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  Breaker

  I had been watching her for an hour and she’d yet to notice me. She was a machine. She was methodical in cleaning each area as if she were trained by a professional. It was remarkable to watch. And I almost hated to do what I was about to do, but I was starving. I’d been up for almost three hours, woken up by the water running in the kitchen and I’d been here, perched on the balcony, watching her ever since.

  And God help me, she was beautiful. She had a determination about her that contented her face. And I didn’t know what kind of pants those were but girls should wear them all the time, screw the jeans, those tight gray pants hugged everything she had.

  I tip toed down the stairs, not wanting to disturb the master in action. I got to the last step and I saw her eyes flick my way and then back as if they’d been caught. I got a bowl down and a spoon and searched for my cereal. I couldn’t find it anywhere. I mean, I usually kept it on the counter but now it was gone.

  I turned to her and cleared my throat. God, I hope one day I’ll be able to talk to her without sounding like a ten year old with strep throat. “Did you hide my cereal?”

  She stepped down from the step stool and wordlessly came towards me, opened the pantry door and handed me the box. I swore I heard her mumble, “Men can’t find anything,” before climbing back up the stool steps to dust more. I propped myself against the counter to eat, pretending to be obtuse about the whole thing, as if she wasn’t right there, smelling like crisp sheets and freshly showered woman. As if she didn’t show a bit of midriff when she reached above her head to reach a light bulb or the top of a painting. As if she didn’t demand my attention with every move she made. I was practically in a trance when I heard the lock on the front door turn.

  My mother strolled in and began inspecting immediately. She complimented Ashland on her progress and then asked my opinion.

  “Breaker, isn’t she doing well? The place looks spectacular.”

  I shrugged and put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher.

  “She’s all right.” I needed to stay cool about this, one hint to my mother that I was jonesing hard for this girl and she would get rid of her.

  “I asked about her work, not her as a person.”

  I rolled my eyes, “Looks cleaner, sparkling clean, clean as a whistle, shined to a gleam.” I gave her a ‘happy now?’ look and stomped up the stairs, maintaining my careless attitude.

  I stayed in my room for the rest of the day, avoiding my mother’s needling and Ashland’s pull on my eyes. I immersed myself in the newest simulation game until darkness fell and my stomach rumbled. I opened the door to the smell of tomatoes and basil and noticed a pink note taped to the door. I hadn’t even heard anyone come upstairs.

  I will be cleaning upstairs tomorrow. If you could let me know when it is convenient to clean your room, I would appreciate it. And I’m making spaghetti if you want some. Ash.

  I tore the note off of the door and stuffed it into my pocket. I would have to deal with her sometime and she was just one person, not a flock. I could do this.

  I traipsed downstairs; my nose leading the way. She sat in the same place at the countertop, swirling spaghetti around a fork and smiling at herself when it failed to wrap around it like she wanted.

  She turned when she heard me and started to get up again.

  “Don’t get up, please. You cooked?” I tried to change the subject, anything but talking about my awkwardness was a plus.

  “Yeah, I figured spaghetti was a safe bet.”

  I nodded, “It’s my favorite, thank you.”

  I made a plate and sat down beside her. She squirmed and readjusted herself in her seat. I made her uncomfortable, which was funny since that had been my initial intention. God, I was an idiot for thinking I could do this. I just sat down beside her and I turned her off completely. Holly used to tell me that it was my personality she loved since there wasn’t much on the outside. And I guessed she was right. I gathered my plate, thanked her for the meal, then went to my room, preventing myself from wigging out before she even got unpacked.

  I didn’t have a shot in hell—at least not like I wanted to.

  The morning brought more insecurity and more questions. I brought my now stuck on spaghetti plate to the kitchen after making sure I didn’t have any boxers lying around. I left her a note, since that seemed to be her preferred method of communication, and told her I would be out of my room between ten a.m. and two p.m. I would occupy myself in the adjacent room where I was now working on a leather messenger bag. I had the main design drawn out but needed something for the middle. And that’s when it came to me; I would make it for her. I kinda owed her after being an ass.

