“What in the what . . . ?”
I blinked and shook my head. A cool breeze blew past my face and some of my hair brushed across my face. A three bedroom, treadmill, and garage. He wanted me to find something for him because he thinks he’s moving in. Even worse he thinks his name will be on the house.
Holy hell, I woke the beast.
WORK KEPT ME BUSY through the weekend, along with incessant questions from my mother about what my plans for the future were. Everything I told her didn’t seem to be what she wanted to hear, and that’s just too damn bad. I wasn’t a failure for not following her agenda. She didn’t exactly say the words to me, but after twenty-five years of watching, living with, and studying her faces, I knew when I wasn’t up to par for her. My dad, on the other hand, appeared to be more accepting of it all. Granted I’m pretty sure Dodger was on his shit list. What can I say? Daddy’s little girl and all that hoopla. I’d have to commit murder and shave my head to make him turn his back on me.
It was now Monday. House hunting day. I personally was thrilled despite the company that was tagging along. Dodger insisted that he drive us to see each house. Currently, we were on our way to the first one on the list. Much to his dismay, he was going to find out that it was a two bedroom, single car garage, and little to no backyard. Sure I asked the realtor last night to line up the rest of the places to Dodger’s specification, but I had to keep the guy grounded somehow. Remind him that this wasn’t his choice, it was mine. Besides . . . maybe I wanted a three bedroom. I just didn’t want to be told that’s what I was going to buy. I inwardly laughed to myself.
When we pulled up to the house, even I gawked at it. It was a single story home, with the shingles from the roof falling off. Hmmm, that wasn’t disclosed in the description. Dodger looked over at me like “are you serious”?
“What?” I said, acting like I didn’t see the house was decrepit.
“Oh, nothing. Let’s go see the loveliness that you’ve lined up for us.”
I sneered at him. Could someone point me in the direction of the closest cliff I could shove him off?
We both got out and walked toward James, my realtor. He was standing on the front porch and greeted us with a pleasant smile. He seemed like a friendly man. It was my first time seeing him in person after multiple emails and many phone calls. He didn’t look at all how I expected him too. His voice sounded young, if you will. I pegged him as a twenty something that was dabbling in the real estate industry, but probably wasn’t sure if this was his chosen career path. He was knowledgeable and had an answer for everything that I’d asked. I expected to see a short slightly overweight, brunette. Maybe the type you’d find in their mother’s basement chugging beer, eating Taco Bell, and gaming for hours on end. This man, he was tall, thin, had eyes even lighter in color than Dodger’s sparkling blue. His hair was salt and peppered which made him incredibly handsome. Hmmm . . . wonder if I could get away with flirting with him and Dodger not string me up by my toes?
James held his hand out for both Dodger and me to shake. Dodger took it first. When I did, it felt confident and firm. I liked a good handshake. A weak one always made me write a person off before they even got a chance to leave any other impressions.
“So good to finally put a face to a name.”
“Yes, it is.” I batted my long lashes at him.
“I’m sorry, how long have you two been talking?” Dodger interjected, giving me a pointed stare.
“Oh, just a couple of days,” James answered.
“He seemed to know the most about the area I was looking in.” I shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal.
Man, why did it feel so good to see Dodger display his jealousy? It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to see it. That brooding male ego of his really was attractive even though I’d never tell him that it turned me on watching it. He’d go out of his way to puff up his chest in front of anything with a penis. Maybe even a female that was too lesbian or butch. You never know with this guy.
James put in the little code on the security box attached to the front door. “Okay, so what we have here is a two bedroom, one bath, craftsman style home. It was built in nineteen forty-four. There’s approximately nine hundred and eight square feet.” He got the key popped out of the lock box and he put it in the handle and twisted.
As soon as he pushed the door open, we were all assaulted with the smell of moth balls and definitely something dead. I’d not smelled many dead things in my life, but I was sure there was a mouse somewhere out in the open or hidden between the walls that had an untimely death and it’s rotting corpse was now wafting through the house.
Dodger put his hand up to his nose. “God, what is what?”
James was trying to not mimic him, coughing a little, and miserably failing to brush off that he was disgusted by the smell.
“I apologize. The last time someone was in this house was over a year ago. It’s bank owned and they don’t usually come into their properties to make sure everything is up to par before being shown.”
“Maybe somebody should tell them they need to.”
Both men had taken a few steps into the house, but shuffled around when they noticed I wasn’t following.
“Macie, are you okay?” Dodger said, concerned.
I was still standing on the front porch, bent at the waist, trying not to dry heave into the bushes just off the steps.
“Mace?” he asked again.
I held my pointer finger up, asking him to give me a second. I was trying to compose myself. Jesus Christ, no way was I going to make it one foot in this place without hurling. And I’ll be damned if this was pregnancy shit and heightened sense of smell. This place just reeked.
“Huh uh,” I tried to stand upright and wiped a tear from gagging, under my eye. “Not going to happen. Let’s roll, boys.”
James was a little confused.
Dodger took it upon himself to proudly state, “She pregnant. Those crazy symptoms and all, just never know what’s going to come out of her mouth next.”
My lip curled. “Don’t ‘pregnancy symptoms’ me! You’ve not been around long enough to even experience them, so shut up.” Another wave of nausea hit me.
“I would have been if you’d have told me sooner.”
“Uh, I told you when I thought it was a good time. Get over it.”
“And you thought a month later was a ‘good time’.” He air quoted.
I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Hey, at least you know. I could have been one of those girls that doesn’t tell the father shit, then winds up on Maury Povich two years later attempting stupid DNA tests and I’m in tears screaming you’re the father.”
“Nobody watches Maury anymore.”
I gasped. “I watch Maury every day. And if I can’t, I DVR that shit.”