—would be an extreme exaggeration.
Hamburger patties weren’t as valuable as gold, but Cassandra sure liked them.
Thin.
Thick.
Extra thick.
Angus.
“What’s an ‘angus’?” she said to herself.
“It’s just a type of cattle.”
“Oh.” She turned around and saw the owner of the voice, Ken, leaning on the handle to his cart, Katrina laying on his head.
“Do you want a pack? We can have hamburgers during the weekend.”
Ken didn’t wait for an answer, picked up two packed boxes, and put them into his cart.
With everything they needed, they hit the checkout lines. The one with the lowest number of people was the lane they headed to.
The only person in front of them was the maid that Ken and Katrina had seen before. She had a moderate number of goods on the conveyor belt.
“Hello again,” Ken greeted her, putting his items on the belt behind hers, making sure to use the divider. Katrina sat on a can of beans, enjoying how the belt moved like an amusement park ride.
“He-Hello,” she replied.
She looked over and saw Cassandra, who wasn’t with them the first time they met. “Your . . . wife?” she asked.
“No!” Ken responded.
“Possibly,” Cassandra replied.
Ken gave her a stern look.
“What?” Cassandra grinned at him.
The maid finished paying for her items, they were packed away in bags, and placed into her cart by the bagger. Just before pushing away, she said “See you next time.”
“Yep.”
The clerk couldn’t help but laugh each time the belt moved. Katrina would squeal “Weee!” and then would come to a stop. She repeated it until the can she was riding on needed scanned.
The bags were put into Ken’s cart, and they went outside.
The maid was waiting near the curb, talking on a cell phone. “What? An hour and a half? What am I supposed to do until then? I see . . . Okay. I understand.”
It looked like whoever she was talking with had ended the call.
“Um, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, but do you need help getting somewhere?” Ken asked.
“My landlord was supposed to be here a little while ago, but she has been delayed for an hour and a half.”
“An hour and a half? Are you just supposed to wait here until then?”
“That’s what she said. Thankfully, I didn’t buy any perishables.”
“Well, where do you live?”
“About ten minutes away by automobile.”
“Is that all? I can give you a ride.”
The maid shook her head. “That would be too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all.”
“No trouble at all!” Katrina echoed.
The maid glanced to Cassandra. “And what does your wife have to say about it?”
“She’s not my wife!”
Cassandra grinned. “Come now, dear. It will be no trouble at all.”
“Stop giving her mixed messages!”
* * *
“We didn’t get your name,” Ken said, breaking a long silence.
“My name is Sasha Redford. I’m from the planet Koriri.”
“Well, I’m Ken Goldwrite. The little one up here is Katrina, and the one back there with the sword is Cassandra.”
“Hi!” Katrina said. “But I think I said that to you before.”
“Hello,” Cassandra said.
Sasha led them through the route to where she was staying at. When they arrived, she unlocked the door and Ken and Cassandra started helping her with the bags. Katrina stayed in the car, listening to the radio.
“This is a nice house,” Ken said, putting the bags near the door. “You must have a good room.”
The maid winced. “Not . . . really.”
“Huh? It’s only a one story house, but it looks like there are four bedrooms in this place.”
“One bedroom is for my landlord. The second is for her daughter who is in college in another state. The third is a den. And the fourth is a guest bedroom when someone stays after a party.”
“Is that all of the rooms?”
“Yes.”
“Then where do you sleep?”
Ken could tell she was pondering something, and then quietly said, “This way.”
Just from her reaction, Ken had the feeling he didn’t like where it was headed.
She led them to a laundry room, and she turned to her right.
“Here.”
Ken’s heart sank. No. She couldn’t have been sleeping there.
“You can’t be sleeping here. Tell me you’re joking.”
She didn’t say anything. All she did was slowly shake her head, staring at the long closet and the cot in it.
Ken couldn’t grasp the concept. Why would someone invite someone else into their home, and then make them sleep somewhere like a chained animal?
“How long has it been like this?”
“Since I got here.”
“This has to be a joke, right? No one would do this kind of thing!”
“I just . . . assumed this is how it was done.”
“How it was done!? This is insane! Has Amelta even been by here?”
“Not since I arrived here.”
Ken scrambled to understand. What was going on? Sasha arrived earlier than his tenants, and Amelta hadn’t done a follow-up yet?
“Ken,” Cassandra called out.
Ken was still thinking. He didn’t respond.
“Ken,” she called out again.
Ken blinked, realizing she was trying to get his attention. “I’m sorry. What?”
“The contract with a landlord states that a suitable living area, specifically a room, has to be supplied to one who will be staying on Earth. I remember at least that much.”
“It’s okay,” Sasha said.
“What . . . ?” Ken breathed.
“Really. It’s okay. I mean, I’m used to things like this.”
“Are you serious? This is not okay!”
