FIRST DAY (Available for Purchase)

Jaleen paced back and forth, doing her best to avoid the barrage of people walking past her on the crowded sidewalk. She was weaving through the crowd and hoped that she didn't look suspicious. Her clothes were non-descript and plain, like she was instructed. Jaleen was waiting for her new employer, and she hoped she hadn’t been tricked. With the economy in the toilet, when a job reached out to her without her applying, she took it with no hesitation. They had a whole onboarding process on Workday. She was an hourly employee for a cleaning service. Fresh Starts was the name of it. She apologized as she bumped into someone and bowed her head down to avoid their hostile gaze. She just needed to make herself as unseen as possible as she waited, but each person walking past made her want to go home. But she didn’t have much more savings to cover rent, and she didn’t want to be homeless with her cat, Captain Marble.

“Jaleen?” A stern yet friendly voice cut through the bustle of the street. Her head snapped to look at the source. It was a woman with a similar chestnut complexion to Jaleen who caught her eye. The lady had her hair pulled into a top puff; her eyes were lined with wrinkles, the only indication of her age. She and Jaleen were dressed similarly in dark, baggy clothes. 

“Yes?” she asked as she tried to straighten her back; she needed to look confident. Her undesirable height made her self-conscious. 

“Hi, I’m Marnee. It’s great to meet you.” The woman walked too close to interlock their hands. Marnee had dazzling dark eyes. 

“You too, ma’am.” She tacked on quickly, eyes darting around nervously as people grunted and walked around them. Marnee didn’t pay attention to those faceless people. “Thank you for hiring me.” Jaleen blurted out, and immediately wished she could inhale the words back. 

“Of course, your job history is why I picked you,” Marnee said as she placed a hand on Jaleen’s shoulder. “I think this will be a good fit for you.” Jaleen wasn’t entirely sure, since consistent employment was an issue with her. Something always went wrong, and she had to turn tail and run. No job lasted more than three months. 

“Thank you,” she said again, her tone meek as she started to slouch again. “So, what are we doing?”

“Follow me, my dear,” Marnee winked as she ushered Jaleen through the people, unmoving when people bumped into them as they walked across the sidewalk into the lobby of the building she had been waiting in front of. “Keep your head up and follow me,” she said as she placed herself in front. Jaleen followed, trying to look like she belonged. As she looked around, she saw that they were surrounded by women dressed in a similar fashion. However, the other women had carts loaded with cleaning supplies. 

“Are we maids?” Jaleen whispered to Marnee as they boarded the elevator.

“Of sorts, but we aren’t hired by the building management like the others. We are independently hired. Thankfully, the front desk doesn't care and won’t look our way.” Marnee said, her smile plastered on her face. “If anyone asks, we do work for the building,” she said as the elevator door dinged open. They walked down a wide hall, their steps muffled by the outdated cubic carpet. There was an undercurrent of mold being held back by bleach. Jaleen would have figured that a building with so many high-priced clients would feel better than her own ratty apartment building. She guessed that slum lords knew no tax bracket. They stopped in front of a wooden door with gold-plated numbers ‘812’.  

“Just follow my lead,” Marnee said as she knocked on the door. “Relax, look like you belong.” Jaleen rolled her shoulders back to look more sure of herself, but it felt so intrinsically wrong to straighten her back. 

“Hello, how can I help you?” The door opened as wide as the chain would allow. The space allowed for them to see the occupant. A young woman with obvious plastic surgery done. Her lips were so swollen and red, it made Jaleen wonder how she ate. It couldn’t be comfortable, surely not. Her hair was a fried platinum blonde; however, her dark roots were very prominent. Her eyes were like deep murky pond water.

“Hello, we are here for your cleaning,” Marnee said. 

“I didn't hire any maids.” The woman said; her tone was skeptical.

“We were hired by Jeffery Dabon. He said he wanted to thank you and apologize for how he’s behaved.”

“Jeffery hired maids,” she closed the door, they heard the chain clank, and she opened it. Jaleen noticed the smell first. Stale air of petrified stench. The woman wore a tattered and stained luxury robe. The belt was loose and exposed her whole torso, and the trim of the collar barely concealed her nipples. “Come on in.” She said as she stepped aside. “I thought he forgot about me.” She continued closing the door behind them. She sighed. “He hasn't answered any of my texts. Did he give you a message for me?” She looked at them, her eyes wide and a desperate light in them. 

“No, honey,” Marnee said as her gaze swept over space. Jaleen watched as the woman deflated; her shoulders sagged, her robes slipped open more. “We are just here to help you. Do you have cleaning supplies?” The apartment was nothing special. The expectations of high-rises were that the units would exude luxury, something unattainable for a simple peon like Jayleen. However, this apartment was underwhelming, similar to where Jaleen lived. Filled with tacky junk from extravagant travels. No cohesion. The floor was a cheap beige vinyl sheet.

“I have something in the closet; the building maids left it there.” She said with a wave of her hand as she sat on a cluttered couch with cracked leather. “I gave up on calling them. What great service, am I right?” She said as she grabbed the open bottle of wine on the table and took a massive swig. “But you are here now, and that’s all that matters.” 

Marnee placed a hand on Jaleen’s shoulder and guided her to the closet in the short hall that led to the one bedroom and bathroom.

“I’ll start with the bathroom,” Marnee said as she opened the closet. The space was empty except for the stray cleaning ingredients. She handed Jaleen a broom and a steel dustpan screwed onto a long pole. “I trust you know how to use this?” Marneee asked, her tone light as she grabbed the mop. “Call me if you need.” Jaleen watched as her supervisor walked a few steps into the bathroom, and she stood there. She took a couple of breaths to steel herself; she just needed to clean the living room. She turned to walk back into the open area. 

