The Maids Know Everything

“Can you believe it? A stripper! He was married to a stripper.” Amy exclaimed, a look of bewilderment on her face. I was laughing.

“No, that can’t be right. Joe seems so…..polite. A stripper?” I responded, twirling a lock of my hair around my finger. I loved my hair. It was an electric blue. It was a bold color but the cut made me appear feminine at the same time. I had gotten it last October for my birthday. I had been so scared to get such an out-there haircut, but enough prodding from Jet and my high school friend, BreAnna, convinced me to get it. I’m glad I did.

“Mhm, supposedly he walked in on his ex having sex with his best friend so he left for Vegas. Got drunk, gambled like crazy, and married a stripper! ” Amy threw her hands up in exasperation, almost knocking a drink tray out of a waiter’s hands.

“Oops, sorry!” Amy shouted after the fleeting waiter with a guilty look. I couldn’t help it; I laughed. We were at the indoor pool since it was November. I’ve been working at the Opulent for two months now since September. It was my break time, and as immature as it sounded, I came here for gossip. The maids knew everything about the guests, but the pool people were notorious about knowing every tiny detail about the Opulent’s staff. Which was amazing, in creepy way; there was around ten thousand staff members here. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the towel boys knew when I had lost my virginity before I did. So, whenever I got the chance, I made a quick run to Amy so we could exchange hearsays.

“Anyways,” I started, still chuckling a bit.

“Oh, right, so anyways-oh crap, Mr. Danskin!” Amy warned, shoving me behind her. I had gotten the haircut on October 30th, and today it was November 2nd: Mr. Danskin hasn’t seen me with this hairstyle yet, and I doubted he’d be too happy with it. As Linda Dover had put it, “this is a respectable business, and your hair is anything but proper. Don’t worry, though, I won’t tell, because when Mr. Danskin sees your hair, he’ll blow his top. And I want it to be a surprise. The less warning he has, the more likely he’ll fire you in a moment of complete shock. Good luck!” I had known my hair would be against dress code, but I had been too pumped about it to acknowledge my common sense.

“Do you have a hat?” I asked Amy.
“Does it look like I have a hat?” She looked at me like I was an idiot. I looked over her like I was searching for a hat attached to her body somewhere-which I was, actually. She was wearing a red one-piece bathing suit, no room to hide hat.
“Oh, right, lifeguard, forgot.” I laughed nervously before running off down the changing rooms’ hall that ran into the cool-water swimming area where Amy worked today. I dove into a dressing room, not up for running anymore.
There inside were a couple of girls that appeared one or two years older than me.

“I told you they kept the celebrity changing rooms away from ours!” A red head said as she primped herself in front of a mirror. Her hair color was actually pretty natural-looking, if it weren’t for the fact that I could see her eyebrows were blonde in the mirror’s reflection.

“Yeah, it’s too bad. I was really looking forward to meeting, like, I don’t Isabel Marant.” A leggy brunette wearing a red polka dot bikini said. The girls cracked up laughing. I had met Isabel Marant. She was very polite, but she wasn’t exactly the friendly type. Or, at least the chatty type. She knew her please and thank you’s, but aside from that, I was but a spec of dust floating around wherever the wind took me. I wasn’t disgusting, just of no importance to her. Which, I guess, I really wasn’t.

“Oh my God, wouldn’t meeting Isabel Marant be awesome?” The brunette exclaimed, her eyes so wide you’d think she just had an epiphany of some sort. Too bad Isabel Marant wasn’t here today-and most likely wouldn’t be here again for a long time: I had over heard her talking to someone about how she loved Paris and would probably for now on do her modeling there. Can’t blame her; Paris sounds like a pretty cool place.

“Totally!” Red agreed before gasping, “We could give her some pictures of us modeling!” Yeah, if you could even get close to her.

“We could become famous!” Dots squealed out, jumping up and down. I admired their ambition, but I doubted they could. They were pretty, but that’s not what modeling is all about.

“If we can find her, then half our work is finished! I mean, we’re way more hot than that over-rated stick.” Red said pretentiously. I was quite shocked at how she just insulted a woman she was not five seconds ago idolizing.

“Totally. But what if she knows were fucking sexy and won’t help because we might take her job?” Dots worried. She was worrying over something that would never happen, even if they got to talk to Isabel. Was she simply pretending she had a chance just to have fun, or did she really believe she could ever become a model? I wasn’t a pessimist, I was a realist.

“Then we’ll just find her agent, duh, Shannon!” Red play-hit her friend upside the head. Shannon hit her back as they erupted into a fit of giggles. I frowned: I missed BreAnna, and these girls reminded me of us. I smiled softly and headed out the door, sure that Danskin was gone by now and the coast was clear.

I made a mental note to call BreAnna when I got home. I went to the door and was about to push it open, but my curiosity got the best of me as I heard someone laughing hysterically. I stepped back and peeked at them.

“Okay, okay, okay! You win!” Red cried as Shannon tickled her against a stall door until Red’s face was, well, red. Shannon stopped tickling Red and all you could hear coming from Red was heavy pants. Right before I went to leave again-deciding them tickling each other wouldn’t supply me with anything interesting- I heard one of the girls-probably Red, because her words came slow and ragged- someone was ticklish-say something.

“I heard that Blake Richardson is visiting tomorrow.” Cue the squeals. Blake Richardson? Huh, for the first time as a maid, I had no idea that that guest was coming. Why’d no one tell me?