  I worked on it furiously until late afternoon and went back to my room for a shower and a change of clothes. I gasped when I opened the room, I’d forgotten she was supposed to clean it that day in my work frenzy. But my gasp was brought on by the overwhelming smell of her in my space. It was everywhere. Even when I entered the bathroom, her smell permeated the small space. I shucked my clothes, careful now to put them in the hamper. I didn’t want to undo everything she’d worked so hard on.

  I’d noticed my shower was gleaming as I entered the warm spray. I’d have to try again. If Holly always claimed my personality was why she loved me, then certainly I could use it to be friends with Ashland. Friends certainly wasn’t the first word that came to mind when I thought about her, but I was suddenly desperate for her company, however I could get it. And she was living here against my will; I might as well make the most of it and try to push this state of mine to the limits. Maybe there was a chance I could break through.

  Dr. Mavis was on vacation this week so even if my whole plan went south, there would be no one to go to. I looked at my disheveled hair in the mirror and decided to not even bother. My grayish eyes had dark purple crescents hanging below them, the effect of many a sleepless night. I hung my towel on the hook after brushing my teeth and looked at the door as if it was her. I needed this.

  But when I went downstairs, she was gone. I looked out the window to see her car missing. I thought about what an easy life she must have, coming and going as she pleased.

  Must be nice.

  I heated up some of her leftover spaghetti and noticed another note taped to the refrigerator. It said she’d gone for gas and to call her cell if I needed anything from her in the meantime.

  She was taking this maid thing way too seriously.

  I ate and made sure to rinse my plate and put it in the dishwasher. I didn’t want her to think I was completely ungrateful. I took advantage of her absence and looked around the place. It was absolutely spotless. I made sure there were no invisible witnesses before opening the door to her room and was assaulted by her smell. If I thought it was obvious in the rest of the house, I was wrong. It was all around me and I closed the door, needing to escape it before I got ideas in my head.

  I sat down in the living room and put in a scary movie about some kind of aliens. She came in later and the aroma of gas proceeded her.

  “Why do you smell like gas?” I said it without choking. I wanted to pat myself on the head like I was my own obedient dog.

  “Because I went to get gas. I thought I left a note.”

  Oh God, she did leave a note. What a moron.

  “Oh, that’s right.”

  “I’m gonna start in on the back yard tomorrow. Your mom said you ran the gardener off. Something about crazed man running around in boxers screaming obscenities. That’s just hearsay though.”

  I snickered but she didn’t. And I’m sure she didn’t mean ‘crazed man’ like I took it, so I decided to let it go. Plus, I had no idea my mom knew about the gardener. She’d certainly never said anything to me.

  “He was mowing the grass at six a.m. on a Saturday morning.” I shot back at her.

  “Well, God forbid someone wake up before noon.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. She began apologizing from behind her hand.

  �
��Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I just spout out smartass things sometimes. It wasn’t my place to talk to you like you’re a friend. You’re my employer. Oh, my mouth has a mind of its own sometimes.”

  “No,” I said as I stood up, “It’s fine. As you can tell, or my mom probably told you, I don’t leave this house. So, if we could be friends, that would be good. Unless you don’t want to. I would understand that. I was a real jerk to you before.”

  She shrugged and her teeth wrestled with her bottom lip before she spoke. “It’s fine. I would be pissed if I was a slob too.”

  I chuckled. She was a smart ass—perfect. Holly always told me that joking was for kids and dumbasses. I’d curbed my jokes for a long time. But I needed to brush up on my skills. Smart assery just didn’t translate well over the internet sometimes. I’d know, I’d been banned from more chat rooms than I cared to admit.

  “Nice. I wasn’t a slob at one time. So what time are you starting the back yard? I guess I better help.”

