Chapter 3 - June's First Complaint
June returned to work at nine that morning.
She looked exhausted.
She also looked terrified.
I found her polishing the silver in the dining room.
When she saw me, her hands stopped.
“Sir.”
“Come with me.”
Her face went pale.
I immediately understood what she thought.
“You're not being fired.”
Her shoulders lowered slightly.
I led her into the small library beside the kitchen.
Leah was already waiting.
June hesitated when she saw the laptop.
“This is Leah Morrison.”
Leah stood and offered her hand.
“I work for Mr. Blackwell.”
June gave me a cautious glance.
“She's helping me understand what happened.”
June sat.
Leah spoke gently.
“Mr. Blackwell told me what you said about your pay.”
June looked embarrassed.
“I wasn't complaining.”
“You should have been.”
Leah turned the laptop toward her.
“Do you recognize any of these deductions?”
June stared at the screen.
Health plan.
Housing savings.
Transit benefit.
Childcare assistance.
She slowly shook her head.
“I've never had any of those.”
“Did the agency ever ask you to sign forms?”
“When I started.”
“What kind?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you read them?”
June looked ashamed.
“They gave me a stack.”
Leah softened her voice.
“That's normal.”
“They told me where to sign.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Mercer.”
I stepped closer.
“Daniel Mercer personally handled your hiring?”
“Yes.”
That was strange.
Mercer supervised hundreds of workers.
He had no reason to conduct an entry-level housekeeping orientation himself.
Leah asked, “Did anything happen after you complained about your salary?”
June's expression changed.
She looked toward the closed door.
“I didn't really complain.”
“Tell us exactly what happened.”
June rubbed the faded bracelet around her wrist.
“My mother needed a new oxygen concentrator.”
She swallowed.
“I asked Mr. Mercer if I could pick up extra shifts because I thought my paycheck was wrong.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me my deductions were high because Mr. Blackwell provided premium benefits.”
I felt heat rise beneath my collar.
June continued.
“I said I didn't have benefits.”
Leah leaned forward.
“And?”
“He got angry.”
“How angry?”
“He said I should be grateful.”
June's voice became quieter.
“Then he said people who asked too many questions didn't last long in Blackwell houses.”
I felt something cold settle inside me.
“Did he threaten you?”
“I don't know.”
“Yes, you do.”
June met my eyes.
“Yes.”
The room became silent.
“What happened next?”
“Two days later, my schedule changed.”
“How?”
“They removed my Sunday overtime.”
Leah typed rapidly.
“Anything else?”
“My bus reimbursement stopped.”
“You received bus reimbursement?”
“For six months when I started.”
The payroll system claimed it had continued for more than three years.
Leah and I exchanged a glance.
“June,” she said, “do you still have any old paperwork?”
“My mother keeps everything.”
“Pay stubs?”
“Yes.”
“Employment forms?”
“I think so.”
“Letters?”
June hesitated.
“I wrote one.”
“To whom?”
“Mr. Blackwell.”
I stared at her.
“You wrote to me?”
“Two years ago.”
“I never received it.”
“I figured you were too busy.”
“How did you send it?”
“I gave it to Mr. Mercer because he said all employee mail had to go through management.”
My hands tightened.
“What did the letter say?”
June looked down.
“I asked if you knew how much we were really getting paid.”
For the first time since this began, Leah stopped typing.
June continued.
“I wrote that some of the women couldn't afford medicine.”
I said nothing.
“One cleaner was living in her car.”
Nothing.
“A driver had his electricity shut off.”
Nothing.
“And I asked if that was really what you intended.”
The shame I had felt in the pantry returned with twice the force.
Because June had tried to tell me.
May you like
Two years earlier, she had put the truth on paper.
And the people surrounding me had made sure it never reached my hands.
