Guy With a Tattooed Neck

“So you’re the gardener, are you?” The guy that had opened the door asked me, without as much as a hello. He was taller than me with an almost shaven head with a side fringe covering one eye. He was gazing at me with piercing eyes, telling me almost immediately not to get on his bad side. Judging by the half-apron tied around his waist and the smudges of what looked like flour and other food-like substances smudged on his black shirt, I would guess that he was the chef.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Frank, new gardener, that’s me.” I gave him what I hoped was a confident smile. He shifted his body so he was no longer blocking the doorway and beckoned me in.
I stepped across the threshold.
This place was definitely going to leave a mark on my memory. The hallway, well that was going to be remembered for the sheer amount of paintings that filled my vision. They ranged from small paintings of fruit, how boring, to larger ones with more detail, such as the one of some half-naked dude’s fighting each other.
I wondered if any of the paintings were by this Gerard dude. I may not be that educated but I’m at least perceptive enough to notice that the paintings were done by a number of different people.

“What the hell are you staring at? Never seen a hallway before?” The guy grumbled at me, walking in long strides down the hallway. Probably should follow him, for all I know these weird ass paintings could come alive and eat me if I’m left alone too long.

As the chef dude veered off to the left and into another room, I followed and stopped abruptly to gape at the room. It was massive, with gold paint lining the skirting boards and cream white walls, except for the one facing me, which was a deep velvety, red colour. Gazing around the large room, I didn’t even notice the woman sitting in the corner until she spoke.

“So you’re the new gardener, goodness knows why Gerard needs a pretty garden in order to paint. Well, until we get a clear picture of what he wants done with the thing, Bob here will show you around and tell you of you’re duties. Making the back garden worth looking at will not be the only thing you will be in charge of. Do you know how to handle animals?” The women, who I am gathering was that snot-nosed woman’s mother, by the resemblance, asked with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Yes, madam.” I decide I should be polite, she didn’t seem like she held all the bitchy personality traits that her daughter seemed to have picked up.
“Good, we have a dog, you will be in charge of looking after the wretched mutt. Christmas present to Ronnie, my daughter, Lyn-Z’s boy. Waste of money since he never even walks the thing.” The way she worded her babbling, I wonder if this Ronnie guy had a different dad, not Gerard.

Bob, who had been standing at the woman’s side, much like a gargoyle I thought, pushed past me and headed out of the room. I turned and followed him out, like the good little puppy dog I was, and was led through what appeared to be the kitchen, judging by the kitcheny looking stuff, and out to a small, paved area, which was built into the corner of the house. Beyond the paved area and the wall of the house, which together formed a neat line, was the garden. It was huge.
Before I could observe it however, Bob’s deep grumbling broke through my thoughts.

“The dog needs a bath. Sinks over there, cleaning stuff is in the bucket,” After pointing to the large sink, he gave a sharp whistle. “And here’s the dog.” I looked around to see a shaggy, golden coloured dog running towards us. It was about medium sized for a dog and as it slowed to a trot and came up to us, I felt my jaw twitch with anger at the sight of it. Its long fur was matted with mud and twigs, its nails were obviously too long from the loud clicking sounds as it walked over the pavement, its teeth looked disgusting and I could smell it from here.
God, how hard was it to look after a dog?

“Gerard is always bugging us to clean it but it doesn’t really like me, ‘cept for when I’m feeding it, that is, and the moment Ronnie actually lifts a finger to help around here, I’ll sprout friggin’ wings. Come.” Bob rambled before turning once again and heading back inside, barking at the dog to stay when it tried to follow.

“You’ll sleep down there, chuck your stuff down and you can deal with it later.” He said, motioning to what was basically a hole in the ground in one of the storage rooms, with a ladder poking out of it. I actually took a glance around to see if there was a mole suit I was meant to wear to complete the theme. Running around all day digging in a garden, only to retire at night in a hole.
Bob showed me some other random rooms, Ronnie’s, which looked like it had recently been nuked, some other rooms I really couldn’t be bothered remembering and then he led me upstairs, telling me to be quiet. He pointed to the closed door at the top of the stairs. That’s Gerard’s art room. He spends most of his time in there. Don’t ever go in there unless he, himself tells you to.” He warned before leading me back downstairs and telling me to get to work.

I walked back outside and the dog ran back over to me. Szabo was its name, from what Bob had told me.
“Hey boy.” I said cheerfully. Kneeling down and reaching out a hand to it. I wondered how much human interaction he actually had. Normal dogs would have run straight over, Szabo, however, walked over warily and sniffed my outstretched hand for about a minute before venturing forward so I could run my hand over the dirt covered coat.

“God, look at you.” I muttered, rubbing his ears. “Let’s get you clean huh?”

I spent the next two hours bathing, brushing, and clipping Szabo until he was several shades lighter and much happier looking than before. Judging by the jumping all over me and the licking, I would say that Szabo appreciated my cleaning job.

On my back, having been pushed over by the dog, my gaze drifted to one of the windows on the top floor. My breathing hitched and my smile faltered as I saw Gerard looking down at me.
His gorgeous eyes were soft and he had a slight smile on his lips. I felt my insides melt slightly at that smile.
It seemed as if hours passed between the time when we were staring at each other, barely blinking, and the time that Szabo jumped on me, demanding attention and causing my eyes to be torn away from his. When I looked back up after hauling Szabo off of me, he was gone.