In His Sheet

Episode 008

The event finally came to an end, grinning from ear to ear as I walked towards where everybody was gathered, Clara stood in the center, addressing us for a job well done and handing out our paychecks. The event had finally come to an end without any of my lies blowing up in my face, which I will count as a huge win.

“Mara, you did great. I’d love to keep you permanently as my staff if you are ready to accept the offer,” Clara called, beaming at me.

“What?” I asked, coming out of my thoughts. “ Don’t I have to apply or something of that sort?”

“You do, but since you proved yourself efficient today, I’ve decided to offer you the job, that’s if you want it,” Clara explained.

“Oh my god! Yes! Yes, of course, I’d love to work with you.” I nodded excitedly.

What was that saying about things handed to you on a platter of gold? This will not only allow me to get close to her, but I will also have a well-paying job, and it can be believable that she’s actually my aunt.

“Great. I’ll have Stella draw up a contract for you. It should be in your email by morning,” Clara said, squeezing my arm before turning to hand the next girl her envelope.

I stood there frozen for a second. A real job.A real paycheck. A real in.

But why though? Did something happen? Why the sudden interest in me?

Not like I'm ungrateful. I'm just not really buying the sudden offer, but who am I to freaking refuse!.

Now I don't get to overpack too many shifts at the club, just my regular assigned time, so I can have the extra money till I get called for another job.

My brain was doing cartwheels.

When I finally moved again, I stepped out of the circle of girls and staff, clutching my envelope like it was a newborn child.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, not this fast, not this perfectly. I’d planned to sneak in, mingle, plant a few seeds, then slip away into the night and pray for someone with money to remember my face.

But now?

Now I had a pass.

A golden, shiny, open-the-gates pass.

I worked for Clara Monroe—officially. Or at least, by tomorrow morning I will.

I bit my lip to keep from smiling too hard as I walked toward the exit. Rich couples were still slipping into waiting cars; camera flashes still sparked in the distance; someone was laughing loudly, champagne-drunk and carefree.

This world didn’t feel so far away anymore. It didn’t feel impossible. I had an identity. I had a friend. I had a job that could actually explain why I was around these people.

Step five: stability secured.

My chest swelled with satisfaction. If the universe was handing out blessings tonight, then maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something real. Something big. Something I had been dreaming about for years but never thought I’d touch.

For once, everything was going exactly how I needed it to.

As I walked toward the gates, I spotted Elise and her friends gathered near the valet line. They were laughing—soft, effortless, money-filled laughter—as the night breeze played with their hair and their designer dresses shimmered under the lights.

Grace got into a silver coupe.

Amber slid into a sleek black sedan that probably cost more than my entire building.

Taylor is nowhere in sight.

And Elise… Elise kissed all of them on the cheek before her driver opened the door of a polished white Mercedes for her.

For a second, I expected her to glance back, to call out to me, to wave. She didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. She probably didn't even see me because of how far away I was.

It's nothing, I really need to stop being paranoid. I made a good impression. She even invited me to another party, so it's most likely that she would remember me.

But still, we hadn’t even exchanged numbers.

I had so focused on not slipping up that I had forgotten the most basic part of making a connection, regardless.... a strange calm settled in my chest.

We will meet again. Soon. Those kinds of girls always attended every important event in the city, and now that I will be working for Clara? I’d be at those events too. There was no rush. The door was already open.

I hugged my envelope a little tighter and headed toward the back exit—where staff left, far away from the glitter and cameras.

The night air changed the moment I walked out. No perfume, no luxury engines humming, no laughter. Just the distant sound of traffic and the flicker of old streetlights.

The public bus screeched to a stop in front of me, its sides dented, the inside smelling faintly of sweat and oil. I got on and dropped into a seat by the window.

It was half empty, with people nearly as tired as I was, probably even more, but not even that thought could stop the happiness spreading across my body.

By the time the bus reached my stop, the buildings were smaller, stained, and sagging under years of neglect.

My street was quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that made you listen for trouble.

I climbed the narrow staircase to our apartment, the one with chipped blue paint and a door that never fully closed unless you kicked it.

Inside, it was dark. I switched on the small lamp, and the dim yellow glow filled the room. On the thin mattress against the far wall, my mother lay curled beneath a blanket, her breathing uneven and shallow.

I crossed the room in seconds. Her forehead was burning—again. Her fever was back. The envelope in my hand suddenly felt heavier, like a reminder and a promise all at once. I took a slow breath.

Tomorrow will be a new beginning. But tonight, I was still here. Still me. Still taking care of her.

I knelt beside the bed and placed a damp cloth on her forehead, brushing a stray hair away from her face.

“Just hold on, Mama,” I whispered. I’m getting us out of here.”