  “No, no, you might hurt yourself getting off your high horse.”

  I clapped my hands. “Ok, ok, you win.”

  She laughed and it sobered me. She had the sexiest laugh I’d ever heard. It rang a song down in her chest and in mine.

  “What time, slave driver?”

  “Depends,” she shrugged.

  “Depends on what?”

  “Depends on whether or not you want breakfast. I make some mean French toast. But I’m not sure if it stacks up to his highness’ standards. But then again, anything is better than Frosted Flakes.”

  “French toast sounds great Ash.” Did I just call her Ash?

  “Ok, in that case, six a.m. And one more thing.”

  I bit my lips to stop myself from laughing.

  “Name it,” This should be rich.

  “I’m gonna be wearing a pair of shorts tomorrow. Try not to pick a perch and stare at my ass all day like you did when I was cleaning.” She winked at me and walked out. And I thought I’d been so stealth about the whole thing. Damn, I was so wrong.

  Ash

  Holy shit! I couldn’t believe I just said that to him. But I had to. He had to know that he wasn’t quite the ninja he thought he was. And I needed help tomorrow. That backyard resembled a sugar cane field.

  I’d gone out earlier that day to mow the grass since it looked like the greatest case of ridiculous I’d ever come across. This big beautiful house with all of its crown molding, granite countertops and maple staircase to sit next to that wasteland they called a backyard was a travesty. I called Mrs. Collins about it before I started, just in case it was a no, or something that would set Breaker off.

  She’d told me about his affliction in our meeting and what she wanted me to do about it and how much she’d pay me to do it. There was no way I could ever make that much money anywhere else, not to mention, I wouldn’t have to find a place to live.

  And I felt like I could help. My mother had been somewhat the same way but she was paranoid about aliens and demons and such. She wasn’t afraid of people at all. Mrs. Collins had been very thorough. She knew what was in my background. She also knew I had no money for a dorm and none to pay for college. So she made me an offer I couldn’t resist.

  Except, I didn’t know I’d actually start to like Breaker.

  He didn’t fit the mold I’d so carefully carved. He wasn’t so incredibly handsome, but when he smarted off to me the dimples in his cheeks came to life. And when I surprised him by telling him I saw him watching me, his gray eyes gleamed. I had to remember I was here to do a job, not bag a boyfriend.

  The next morning, I awoke at six and got dressed in a white tank top and some cut off shorts. I threw on some tennis shoes and put my hair up in a bun. Bread, eggs and milk in hand, I started breakfast. Breaker wasn’t up yet and I knew that I’d eventually have to go up there and knock on his door to wake him up.

  I made stacks of French toast and decided to go the extra mile and made sausage too. I had everything ready and his lazy ass still wasn’t up. I took the stairs two at a time and reached his door. I knocked and the door flew open revealing a smiling Breaker wearing basketball shorts, an old Rage Against the Machine t shirt and a ball cap. Forget what I said before about him being incredibly handsome. He was hot.

  “Now who’s staring?” he laughed and I slapped the bill of his hat.

  “You’re late your Highness,” I retaliated.

  “And you’re wearing shorts.” He stepped back and dramatically checked me out.

  “Stop. Are you hungry?” I asked him.

  “Oh yeah, I’m hungry.” He kept his eyes on my legs.

  “You have to quit now.” I joked and turned to go down the stairs. We ate breakfast in mostly silence except for when Breaker moaned every time he put a bite in his mouth.

  “Do you have to moan every time you put something in your mouth?”

  That really set him off and the rest of the meal was filled with cheesy innuendos.

  I finished first and went to put my plate in the dishwasher.

  “Are you done your Majesty?” I said as I reached for his plate.

  “You’ve really got to stop with that.” He said. “It was funny the first maybe six times.”

  “Ok, ok. So do you want to mow and I can weedeat—or do you want to weedeat and I’ll mow?”

  He scrunched up his mouth and looked in the air like he was thinking hard.

