The Fundamentals of the Wealthy

Mr. Raleigh is Gonna Kill Me

Would I really get fired if Mr. Raleigh didn't like Victoria? Will I get fired now for lying? I can't tell him now! Then he'll know I lied!

I put my hands in my jacket and watched the cobblestones move under my moving legs, trying to ignore the gnawing thoughts. Victoria’s show was in the afternoon, and at 6 AM in the morning, I was heading to the Raleigh penthouse to help Mrs. Raleigh - the latter of which who called at two in the morning, crying about something incomprehensible. And, I assumed, over a glass of wine.

I slipped through the Victorian gate and knocked on the door with the heavy brass knob, three times. Pepita went crazy whenever someone knocked more than three times.

The door swung open, and a pair of darkened blue eyes stared down at me.

“Good morning Andrea,” I greeted, forcing my mouth to curve upwards.

The sixteen year old girl glared at me, then turned, hollering into the house: “Mom! I thought we were firing Piper!”

“What?” Came a muffled voice from inside, “No we aren’t! Is she here?”

“Ugh.” Andrea gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes, “Fine. Whatever. Come in, I guess.”

She left to disappear upstairs, and I entered, closing the door behind me. Andrea and I were on neutral terms when I first started working there - until Mrs. Raleigh made me dish out the punishments for her stepdaughter because she was too afraid to do it herself.

“Piper!” The elder woman bustled out of the kitchen, clopping awkwardly towards me. I swore her heels got taller and taller everyday. But that was hardly worth any attention. Streaks of tried dark makeup had stained underneath her eyes and cheeks, and the lipstick on her mouth was smudged all around her face.

Something told me this woman wasn't having a good day

“Morning, Mrs. Raleigh. You needed me?” I inquired.

“Come share my despairs and wail with me, Piper! For I have undergone the worst shame any woman has ever endured!” She wailed and pioneered the way to the kitchen, where the counter was surprisingly uncluttered with wine bottles.

I turned to the sink. The wine bottles were in there, instead. How had her kidneys not failed yet?

“What happened?” I rolled my eyes. Mrs. Raleigh required an active audience at all times.

“The macarons you and I worked so hard on…”

Actually, it was mostly me…?

“They threw them away!”

A little bit disappointed at the anti climatic story, I shook my head, “No way!”

“Yes way!” Mrs. Raleigh hollered, throwing herself onto the stool, “That Ms. Wadleigh asked me if the almond flour was organic, and I didn't know! So she refused to eat them, and then everyone else didn't want to, either! I spent all night crying over them.”

“...I can tell,” I muttered.

“But that Ms. Quinn brought chocolate cupcakes that were made with cocoa powder that wasn't even imported from Latin America, and nobody even complained!” Mrs. Raleigh sighed, “I don't know why they hate me.”

“I'm sorry Mrs. Raleigh, but maybe you just shouldn't hang out with them.”

“I can't do that! I need someone to talk to!”

“There are other women in the city, Mrs. Raleigh.”

“Yeah…” She lowered herself onto the couch, waving a hand, “Thank you for your time, Piper.”

That was the fastest fit I'd ever seen her throw. It relieved me, but at the same time I was frightened. I hurried out the door and hardly made it to the landing before my phone buzzed, lighting up with Mr. Raleigh’s ID.

“Piper, come to the office immediately.”

I rubbed the dryness from my eyelids and sat down on a step, relishing the still air of sleepy New York City.

“Mr. Raleigh, it’s 6 AM. What are you doing there?”

There was a faint rustling of papers over the line, then a far crash of the clock falling off his desk.

“Right. Nevermind, Piper. Just come to the office at your regular times.”

“Have you been there all night, Mr. Raleigh?”

“Of course not,” He snapped, lowly growling, “I went home at 9 PM, showered, and sat in my living room for an hour until I realized I was wasting precious work time. So I returned to the office at 11, and I’ve been here since.”

I scrubbed my face with both my hands, letting my face rest there for a second.

“I’m awake now anyway. I’ll be there in ten minutes, Mr. Raleigh.”

I hung up and started off towards the building.

Pedestrians were coming out in a steady trickle, although the honking of the cars were ceaseless. The sky grew golden, chasing out the darkness of the morning as more and more people crowded onto the sidewalks in Central Park. I wore a dark knit sweater and skinny jeans, in addition to boots with a two inch heel. So instead of being five foot one, I was five foot three. The difference was astounding.

When I set my bag on my desk, Mr. Raleigh was still in his office. I let myself in.

He was sitting at his desk, in his swivel chair, with an immaculate desk; papers were stacked neatly on the corners and on the floor. If Mr. Raleigh ever had a bad day, he wouldn’t throw things like a regular person would - he would arrange and file everything out of stress.

My employer had tilted his head onto the back of his chair, his eyes closed, and his hands folded on his lap. The stillness and silence of him terrified me.

I stood at the door, watching him with wide, subtly anxious eyes; tentative, I caught myself admiring his profile, his strong jaw and piercing dark green eyes as they fluttered open and regarded me blankly. I could feel my breath hitch like it never did before, and fumbled for my words for a moment.

“Mr. Raleigh. Is it the paperwork?”

“No,” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, coldly, “How is the project going with Ms. Bradford?”

“I’m going to see her this afternoon,” I said. His irritated tone wasn’t unusual, but on that particular day it made strange feelings bubble up inside me - like butterfly wings tapping the lining of my stomach.

He was quiet, staring smoothly at me with no discernable reaction.

What is wrong with me?

Mr. Raleigh’s brown hair was tousled unevenly, probably due to running his hands through it dozens of times.

“Good,” He leaned towards her, rubbing the darkness under his eyes with his hands. I felt a pang of sympathy - being hung up on a girl must be awful, let alone a top supermodel.

Not to mention you lied about it too.

“Shut up,” I hissed out loud.

“Pardon?” Mr. Raleigh raised his suddenly sharp gaze to mine, “Did I say something to offend you?”

“No! Oh, no I was talking to myself,” I responded defensively, squirming under his stare that pinned me to the wall.

Any other time, Mr. Raleigh would have surely tossed me out the window by then, but he just sighed, hugely.

“Is everything in the office up to date?”

I glanced to my desk, and then at the surroundings outside the glass office.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“You may have the day off, then. Get as much information as you need on your afternoon expedition.”

I blinked. The Mr. Raleigh I knew would

“I have a question, Mr. Raleigh.”

“What is it?” Mr. Raleigh prompted dryly, irritated.

“Why do you like Victoria Bradford?”