“Well, the people I’m going to be working for are really famous. They need their privacy. We can’t talk about them to anyone. So if anyone asks you who I work for, you tell them you don’t know. And you can’t bring friends over.”

Lana laughed at that. “I don’t have time for friends anyway, Layla. So that isn’t going to be a problem.” I was a hard ass about studying, but she wanted a good education just as much as I wanted it for her.

“What’s your boss’s name?” Lucy asked.

“Well the woman who hired me is called Emmie. She’s my boss…” I met Lana’s eyes and grinned. “…but the guys that live there are in a band called Demon’s Wings.”

“No way!” Lana exclaimed. “No way!” She wasn’t a big fan of the rock genre like I was, but she knew exactly who I was talking about.

I laughed. “Yes way!”

“They’re demons?” Lucy asked with fright in her dark eyes. “I don’t think I want to live there, Layla.”

“Oh Lucy, baby no. They aren’t demons.” I quickly assured her. “That’s just their name, honey. I promised you, they aren’t demons.”

Chapter 5

Layla

I found out why Emmie was willing to offer me more money the next afternoon.

By the time I got to the house in Malibu the band was already gone. More time in the studio, Emmie told me. I was glad that I wouldn’t have to worry about running into Jesse. After a night filled of some really naughty dreams about the sexy drummer, I wasn’t sure I could look him in the eye and not jump on him. That wasn’t a good thing. Emmie would probably fire me on the spot for attacking the man.

For the first part of the morning, I helped Emmie hang pictures. Mostly they were beautifully framed posters of the band. A few had Emmie in them. I’d had seen several of them over the years. I really liked the one with Emmie pressed up against Jesse. She was wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else. Her auburn hair hung free and her breasts were pressed against his side. It didn’t come off trashy like some I had seen in the past were the girl was all skanky. The other guys were all shirtless as well, with the brothers on either side of Jesse, and Nik glaring into the camera from his position just behind them, as if daring the world to say anything.

I helped decorate the living room with things I had never even dreamed of touching before in my life: Grammys, MTV video awards, platinum records. I was scared to touch some of the awards that Emmie had carefully wrapped in a box, like the crystal guitar that the band had received in London for Rocker of the Year just the year before. It was beautiful and I was terrified that I would break it.

After a small lunch that Emmie insisted I share with her in her office, I got to work on the upstairs. I vacuumed and scrubbed the toilets. I even picked up a few dirty clothes and put them in hampers. It was easy to decipher what bedroom belonged to whom. The bass guitar in one told me it was Shane’s. The drumsticks on the bedside table in another assured me it was Jesse’s. But when I got to the bedroom at the end of the hall, I knew that I was in for a treat. I didn’t need to see the Gibson and Fender guitars against the wall of this bedroom to realize it belonged to Drake.

I smelled it as soon as I opened the door. It was unmistakable, that stench that comes with vomit and sweat, but I had a very strong stomach. It took me an hour to get the smell out. I opened the window in the bedroom and the one in the bathroom. I scrubbed every surface in that bathroom with bleach and then went back over it with two other cleaners. I smelled like the chemicals that I had used, but at least the bathroom no longer smelled like the men’s room at the club I use to work at.

I put away my supplies in the laundry room before going in search of Emmie. I needed to talk to her about that room. When I found her she was glaring at the screen on her laptop with her cellphone pressed to her ear. “I said no. You know how I feel about her. I don’t really give a fuck. Who cares?” She raised her head when I knocked quietly on the office door. “Ax, I have to go.”

She tossed the phone aside and motioned me in. As I walked closer her nose wrinkled. “You smell like a bleach factory.”

“Sorry. I just finished cleaning the bathrooms… Listen I need to talk to you about something.”

Her eyes darkened. “I told you it was going to be bad, Layla. Just tell me how much more you want.”

I stopped, taken aback. “No. No, that isn’t what I wanted to talk about.” She frowned but didn’t say anything so I went on. “You said that you wanted his bathroom done every other day, but I think it would be better on us all if I can get in there every day.”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised. “So you aren’t demanding more money?”

“No, of course not. I’ve cleaned worse things than that bathroom.” Much, much worse. “So is it okay?”

“If that’s what you think is best.”

I nodded. “It is… And is it okay if I change his sheets every day too?”

“Layla, I hired you to help me out around here. That doesn’t mean that you have to worry about Drake to that extent.” She didn’t sound irritated, just concerned for me. “I don’t want to overwork you.”

“Please?” I didn’t think I could stand the thought of Drake having to sleep on those sheets every night. They had been tossed every which way and the stench of sweat and fear had been worse than the actual smell of the vomit.

“I…” She was still frowning at me, but she nodded. “Okay. If it means that much, then you have free reign in Drake’s room. Clean what you think needs cleaning.”

“Thank you.” Her phone rang and I turned to go so that she could get back to doing whatever it was that she did.

“Layla?” she called after me as I started to close the door.

I stopped and looked back at her. “Yes?”

“Thank you. Drake is special…and he needs a little more TLC than the rest of them sometimes.” Her voice was choked and she blinked several times to keep the tears in her green eyes from falling. “So thank you.”

Before I could answer she picked up her phone. “I told you that I don’t want to have dinner with you and the bitch troll, Axton.”

I changed Drake’s sheets and pillow cases and put his comforter in the heavy duty washer. By the time I was done, his room smelled so much better. I didn’t understand what Emmie had meant by him being special, but I was glad that I could make him feel like he was.