She just shook her head.
“No. It’s okay. Really, it’s . . .”
She couldn’t lie anymore, and just started to sob.
Just looking at the frail woman, crying because of what happened to her – especially this – was more than Ken could take.
She was probably bullied into it. More than likely, she was also bullied into keeping her mouth shut.
He grabbed her arm.
“Come on,” he said.
“Where—”
“I don’t have time to explain.”
Cassandra followed them to the car.
* * *
Ken was back in the waiting area for Sasha’s home . . . if one could call it a home. He had taken Sasha to his house, and left her in the care of Alisa, Angelica and Katrina.
Ken had moved a chair into the center of the room, facing the door, so Sasha’s landlord wouldn’t miss him when she arrived. He was fuming, trying – and failing – to calm down. Ken didn’t like bullies, and considering how he had been several years ago, he might do something he regretted when he saw Sasha’s landlord.
He heard the sound of a vehicle arriving, stopping, and shortly after, a key unlocking the door.
When the woman came in, she was carrying a shopping bag, and as she dropped it next to the door, she saw that there were a number of grocery bags on the ground.
“Why the hell didn’t Sasha put those groceries away? Sasha!” she called. Then she noticed Ken.
“Who are you!?”
“A concerned citizen.”
“Breaking and entering is a crime!” she yelled.
“I didn’t break in. I was let in by your tenant.”
“What the hell is Sasha doing, letting some she doesn’t know in?”
“You mean th
e woman you keep in the laundry room closet?”
“And what’s it to you? Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do in my house!?”
“Because you’re in violation of your contract. You lied about what you would offer. You see, the people staying here on Earth want to experience the best that we have to offer.”
Then he became serious.
“Then we have trash like you here, taking advantage of people like her.”
“How dare you.”
She went to the sofa, and pulled a crowbar out from under it. “I keep this around for people who try to break in.”
“And I told you, I didn’t break in.”
“Will the police believe that?”
“And you’ll lie about Sasha’s living conditions too, won’t you?”
“She doesn’t complain, and goes along with whatever I tell her, or she gets sent home. If I tell her to lie, she will.”
The woman took a step forward.
“Oh, Cassandra?” Ken said.
The door closed behind the woman, and Cassandra stepped out from her corner that was hidden behind the open door. She had unsheathed her saber and had it pointed right in the woman’s face in the time it took her to turn around.
The woman gritted her teeth. “What do both of you want?”
“It’s easy. When you’re asked by the handler to give up Sasha’s contact, you’re going to do it.”
“Like hell. I refuse.”
Ken stood up.
Cassandra took that as her cue to hold up the tape recorder that was in her free hand. The landlord could see the heads moving.
Ken walked past the woman, stating as he did, “The handler will be in touch.”
He and Cassandra both left without another word.
As they drove back, Ken called Amelta. He shouldn’t have been doing it while driving, but it was important.
“Yes, Mister Goldwrite. What can I do for you?”
“I would HIGHLY suggest that you get to my house as soon as you can,” he said flatly.
“Is something wrong? Did anything hap—”
Ken hung up.
He was not looking forward to their meeting.
* * *
Amelta pulled into the driveway. Ken’s sudden call concerned her. The first thing she thought was there was a problem with one of his tenants. Maybe one of them got hurt, or was ill, or something of that nature. She wouldn’t know until she talked with him, but she recalled that he didn’t seem too happy.
She got out of her minivan, and knocked on the door.
Cassandra greeted her. Amelta put on her best face.
Cassandra didn’t. She looked stern, and didn’t seem pleased to deal with her.
“This way,” she said, leading Amelta up the stairs. When she hit the top, she saw Ken waiting for her at the dinner table. He looked up from his paperwork.
He definitely didn’t look pleased.
“Have a seat,” he stated flatly, gesturing to the chair across the table from him.
She sat down, not knowing what to do next.
They sat in silence for about a minute. Ken was looking blankly down at papers, drumming his fingers on the table. Cassandra was sitting on the sofa, away from the table.
A clock ticked audibly, and with every tick, every finger of Ken’s that hit the table, Amelta knew the situation was worse than she had anticipated.
“So how do I explain this?” Ken asked. It was a question more to himself than to her.
“Well, maybe you should just say what you’re thinking,” she offered.
“Good idea,” he said.
He was ticked. He wanted to scream at her, but this situation called for calm. He took a deep breath.
“What kind of person are you?”
Amelta knew what he was asking. He wasn’t asking her about who she was or what kind of person she was in the ‘good way.’ Instead, he was asking who she was as a step to a worse question. But she didn’t know how to answer. “I’m not sure I understand,” was all she could muster.
“Since you’re the handler for this area, let me ask you if you know Sasha Redford.”
