Kai Parker One Shots

Money Honey

Scattered across the sky were speckles of glimmering stars, giving a cozy feel to the crisp November evening as they illuminated the mansion's vast backyard. A freshly trimmed, well-kept field of blossoms was just as radiant as it was in the daytime. Daisies, roses, and hydrangeas made for the type of garden fairies would love to dance through barefoot. Wine and ice slushing around in a crystalline glass, Malachai Parker sat comfortably on his balcony. Lost in his own thoughts as the crickets chirped away noisily and the fireplace within his bedroom crackled. Inside a memory he was living, of his late mother telling him that no matter how brightly the constellations shone they could never come close to his own glow. Sighing, he let himself absorb the ongoing hurt that reared its head whenever he dared to think about the unexpected loss of her. It was only just as he was about to lose himself completely that he was shaken from the dark mindset.

"Sir?" you call, noting he is distracted and feeling guilty for disturbing the peace. For about three years, you'd been a loyal maid to one of the richest men in upper east Manhattan. He'd made a name for himself as a best-selling author, landing praise from The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly and dozens of blogs across the internet. The first two books in his saga had sold millions of copies and the third was eagerly anticipated by fans, said to be out early winter. Regardless of the fact he was deemed a celebrity, you saw him as the opposite. A man like any other trying to survive in a world that wasn't often kind, and you made sure to be helpful to so he could find ease on his worst days no matter the stress. Appreciative and respectful likewise, the relationship between you two was cordial. "Would you like a refill?"

"Thank you, but I'm okay," he responds in a depressive manner, and takes one more swig before extending the glass. Except he mindlessly forgets there is still a bit left and it drops from his grasp onto your dress. The stain it leaves behind is quite noticeable, and makes your clothes reek of alcohol. "Oh my, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I hope you'll forgive me." Genuine embarrassment is obvious in the way he so frantically apologizes, handing you the napkin sitting on the table that he hadn't used to dab away at the mess. This was the last thing he needed when his mood was sour, but life just seemed hellbent on ruining him these days. A couple of scathing reviews earlier, a recent breakup, friends he had put his trust in wanting nothing more than his money. Fame did truly come at a price.

"Don't worry." It's not like you couldn't get it out, a simple visit to the laundromat down the street tomorrow would prove effective. The issue at hand was more so that you had nothing to change into, and the potent scent was too much for your allergies to handle. "Would it be okay with you if I maybe took a bath to rinse all this off before I go home for the night?" A quick soak would likely help and make the grossly sticky feel go away. It had already been a long day; dusting his knickknacks, vacuuming the numerous bedrooms and washing the piled dishes had exhausted you terribly. The moment you got home you'd probably knock out the second you made contact with the mattress. A sole question bothered your psyche: was it considered taboo to wash off in the house of the man who signed your paychecks?

"But of course." Malachai is genuine in the way he offers. "Towels are in the linen closet, which is adjacent to the bathroom. Sorry you had to go through this mess thanks to my unsteadiness."

"No worries," you swear once more. "I've had worse nights, and I like being here anyway." And with that, you go off. The events of the few hours have left you unfazed, your mood happy even though your outfit was ruined and you'd had to cancel on a date you'd already done so to before. Negative streaks would be a thing of the past, as you'd decided to be more optimistic and quit worrying about things you could not change. Being a twenty something powering through online college courses and having a lucrative job were nothing more than dreams to some people, and all that you lacked in the present day was a significant other. Whatever was meant to be would come and there was no use in rushing when all you had was time.