Heller (11 page)

It took me a
long time to go back to sleep afterwards.

The next
morning I remembered that Heller had promised me that I’d meet with
clients, so again I was up early, gently exercised, fed and
showered before eight. I chose my outfit carefully, thrilled to
have such a selection from which to choose. I decided on a smart
little navy skirt-suit with a very feminine soft white chemise. I
tied my hair back in an elegant loose clasp as the hair stylist
taught me and applied my new skin products and makeup. I twisted
back and forth in front of my bedroom mirror trying to check my
rear view. I’m not normally a vain person, but I thought I looked
pretty good. I certainly felt fine, the expert haircut and
beautiful clothes greatly boosting my self-confidence.

I walked down
the stairs, taking care with the ten-centimetre navy stilettos I
was wearing. I hadn’t wanted to buy high heels, already being so
tall, but Mei had talked me into a few pairs, arguing that I would
get used to walking in them eventually. I hoped she was right,
because I was sure I was going to break my ankle at any moment.
When I stepped into the office, Heller and Daniel were already
there, discussing some paperwork at Daniel’s desk. Conscious that
they had both lifted their heads to stare at me, I carefully made
my way towards my desk.

Daniel
wolf-whistled loudly. “You look
amazing
, Tilly!” I smiled at
him gratefully for his kindness.

Heller put up
his hand to stop my progress. I stood there, embarrassed, while he
walked around me, intensely scrutinising my hair, suit, shoes,
jewellery, skin and makeup. I guess he had a right to do so as he
had paid for it all. When he had finished, I looked up at him in
silence, nervously awaiting his verdict. He held my glance steadily
until I had to blink and look away.

“Not bad,” he
reluctantly conceded.

“You overwhelm
me with your praise, good sir,” I replied tartly, and gave him a
little curtsy.

“My praise,
if
I felt like providing any, would all be for Mei. She can
make anyone look good.”

“She obviously
doesn’t dress you then,” I snapped, stung by his words. But from
the dangerous flash in his eyes that followed, I knew I had stepped
over a boundary.

We engaged in
eye-lock until I had to break away again, burned by that glacial
blueness. The man was talented at staring people down. He spoke to
me sharply. “I have two client appointments today. I want you to
come to both of them with me. We leave for the first one in an
hour. You need to be prepared so I’ve put some material on your
desk to read before then.” And with that, he strode off into his
office.

I sat at my
desk and spent the next hour reading about the business’s security
and surveillance offerings, only too aware that Heller’s eyes were
resting on me frequently as I did.
Probably making sure I was
working as hard as he expected
, I thought ungraciously. Luckily
for me though, one of the few acting skills I’d had any talent at
was memorising text, so I was fairly confident that I’d be able to
discuss the services offered by
Heller’s
with some degree of
knowledgeable professionalism. I casually threw some of the
brochures into one of my new top-label handbags.

Just before we
were due to leave, I dashed upstairs to check my makeup and hair.
When I came back down, Heller was waiting for me impatiently.

“Ready?” he
asked with irritation. Without waiting for an answer he shot off
down the stairs, leaving me to follow him, clattering slowly in my
dangerous high heels. I finally made it to the garage and climbed
up into his Mercedes 4WD with some difficulty in my tight skirt. I
started feeling cross. Why should I have to dress up in all of
these uncomfortable clothes while he was free to dress in a way
that made moving actually possible?

We drove out
to one of the affluent, leafy suburbs surrounding the CBD. Heller
pulled up in front of a grand, turn-of-the-century sandstone
mansion surrounded by beautifully kept gardens. I smoothed back my
hair and tugged at my skirt. I was quite nervous. I wasn’t sure if
I was able to pull off this job in the manner that he expected and
I was growing very attached to the perks. It would have been a
devastating blow to be fired and forced back to my old life for
failing at this job. I was feeling the pressure to succeed, but
considering that I had never succeeded in anything else in my life,
I wasn’t overly confident about this venture either.

