I was still in my bed when I heard a knock at my door. I slowly walked downstairs to another knock, this time louder. I was still in my pajamas, so I decided to let it go unanswered.
I got a call from Emma.
"Hey, how's it going?" I said, checking my door to see if whoever knocked had left yet.
"Oh, I'm doing alright. Just trying to figure out why you're ignoring my knocks while wearing plaid boxers."
"Where are you?" I asked, embarrassed.
"Look behind you."
I saw a flash of brown hair bounce by one of my windows and saw a familiar face in my backyard. She looked absolutely gorgeous. She had on a navy blue dress and yellow heels. Her hair was curled, and her makeup was done.
She yelled through the door again. "Put some damn pants on and let me in!"
Still mesmerized, I unlocked the door for her. "What are you doing here? And why are you so dressed up?"
"We're in luck! One of the richest neighborhoods in Saint Louis is having a series of open houses. And, some of them have very nice houses that they want to sell. That's where you and I come in."
"Is this the part of our story where you tell me that you're secretly a millionaire, and you're going to buy me a house?"
"No, but our make-believe parents are! And they are on a very important trip for work, so they sent their trusty children to get the job done for them." She smiled behind some expensive-looking sunglasses and tilted them down to below her eyes. "So," She continued as she walked around my table. "You are going to go get dressed up real nice and fancy so we don't look like the hobos we are."
"Well, you have that last part right." I thought for a second. "I mean, I'm going to have to clear my schedule of TV and napping, but... screw it, alright. I'm in."
I started up the stairs to my room but caught myself before I was out of sight. "Hey, don't do, well, anything while I'm changing. Like, just sit down and put your hands in your lap."
She widened her eyes and emphasized every word, "Israel Taylor, don't you have any trust in me at all?" she folded her hands in front of her dress. "I promise I will be angelic."
"Okay. My parents aren't home, but that could change any minute. If they come back, please don't tell them the truth about ninety percent of what just happened here."
"My lips are sealed. Now go! The event starts in half an hour." She waved her hands at me, and I ran up the stairs.
I didn't have very many dress shirts and most were butt ugly to begin with.
One shirt was black with grey paisley around it. I lifted it in front of me to show her. "This one was from a dance where all of my friends decided it would be funny to dress up like eighties dads."
She fake gagged. "Even for a dad in the eighties, that would be a stretch of fashion."
I nodded in agreement. I moved over to my next dress shirt, a red and white checkered button-up. "This lovely number was bought when I got way too into country music. Thank the lord I didn't spend three hundred dollars to get the boots that the cashier recommended."
She widened her eyes and scrunched up her nose. "Next."
The last one I pulled out was a shirt that had broad stripes of different dark pastel colors. It looked like it belonged to someone with their hair slicked back, two gold chains, and yellow-tinted sunglasses.
"I don't know if I want to bust you for cheating on your wife or for dealing drugs. Maybe both. Either way, none of these are wearable."
"Well I don't have any other dress shirts, I guess I could just wear a polo and khakis?"
"Would it look better than anything here?" she still looked scarred from the other shirts.
"I think so. I'll just pick a good one."
"Okay," she said, "go change. Please brush your teeth and do your hair. We need to look good so we can fool these people."
I tried to look as amazing as Emma, but with no success. I was wearing ironed pants and a navy blue polo. I had more gel on my head than hair and I even had a mirrored pair of sunglasses draped over the buttons on my collar. I strutted down the stairs and was almost in my kitchen when I heard the noise of two voices instead of one.
I peeked my head around the wall of my kitchen, and Emma waved me into the room. She was sitting at our kitchen island, right across from none other than my mom.
My head almost exploded.
I scanned the ground for my running shoes so I could make a break for it.
"Israel, you never told me the girl you've been so friendly with was so pretty!" She cooed.
Emma acted bashfully. "Oh, stop, Mrs. Taylor, you're too nice. You should see me under all of this makeup, it's truly horrifying." she put her hand up to her mouth like she was telling a secret. "Luckily, your son hasn't taken me to the pool yet."
My mom erupted with laughter, and I laughed nervously alongside her.
Emma looked over at me. I motioned my head towards the door.
"Well, Mrs. Taylor, it was amazing to finally meet you. I hope it's not the last."
