Chore Whore Read Online Free PDF Page B

little too quickly.”
    I flash on all the times she’s nearly mowed down motorists, flipped birds and turned red in the face with anger.
    â€œWhy were you in such a hurry?” I ask.
    â€œI’m editing my film and I get a frantic call from Odalis saying that the police are at my door with an arrest warrant for some guy who lived there before I bought the place. So, I had to get home.”
    â€œDid you get it all straightened out?”
    â€œYeah.” Daisy pauses and looks pensively at me. “I’m going to miss you, Corki,” she says.
    â€œWhat?” I ask, thinking I misheard. “I’m not going anywhere.”
    â€œLook, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. Well, this film . . . you know I’m basically funding it. It’s a huge undertaking, financially, one of the biggest things I’ve ever done. And like all films, it’s costing a lot more than I thought it would. And since Peter left me, well, you know, he’s not helping out with Smith’s child support. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m really going to have to tighten the purse strings and cut out all the extraneous expenses. Between Odalis and the nanny, the pool guy and the gardener, I’m paying out almost eight thousand a month. Add on the film, the mortgage and everything else and I have my accountant screaming at me that I’ll run dry in two years at the rate I’m going. I mean, I’m sure he’s exaggerating slightly, but still. . . .”
    â€œI understand,” I say softly. My voice doesn’t give away the panic I feel.
    â€œDo you really understand? I still want you and Blaise to drop by. Smith loves playing with him. Come over anytime you want, promise?”
    â€œOf course.”
    We hug our goodbyes and I watch her get back into her new BMW.
    To override the panic fighting to spring to life, I turn on my internal calculator to tabulate how much less we’ll have to live on. We’ll forgo Blaise’s swimming lessons, piano lessons, the weekly lunches out, my occasional pedicures, those cute shoes I saw on Rodeo Drive. Getting back to the work at hand, rather than letting my emotions overcome me, I drive toward Blaise’s school and call Concepcion on her cell. She picks up after the first ring.
    â€œAllo!”
    â€œConcepcion, it’s Corki. Jock wants to know why you didn’t do all the laundry in the hamper.”
    â€œI did all his clothes.”
    â€œNo. He wanted you to do all the clothes. Even hers.”
    â€œI don’t do whore’s underwear,” she states flatly. “I did his ex-wife’s underwear, I did Miss Lucy’s, but I don’t do the underwear of prostitutes y putas!”
    â€œYeah, well, Con, she may be a hussy, but I don’t think she’s a prostitute. There are plenty of girls givin’ it up for free—he doesn’t have to pay. Besides, you could have used rubber gloves—I had to pick the nasty-ass things up with my bare hands . . . with Jock standing over me! Thanks a lot.”
    I hang up with a “humph” and scan the glove compartment for some antibacterial hand sanitizer. I wonder if the steering wheel would peel if I rubbed it down with alcohol.
    I pull into the parking lot of Crown Cleaners on Fairfax Avenue and grab the panty bag and other clothes from Betty’s floor. I plop them down on the counter and wait for my turn. Watching a young girl next to me place some neatly folded clothes on the counter, I notice that she clutches a white envelope in her hand with a return address of a local business accounting office. I know instantly that she is a new celebrity assistant.
    She’s dressed nicely because she hasn’t had to scrub dog shit off the bottom of her client’s shoes yet. She’s innocent—who else would carry five hundred dollars in petty cash around in a flimsy envelope tearing under the weight of