slowly and kept his eyes on the men in the car, then stopped three feet away.

The driver waved an automatic where Aaron could see it. "We don't want trouble with you. We just want the bitch."

Even from three feet away, the men reeked of sweat, pot, and cigarettes "What did she do to you?"

"She ripped us off. We want our money."

The guy in the back seat leaned out of the smoky shadows. "And her ass for interest."

Aaron's heart was pounding. "How much do you want? How much does she owe you?"

The driver looked at the man beside him then over his shoulder. "A thousand bucks."

Aaron could do a thousand. He motioned up the hill. "Meet me in the park in forty minutes. You'll get your cash, but I get the bitch."

Forty minutes seemed like a lot of time until Aaron got into the traffic on his way to the bank. There were fifteen minutes left on the clock when he walked out of the bank with a wad of benjamins in his pocket. He called the police when he thought he was ten minutes from the park, and he pulled up behind the old sedan.

Aaron counted out bills, then walked up behind the Eastsiders with cash in hand. "The thousand she owes you."

The driver took the cash as he counted it out and looked over his shoulder when the guy in back sat forward. "I still want interest. I still want the bitch's ass."

Aaron reached into his pocket and pulled out another wad of cash. He counted as he handed the bills over. "Here's two hundred for her ass, two hundred for her mouth, and two hundred for her cunt. She's mine now. Don't come back."

The man riding shotgun laughed. "Hey, what about her tits?"

Aaron groaned. "She hardly has tits."

The driver flashed his gun again. "What if we keep the money and take the bitch, too?"

"You're out of your 'hood and asking for trouble." Aaron motioned toward the people in the park. "There are a lot of witnesses here, and the cops are on their way."

Aaron turned his back on them with his heart in his throat. He took three steps toward his car before he heard, "Fuck this shit!" and the old sedan peeled out.

Aaron stayed at the park to talk to the police, and he was still coming down from his adrenaline rush when he got home and closed the front door behind him. He threw the bolt and turned around with his hands still shaking a little.

Renée must have been watching from the back house. He heard the kitchen door slam, and then she was in his face. "Where did they go? What did you do?"

He pushed her back. "Oh God, Renée. Back off!"

Renée was right back in his face. "What happened? Are you OK?" Aaron didn't push her back that time. The smell of her nerves and sweat twisted his mind.

Distant sirens wailed while he knotted his fingers in the hair on the back of her head and tipped her back. Her mouth fell open, and she tried to twist out of his grip.

"Don't worry about them." Aaron's voice rasped in Renée's ear, and he squeezed her tit in his hand. Maybe it was small, but it felt good, and she flinched. "I took care of it."

Aaron inhaled the scent that rose from Renée's throat. He owned the way she felt in his grip. He owned the way she fought him and the way she smelled. All that was his. His cock ached even before he forced his hand between her legs, and squeezed her pussy. That was his too.

He lifted Renée off the floor, and she twisted and kicked while he dragged her into the living room. Aaron stopped where she almost twisted away from him, and he dropped her to the carpet.

Aaron held Renée down with his weight and one hand while he pushed his suit pants down, and then he reached between her legs to yank her jeans off. She cursed him, but every word she said was lost in the carpet. He pulled the jeans off one leg, and that was all he needed before he gripped her arm and turned her to see her face.

Renée's wide eyes locked on Aaron's face. "You're hurting me. Don't do it. Please don't do it."

Nothing cut through Aaron's excitement. He covered Renée's mouth with his hand and forced her legs apart. Aaron let her go when she bit his finger, and she screamed at the ceiling as he forced his cock into her.

Aaron slammed into Renée, and she clamped her teeth on his throat. He pulled her head back with a grip on her hair, and forced his cock into her harder, faster as the sensations built around its sensitive head. She clawed at his neck with her short fingernails while he fucked her, and she dug her nails into his face while he arched his back and pumped his cum into her tight cunt.

Renée pushed Aaron away even while his cock was still spurting. She scrambled to her feet with her jeans dragging on her leg then pulled the jeans off and turned on Aaron. "Asshole!" She kicked him in the ribs, ran out through the kitchen, and slammed the door to the little house behind her.

Aaron curled on the carpet and writhed in pain. It wasn't the pain in his side or the pain from Renée's teeth or nails that made him writhe, it was the pain of knowing what he'd done.

He rolled onto his back, hot and sweating, and then struggled out of his jacket and pulled his tie off. He lurched to his feet, left his pants behind, and went after Renée.

Aaron stood outside the little house in growing twilight with his shirt in hand and his boxers barely up. He hunted for her from window, to door, to window. "Renée! Are you OK?" His voice was a quiet hiss. There was no answer, so again, louder. "Renée, answer me!"

There wasn't a sound from inside, and Aaron stepped back from the house. He bellowed at the slowly darkening sky, "Renée!" He caught his breath again. "Renée, answer me!"

One neighbor peered out through a window, and then another. Renée opened the door and stood inside watching Aaron. "Would you shut up? People can hear you."

Aaron took a step toward Renée. "I need to know that I didn't hurt you."

"Damn right you hurt me." She cocked her head and looked more closely. "You're bleeding. I hope that hurts. I have your skin under my fingernails, and your junk is running down my leg. I'm going to take a shower and wash you off."

Renée started to close the door. She stopped, took one step back toward Aaron and slammed her open hand across his face.