"Oh, honey, please. You are always welcome in this house, come back anytime. You two have fun out there. Fool them good!" She waved goodbye to us as we headed out the door.
Once we got outside, I turned to Emma. "So... that was my mom."
"Oh Israel, she's so nice! I mean, I'm usually good with parents because I've had to literally sell myself to some of them, but your mom is just so cool."
"Wow, we must have met different women. She's just constantly working, and it gets her so high strung that she can't have a stress-free conversation to save her life."
"Well maybe," she said as she swung her car door open, "you should be less stressful."
She played classical music and we tried to only talk in proper British accents. Emma put on a playlist of classical music as we fell into our fake characters for the day.
"Oh dahling," she said in a horribly over-worked British accent, "I must have forgotten to ring the butler and tell him I would be absent from the manor today."
"Ah, yes, I must also ring him. I left a crumpet in the oven, and I would be aghast to find the whole kitchen engulfed in flames upon my arrival back. The repairs would keep me from my yacht for at least a fortnight." I stuck my chin up when I said it.
"Shall we take these enormous logs out of our butts at some point so we can actually speak to people without driving them away?"
"Mmm, yes. I concur with you, Elizabeth."
"Alright, but seriously. We need to fake these people out, big-time."
I nodded in agreement as we pulled up to the gated community. The security guard looked at my car quizzically when I explained the nature of our visit, but let us through.
We drove through the neighborhood, following the signs that took us to the event. We stared with open mouths at mansions and laughed at the fact that my car was driving past them. It looked more than out of place with every house we drove past, each one getting more prominent than the last.
When we closed in on the event, there was one stone house that looked like it was a castle pulled out of 16th century England. There was a waiting staff serving food on a platter and an open bar outside. The lawn was manicured to perfection, and the door was open to see inside.
I parked the car on the other side of the street and we walked up to the lawn. "Alright, you have to act like you're supposed to be here," she whispered. "And, if you're caught in a pinch, just say something a little bit pretentious."
At the bar, Emma walked over and got two mimosas from the bartender and handed one to me as she bounced her curls with her hand. "You ready?" asked Emma as I took a nervous sip of the drink.
I walked into the house behind Emma's lead. The massive oak doors led us into a foyer with marble walls extending up to the ceiling. Walking through the entrance alone took me as much time as it would take for me to walk the entire length of my house. It finally opened up to a room with spiral staircases leading up to a balcony overlooking it all. There was nothing in the room that would make it seem it existed for any purpose. That is, unless you count grandeur as a purpose.
A rather tall and large man walked towards us through the crowd. His back was slightly arched and his chin was stuck in the air. He probably looked normal to everyone else. To me, he looked like he was trying to hold in some poop as he walked. I got nervous as he approached, but I decided to look like I was supposed to be there.
"Hello," he began. His thunderous voice echoed through the cavernous room. "What brings you here? This event is only for potential home buyers."
Emma spoke up. "Yes, do not worry, my brother and I understand completely." She emphasized the pronunciation of each consonant. "My parents are looking to move, but my father and mother both went away for business for the week. They thought this was too important to miss, so they enlisted us to come here."
"Well, of course." His mouth changed to a smile as he waved us into the tour. "If either of you need anything, there are servers all around. We will have house tours at the top of every hour if you are interested in seeing all of the houses." He turned around quickly and walked away
"You did really well back there," I said once we passed by him.
"Well, it wasn't really that hard. Like I said, just act like you belong wherever you are. No way he would turn away two stupid kids who will beg their parents to buy an expensive house from him. Rich people are easy to manipulate, much more than poor people. Their money makes them gullible. If you think you own the world, then things really can only be good enough to be true."
We clinked our glasses and finished what was inside. We moved around the house until it was time for the tour. The first thing we did was go up the spiral staircase into the master bedroom. The bathroom had more gold in it than I had ever seen in my life, and the bed had more silk than any store I had ever shopped at.
I split my time looking at the house and looking at her. She sent me into a laughing fit every time she saw a new room or an original priceless artifact.
Once we left that house, we went to some other ones on the list. They had everything: football fields, indoor pools, movie theatres, butlers, ballrooms, garages that could hold twenty cars, and more.
We moved to the last house that was on the list. With its tall windows and manicured bushes, the extravagance seemed reasonable at this point. I made sure Emma knew this was the last one, and she dropped her head in despair. After a couple of seconds, though, her head shot back up, and she put a smirk on her face.
