I followed Greta as she led me into the living room. The passage was dark, with creepy art pictures which were dull and boring. Pictures were meant to be full of colour and brightness, but everything was just the opposite. On normal circumstances, I would analyse the paintings and look carefully at the intricate designs and patterns, but these pathetic geometrical figures were no where near my ideas.
Greta wore her cool shades and said, "Clark is upstairs in the corner, left room. He is probably taking a nap. Wake him up and do not let him out of your sight. He's a troubled child."
I nodded and watched her disappear into the dark passage. I heard the door shut and sighed. The curtains hid all the light which would enter into the room. I pulled the curtains and smiled internally when the sun rays kissed my tanned skin.
This house definitely was not a little kid's home. There were no milk bottles or toys to be seen around. I looked over the shelves and saw some bills. I read the name and was surprised to see it said 'Clark Brown.' I simply shrugged and decided to go upstairs and ruin the little kid's sleep.
"Brownie. . . Brownie, your nanny is coming!" I shouted merrily and hopped on the stairs.
I arrived at the corner left room and yanked the door open without knocking. There was a long figure sleeping with blanket over his body. Maybe the kid is sleeping with his soft toys. How cute. . .
I pulled the blanket and my jaw hung wide open like a crocodile. What a pile of shit! The person I saw in front of me was no child. The boy, no, he was a fully grown man and by the looks of his perfectly, chiselled, handsome face, I estimated him to be of my brother's age.
He seemed like he was in his early twenties. His dark brown hair fell over his head like waves. He had pale skin as if he had never been out under the sun. He was shirtless and was sleeping on his stomach. He looked quite tall and intimidating. I was average height for a girl and his height made me jealous. Why couldn't girls grow taller like guys? I meant he was big. . . By body size, I meant.
Strange that even while sleeping he was wearing glasses. He had that cute nerdy look, but in some magical way, he defined power. I could make out he was indeed a troubled man. The vibe around him was sad and my new motive was to just make him happy.
I saw a note on the stand and picked it up. It read :
George, sorry for not mentioning Clark's age. Hope you wouldn't mind.
Love, Greta.
I should have been furious reading this note, that someone fooled me which was rare. However, when I looked over at Clark sleeping peacefully, all I wanted to do was to annoy him. I smirked when an evil idea struck my mind. I sang cheerfully and jumped downstairs. I needed to wake him up, didn't I?
I entered the bathroom and thought of pouring a whole bucket of water over Clark. I held the tap until my eyes met with a familiar packet so I let go of the tap and reached for the packet. I held it tightly against my chest and sprinted out of the bathroom.
"Wakey, wakey Brownie!" I giggled and walked into his room like a thief. I could imagine the famous Pink Panther tune running in the background. I climbed on the bed beside him and tore open the packet. I muffled a laugh and stuck it on his leg and pressed it ever so gently and slowly.
His leg was smooth and tough, but still a bit hairy. He was a deep sleeper and thankfully didn't get affected by anything. I held the edges of the wax strip and pulled it hard.
"WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT!" He yelled and got up quickly.
In an instant, he pushed me off the bed. I fell down on my butt with a loud thud. I rubbed my behind and burst out laughing. His entire face and body was red and I was clutching my stomach, my laughter echoing in the entire house.
I looked up and met with his dangerous light brown eyes which were hidden behind the odd glasses. I gulped in trepidation and blinked at his tall figure. For a moment I was silent, until I saw him scratch his leg. A loud laugh escaped my lips and I somehow stood up while hold onto the wall for stability.
"Get out," Clark whispered in a dangerously, low voice.
I bit my own hand to keep me from laughing. I grinned and took a few steps towards the door. He shoved me out of the room and slammed the door shut.
I stumbled backwards and sneered, "You sleeping beauty! Did you expect a Prince Charming to do kissy-kissy and wakey-wakey?"
* * *
Three entire minutes passed by and I was already bored. I rolled on the floor doing nothing. The tiles were smooth and cold to roll on a very hot day. It was fun to trouble Clark, but since then he didn't open his door. I heard some banging noise but thought some other stuff might be happening, after all he was in his reckless twenties.
Our first encounter was not so impressive, from my side at least. I had found Greta's wax strips in the bathroom and that really struck a bright spark in my mind. It was so much fun and I felt like a little devil.
The door of the house opened and I immediately shot up from the floor. Greta came in and looked around, puzzled. She asked, "Where is Clark? I told you not to lose sight of him."
"He's older than me Greta. It's been hardly five minutes. Besides, he shut the door and wouldn't let me in!" I whined.
Greta's eyes grew wide like saucers and she hurriedly ran upstairs in panic. What was wrong with her? Clark was a fully grown man and what could he possible do wrong? I shrugged and followed her. Greta banged the door and shouted, "Clark! Open the door! It's me, Greta!"
The door creaked open and I jumped three feet high! Greta rushed in only to see the whole room was destroyed. Clark stood right in the middle of the mess. His face was unreadable and devoid of any emotions. The paintings hung loose and the tables were turned. The bed's one leg was broken and I didn't know how. Clark held a damaged, antique radio in his hand. Greta was mumbling something incoherent. I just stood there, scanning the whole room.
"George, go away. We will talk about this later," Greta muttered and was about to shut the door.
I quickly placed my foot in between and stopped her. I felt horrible as I smiled sheepishly and asked, "I will still get the money, right?"
"Yes! Now, go!"
* * *
"Greta?"
I opened the door and saw Greta in her earlier clothes. She looked pretty, but tiredness was evident on her face. She fiddled with her tote bag and asked nervously, "Can you continue your job tomorrow also?"
"What the hell! That freaking psychopath will kill me too!" I yelled and I knew I had been a bitch earlier. I should have been concerned about Clark, but I was also going through a lot of shit in my life. I needed money. However this time, I was surely going to deny to be his caretaker. He destroyed the entire room and I wasn't keen on becoming his victim.
"He wouldn't harm you, I assure you that. I'm his personal caretaker."
I thought Greta was his aunt or something. Sure, she looked young to be his mother, but never did I expect she was this mysterious Clark's caretaker.
"See! That freak needs a full time caretaker! After the prank I pulled on him, I'm sure he will take revenge. No way in hell would I even want to see his perfect, handsome face---"
"I will pay you double."
"Okay, Done."