  “It’s not that hard of a decision.” I crossed my arms.

  “I was just trying to think about the job that gives me the best view of your ass.”

  He got slapped again, “Stop!”

  He went to get the gas from the garage where I’d put it the day before and I went outside to survey the area. It was a huge yard. It would probably take all day to mow it and get it looking decent.

  Breaker mowed and I tried not to cut my leg off with the weedeater. I finished the perimeter of the yard by the fence and then started in by the house. The weedeater stopped and I realized it was out of gas again. I walked over to the porch and looked at the time through the glass door. It was a little after noon. Breaker was halfway through the enormous yard and somehow I’d missed it when he took his shirt off. And I could see from where I stood that he was getting sunburned.

  I waved at him and he saw me and stopped the mower.

  “What?” he yelled from across the yard.

  “You’re getting burned and I’m starving.”

  He gave me a curt nod and walked over.

  “Do you—I mean do you ever…”

  He laughed, “Spit it out.”

  “Do you ride in a car? I mean, if I wanted to run for a burger, could you come with me? We won’t get out, just the drive through.”

  Though he’d been in the sun all day, he suddenly went pale. Now I’d done it. Me and my big damned mouth.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just wondered. Shit, I’m always apologizing to you!”

  He shrugged, “It’s fine. But no, I don’t go anywhere. But you make me want to again, so I guess that’s something. But I haven’t had a fast food burger in years.”

  I gasped, “How are you still alive?”

  He grabbed my shoulder and laughed. I didn’t know I was burnt until he touched me. I let out a hiss.

  “Sorry, shit. You’re pretty burned too.”

  “I am. Look, how about I go get us a slew of fatty, greasy food and you cool off.”

  “Ok, but I’m not gonna cool off. I’m gonna hunt you down some aloe and Tylenol.”

  “Deal.”

  I got into my car after grabbing my wallet and my keys. I stopped to think about what I’d said. And then I threw a mini fit right there in the driver’s seat, hitting the steering wheel and kicking the floorboard.

  “What an idiot!” I screamed at myself.

  I drove to my favorite drive in burger joint. I ordered burgers, fries, tater tots, chili dogs, and one of each flavor of milkshake. I couldn’t imagine going for a week, much
less years, without fast food.

  I pulled back in and expected him to have reclused back into his room. But he was there in the kitchen, the look in his eyes like a starving coyote.

  “I got two of each thing.”

  “Seriously?” he asked. “What do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. The look on your face is totally worth it.”

  I watched him while he ate, more of the moaning and groaning. I laughed and showered my tots with ketchup.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” I said back.

  “They think they’re gonna further my insanity.” He said while wiping his mouth

  “What?” I didn’t know if he was talking about the fries or the tots.

  “My parents, my sisters, they all think if they bring me food from the outside or have family dinners over here instead of my parents’ house that I’ll get comfortable here and never get over it.”

  “And what do you think?”

  He took another pull on his milkshake, “I think I’ve gotten comfortable here, regardless of what they have or haven’t done. I think I need someone to challenge me. I’m ready to be over this shit already. And today when you asked me if I would go with you, I should’ve. But I don’t want you to see it if I can’t handle it.”

  I nodded and I understood. I wouldn’t want to flip out in front of anyone either. And I certainly knew how it felt to be ridiculed.

  “Do you know when it’s coming on? What is it like a panic attack or something? I mean, do you have any warning?”

  He balled up his greasy papers, done with his meal, “Most of the time I do.”

  “So we start slow. We go for a drive, no stopping, no people. Then we progress to a drive thru or maybe a drive in,” I waggled my eyebrows to lighten the mood. “Then maybe, I don’t know, we go somewhere out there without many people and then just see how it goes. I’m your friend now, you gotta let me try.”

  “Let me think about it. But first, you are burnt to a crisp.”

  He got up and picked up a bottle of aloe. “May I?” He asked.