We walked up
the sandstone path and Heller pressed on the doorbell. As the door
started to open, he pushed me to the front so that I would be the
first person visible. I turned to throw him a puzzled look, but
immediately composed my features into a pleasant mask as the door
fully opened. A large, pale chubby woman, her black hair pulled
back in a tight bun, stood in front of us wearing what appeared to
be a maid’s uniform – a frumpy black dress teamed with a small
white apron.

Wow! It was a
real, live maid! I had never before witnessed such a thing outside
of television or the movies.

“Good
morning,” I said politely. “We’re from
Heller’s Security &
Surveillance
and have an appointment with Miss Worthy.” We
showed her our staff cards. She threw a hesitant glance at Heller
before hurriedly transferring her eyes back to me, as if he
frightened her.

“Yes Miss,
please come this way. Miss Worthy is expecting you.” We followed
her through the labyrinthine rooms of the lovely, well-maintained
house. The maid showed us into a pleasant, yellow-wallpapered,
brightly lit parlour with a stunning vista out to the beautiful
gardens.

An elderly
lady perched on the edge of an enormous dark blue, Victorian-era
leather sofa reading the day’s newspaper. She turned as we entered
but did not stand up. She was tiny, with elegantly curled white
hair, wearing black slacks and a pearl-coloured, full-sleeved silk
blouse, her arthritic feet covered with soft leather ballet-style
slippers. Discreet but perfect pearls studded her ears and draped
in three strands around her neck. Her pointed features arranged
themselves into surprise when her eyes alighted on Heller, relaxing
slightly when she spotted me.

“Good morning,
Miss Worthy,” I said quite formally, sensing that she would approve
of this approach. “My name is Matilda Chalmers and this is Mr
Heller. We’ve come to discuss your surveillance needs.”

“Mr Heller?”
she asked sharply. “You are the proprietor of the business?”

He opened his
mouth to respond, but I interrupted smoothly. “Yes ma’am. Mr Heller
has accompanied me to ensure that you will receive the best quality
surveillance service possible.” She seemed satisfied with that,
belonging to a class of people who believed that everyone else
existed to support them. I’m not sure why I cut Heller off, but I
had a distinct impression that she was quite old-fashioned and
would prefer not to undertake business with a ‘foreigner’. He slid
me a curious glance, but let me take the lead.

The maid
brought in some tea for us all while Miss Worthy and I chatted
about inconsequential stuff that I couldn’t even remember
afterwards. Although she was conversing with me seamlessly, I
noticed that she was keeping an eagle eye on the tea proceedings.
The maid fussed around setting the crockery and cutlery out before
us in perfect lines, her eyes flicking anxiously to Miss Worthy all
the while. Maybe having a spoon out of alignment with a saucer was
a reprimandable offence in this household? I was glad that I didn’t
work for her.

“Now, Mr
Heller advised me that you are concerned about some of the
burglaries that have occurred in this neighbourhood recently and
would like to protect your precious belongings,” I began, and on
and on I droned, detailing the types of surveillance offered by
Heller’s
– discreet or obvious, alarms that rang out to
alert the neighbours, or silently alerted the
Heller’s
dedicated security force, trip cameras, lights, the whole gamut of
surveillance options.

After our
third cup of tea, she became most adamant about what she wanted.
Silent alarms directly alerting the
Heller’s
security force.
No cameras. She was willing to pay for priority service. “After
all, Miss Chalmers,” she divulged, her hand on my arm fondly, “one
detests those incessant alarms that screech for hours, irritating
the neighbours.”

I gathered
from the snideness of her tone that some of her near neighbours had
such alarms. I promised that some surveillance experts would be
sent to her house later in the day to scope the job and ensure that
everything was installed promptly. They would also bring the
paperwork for her to sign. She thanked me profusely and I promised
that she could ring me at any time if she had any more queries,
although to be honest I had already exhausted my skimpy knowledge
of surveillance systems.

As we were
leaving, she said, “Matilda is
such
a lovely name. It was my
eldest sister’s name but we all called her Matty.” I told her that
I was called Tilly, which made her smile at me dotingly. “You’ve
quite made me think of her again today, my dear. She had beautiful
dark hair like yours.” Miss Worthy sighed sadly. “She passed away a
few years ago now. I must get out the photo albums to look at
again.”

