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Josefina cleans up messes for a living.
When Damien dared to say those words to her face during a spat about who would arrange the catering for Deborah’s birthday party, she confiscated his key and forced him to enter the house via an extremely soggy backyard for a week. Keeping said yard soggy also led to Wilson the water cop visiting multiple times over the course of a few days, which made Marcus very happy at the time; so, a win all around.
Still, in the privacy of her own mind, Josefina is proud to acknowledge: she cleans up messes for a living.
For example, when DJ used to come to the mansion looking for anything that would give her a temporary high—up to and including Deborah’s spray-on deodorant—Josefina was the one who would search her bag and confiscate the offending items, then tidy Deborah’s rooms back to their usual pristine state. And look at DJ now: clean, confident, married, happy. A job well done.
Deborah doesn’t always make it easy to clean up the messes in her life. Some she insists on handling herself, to Josefina’s chagrin. Like when the CO2 canister needs changing. At least those are small things, though. Far more troubling are the messes Deborah creates and then tries, and fails, to solve, usually resulting in greater catastrophe.
Ava Daniels, in all of her Millennial eccentricities, brings messes into Deborah’s life—and, by extension, Josefina’s. In the early days, those monstrous boots of hers used to leave ghastly streaks on the marble floors. After directing one of the maids to polish the scuffs away for the fifth time, Josefina installed an expensive, but discreet, boot scrubber behind a pot near the front door and pointedly steered Ava in that direction, ignoring the exaggerated eye roll she received.
Ava may be messy, but she isn’t an idiot: she never failed to use the boot scrubber after that day.
It didn’t take long after Ava’s arrival for Josefina to realize the young woman’s messiness might be one of the best things to happen to this household in a long time. There was something about the way Deborah’s eyes lit with fire whenever Ava did something to piss her off, which was daily and sometimes hourly. Like a spoiled house cat faced with an impudent stray. Like a genius at her craft faced with a genuine challenge. Like a dear friend faced with a perfect, albeit unconventional, match.
Which is why Josefina never minded when Ava’s messes started piling on top of Deborah’s. When she found herself constantly wiping down the counter to get rid of spilled matcha powder. When Ava’s hoodies and socks managed to wedge themselves between couch cushions. When Ava left, that first time, and Deborah spent an hour wrecking her bedroom before ordering Marcus to arrange a flight to Massachusetts.
When Deborah gets the Late Night job, it means more work for Josefina. Now she has two houses to oversee: the L.A. mansion during the week and the Vegas mansion on weekends. She doesn’t mind, though, not when this gig is such a victory for everyone in Deborah’s orbit.
So it’s a Monday morning, Deborah’s big first day, when Josefina takes the jet to L.A. to whip the house into shape while Ava and Deborah are at work. She finds messes everywhere—her punishment for leaving those two unsupervised for more than a few hours. The matcha station is askew, with green powder scattered over much of the counter. The CO2 canister is empty—odd, since Deborah can’t stand to be without her fountain drinks. Deborah’s room isn’t particularly untidy, but Josefina finds one of Ava’s shirts buried beneath the comforter (strange) and a bottle of Ava’s shampoo on Deborah’s bathroom counter (stranger).
Ava’s room is its usual disaster. At least the bra bucket is nowhere in sight. Clothes are strewn hither and thither; notebooks filled with her untidy scrawl are scattered everywhere. The only thing that seems neat is the makeup kit Kiki got Ava for her birthday, which looks suspiciously pristine on its little corner of the dresser.
Smiling and sighing and shaking her head, Josefina gets to work.
Several hours later, when the house is spic and span once again and Josefina is telling a young delivery man where to store a week’s worth of groceries, the front door slams open so vigorously a framed picture of Barry falls off the wall and shatters. Deborah storms in, face like a thundercloud, and hurls the keys to her latest Rolls Royce on the counter.
“Can’t believe—” she’s muttering to herself. “The nerve! How dare she!”
Josefina clears her throat. “Deborah.”
Deborah freezes. Color creeps up her cheeks when she realizes she isn’t alone. “Josefina? I wasn’t expecting you.” Her eyes narrow as they fall upon the delivery boy. “And you would be…?”