"I think I know what to do then." She said
"Emma, please. Don't do anything stupid, we definitely do not have the money to break anything here," I begged.
Her smirk stayed. "Don't worry. What's the worst they'll do? Kick us out?"
"Uh... they could arrest us?" I tried to hide my anxiety about the whole situation. Still, I knew she wasn't going to be swayed by anything I said.
We walked into the house and, like all other houses, the tour started at the top of the hour. We all got rounded up by a very enthusiastic woman as Emma put on a bored face. I looked at her, thinking she wasn't feeling well, but she didn't say anything. I decided to leave it alone.
The lady introduced herself by saying what company she owned, something to do with electronics, and showed us up their staircase. As she walked through a hallway to the master bedroom, Emma still had a glazed expression over her face.
"Sooo, everyone, here is the master!" She spoke like she was playing peek-a-boo with a three-year-old, but my mouth fell open at the sight of the room.
Emma turned to me and whispered, "Oh come on, this is it?" just loud enough for everyone else to hear her.
Some faces turned our way, and the woman at the front wrestled with her pencil skirt. After she shook off what Emma just said, she continued. "Well, how about everyone takes turns looking into the en-suite?"
Emma quickly took my hand and shot me a wink, breaking her bored expression for a quick wink. We walked together into a marble-covered bathroom. The ceilings were over ten feet tall, and there was a modern-looking chandelier hanging over a jacuzzi that could fit my entire family.
The woman stood at the front of the bathroom, and cheerfully led us inside. I gazed at everything that was in the room, but Emma looked even more bored than before.
"This marble is imported from Asia," explained the woman. "The shower is tiled with stone from the foot of the Himalayas. It's like you're transported to another world in this bathroom. We tried to capture the zen and relaxation found only in ancient cultures from the region."
We kept looking around, and she eventually led us out of the room. Right as we got out, still in earshot of the owner of the house, Emma muttered not-so-under her breath, "could someone choose a cheaper way to do a bathroom? Ugh, I feel bad for them."
I opened my eyes wide and looked at her. I wasn't sure what she was doing, but she maintained her same look of complacency until we walked out of the room.
"Emma, what's going on?"
She burst out laughing. "Oh man, I could barely keep a straight face the entire time."
It all finally made sense. "Wait. Are you saying all of these things just to get on the owner's nerves?"
"Fun, right?"
"Genius." I got a rush of adrenaline. "You should have told me sooner so I could join in."
She shared a glance that almost begged to get us kicked out of the gated community.
Throughout the rest of the tour, Emma and I got progressively louder and a little more offensive with each room she showed us. By the end of the tour, we had gotten pulled aside by the owner, made everyone in the room both laugh and turn their heads with shock, and, finally, were asked to leave.
"Excuse me, you two," she was still trying to be pleasant and upbeat, but the irritation was more than coming through. Bits of her hair were flying above her head, and I swore that I saw smoke come out of her ears more than once. "I believe that I speak for everyone on the tour that your comments were a bit unorthodox during a tour of this status."
Emma immediately put on a proper English accent. "Oh, please, madame. We truly meant no harm at all, we just aren't fully used to people living amid a dumpster fire of porcelain and marble."
The woman started raising her voice. "I do not know who raised you, but they did an awful job. Now, leave my house at once, or I will call security."
Emma stayed in character as I dragged her out of the house. "Please ma'am, do not ever hesitate to call me if you need help with an interior decorator or an architect for a new house!"
Once we were out of the house, Emma was rolling on the ground laughing. I tried to get her to calm down, but I was laughing almost as hard as she was.
She wiped tears of laughter away from her eyes. "Israel, my darling. We must go to learn better manners immediately."
"Okay, you've caused enough distress for the top one percent for today. Let's get you home."
We drove back to her house as punk rock coursed through the stereo. We talked about dreams, about money, about being proper, and about how much those two things would make our lives suck. We looked up nicer houses, the professions of those who owned them, and made a game about it. We were parked in her driveway for almost an hour before we finally ran out of things to talk about.
We closed it off, she kissed me, I pretended my heart didn't stop when she did, and she walked into her house. I sat in that same driveway, writing books in my head before I decided to drive home.