Kings and Queens of Promise

I was completely lost. I squinted through the rain as I drove through the storm, not having any clue where this house was. Finally, I saw an old lady out walking her dog and pulled up next to her, rolling down my window.

“Excuse me, ma’am!” I called. “Do you know where I can find the home of a Brian Haner, Jr.?”

“Oh,” she said, looking nervous. “Keep going straight. It’s at the end of the road. Can’t miss the gates. It’s the biggest house on the block.”

“Thank you,” I said, starting to roll up my window, but she stopped me.

“I warn you, Miss, you don’t want to mess with those folk. Most of their employees can’t last a week there.”

“I’ll remember that,” I said, growing slightly anxious. I continued down the road, the engine of my old pickup truck whining as I drove uphill. A dark silhouette became visible at the top of the hill and I pressed a little harder on the gas pedal. Finally, I reached a huge gate. On the front was an iron skull with bat wings protruding from each side. I pulled up beside the little intercom and rolled down my window again, pressing the button. Over the roar of the wind and rain, I could barely hear the voice coming from the speakers.

“What do you want?”

“I’m Emerson Gaskarth,” I practically shouted. “I’m here to see a Brian Haner?”

“Enter,” the voice said, so quietly I almost didn’t catch it. Quickly rolling up my window, I drove through the opening gates, ignoring the creepy bat–skull thing. I gaped at the house as I drove up––it was huge! As I approached, a large garage door opened, revealing a three–car garage that was currently only being used by one car. I pulled inside, cutting off the engine and climbing out. I could still hear rain pounding on the roof as I circled around to the back of the truck, opening the back door and dragging out my backpack, which I dropped onto the floor along with my messenger bag. I could leave the rest for morning. I glanced at the door to the side, wondering whether I should go in, or just circle around to the front door, which seemed like it would be the proper thing to do.

My mind was made up for me as the garage door slowly closed behind me, encasing me in darkness. Needless to say, this was slightly unnerving and I fumbled in my pocket for my lime green Droid. Quickly locating the flashlight app, I used the phone to light my way to the side door. Being a little too freaked out to wait around in the dark, I walked right in instead of knocking.

“Hello?” I called as I unraveled my drenched scarf from my neck. Setting down my stuff and dropping the striped scarf on top of my backpack, I ventured further into the house. After passing what I’m pretty sure was an elevator, I found myself in a foyer. In front of me was a large, spiraling staircase. “Hello?” I called again, a little louder. “Marco,” I joking called quietly.

“Polo,” a voice replied from behind me. I turned on the spot, but saw no one.

“Marco,” I called again, cautiously entering the great room.

“Polo,” replied the voice, sounding like it was in the room. Then, a skinny boy stood up from behind the couch, so quickly that I didn’t even see him before he was standing up perfectly straight. He looked at me nervously with big brown eyes. His dark hair, with some noticeable blonde streaks, was wet and sticking to the sides of his face.

“Um, hi,” I said shyly. “I’m Em, and I’m here to be some kind of housekeeper?”

“You want Syn,” the boy said.

“Excuse me?”

“Syn owns this house.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I must have the wrong house. I’m looking for a Brian Haner.”

“That’s Syn,” the boy said quickly. “He’s in the sauna.”

“Sauna?” I repeated. They had a freaking sauna?

“You’re Alex’s sister,” he said quietly.

“Um, yes. How did you know?” I asked, feeling more than a little awkward.

“You look like him.”

“Oh,” I stalled, not knowing what else to say. “And, um, who are you?”

“Jack,” he said, not looking at me.

“Jack!” a voice shouted from my left. From around the corner came a man slightly shorter than Jack, bearing a friendly smile. “Have you been freaking out our guest? Hi, I’m Pierre. You’re Emerson, right?”

“Um, just Em,” I said shyly as he shook my hand. Pierre had pretty brown eyes and side–swept brown hair. His left arm was covered in colorful tattoos.

“You’re soaked,” he observed. With my black hair stuck to my skin, this was a fairly obvious fact. I had gone to great lengths to look presentable, with not too much makeup, some gray skinnies and a modest black V–neck, but the rain had made my ensemble look terrible.

“Yeah, it’s raining,” i chuckled nervously. Wow, that’s just great. Now these two are going to think I’m mental or something.

“Well, I guess we should get Syn out here so she can go on up to her suite, eh, Jack?” Pierre asked. Jack nodded and ran from the room. “Sorry about him. He’s really shy. Like, really shy.”

“How long would I have to stay for him to be ‘not shy’?” I asked, glancing at the door.

“Um…I’m not sure. He’s never really warmed up to the help, so maybe you’ll be the first.”

“We can only hope,” I said quietly, faking a smile. I don’t know why I felt so sick and shaky, but I was just so nervous!

“Come on in the kitchen,” he said, putting his warm arm around my wet shoulders and leading me into the room he had emerged from. The smell of cookies filled the cozy room, warming me right to the tips of my toes. “I can take your coat and hat if you’d like,” he offered. I nodded, unzipping my hoodie. He grabbed the sleeves and gently eased the wet garment from my shoulders. I smiled appreciatively and pulled off my soaked beanie, hastily combing my fingers through my hair. Pierre stepped out and returned moments later. “I saw your scarf and hung that up, too.”

“Thanks,” I said quietly.

“Want a cookie?” he asked, gesturing to a plate on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“No thanks, I’m not very hungry, but can I have a bottle of water?” I asked. Normally, I would never turn down a plate of fresh–baked cookies, but my stomach was twisted in knots and I didn’t know if I could handle one at the moment. But, hey, at least I’d met one nice person. “So, um, are you and Jack visiting?” I asked.