“Yes. She’s living in this city. About twenty minutes from here, by car. There’s only one—”
She was cut off when Ken held up his hand. “Yes, yes. I’m quite aware of that. Actually, she’s in one of the back rooms as we speak.”
“What is she doing here?”
“I brought her here. It was better than leaving her where she was. In good conscience, I couldn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you been to that house or talked to Sasha since she arrived?”
“No. I’ve been busy. It’s on my list of things to do.”
Ken took another breath. “Thankfully, Alisa was able to get these photos off Cassandra’s cell phone.”
He found the pictures in a pile of paper, and handed them to her.
“What are these?” she asked, flipping through them.
“It’s Sasha’s room.”
She looked up at Ken in disbelief. “You have to be joking.”
“I really wish I was. Cassandra and I were there. Would you like to hear the tape of the confrontation we had with the landlord?”
That’s when she noticed the tape recorder on the table. Ken reached over and pushed the ‘Play’ button.
More and more color drained from her face as she listened to the brief and telling encounter.
She was unable to say anything. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Are you completely incompetent!? She was treated like a slave! Instead of being a guest here, she was treated as hired help, and she wasn’t even getting any money!”
So much for calm.
Ken shook his head, and then continued. “Someone was actually getting paid to treat her like that. I don’t know what else went on there, but just from being forced to live in a closet, that’s too much.”
“I’m . . . sorry . . .”
Ken slammed his hands down on the table. “You shouldn’t be saying that to me! You should be saying it to her!”
“Where . . . is she?”
“Cassandra, bring Sasha out here.”
She stood up, and went into one of the back bedrooms. A few moments later, she returned with Sasha.
Amelta didn’t know what to say, and she just breathed an “I’m . . . sorry.”
Sasha didn’t say anything.
“Now the question is,” Ken said, “what happens next? I didn’t do this to cause trouble.”
“Well, that is a problem,” Amelta said. “There were only a limited number of places tenants could stay at. All of them were taken.”
Sasha looked down at the ground. “Then . . .”
If there were no houses left, there would be no place for her to stay. She obviously came into the program for a way to experience something new, something grand in a new world.
What she got was the opposite.
A question ran through Ken’s mind. Was Earth the only place that these kinds of things happened? If his tenants were anything like Earthlings, that wouldn’t be possible. In all the worlds out there, was there some place perfect, where bad things didn’t happen to people like her? Like Ken?
Ken could only assume there was no place that was a paradise. Perhaps it was his forced view of realism over the years, but he came to the conclusion that the universe was more like Earth than anyone would have thought.
Along with his forced realism, the voice of his forced responsibility gave him an undeniable option to the poor woman’s return to her planet.
“She . . . can stay here,” Ken said.
Sasha and Amelta stared at him in shock.
“What’s with the look? I did think about this, if only a little.”
“But aren’t all of your rooms full? Where are you going to put her?” Amelta asked.
“We’ll f
igure that out. I can at least promise she won’t be sleeping in a closet, or on a cot. I don’t care if I have to crash on the sofa until we figure it out.”
Sasha looked down and shook her head. “Maybe I should just . . . pull out of the program and return to my planet.”
“That’s one option,” he said. “But, Sasha, what do you want to do?”
She looked at Amelta, then Cassandra—
Ken grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen, where neither could see her.
“I’ll ask you again. What do you want to do?”
“I . . .”
“Sasha,” he said, patting her head, “you have two choices: stay here or go home. Do you really want to go home?”
She pursed her lips. “I can’t . . . go home. Telling my parents what happened . . . would break their hearts. They wanted something better for me here. I was supposed to do my best. But it turned out to be a nightmare.” She looked down. “But I’m too scared to stay here.”
“Do you think the same thing will happen here?”
She nodded, slowly.
“You don’t have to worry about that. My tenants may be a bunch of oddballs, but they’re harmless.”
“Hey! We heard that!” Natalia shouted from behind them.
He turned around, and saw his tenants lined up near the entrance to the kitchen, heads only peeking around the corner.
He chuckled, and turned back to Sasha. “Well, mostly harmless.”
“Where am I going to stay?” she asked.
“She can share my room,” Alisa said. “It’s big enough.”
“We’ll just have to find you a bed. Don’t take that the wrong way. You’ll just have to use my room for the time being.”
“I . . . apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Anybody else have any problems with adding a new tenant?”
“Nope!” said Katrina.
“None,” Alisa said.
“No,” Angelica said.
“A maid-like addition would give this place a touch more class. Of course, in addition to myself,” Natalia said.
“See? If you can put up with Natalia, you can put up with anything.”
“I’ve had just about enough of that!” Natalia yelled, grabbing Ken and putting him in a headlock.
“Hey, hey! What happened to classy!?”
Sasha then started to laugh. She laughed so hard she started to tear up.
Ken painfully looked her at her. “I’m glad you find this funny . . .”
Natalia let him go.