“Cinder, where are you? You should have already been at the job site. The Handyman will be waiting to let you in,” my stepmother’s shrill voice demanded through the speakers of my rusty old car.

“I’m on my way,” I answered, wishing I hadn’t accepted the call.

“If this job isn’t done within the hour, then I’m docking your pay,” she told me, knowing that it would take at least three hours to do the clean-up.

“I’ve told you how long this kind of job takes, and you only rang me twenty minutes ago,” I argued, even though I knew she would dock my pay anyway. She always found a way to dock it.

“Well, what took you twenty minutes to do?” she screeched.

I liked it better when Dina, my stepmother’s secretary, arranged my jobs. At least she didn’t screech or carry on.

“I was on a date when you called, and then I had to stop at home to get the cleaning supplies,” I told her.

There was a moment of silence before my stepmother burst out laughing. “You, on a date? That’s ridiculous! Who would want to date a thing like you?”

The words were not unexpected, but they still hurt. 

My stepmother and my twin stepsisters were all gorgeous, tall and willow-thin models, whereas I was average height, average build, with average mousy brown hair. The only thing that I could describe as above average were my boobs, but they still weren’t in the realm of amazing, just bigger than my stepsisters.

My stepmother was still laughing and making piggy snorting noises through the car speakers. “Cinder, you on a date. That is so funny.”

I shouldn’t have bothered saying anything. I pressed the button and hung up.

My date had been with a nice man named Simon from the business management class I was doing. Simon wasn’t bad looking, although he wasn’t anything great either, but he didn’t seem to have excess body odour or forget his wallet after ordering the entire menu, both of which I have had dates do in the past. Simon was just average like me, albeit a little dull. I had thought him sweet and shy when he had asked me out. I probably would have gone out on a second date if I hadn’t spent the last two hours listening to him tell me in detail about his love of yoyos, with a detailed description of each and every one in his vast collection. 

To be honest, when my phone started the funeral march, which was the theme song I had set as the ringtone for my stepmother, I was grateful for the out. I had given Simon a half-hearted goodbye and told him I would see him in class tomorrow night.

The only reason I had started doing night classes was because I didn’t want to work for my stepmother’s company anymore and figured if I was going to be a Cleaner for the rest of my life I might as well start my own business and get paid properly, instead of constantly having my wages docked. So far, I had finished an introductory class in commercial law and was halfway through a business management course. 

Not that I would tell any of the stepfamily about any of my classes or that I wanted to leave their family business and set up my own.

I said their family because since my father had died, I had been reminded almost daily that I was the plain stepdaughter who was only tolerated because I was indebted and had to work off all that I had been given by my stepfamily.

Driving down a narrow, tree-lined street, I stopped in front of a single-story brick house with an overgrown front lawn, decorated with a For Sale sign out the front that had a huge yellow sticker declaring the house as sold. 

I turned off the ignition, stepped out of my car, and took my time to look around at the neighbouring houses. It was an older suburb, but properties in the street were neat and well kept. 

This was the kind of area that I could imagine myself living in one day with a dog and a couple of kids. I had never seen myself with a husband or even a boyfriend, mostly because any males that had ever paid me attention quickly forgot about me once they saw my stunning stepsisters. 

How does an average girl turn invisible? Stand next to a supermodel.

I presumed when I was ready to have kids, I would have to find someone that was blind or go to a sperm bank so my baby daddy could get me knocked up without seeing my twin stepsisters.

Going around to the back of my old rust bucket of a car, I pulled out the crates of cleaning supplies and loaded them onto the trolley I used to haul around the heavy bottles of chemicals and tools I needed for my job. I wrestled the trolley up the uneven path before heaving it up the front three steps and knocking on the door.

“Who is it?” a muffled voice yelled from inside.

“It’s the cleaning service,” I called back.

“I didn’t order a cleaning service,” the voice yelled.

I pulled my phone out and looked at the address I had been sent, then at the number next to the door. Had my stepmother dropped the ball and not sent the Handyman in yet to fix the problem and let me in? 

I always came in after the Handymen had finished the job so I could clean up any messes they made.

Turning around, I looked up and down the street, hoping that I had the wrong address. Otherwise my stepmother would likely expect me to do the Handyman’s job as well as my own. 

Nope, there were no other for sale signs in any of the yards and by the text message on my phone. This was definitely the right address.