Hoax (2 page)

             
“Ugh—Phil, it’s all in her folder.”

             
“Ok, ok, ok.  Let’s go already.  We’re going to be late getting the kids and then we’re going to be late to the airport.  Let’s go.”

             
She walked up to me hugging a binder to her chest as if it were her last will and testament. 

             
“Corinne, everything you need to know is in here.  Let me give you a ten minute tour and then we can go.” She directed the latter sentence towards Phil more than me.

             
We toured the house quickly and I was given a credit card for food and anything else I might need for the house.  She pointed out this and that from the back porch and said something about a boy that was also hired to paint the house, the barn and the storage building as well as keeping the yard mowed.  I was thankful that I didn’t have to deal with that.

             
After they left, I relaxed a bit and took in my surroundings.  It was a beautiful house.  The walls were filled with pictures and kids’ art projects.  I got my bags out of the truck and put them in a stark white room with a four poster bed.  Angela said I could sleep in the master bedroom but—well—eeeww.

             
I ate a bowl of cereal, crawled up on the couch and turned the TV on. I flipped through all of the channels but nothing caught my eye. So I pulled up a barstool and opened the massive set of instructions.  They were basic things like no parties, keep the house clean, make sure to lock the doors every time I leave, things like that.  But every rule had a long explanation about why that was a rule.  I skipped the explanations.  My phone beeped and alerted me to a text message.

             
Dad: Did you get to work on time?

             
Yes, I’m fine Dad.  Thank you for asking. 
I thought to myself.

             
Me: Yes

              I got to a divider in the binder and it was marked “Abel”.  I didn’t know who or what Abel was but I was ecstatic that I didn’t have to sit through more of rules explaining more rules. 

             
I got up to wash my cereal bowl and through the window above the sink, saw an antique truck pulling up in the driveway.  I put the bowl down and headed to the side door to see who it was. 

             
The first thing I saw was a navy blue ball cap covering wheat colored hair and the shoulders and profile of a guy.  That was enough to make me a nervous wreck and I quickly jumped back into safety and shut the door behind me.  I heaved deep breaths in and out with my back against the door.  I finally relaxed and hit the back of my head against it.

             
Way to act like a spaz Corinne.

             
Let’s face it.  I had been in a boarding school for girls since I was six years old.  I hadn't had very much contact with the opposite sex. 

             
I opened the door again and was suddenly face to face with a six foot tall guy with eyes that nearly identically matched his hair.  His eyelashes were so long I swear I felt a breeze when he blinked.  A breeze blew in from behind him and wafted a smell towards me of pine trees and smoke, like a campfire. What I wouldn’t give to camp in that. He looked as surprised as I did. 

             
“Hey, um, I’m Abel Collins.  I’m taking care of the painting this summer.  I just wanted to say ‘Hi’ so I didn’t scare you being around.”

             
I hesitated, still entranced by his eyelashes.

             
“Hi, I’m Corinne.  If you need any help, let me know.  There’s not much to do around here.”

             
He chuckled at me.  I didn’t know what he thought was funny but the sound of him chuckling brought nerve endings to life in me that I didn’t know existed. 

             
He descended the steps and I stood in the entrance for way too long watching him.  He reached into the back of his truck and pulled out what looked like scrapers and sand paper.  He stilled and then looked back to me.  I’d been caught. 

             
Busted
!

             
I smiled and looked down at the ground bashfully before walking back into the house.  When Angela said there’d be a boy working here for the summer, I’d pictured a boy whose mom dropped him off in the morning and who sat on the porch eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of a Spiderman lunchbox and drinking Juicy Juice. She lied.  No—this was no boy. 

Abel

              I got into my grand-dad’s old pickup after throwing some supplies and a ladder in the back and headed towards the Stephenson’s place.   Every summer my dad found a job for me that he thought would teach me a life lesson.  What life lesson could be learned from painting, scraping and sanding, I didn’t know.  But I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.  And I had three months to paint a house, a small barn, and a storage building.  And the barn? Give me a break.  I’d seen the Stephenson’s house before.  The only animals they had that even came close to needing a barn were guinea pigs.

             
I pulled up in the driveway, eager to get started.  After all, there was nothing else to do.  My friends’ idea of a good time during the summer was riding in shopping carts down the hills and putting paper bags of dog crap on peoples’ doors.  It was funny when we were twelve but now it was just a good way for me to spend the summer grounded and without a car.  So I used these jobs as an out from hanging out with them.  Even when I wasn’t working, I said I was.

             
I remembered that Phil mentioned a girl would be house-sitting for the summer.  I didn’t know who she was.  She certainly wasn’t any of the girls I knew if she had a job.  The girls I knew didn’t work on anything other than their nails, their tans and my nerves.  But she had to be old enough to stay by herself in a house.  So I must know her. 

             
I put the truck in park and got out to knock and introduce myself.  I didn’t really need to but my curiosity was getting the best of me.  I caught a glance of her coming out of the side door through my side mirror but then she rushed back inside and slammed the door.  It was too quick for me to get a good look at her.