“No, we live here,” Pierre laughed. “There’s five of us.”

“Is this some sort of…gay polygamist thing or something?” I asked.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Pierre chuckled, as if the thought had crossed his mind. “Syn owned this huge house and, after his wife left him, he didn’t want to be here alone, so he picked a few of us to stay here with him.” I wanted to ask about what that old lady had said, but I bit my tongue.

“Is, um…Is this…Syn person…Is he nice?” Pierre let out a loud laugh, nearly making me drop my water.

“Is that why you’re so nervous? Jesus, I thought Jack just said something to seriously freak you out. Man…”

“Um, so…is he?” I said persistently.

“He…is intimidating,” Pierre said slowly. “He’s brutally honest and very…forward. He lets you know what’s on his mind.”

“Oh,” I said. That didn’t help my nerves.

“Don’t worry, though. Even if you don’t like him, you’ll probably end up liking at least one of us,” Pierre chuckled. I watched him move around the kitchen for a few minutes, before we heard the garage door opening. “Oh, god, that’ll be the guys,” Pierre said, hurrying around the kitchen and putting away everything sugary.

“Why are you doing that?”

“Because,” he said distractedly, “sugar causes a rush of hyperactivity. That’s the last thing these guys need!”

“Then, why’d you make cookies?” I asked.

“I forgot today was my band day!” he exclaimed, shoving the last batch of cookies into the pantry as loud voices became audible from the mud room.

“Pierre! You got any junk food?” a loud voice called.

“No, David, I don’t,” Pierre replied smugly, leaning against the island and gazing at me, whispering, “Don’t freak out.” Before I could ask what he meant, four boys had trooped into the kitchen, unraveling themselves from their scarves and jackets.

“What is this?” the boy closest to me asked, staring at me.

“Dude, Estrogen Alert!” the bald one shouted.

“P, why do you have a girl here? Is there something you aren’t telling?”

“Shut up,” Pierre snapped. “Guys, this is Em. She’s going to be working for Syn.”

“Oh, good luck with that,” said the bald one.

“Shut up,” Pierre repeated. “Em, this is Jeff, Chuck, Seb, and David.”

“Hi,” I said, waving slightly.

“Syn’s waiting for you in the study, Em,” Pierre said quickly. “Go on. Don’t worry, he’s not so bad.” I nodded and stood up. “The study is through the foyer, past the stairs. Big brown room. Full of books. Now, go.” He shooed me from the room and I quietly crept through the great room, feeling like I was being watched. Looking around, I saw I was alone, but the feeling wouldn’t go away.

“Jack?” I asked quietly, peering behind the couch. Nothing. Glancing both ways before crossing into the foyer, I didn’t see any sign of life, which was slightly comforting, but mostly strange. So if the house belonged to Syn…and Pierre and Jack lived here…and there were five men total…then, who were the other two? As I entered the study, I saw a man stretched out on the sofa. He had black hair that was slightly damp, probably from the sauna, and he had muscular arms that were covered in tattoos. “Um, excuse me,” I said quietly, trying to sound more confident than I felt. He turned his head and looked at me, taking in my entire appearance. The picture of him in the want ad hadn’t done him justice. I would bet all my money that when I answered his ad, a scrawny, short, drenched head–to–toe, black haired, pale skinned emo–looking girl wasn’t quite what he had in mind. “I’m, uh, Em…er, Emerson Gaskarth. I’m, uh, here to help. I mean, to clean, no, I mean, um…hi,” I said lamely. I was a stuttering mess! What was wrong with me?!

“You were early,” he said, standing up. “I wasn’t expecting you until five.”

“Oh, well, I left early. I thought there would be a lot of traffic, but there, um…wasn’t.” Duh, Emerson. Stop sounding like a moron. “So, um, you’re Mr. Haner?”

“My friends call me Syn,” he said.

“So I heard,” I said quietly. I looked down at the floor as he examined me, slowly approaching me. He stood in front of me for a moment before sliding two fingers under my chin and tilting it up so I was looking at him.

“I’m not looking for some giggling girl who saw a hot guy in the paper and thought, ‘oh, I can live with him and try to get in his bed just by cleaning his house,’ so if that’s what you’re here for, I suggest you leave,” he said coldly.

“Th–That’s not why I’m here,” I stuttered. “B–Besides, in the ad, you can’t even tell if you’re h–hot or not,” I said, holding up the ad.



“Hmm, I never got a chance to look at it,” he said, taking the paper. “Wow, you really can’t tell. So, you’re actually going to work?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, shaking.

“Well, then, that idiot was right. Who knew?”

“Idiot, sir?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah, Alex said you weren’t the type for that. Sorry if I scared you, but I’m so sick of teenage girls showing up, giggling, trying to get in my pants. I usually fire the girls like that.”

“Is that why a lady told me no one can keep their job here?” I blurted out. Syn looked at me briefly before sitting back down.

“No.” I waited, somewhat expecting more of an explanation, but one never came. “Jack!” I jumped as he yelled and Jack came scurrying into the room. “Why don’t you show Em up to the Nanny Suite?”

“Alright,” Jack said, running to get my luggage.

“Um, Mr.…Syn?” I asked quickly.

“What?”

“I, um, have a cat. Would it be okay if I brought her in? She’s litter trained, never had an accident, and I would keep the box in my room.” He seemed to speculate on the idea for a moment.

“Fine, but if Icky doesn’t like her, we’ll have trouble.” Before I could ask who on earth Icky was, Jack was back by my side and dragging me out of the study. Thus, my time working for Brian Haner began.