“Leaving,” Josefina supplies, nudging him out of the kitchen, to his obvious relief. “Marcus and I agreed that I should surprise you. The mansion needed some TLC now that you’ll be living here part-time.”
Even as she keeps the bland smile plastered on her face, Josefina strains her ears for the sound of clomping feet. Surely Ava’s finished with the boot scrubber by now. She needs to get her rear inside the house and take the brunt of Deborah’s mood.
Deborah’s mouth opens in a snarl, but it closes again before any words come out. She’s been doing that, lately—reconsidering before hurling blistering insults. She still hurls them, of course, but more thoughtfully. Deborah takes a deep breath, calming herself. “That was very…thoughtful…of the two of you. It’s always nice to see you, Josefina. I’m going to take a shower.”
With that, she’s gone, leaving Josefina staring incredulously after her. What was that? This is Deborah’s big day—why would she be doing anything other than walking on cloud nine today?
And, more importantly, where is Ava? She’s hardly seen one of them without the other ever since they reunited when Deborah did that guest hosting gig.
A shriek that could be either rage or terror comes from upstairs. Eyes widening, Josefina hurries towards the noise. She expects to find Deborah in her own suite, but no—she’s standing in the middle of Ava’s impeccably tidy room, turning in a slow circle and staring in horror or fury or some bizarre mix of the two.
“What did you do?” Deborah whispered.
Josefina is not an easy woman to fluster. But she’s never seen Deborah look quite like this: so very pale, nostrils flaring, shoulders hunched as if finally yielding to the burden of her age.
“I didn’t—” Josefina stammers. “I don’t—” She swallows hard. “I…cleaned up the mess.”
Deborah inhales sharply, pressing a hand to her face. For a long moment, she breathes; Josefina, meanwhile, holds her breath.
“Yes,” Deborah murmurs at last. “You did, didn’t you?” Without looking at Josefina, she stalks out of the room.
Josefina stands, frozen, in the middle of a room she’s cleaned so many times before. She knows her efforts are futile; it will take Ava less than a day to toss it back into disarray.
Unless—
Unless.
Unless there is no Ava to make a mess of the room.
Josefina goes cold. Before she can whip out her phone to text the Deborah Minions group chat, Deborah returns. She looks almost calm, but there’s a wildness about her eyes that warns of an approaching apocalypse.
“Josefina,” Deborah says softly. “There was a shirt on my bed. Where is it?”
She knows her answer is the wrong one, and she’s beginning to have an inkling of why. “In the wash, with the rest of Ava’s things.”
Deborah flinches.
“I’m so sorry,” Josefina says quickly. “I didn’t realize. Please, what can I do to help?”
Deborah blinks several times then shakes her head. “There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do. Thank you for your hard work, Josefina. I’m going to lie down for a little while.”
This time, she exits as if her slippers have turned to lead. To take a nap, apparently. Something she’s never done in all the years Josefina has known her, including the time she had that terrible flu.
Josefina listens until she hears Deborah’s door shut. Then she hurries downstairs and out the door, whipping out her phone as she goes. She jabs number eight on her “favorites” list and listens to it ring.
It rings for a long time. Josefina remembers some of the jokes from Ava’s early days with them; there’d been a lame one about how awful phone calls were or something like that. Well, if she doesn’t pick up, Josefina will have Marcus get that private investigator they’ve used a few times to hunt her down.
Thankfully, such measures aren’t necessary. Just before the call would go to voicemail—something Josefina knows for a fact Ava never listens to, having once seen the list of 43 unheard messages from Ava’s mother on her phone—there’s a click and a quiet, “Josefina. Hey.”
“Ava,” Josefina says sternly, in the tone that used to make her children immediately confess their sins, “what is going on?”
The first step to cleaning up a mess is ascertaining how bad it really is.
An hour later, she finds herself sitting across from Ava in a grubby little coffee shop that claims to have a vegan, gluten-free, cruelty-free menu. Ava looks fantastic in a suit, hair pushed back, and Josefina realizes, somewhat to her shock, that the younger woman has somehow matured into someone who should be taken seriously.
“I haven’t been back to the mansion in a week,” Ava is saying, idly stirring her matcha latte. “I assume Deborah’s burnt all my stuff. It’s whatever.” She won’t meet Josefina’s eyes.