* * *

Aaron squinted against the bright sky and watched a crane dangle an air conditioner over the roof of the back house. "They say it'll be working by this afternoon."

Renée stood inside the kitchen door. "Just in time. I heard it's supposed to get muggy today. Are you about ready to go?" She stepped back when Aaron opened the door and, like she'd done for weeks, she stayed an arm's length away from him.

Aaron stopped to let his eyes adjust to the light in the kitchen. "Do you have the shopping list? What are we getting?"

Renée held up a folded scrap of paper. "Not that much, really. Toilet paper. Some cleanin' things. Some food, but you only need stuff for today and tomorrow since you're gone all week."

"Let's go then." Aaron followed Renée to his car, and he followed her while she pushed the shopping cart through the supermarket. "I haven't been in here since you started doing the shopping. It seems strange."

"I'm not sure why you're here now." Renée pointed down the freezer aisle as they passed. "If my plan works, then pretty soon you'll even forget how to cook those disgusting frozen dinners."

"If your plan works, then pretty soon I'll have to spend more time in the gym. What are you making tonight?"

Renée stopped and scanned her list. "It looks like fried chicken, mashed potatoes and fruit salad—unless you want the pork chops instead."

"I'm good with the chicken."

Renée stopped in the paper products and stretched for a package of toilet paper on the top shelf. Aaron reached over her to get it, and noticed that she was less than an arm's length away—and she smiled when she said, "Merci beaucoup."

"That reminds me. How are your classes?"

Renée shoved the cart to get it moving again. "Two more weeks to go. Mrs. Grainger is helpin' me with French II. Pretty soon I'll sound like a Parisienne instead of a hick. There's a lot of readin' in Am Lit, but it works into my schedule." She stopped and checked her list again. "I think we're done."

Aaron unloaded the cart onto the cashier's carousel while Renée counted the household cash. He watched for a moment then surprised her when he took the cash away and handed her a credit card. She turned it over to look at it. "What's this about?"

"That's your new household credit card." Aaron pointed her to the cashier, who was waiting to be paid. "I got it yesterday. The limit's only five hundred, but now you don't have to carry cash."

Renée took a moment to learn how to use the card, and then Aaron carried the toilet paper under one arm, and all the bags in his other hand. Renée tucked the card into her back pocket as they walked. "Thanks. I'll feel safer this way."

Renée was quiet while Aaron piled groceries into the trunk, and she didn't say more until they were in the car. "You don't know your neighbors very well, do you?"

Aaron started the car and watched Renée while he threw it into gear. "How well do I need to know them?"

"If you knew them better, then maybe there wouldn't be so much gossip—especially from you bein' out in your boxers yellin' at me. People make up lots of stories. Some of 'em think that maybe you beat me up. That's kinda true, but instead I keep tellin' 'em that I'm just your housekeeper and you're just my boss."

Aaron didn't like what he heard, and he thought about it until he pulled up at the house, where the electrician was still at work. "I'll have an open house, and we can show them that you're the housekeeper, and I'm the boss."

Renée laughed as she climbed out of the car. "When you say you'll have an open house, I think you mean that I'll have an open house, and I don't even know what that is. When are you going to be here?"

"Friday night. Let's do it Saturday."

They sat at the kitchen table and planned until the crew was done with the little house. Renée stood and pointed. "We'll have dinner at six. Now, I'm gonna enjoy my new AC. Look, if somethin' happens to your plans, then you gotta call and let me know."

Aaron called on Friday night. "My flight out of Harlingen was canceled because of thunderstorms. I'm booked on the first available seat in the morning, but I won't be able to get there until about eleven."

When Aaron got home it was like being the first guest at his own open house. There was a sign out front, balloons all along the walkway, and around the front door. He left the door open and found Renée working over a tray of cut veggies. She stood and wiped her hands on the apron of that stodgy French maid's uniform, and watched for Aaron's reaction.

Aaron stood his travel bag beside the table. "The house looks great." Renée stepped back when he came around the table to look at her. "I like the hair, too." He wasn't sure whether she was stepping back to stay away from him or stepping back to give him a clear view.

"I got over the gang-girl hair and had it cut." Her hair fell just short of her shoulders and curled in toward her jaw.

Aaron licked his lips. "I thought you weren't going to wear that uniform for me."

"I'm not wearing it for you. I'm wearing it to show the neighbors that I'm the housekeeper and you're the boss." She looked Aaron up and down. "You look tired. When was the last time you shaved?"

"Thursday. When are people supposed to get here? Do I have time to shave and change?"

Renée stepped close. "The flyers I handed out said eleven to three, and it's eleven now." She started to reach for the knot in his tie, then hesitated and dropped her hands. "I think you just need to get rid of the jacket and tie and shave. The stubbly look is kinda in, but not that stubble. The rest of you looks bossy enough."

Someone called from the door. "Are we the first ones here?"

Aaron kept himself going all afternoon with coffee, and he tried to stay in conversations about jobs and kids and neighbors he didn't know or just met. Then there were the conversations about Renée that got more lively every time people heard her say, "Oui, Monsieur."

What is the going rate for a French maid? Aaron didn't know. She wasn't a French maid when he hired her. He referred questions to Mrs. Grainger, who was correcting Renée's French, and to Mrs. Minton, who was trying to get her to pronounce "ing."

Aaron watched the clock count to three o'clock, and then he went outside and brought in Renée's sign. He brought in her balloons and left them floating in the dining room, and by three-thirty they were finally alone.