Maid For Beckett Catching The Baseball Legend’s Heart novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

10 voustiers

All my life, I had lived in Hawthorne Bay. If you asked me where this and that were, I could guide you as if I were a tour guide, and Beckett’s list led me to the part of the city where I had only set foot once, and that was to deliver a pizza.

It’s where the luxury brands are. It’s where the high–end shopping mall is, and I had no other choice but to enter a store that made me look poorer than I already was.

Everything felt too bright, too loud, and too expensive for someone like me, but Beckett’s ridiculous list was tucked under my arm, and his Centurion card burned a hole in my pocket like it was radioactive.

A Black Card. I think this is what some people call it.

A real, actual. I–could–pay–rent–for–a–year–with–the–annual–fee Black Card.

I shouldn’t have been trusted even to hold it. I couldn’t even dream of seeing one in my lifetime.

But here I was, entering Harlowe & Co., the luxury department store where people didn’t walk – they glided, probably because their shoes cost as much as our trailer.

I pushed a cart, ignoring the stares. They probably never saw anyone shop here wearing thrift jeans, a jacket with holes on the back, and sneakers that would give out if I took another step. The first item on the list: “Temperature–controlled wine decanter (the good one).”

What the heck is that?‘ was my first thought. I had to ask for some help, and when I learned what it was, and how much it cost, my eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

It cost more than my mother’s medical bill last month.

Next on the list: “Organic canine multivitamins, 3–pack, brand: Belgian Bites.”

Of course. That I understood.

Then, “A basketball (signed if possible)” – which made no sense because how the hell do you buy it pre–signed? I’m surprised he didn’t put instructions for me to watch a basketball game and beg Jordan Clarkson to sign the freaking

basketball.

I moved on. Beckett had probably added random stuff to make me suffer.

By the time the cart was full, it looked as though I was preparing to host a billionaire’s wedding. I rolled to the register, bracing myself.

The clerk – a woman in red lipstick sharp enough to stab someone scanned everything with an expression like she was touching garbage. I wasn’t used to this kind of treatment and stares. The people in the bar only wanted to grab drinks, slap my ass if they could take the chance, but they were never like this. People looked at me like I was a stray dog in a salon for the rich pups.

“That will be $14,873,” she said with a customer service smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

I swept my jaw off the floor and pulled out Becken’s Black Card, handing it to her with shaking hands

Her hand froze. Then she lifted the card between two fingers, inspecting it the way Paul inspects dollar bills to check it they’re fake.

“I’ll need to see your ID,” she said.

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Chapter 9

“Sure,” I pulled out my driver’s license. She compared the cards. Then the ID. Then, the card again.

“This card is not yours.”

10 vouchers

“It belongs to my employer,” I explained calmly, because if I weren’t calm, I’d probably throw up. My palms were starting to get sweaty. “He gave it to me to do errands.”

The clerk’s smile completely faded. “And who exactly is your employer?”

“Beckett Hale.”

Her eyebrows shot up to the ceiling so fast they almost left her forehead. “Beckett Hale? The Beckett Hale?” She let out a humorless laugh. By now, people who could hear her were staring at me. They knew something was not right. “You expect me to believe Beckett Hale gave you-” Her gaze swept me head to toe like I was a stray dog that wandered in. “—his Centurion card?”

“Yes.”

She tilted her head. “Security.”

My stomach dropped.

“Wait–what? I didn’t do anything-”

A guard approached, tall and unimpressed, his eyes already securing handcuffs around my wrist.

The clerk crossed her arms. “She’s attempting fraud with a stolen card. We’re detaining her until the police arrive.”

“Police?” I squeaked. “On what grounds?! You have no proof I stole that card!” My mind was already on hyperdrive. I might be poor, but I don’t have any hits on my name. I was a law–abiding citizen, even when it sometimes seemed easy to solve our problems by breaking the law.

The clerk snorted. “Honey, if you stole from Beckett Hale, I doubt he’s going to vouch for you.”

Heat crawled up my neck. Embarrassment. Fear. Humiliation. All of it crashed together. I looked around. People were staring at me with judgment in their eyes, the kind you would throw at a murderer. I might not be dressed like this clerk, or everyone inside this store, but I know how to treat people with respect.

I didn’t do anything wrong, so I tipped my chin up at the guard who was ready to grab my hand. “Do that, and I will be the one pressing charges against you. I know my rights!”

My response earned a raised eyebrow from the clerk. “Call the police now.”

The guard hesitated. His eyes questioned the clerk’s decision. “Do that, sir. Call the police and let’s see who will be humiliated by this woman’s nasty attitude,” I said. “I might not be dressed like you, but at least I have manners”

The clerk’s mouth hung open. “What… what did you just say to me?”

“Shut up,” I warned her, pulling my phone out and dialing Siobhan’s number,

“Andi?” I heard her voice through the crowd that had gathered around the counter “What are you doing here?”

I can’t say how relieved I was to see Siobhan. Whatever she was doing in this building made me want to thank the heavens Siobhan belonged in this place, but she was looking at me with worried eyes.

“You’re here,” I sighed, my voice almost breaking.

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Chapter 9

10 vouchers

“Yes, I was just passing by when I saw you in here,” she turned to the clerk, the guard, and back at me. “What’s going on?” she raised that question in the air.

I squared my shoulders and glared at the clerk. “She is accusing me of fraud because I am paying for these things with Beckett’s card.”

“Fraud?” Siobhan’s eyebrows curled. “On what grounds?”

“My question exactly,” I said.

“Just because she wears worn–out clothes?” Siobhan was putting the puzzle pieces together as she stared at everything I bought. If she were confused, she didn’t show it. Instead, she pulled out her phone and stared at the quiet clerk in front of us. The guard had already stepped away from the commotion, and so had the onlookers.

It was funny that they recognized Siobhan’s authority by the way she carried herself and how she dressed. They already knew that this discussion was over the moment she stepped in.

“Oh, hi, Gladis,” Siobhan said on the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Are you in the store right now? I’m here with a friend. and we have some business we want to discuss with you.”

The color on the clerk’s face drained. It seemed that Siobhan knew someone at this store. “Ma’am, we don’t need to escalate this further; it’s just a misunderstanding-”

“Not another word,” Siobhan said. “People like you don’t deserve another chance. You’re lucky we’re not filing a lawsuit against you.”

I can’t say I’m happy that she’ll be having problems with her work, but it was nice to have someone on my corner for a change.

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