Counterweight

Shanequa had texted Elizabeth to show up at 3 p.m. prompt. Elizabeth chuckled wearily, stripping out of the French maid outfit. Promptly meant different things in different cultures, she knew. But using that word period meant something out of the ordinary, so at 2:59 she was knocking on Shanequa's door.

"C'mon in, sugar," Shanequa's voice came through softly. It was almost meek now, unlike the authoritative tone she used before. Elizabeth took a deep breath, twisting the doorknob only to find ...

Something not intimidating at all, really. An older Black man, bespectacled, with a frame that was thin on the borderline of gaunt. He smiled thinly, but not with amusement. His eyes showed an intellect that Elizabeth had encountered in very few men ... Douglas and Moses being two of them. But there was a coldness and calculated manner that made her skin goosebump.

"This is Victor Franks, Elizabeth. He's in finance," Shanequa said simply.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Elizabeth ..." he prompted, waiting for her to obey.

"Castle," she said timidly, the goosebumps not going away. His eyes flitted over every inch of her body, inspecting her closely.

"Shanequa and I go back. She has explained your ... unfortunate situation," Victor said simply.

"How ..." Elizabeth started.

"One of his ... associates helped me out at one point," Shanequa said obliquely. "I ... helped out Victor for some time in return. He has money and influence."

"You know, she really is quite a specimen," Victor said, not even speaking to Elizabeth. "The weave, the ass ... you'd think she was a Black piece of ass."

"That's true," Shanequa agreed. "Her whiteness is skin deep by this point. She don't even got custody over her white kids no more."

"You ... maid ..." he said, looking at Elizabeth. She hesitated, wanting to correct him ... but this didn't seem to be the type to bear the burden of correction.

"Yes, Sir?" He sighed with disappointment.

"Maids have Masters, cunt. Surely Moses taught you that. How often do you serve him, maid?" She blushed beet red.

"Not often, he likes to keep me at poverty level." Victor snorted.

"He is quite crude in his methods, but I can't argue the outcomes. You'll continue to work for him. But now you'll listen and remember what you hear. I've studied up on you, you know. Well bred, marginal education, but you fit in well in upper society before. You may have a place serving me. But you'll find your wages inadequate until you ... prove yourself. And not just by retaining information in that barbie doll brain of yours. Do I make myself clear?"

She shivered again. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it seemed. But it was a way out of the nadir ... perhaps.

"Yes, Master."