             
I brought my fist up to knock on the door and before I knew it she opened the door.  They had lied to me.  This was no mere girl.  This was a—I don’t know.  But she sure as hell wasn’t a girl.  Woman? Young woman?  One thing I did know?  She was a fox.  Shiny sand colored hair, not curly exactly but not straight.  And she smelled like pears.  Shampoo? Perfume?  Hell, I didn’t care if she rubbed peeled pears behind her ears, it smelled like heaven to me. 

             
She looked me straight in the eyes when I introduced myself.  She had eyes the color of a chocolate bar, warm, shiny, melted chocolate.  And her blush?  I could imagine the heat of her pinked skin against my lips—and her lips against my lips. 

             
Abel, get a hold of yourself.

             
She said to let her know if she could help and I couldn’t help but chuckle.  What kind of girl offers to paint in one hundred degree weather?  Again, not any girl I know.  I shrugged it off as her simply being polite and went to get scrapers and sandpaper from the truck.  After leaning over the back for a few seconds I realized that I never heard the door shut.  So I glanced back and she was staring straight at me.  Her eyes widened the tiniest instant before she ducked her head and went back inside the house. 

             
Certainly a girl like that wasn’t checking me out.

             
I went out to the barn which looked like it hadn’t been used or painted in centuries.  And whoever painted it before didn’t do that great of a job.  I scraped old paint chips off of the window sills and eventually decided to pressure wash the entire thing to prep it for paint.  By the time I finished it was nearly one o’clock and I was starving.

             
I walked back towards my truck to drive into town for some lunch when the side door opened and caught my attention.  Corinne hopped down the stairs two feet at a time until she got to the driveway beneath her.  She smiled and giggled to herself when she reached the bottom and looked satisfied with herself.

             
“I’m leaving for lunch.  I hope I wasn’t blocking you.”

             
You weren’t blocking her.  This driveway is easily twelve feet wide, stupid.

             
She looked shocked and then said, “No, I just got done cleaning.  No big deal.”

             
“Okay.” I got into the truck and sat for a minute and reciprocated on her previous staring.

             
She opened the middle garage door and it revealed a brand new BMW sports car. 

             
She got into it with no emotion whatsoever and the brake lights flashed, alerting me that she was about to back up and already I could tell that if I wasn’t careful, she was going to run me over and not with a car.

             
I hit the burger joint in town and sat on the tailgate to eat, letting my legs kick back and forth.  I didn’t want to go in, mostly because I was filthy.  But more than that, I didn’t want to take a chance of running into my friends.  They probably aren’t friends if you cringe at the thought of running into them but it was what it was.  I had hung out with the same group of people since middle school.  It was a given.

             
When I got back to the house, Corinne’s car was already parked in the garage and she pressed a button to close the garage door.  She had four grocery bags in her hands and was trying unsuccessfully to look where she walked over the top of the brown bags.  I laughed and then approached her to take some of the bags.  She relented only two of them and nearly dropped the other two while she unlocked the door. 

             
I sat both of mine on the counter.

             
“You don’t have to lock the doors, it’s pretty safe around here.” I shrugged as I took the milk out of the bag.

             
“Oh yeah I do.  Check the rule book.”  She tapped firmly on a white binder on the counter.

             
“Rule book?” I said.

             
“Yep, and there’s a section labeled ‘Abel’ too.”

             
She put different things in cabinets and then returned to the refrigerator.  I sat at the island and made an attempt to read through my rules but most of them were ‘duh’ rules.  Not to mention the fact that when Corinne reached up to put something in an upper cabinet, her top slid up just an inch or two and I couldn’t help but look at her tanned waistline.

             
“Do you want something to drink,” she asked. 

             
“Nah, but thanks.  Have you seen some of these rules,” I asked her.

             
“Yeah, I read my section this morning. But I’m a pro at bending the rules.” She shrugged as she took the barstool across from me at the island.

             
“You are,” I asked.

             
“Yeah, I used to go to an all girls prep school and there’s tons of rules about everything.  You gotta get creative just to stay sane.”

             
“I didn’t know they had those anymore.  But you live here?” I could’ve sat and listened to her voice all day.  It wasn’t squeaky or nasaly and she didn’t giggle incessantly at everything I said.  She was calm and sure of herself but innocent at the same time.  It confused me and yet, I was in awe.

             
“Yes, well, I live here now.  I’ve lived at school since I was six.  We just moved to another house.”  A rule caught my eye.

             
“Um, this says no orgies.  Did you read that?” She turned the binder around and snapped in fake disappointment. “Dang.”

             
We laughed and then I said I needed to get back to work.

             
“Can I help?” She looked like she was serious.

             
“Really,” I asked.

             
“Yeah, it’s really boring and there’s nothing on TV and I haven’t gotten to the library yet.”  When I didn’t answer immediately she backtracked. “It’s ok.  I’ll find something to do. No big deal.” She turned and I finally found my voice again.

             
“Hey, no, you just shocked me.  Yeah, come help.  You’ll regret it, but come on.”

             
“You sure,” She asked.

             
“Yeah, come on.  There’s tons of sanding to do.”

              I am the lamest at flirting ever.  I’m so incredibly lame at it that he probably thought I was insane.