“Just a bunch of stuff from the pantry,” David answers with a shrug.
“And Zombie,” I add.
“I see. No wonder it smells like food in here, except for Zombie, of course.”
“Trust me,” I tell him. “It does not taste like food.”
“How long is she supposed to be in there?” Randall asks David.
“Just two more minutes,” David says. “If she comes out before then, she loses.”
“I won’t come out,” I assure them.
“Okay.” Randall taps his fingers on his arm.
Like with the burger challenge, he seems to be anxious for me to finish.
Finally, David puts down the clock in his hand with a sigh. “All right, time’s up. You win.”
“Great.” I smile. “Hear that, Zombie? Time to get out of the tub.”
He doesn’t budge.
“Fine. I’ll get out first since I have to towel you off so you don’t make a mess.”
I try to get up but I can’t.
I look at David. “Any help?”
He, too, doesn’t budge, sulking.
“Here.” Randall offers his hand.
“Thanks.”
I grab his arm and try to get up but the tub is too slippery. I end up slipping back into the mixture, dragging Randall in with me. At the same time, Zombie bounces out, causing a splash. He starts shaking, getting drops and puddles of the bath mixture all over David–who runs out of the room–and Randall.
“Oops,” I say as I stare at him, his shirt now splattered with all the sticky, smelly stuff. “It seems like we ended up in the same mess… again.”
He says nothing and I start to worry that he’s angry when all of a sudden, he starts laughing.
I laugh as well. What else can I do?
“I’m beginning to wonder if it’s you who’s trying to get David out of trouble or if it’s the other way around,” Randall says.
“Sorry,” I tell him with a sheepish grin then look at my body. “I guess we have a lot of work to do to clean ourselves up.”
Just then, we hear David screaming.
“Zombie, no! Stop!”
Oh, shit.
I make another attempt to get out of the tub, this time succeeding, then reach for my robe.
“But first, we better catch Zombie before he makes a mess of the whole house.”
Requests
Randall
I don’t remember clean feeling this good.
I heave a sigh as I lie on top of my bed in my robe, staring at the ceiling.
It seems like I’ve just been through the washer, having spent more than an hour in the shower and then in the tub. For a moment there, I thought the smell of the soy sauce and the mustard would never come off.
I sniff my arm. Finally, I smell more like a human than a piece of marinated meat.
As I put my arm over my head, I wonder if Sabrina has been able to get rid of the smell. She was soaking in that tub, after all, whereas I just fell in. She’s even dirtier and smells worse than Zombie since that dog had his fur to protect him and he managed to shake off most of the mixture, which ended up on the carpet of David’s room, on the walls in the hallway, on the stairs and on some of the living room furniture before we managed to catch him. But the mixture probably clung to Sabrina’s skin.
Sabrina’s skin.
I still remember how she looked like in that swimsuit, which fit her like a glove. Strangely, in spite of all that stuff she was coated in, she still looked amazing, the piece of clothing showing off her slender shoulders, the curves of her breasts and the other pair of curves past the small of her back, which are just as firm and rounded – a cute ass that I just wanted to squeeze and bite into.
That ass.
But then I saw something else, too – scars.
They were on her back, peeking above the curve of her swimsuit. If the back of her swimsuit had been any lower, like most of those I’ve seen, I would have seen the length and extent of those scars. As it was, I could only see the tips. They’re brownish, too, which means they’re fairly new. Even so, I can’t help but wonder what caused them and maybe more importantly, who. After all, there’s no way such scars on the back can be an accident.
Then there’s her arm, too, which seemed to have been injured not too long ago.
What happened to her before she came here?
I go to my computer, checking the file that Carol sent me in hopes of finding a clue, but it isn’t helpful at all. All it says is that Sabrina is new at the agency and that she dropped out of Youngstown State in Ohio after studying Biology for just a year.
Why? If she was good enough to enter college, why leave? Sure. It could be because of financial reasons but Sabrina doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to easily give up. If she really wanted to finish college, she would have found a way. So, why didn’t she? Why just drop out and become a nanny? Usually, the nannies I’ve employed haven’t gone to college or even tried and most of them say they became nannies so that they can provide for sick parents or put younger siblings through school. According to this file, though, Sabrina doesn’t even have a family, both her parents long deceased.
Why did she decide to become a nanny? Why go all the way from Ohio to Texas just to be a nanny? And what was she doing during those two years between dropping out and joining the agency?
Something is off. There’s too little information. Her file is too clean, almost like she just appeared out of nowhere and can easily disappear into nowhere.
I look at my phone, wondering if I should call Carol’s number. I still have her card. But then I remember that Carol and Sabrina are friends.
I pick up my phone. There’s still someone else I can call, and I’m sure he can help me.
After the second ring, Gil picks up.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Remember how you ran a background check on Peter Nelson before I made him VP?” I ask.
“Yup. Why?”
“Because I need you to do another background check for me, this time on Sabrina James and I need it ASAP.”
The sooner I find out what she’s hiding, the better.
***
“I’m not hiding anything.” Sabrina shows me the hands she’s been holding behind her since she entered my office. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”
“Nervous?” I arch an eyebrow at her. “Is that why you won’t approach my desk, too?”
“Well, that’s because I’m not so sure how I smell.” She sniffs her arm. “I’m pretty sure I got rid of the smell of the tomato sauce but I feel like I can still get a hint of soy sauce.”
I’m tempted to offer to smell her but I don’t.
“I’m sure you smell fine,” I say instead. I tap my pen on my desk. “But that’s not the reason you’re nervous, right?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I guess I still am feeling a little guilty about last night, about pulling you in, I mean.”
“It’s not like you did it on purpose.”
“No, but I still feel responsible. Like you said, I caused trouble.”
“No. That’s not what I meant at all. I was just worried that David is being more of a bad influence on you than you are being a good influence on him – I mean, look at this stuff he’s making you do – but I’m sure things will turn around. No need to apologize.”
“Still. I thought I’d apologize by bringing you some coffee.”