Babysitting the Bad Boy's Brother

why have attitude when you could have attack dogs to destroy your enemies

I'm practicing scales when I hear my dad walk into the house. His heavy boots trudge against the hardwood floor, and the sound of him hanging up his belt and tucking his gun away into the safe drifts up through the floorboards.

"Claire!" His heavy voice calls up, "Can you come down here please?" I groan but comply, setting my instrument down and lightly skipping down the stairs. I slow down when I hear a jingling coming from the kitchen.

"Dad, it's only October. Why do I hear jingle bells?"

He chuckles.

I shriek.

"You brought an attack dog into our house?!?" I hiss. Sitting at his feet is a giant German Shepard. In his huge arms, my dad is holding a very heavy looking bag overflowing with bags of treats and dog toys galore. "What is this, dad...?" I ask cautiously, crossing my arms and taking a step back.

"This is Malone. She will be staying with us for a while." He walks over to the counter and sets the bag down like it weighs nothing- honestly, it probably weighs as much as the dog does. Malone's eyes follow him but she doesn't move. A black vest on her back catches my attention.

"She's still on duty?!" I shriek, taking several steps back and glaring at my dad. "Oh my god, I knew you wanted me dead! You were just... too understanding about the hair thing!"

"Claire, she won't attack you."

"Don't say that word! She might take it as a command!"

My dad sighs exasperatedly. Really, he should be used to this. "Let's take the vest off. She really isn't that bad."

"I am not touching that thing."

"Just because she's part of the K-9 unit doesn't mean she's evil and mean. Malone is actually very sweet." He removes the vest and scratches behind her ear. Malone responds by licking his hand.

"I'm not a dog person, Dad."

"That's what people say who've never owned a dog. There's no such thing as 'not a dog person'." He mocks.

I nod like I'm paying attention, but really I'm thinking about how I'm going to get Malone to attack Alec without anybody finding out I was responsible. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

Then I would be rid of the stupid boy with the stupid hard eyes and the stupid fucking smirk that never seems to be absent from his stupid face.
I could make this work.

I grin, "So how long is she staying?"

He looks at me questionably but answers anyways. "We aren't sure. She is beginning to develop a stress fracture, and so she needs to be off duty for a while so it doesn't turn into a full break."

"And she stays here while you go to work?"

"Maybe." He moves into the kitchen to start dinner, and Malone follows him. "Claire, set out her bowls and feed her, will you?"

"She won't attack me will she?"

"Stop being dramatic."

I shrug and fish through the bag, finding two metal bowls. I set them over in the laundry room and fill one with water. I then take a little scooper that I found in the bag and set it on the counter.

"Dad," I say, trying to lift the giant bag of food, "there's no way I'll be able to lift this."

He wordlessly comes over and grabs it with one hand, holding a glass of water in the other. God, he could literally kill me with one punch. No wonder none of my friends like coming over when he's home. Not that he's home often enough to matter.

I grab a pair of scissors from the drawer and cut open the bag, using the cup to put a single scoop in her bowl, missing the bowl completely and scattering dog food across the floor.

I'm really fucking good at this, guys, I swear.

I could probably just leave it, right? Who even needs a bowl, she can just eat from the ground.

I slip out of the room and snag a slice of pizza from my dads plate. "I'll be in my room. Don't let that thing near me."

"She's really not- Claire! My pizza!"

"Night, dad."

•••

Alec Hirst wakes me up the next morning by being annoying yet again.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" He yells from outside of my open window.

Dammit. I really should have closed that last night.

Pulling myself up with my big comforter wrapped around my shoulders, I trudge over to the window like a zombie.

"Have some goddamn respect. People are trying to sleep here! And get out of my backyard!"

"Gee grandma, its nine o'clock."

"Too early!" I mumble, but I'm pretty sure it was incoherent due to the morning fuzz in my brain.

"Can we just get this over with?" He asks, "I have shit to do."

"Not my fucking problem." With that, I slam the window shut and trudge back to my bed.

The last thing I saw before walking away from the window was Alec flipping me off.

When I skip downstairs around 11:00, Alec is nowhere to be found. He isn't out working on the yard like I expected him to be. I throw on a sweatshirt and some flip flops and walk up to his house.

I knock once, twice, three times, but nobody answers.

I then turn to the doorbell. After ringing once and waiting patiently, I still don't get an answer. When I ring again, the door jerks open to reveal a really out of sorts Mrs. Hirst. Her graying hair is falling out of a bun and remainders of makeup linger under her eyes and on her lips.
She looks at me for a few seconds before her face lights up with realization.

"Claire, what are you doing here?"

"Uh... I'm, um, I'm looking for Alec, actually." I stutter. "See, he's supposed to be fixing our yard today but he isn't there."

"He went out. He probably won't be back until later. That's all I know, sorry." Her words slur a little and she rubs her head. Was she hungover?

"I guess tell him to come by when he gets home?"

She nods and gently closes the door, leaving me standing there.

I'll probably never understand their family dynamic, but who am I to judge?

I use my unexpected free day to get a little extra practicing in. Lindsey texted me around four, asking me if I want to go see a movie tonight. I decline, but we decide to go on Tuesday instead, after my PSYO (Portland symphony youth orchestra) rehearsal.

I head down to the kitchen around seven and make myself some chicken breast and rice. I eat in silence on the couch while watching Jane the Virgin on Netflix.

The night passes like every other night that my dad is working (which is, like, a lot).

It was very routine. Very predictable. Very boring.

I head to bed around 11 and hear my dad come in shortly after, the jingling of Malone's collar drifting up through the floorboards of my bedroom.

My dad doesn't poke his head in to say goodnight, but he hasn't done that in a long time.