“Straighten your back."
Kaylee froze, sponge in hand, bleach fumes stinging her nose. She turned slowly to find Clarence standing behind her in a tailored suit, coffee in one hand, indifference in the other.
“Posture matters," he said, taking a sip.
She straightened, jaw clenched. “Didn't realize you were grading my scrubbing technique."
“I grade everything," he replied. “Especially performances."
“You want performance? Give me a piano."
His eyes lingered on her fingers—chapped, red, cracked. “You couldn't handle one."
“Try me."
He stepped closer. “That sounded like a challenge."
“It was."
Clarence smiled faintly. “Tonight, then. Play for the guests."
“I'm not a party trick."
“No," he said, voice low. “You're a cautionary tale."
---
The dinner party sparkled with crystal chan