“So, I do have a few problem areas,” the woman said as she lay down on top of the clutter on the couch. Crumpled clothes, paper towels, and magazines crinkled under her weight, and she didn’t seem to care if it was uncomfortable. It made Jaleen’s skin itch. Jaleen decided the table might be a good place to start. Her chest tightened as she saw the stack of pink eviction notices, at least four months' worth of warnings. She had never gotten that many; at most two before the police arrived. “You can throw those away. They won’t kick me out, because Jeffery must have paid them for now.” 

“You can’t pay them?” Jaleen asked before she could stop the words. 

“I don’t work; my life is paid for,” she said as she took another swig from the bottle. “I’m not meant for hard work.” Jaleen bit back the response on her tongue as she started to straighten up the table. However, every layer she removed, a new smell erupted: spoiled milk, armpit funk, and a sharp, indistinguishable tanginess that made her nose burn. Jaleen was equally disgusted as she was impressed that someone managed to stink up an apartment five times bigger than her own. She worked overtime to maintain a sweet smile, even when it would become overbearing and gave her a headache and nausea. So to live somewhere that smelled this rank was embarrassing. And in these luxury high-rises, there were no windows to open. Which made sense; can’t have the rich jumping and maybe taking out someone from a lower tax bracket. So there really wasn’t a way to vent the space out. Did this woman even notice? Did she care? All Jaleen knew was that she was here to clean. As she did, a deep urge was causing a persistent irritation under her skin. She needed to press it down. 

“Working must fucking suck,” the woman slurred as she poked at Jaleen’s leg. “Like, I’m just not meant for it, you know. I  mean you could possibly also not be meant for work.” She continued her prodding, and Jaleen’s grip on the broom increased; her hands were starting to cramp in protest. “With tits like yours, a lot of high-paying men are into tall women. Maybe straighten your hair.”

Words flung carelessly from her dirty lips, in her dirty home, her dirty life. Jaleen swung the metal dustpan with all her might. It made contact with the woman’s head, and vibrated through Jaleen’s body. A loud ping resonated through the living room. It felt nice. The blonde fell off the couch, barely able to get a sound out before Jaleen descended on her. She swung the pan again, and again. Each swing took a chunk of the woman’s scalp with it. Her hair was starting t o change color, and her head was starting to flatten. Jaleen paused as she heard the raspy, choked gurgles. Oh no. Oh no. It happened again. 

“Whoa,” Marnee said with a rasp in her voice. “I knew it,” she whispered to herself as she walked closer. Jaleen gripped the handle, debating on if she needed to strike again. She could take any valuables and pawn them, and that would keep her afloat. She couldn’t be on the streets again; her cat didn’t deserve that just because her owner had terrible impulse control. “I’m not going to report you.” She came closer, placing her hand on Jaleen’s shoulder. Marnee licked the blood off of Jaleen’s cheek. Jaleen slowly turned her head to look at her mentor, shocked. The woman didn't look the least bit perturbed."You are perfect; now let's clean up.” The older woman said as she quickly walked over to the kitchen and returned with a large knife. Jaleen stood there unsure as Marnee pushed the table away from the couch and crouched over the body. Wet gasps were still escaping from the blonde woman’s lips. 

“Where people mess up is that they keep the body mostly whole.” Marnee took a butcher knife and pressed the blade along the nose bridge. “That's about right,” she pushed down with all her weight. The head crunched and squished as the blade went through. Jaleen watched, enraptured. “Go grab some trash bags and a knife for yourself.” Jaleen did it with a speed foreign to herself. “I’ll have you work on the arm, bisect it.”

Jaleen had never thought about butchering a person. However, in this moment it was the best thing. As she worked the knife through the right arm socket, blood spurted from the opening, coating her hands in the dark liquid. It was like when she dissected pigs back in high school. Joints popped from their place, meat shaved from bone, getting into each little place to really take it apart. Her hands were starting to get sticky, but every cut released fresh blood that allowed her hands to glide as she continued to work. However, arms don’t go on forever, and she was left with so many parts strewn beside the body. She looked up to her mentor, who was bagging trash around the room.

“Great, place them in here,” Marnee offered the open trash bag. Jaleen scooped up the bits into the bent pan and dumped them into the bag. Jaleen followed Marnee’s lead of putting a little bit of each body part into different bags. Her mind was at peace as she tidied up the space. Bookshelf filled with books and magazines. Bed properly made with fresh sheets and the pillows properly placed. Kitchen mopped and sink empty, with little towels hung over the handle of the oven. Living room no longer cluttered. The apartment looked lived in. The air was even clearer, smelling of lemon and roses. The last thing they did was dump each bag down the trash shoot.

“Here's your check,” Marnee said as they boarded the elevator. Jaleen took the piece of paper hesitantly. 

“Check?” Jaleen’s eyes widened at the sum, $2,000, from Jeff  Dabon. This was much different than other jobs she had. She didn’t need to flee the state and start over again. There was no deep sense of shame that lingered after she had episodes previously. 

“That’s from our client, a little present. The amount for the hours worked will be deposited to your bank account.” Marnee said as the elevator dinged at the lobby. The older woman guided her out of the building through a side door. “I hope you liked your first day!” She said as she walked through the alleyway.

“It was great,” Jaleen said with an easy smile.