“The last time I saw the two of you, you’d never been closer,” Josefina says. “You were both coming here to work together on your dream show. What did you do?”
Ava snorts. “It has to be my fault, doesn’t it? I’m the trainwreck, after all. Deborah never does anything destructive or stupid or petty.” She holds up a hand before Josefina can respond. “Don’t worry. I know you’re Team Deborah. I’m not trying to start anything, I promise.”
Josefina feels a chill at the thought that Ava is somehow no longer “Team Deborah”. Despite being the most recent arrival in their little family, Ava is unquestionably Deborah’s biggest supporter. She may even be Deborah’s muse. She’s certainly closer to Deborah than any of them have ever been, and that includes Marcus and DJ.
“Are you not working on Late Night?” Josefina asks carefully. “Did something happen?”
“I am working on Late Night,” Ava says. “And something did happen.” She takes a sip of her drink and makes a face. “Tastes like dirt.” She pushes the cup away. “Deborah did something to me a week ago. And—I did something today. She’ll never forgive me.”
That implies Ava herself can forgive Deborah for the “something”, doesn’t it? Josefina devoutly hopes so. Deborah’s reaction to the change to Ava’s space makes it clear her forgiveness isn’t far off, if it’s necessary at all.
“You left a lot of your things at the mansion,” Josefina tells her. “Deborah didn’t burn them. If you’re…not living there any longer…you should come pick them up. Soon. Today.”
Ava blanches. “I’m never setting foot back there. Deborah will gut me like a fish, only she’ll do it while I’m still alive. Just—donate it all to charity. That’s fine. I needed a new wardrobe anyway.”
Josefina gives her a look. “Ava.”
“Or you could ship it to me!” Ava says brightly. “That would be great. I’m almost out of hair gel. I’ll just need to get a new apartment first—I don’t think the guy at the motel likes me much and he’d probably be pissed if a bunch of boxes showed up on his doorstep.”
Ava’s been living in a motel for a week? Things are even worse than Josefina feared.
“Why don’t you come back with me today,” she suggests. “Deborah isn’t home—she’s gone out with network executives. We can pack up your things together and I’ll help you load your car.”
She’s always been a good liar. Ava doesn’t have a clue. “Seriously? That would be amazing. You’d really do that for me?”
Josefina’s heart breaks a little. Ava’s a person who needs people and shoves them away in equal measure. “Of course,” she says gently. “Even though I’m Team Deborah, that doesn’t mean I’m not Team Ava, too.”
For the first time, Ava gives a hint of that broad smile that would be obnoxious on anyone else.
Really, Josefina is Team Deborah-and-Ava. Both women are better with the other around, and that makes everyone else’s lives better, too.
Ava does get a little suspicious when she sees Deborah’s Rolls in the driveway. Josefina waves it off—“She got a new one; this one’s for Kiki”—and watches Ava’s hackles go back down. Still, the younger woman is tentative and uncertain as she creeps into the house, looking more like a burglar than someone who lived here eight days ago.
“We’ll start upstairs,” Josefina says when Ava looks as if she might make a beeline for the matcha latte station and then flee to the getaway vehicle.
Sighing, Ava follows her to her old room. She looks mournfully at the neat surfaces before dropping to her knees and rooting around under the bed for her battered suitcase.
Josefina waves at the closet. “Start gathering your things. I’ll go get your clothes from the wash.”
“Sure.” Josefina’s almost to the door when she hears a quiet: “Thank you. For being on my side, a little.”
Of course, she doesn’t head to the laundry room. Instead, she crosses the hall to Deborah’s door, knocks, and enters when there’s no response.
Deborah is asleep on the bed, face cleaned of makeup and wig removed. Even in sleep, she isn’t relaxed; her brow is tense and she’s audibly grinding her teeth.
“Deborah,” Josefina says softly. When there’s no response, a bit louder: “Deborah.”
Groaning, Deborah pries her eyes open. “What is it? Is there a fire?” She chuckles darkly. “No, wait, I wasn’t awake to set one.”
Josefina ignores the quip. “Sorry to wake you, but I need your help with something in Ava’s room.”
