The Beast of Stornoway

Chapter 3: Amani

"Amani, get me another martini, will you?" Marsha whined as she lounged in her lawn chair and shook her empty glass.

Amani smirked at her request and continued to sweep around their feet. "I'm not your maid, Marsha."

"No, but you are the hired help." Jackie, her mother, laughed as she sipped on her cosmopolitan.

"And you sure do look like my maid, Cinderella." Marsha laughed, eyeing Amani's black work apron and the matching scarf wrapped around her curly hair.

"Fuck you," she grumbled under her breath and ignored the glass shaking in her face.

"Come on, you and Karen are practically our slaves now." She giggled as if that racist comment was funny. "Get me a drink."

Amani snatched the glass out of her hand. She had been there a month dealing with both of their attitudes and subtle racist remarks. She had no idea how she'd lasted this long.

"Yesa, massa, anything yous need, massa." Amani said as she backed away from her.

"That's more like it," Marsha grinned and ran her fingers through her perfectly styled blonde hair.

"Call me your slave, " Amani muttered, shaking the tumbler as hard as she could. "I'll show you slave, bitch." She poured the drink into her glass and walked back to Marsha and Jackie.

"Your martini, ma'am."

"Thank you." She smiled and reached for the glass, but a screamed burst from her mouth as Amani dumped the drink over her head.

"Amani, you little bitch! You're fired!" Jackie yelled as she frantically wiped the drink off of her daughter.

"I quit." She threw her apron in Jackie's face and marched defiantly back to her car. The moment she started the engine, her phone was ringing. It was her mother no doubt. She turned it off and started driving to her favorite park in Ann Arbor near the university. She parked the car and stared out at the grass and trees.

What the fuck am I doing?

She knew she did the right thing. No one should put up with that just for a damn paycheck. But she had to find a job. She couldn't go home without one or at least an interview. The likelihood of that was nearly impossible, but her mother was going to kill her if she didn't secure something.

She turned her phone back on, ignored another call from her mother and tapped on the LinkedIn app. She'd had this profile since she'd graduated three years ago, but she'd hardly used it or updated it. She took a quick glance at her jobs and qualifications. She added her Master's in Developmental Psychology and quickly started scanning for something.

She came across a personal assistant vacancy for immediate hire with relocation expenses paid. She wouldn't mind getting the hell out of Detroit. Her mother wouldn't like it, but she needed a change. She couldn't keep doing this. She was tired living exactly where she'd always been. This wasn't her dream.

She clicked on the post and quickly read through the job description. It seemed easy enough, managing a landowner's expenses, meetings and engagements. She'd managed her church's expenses and she'd worked as an administrator for a work-study job in college. She was definitely qualified to do this. She eyed the number on the job post, clicked on it and prayed she could secure an interview.