—Holy God, what a mess! Clara began cleaning the parts of the mansion where the party

wasn't happening. I should have charged more, you know? Damn it. Nana is going to have to

give me extra, oh yes, she is.

She had already filled two large trash bags, just around one of the huge pools. She was now in one

of the rooms, and the carpets, which had once been white, just a few hours ago, looked like they

were beyond repair. Oh, but they must be rolling in money, what are carpets to them?

—My goodness, how hard is it to throw condoms in the trash? Now, in one of the bathrooms that

was bigger than her bedroom, she was getting ready to clean up and removing the bottles, papers,

and many other things that were in the bathroom.

—What are you muttering about, Clara?

—Oh, what a scare, Nana! The girl put her hand over her chest, frightened, imagining that it was

one of the partygoers who had entered the bathroom and caught her talking badly about them. I

was just grumbling to myself about the price charged. No one deserves this, girl, it's worth twice

what we charge, you know? And the party isn't even over yet.

—I heard the delightful CEO, you know, the big shot, say that he'll give the cleaning staff a

generous tip, so don't worry.

—I'm not worried, my ass. These rich people think a tip is two or three reais." Clara went into

the bathroom stall and picked up an empty bottle of some expensive drink that had fallen there.

—Clara.

—Seriously, Nana, I hate those snobs – still with her back to her friend, she threw the bottle

into the bag. – Screw them. How much do you think a bottle like that costs, huh, tell me, do you

think they'll give us a tip that even comes close to the value of a drink like that?

—It costs around... I don't know, you're right." This time Clara was really startled and the bag

she was holding fell from her hand, the bottle in the bag making a crashing sound. The man

who was looking at her with a funny expression made the bathroom seem even smaller with his

imposing presence. Nana, who was behind the man, signaled to her that he had heard, and only

now she understood that her friend had wanted to warn her of his presence before she started

talking. Too late.

—I have no idea how much this drink costs, but I promise I'll find out and give you a tip for

the price of the drink, okay?

Clara lost the power of speech. Nothing came to mind that she could say. The man stood with

his arms crossed in the middle of the bathroom. Was he waiting for her to agree to the

tip proposal or would he fire her right away? Damn her mouth for not keeping quiet! The man

must have been about thirty years old. Although he was certainly a millionaire, he had the look of

a playboy who never had to work. He wore a thin, white linen shirt. Clara didn't

understood clothes, but she believed it was designer. The scent that emanated from him was

strong, some expensive perfume, obviously. The jeans fit him very well and the combat boots

were beautiful. With his arms crossed in front of his strong chest—she couldn't help but notice—

his arms looked toned, his muscles bulging. But his face, well, she thought she had never been in

the presence of such a handsome man in her entire life. Perhaps the asymmetry, the lack of perfect

proportions, made him perfect, strange, but real,

especially his square jaw with a dimple.

—I'll look up the price. What's the name of the drink again? she said with her chin up and heard

Nana exhale, surprised by her stubbornness and disrespect towards one of the bosses.

The bastard laughed. Oh, screw it! She had already messed everything up. If he fired them, at

least they wouldn't have to stay there until the end of the party. She hated these parties that

ended almost at dawn. They were never worth it in the end. On top of that, he had one tooth

overlapping the other, was that right? How could a person be

beautiful and not beautiful at the same time?—Could you do that outside so I can use the bathroom, please? he asked. Only then did she

realize that he had come in to use the bathroom, and when he noticed the blush that instantly

rose to her face, he began to dance in front of her, shifting from one foot to the other.

—"Sure, go ahead. But I'll do just that. You won't get away that easily, my dear." She wanted to

have the last word.

She walked past him to leave the bathroom. Nana had run away, the coward. The boy took

his cell phone out of his pocket and, with a few quick clicks, fiddled with it and handed it to

her before slamming the door in her face.

—Wow, she looked at the device, which must have cost two or three minimum wages, afraid to

drop it, and saw that the drink he had mentioned was on the browser. It was called Vale Verde.

Ha! My goodness, it was really expensive. Was he joking when he said he would tip them the

price of that drink? Where was Nana, who didn't see what had happened?

She heard the sound of the toilet flushing and, in a moment of insanity, ran away with his cell

phone.

—What did you do?! Nana stared at her in disbelief.

—I already told you I hate these little playboys. He put the cell phone in my hand, I didn't steal it

or anything. Do you think I was going to stand there waiting for him to piss like a mare, all the

drinks he drank all night, to give him his cell phone? I'm not his maid.

—Yes, you are!

They were already in the taxi on their way home. And Nana, desperate, asked the driver to turn

around and take them back to the mansion.

—No way! Call him and tell him where I put the damn cell phone. It's almost five in the

morning, Nana, I'm not going back there even if my life depends on it. And why didn't he

come looking for me

to get it? He must be so drunk he didn't even remember he didn't have his phone, he probably has

a dozen cell phones, relax. On top of that, they didn't pay me at the end of the cleaning,

damn those rich people. She leaned back on the seat, exhausted, her feet swollen.

—My goodness, you're really sour today, aren't you?

—Tired, my dear friend. I still think we should send the girls to do these cleanings.

—Let's wait a few more months, Clara. We're still in the early stages.

—You've been saying that since we started the company. Clara looked at her friend in the

dark interior of the car and rolled her eyes, even though she knew her friend couldn't see the

scorn.

—But you know I'm right, don't you?

—Yes, I know.