“You need my help?” Deborah repeats suspiciously, propping herself up on her elbows. “With what?"
“It’ll be easier to just show you. You know I wouldn’t ask if I could do it myself.”
Heaving a dramatic sigh, Deborah tosses the covers back and gets up, smoothing out her silk pajamas. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
Josefina gestures for Deborah to go first. She listens to Deborah’s soft footsteps on the carpet. She hears her open Ava’s door. She hears a soft gasp and isn’t sure who made it.
“You,” Deborah says.
“You,” says Ava.
They have the same venom in their voices; the same deep-seated relief, too.
Both women turn to glare at Josefina.
“You lied to me,” Ava accuses.
“I should fire you for this,” Deborah hisses.
“You’ll both thank me for it later,” Josefina tells them firmly and closes the door, shutting them in together. She grabs the chair she’d strategically placed nearby and jams it under the handle, satisfied when the door rattles and muffled shouts—“Open this door, right now!”—come from within.
She goes downstairs to get herself a glass of wine and wait for this mess to begin resolving itself. The situation isn’t unlike the many times she’s had to give it a few minutes for the spray to sink into the carpet after Cara has one of her “overexcited” accidents before she can start scrubbing.
She isn’t sure how long it will take Ava and Deborah to work through their “somethings”, so she spends the next couple of hours periodically swinging upstairs to listen for any sounds that might indicate what’s happening inside. The first time, there’s dead silence and she’s a bit concerned they’ve killed each other—but not concerned enough to open the door. The second time, there’s quite a bit of shouting. The third time, there’s crying. The fourth time, more shouting.
The fifth time, there are strange noises Josefina chooses not to think too hard about.
The sixth time, there’s silence once again. It’s long past dark by now. Josefina knocks. “Deborah? Ava? Are you all right?”
There’s a thump as if someone has just fallen off of the bed. Someone curses.
“Josefina,” Deborah says, “we’d like to come out now. We promise to be good.” Then, clearly an order to Ava, “Tell her, you dolt. Or she might leave us in here all night.”
“How terrible,” Ava says sarcastically. “Trapped in my bedroom together all night long.”
There’s another odd, wet sound. “My bed has nicer sheets.”
“Mmm. Well, when you put it that way…Josefina, pretty please, will you let us out?”
Josefina removes the chair and opens the door. The two women are sitting side by side on the bed, looking as disheveled as if they’d both stepped into a wrestling ring with DJ’s husband. It’s going to be an HR nightmare if they’ve been whaling on each other.
But she’s pretty sure that isn’t what’s been happening. Not if Ava’s red cheeks and the fresh, dark hickey on Deborah’s neck mean what she’s pretty sure they mean.
“Everything okay in here?” Josefina asks, raising an eyebrow.
Deborah and Ava exchange a long look that contains none of the hostility of a few hours ago. Josefina realizes they’re holding hands.
“Yeah,” Ava says, smiling at Deborah with uncharacteristic, endearing shyness. “Everything’s okay.”
Deborah clears her throat, pretending the corners of her mouth aren’t twitching, staring at Ava’s lips. “Josefina, I think you’ve done more than enough for today. You should call it a night. And—sleep in tomorrow. I don’t want to see you here until ten at the earliest.”
“Noon,” Ava interjects, leaning against Deborah’s shoulder.
Deborah absently tucks a strand of hair behind Ava’s ear. “Actually, why don’t you take the day off? I’m sure Ava and I can handle any…messes…that arise.”
Josefina feigns hesitation. “Are you sure?”
Deborah’s face has been slowly tilting towards Ava’s. She pulls back long enough to say, “Very sure. Thank you, Josefina.”
It sounds like a dismissal, but Josefina can hear the genuine gratitude in her employer’s voice.
Smiling to herself, she leaves the room. As she closes the door, she hears Ava call, “Really, Josefina. Thank you!”
Josefina’s smile widens as she makes her way downstairs.
Really, she is fantastic at her job. She’d want a raise, except that Deborah already pays her obscenely well. Well enough, in fact, that she thinks she’ll spend tomorrow visiting the shops on Rodeo Drive. She deserves something nice for cleaning up such a big mess so efficiently.