As she walked
us to the door, she lowered her voice to a confidential whisper,
glowering at Heller with suspicion. “I’m not sure about that man.
He’s
overly
handsome. In my experience, men like that are
nothing but trouble. I’d stay away from him if I was you.”

“That’s very
good advice, Miss Worthy,” I said, surprised. “But he’s my
employer. I don’t need to worry about him.”

“Mark my
words,” she tutted and turned to go back inside, softly closing the
door on us.

I wasn’t sure
if Heller had overheard any of that conversation, but we walked
silently down the path to his vehicle. As we climbed back in, he
said, “Ongoing work such as that is very important to me. Thank you
for winning me a new client,
Matilda
.”

I smiled at
him amiably. “My pleasure,
Mr
Heller.” And I’m almost
positive there was a faint smile in reply as we drove off.

Our next
client for the day was a bored, wealthy, middle-aged woman who was
convinced her husband was screwing his PA and wanted to catch him
in the act. I could barely capture her attention for even a second
as her eyes remain glued to Heller the entire time. However, when I
explained that we could bill her credit card as ‘manicure services’
for the surveillance, she was all ears. It tickled her that she
could catch out her love-rat husband and ensure that he would pay
for the privilege. With some lingering glances at Heller, she
promised to sign a contract for three months of full surveillance.
I advised that the paperwork would be organised today. As Heller
and I stood up to leave, she took me aside.

“God, he’s
such a honey! Does he, you know, ever offer ‘extra services’ for
clients?” She pulled such a crude face that I almost felt sorry for
Heller.

“I believe
that he does have a ‘special relationship’ with his VIP clients,” I
fabricated, continuing with a touch of regret, “They’re the clients
who have a great deal of business with us, Mrs Smythe. For example,
those who have their ongoing home security packaged with us as
well. That kind of thing.”

“Have you got
any brochures?” she demanded before adding thoughtfully, “This
neighbourhood
is
growing more dangerous every year. We
probably do need more security.” And, without even the slightest
trace of irony, “I’ll talk to my husband about it.”

I left her one
of the
Heller’s
glossy promotional brochures, and Heller
left her his business card because I didn’t have any yet. Her eyes
lit up and I think she believed that he was giving her a special
message or something.

“What are you
so happy about?” he asked as we drove back to the office.

“She might
turn out to be some repeat business for you in the future,” I
replied, smiling at him innocently.

He nodded,
unaware of the tempest soon heading in his direction. “By the way,”
he said mildly, “I’m not sure that we can bill surveillance as
‘manicure services’.”

“Better get
Daniel on to it then, hey?” I smiled at him again. “She seemed to
really like the idea.”

He gave me a
long thoughtful sidelong glance before returning his eyes to the
road. We drove home.

The next
morning, I woke at a very early hour. I wanted to sleep in, but
remembering for the millionth time Heller’s scornful comments about
my fitness condition, I dragged myself down to the gym for another
workout. I walked in casually, humming to myself, only to screech
to a halt when I noticed that for the first time since I’d started
working here, I wasn’t alone. Heller was busy doing an intense
weights workout. He was shirtless and wearing nothing but small
black sports shorts, his incredible muscles flexing and rippling
with the effort of the bar weights he was lifting. My first
instinct was to turn and flee, but he had noticed me in the wall
mirror in front of him and, although not stopping his repetitions,
his eyes tracked me in the mirror.

I had no
choice but to continue my original plan unless I wanted to appear
cowardly and that helped me make up my mind. I waggled my fingers
at him in acknowledgement, averting my eyes from his sweaty body
and determinedly headed for the treadmill. I wanted to block out
the sight and sound of him and fortunately all the mirrors in the
gym were surrounding the weights area. I was mirror-free and would
have been able to pretend to myself that I was alone except for the
grunting noises he was making as he lifted and lowered those heavy
weights. I desperately wished I had an iPod at that moment. I
promised myself that I would go shopping and buy one the next
chance I had. I’d now earned a pay cheque since I’d started working
at
Heller’s
and had a bit of spare money for the first time
in forever.