Delilah
Mike's House
Mike's house was extremely...clean. His living room looked barely lived in, and the furnishings were stark white. Delilah felt like if she spilt something, that alarms would sound and a cleaning crew would jump out of the closets and scold her for being such a messy person.
She thinks back to her apartment; it currently has clothes thrown around, and she was sure there was a load of dishes in the sink that had failed to make it into the dishwasher. His house smelled Pine-sol fresh, and she laughs and wonders if it was always like this, or if he had put in extra effort because of his house guest.
"I'll show you to the extra room," he says, grabbing her one bag of belongings that she had packed to look like she was homeless but not tasteless.
"This place is gorgeous," Delilah tells him, taking in her surroundings of various family pictures on the walls, mixed in with hanging bass guitars on display.
"I'll give you a tour later." He opens up the door to the guestroom and ushers her in, telling her that she should make herself at home for the night, and that he had already set the clock for five in the morning so she wouldn't have to worry .
He sets her bag down and asks her to join him for a drink downstairs. The look in his eyes was sweet, almost begging her not to turn him down. For some reason, Delilah wondered if Tré and Mike had practiced their puppy dog eyes in the mirror together. She laughed as she thought about them trying on make up as Billie paraded around in a dress, telling everyone that he was the woman of his dreams.
"Okay," she says, "that would be good."
Two hours later she had finally remembered that she was not supposed to be drinking alcohol on the job, or mixing it with her pain killers.
She had taken to calling Mike 'Mister Monkey Butt', but it was too late to take back the four glasses of champagne he had already given her that night.
"Oh, fuck, I totally forgot," he tells her as she starts prancing around his house, asking if he has a powder room, "you have got to start acting more pathetic so I can remember you're in pain!"
"Hey, Monkey Butt, what's this?" she says, holding out an odd contraption from his laundry room; she pressed down on a button and screamed as an ironing board pops out of the wall, nearly knocking her out.
He walks over to her and pulls her out of the laundry room while minding her injuries. She wrapped her arms around his waist and thanks him for inviting her into his house even though they had just met.
"You seem sweet enough, Victoria," he presses, "a trustworthy person."
"Who?"
"What?" He turns her around in his arms and looks into her eyes, "You're Vic-to-ria...right?"
"Yeah," she giggles, pressing her face into his shirt and nodding while kicking herself on the inside for forgetting who she was, "I just forgot for a minute."
He looks as if he is going to question her again because she could practically feel his guard going up. She feels herself sober rapidly when she realizes she needs to think of something fast to make him misplace her uncertain dishonesty. She stands herself up from ducking into his chest and looks him in the eyes once again, tracing her lips up his jaw and kissing him.
Then she passed out.
***
The clock was beeping in Delilah's ear until she decided to chuck it at the wall. Five minutes later someone was knocking on the door, telling her that she shouldn't throw appliances across the room.
"It's not worthy!" she yells back to Mike, cupping her head in her hands when her brain begins to pulse with evil intensity. She was still laying in the clothes that she had arrived in the previous day, sighing when she realized she probably made a fool of herself in front of Mike on the last night they would probably be alone.
"Why would I want to be alone with him?" she asks herself. "Oh yeah, because he is hot." But that is beside the point.
"I have coffee, am I worthy?" Tré busted through the door, confusing Delilah for a moment until she realized Tré had come to raid Mike's refrigerator. He had a tray of coffee, cereal, grapes, bananas, and orange juice.
"No milk?" Delilah asks, and he curses but lightens up when Mike holds up a pitcher of milk as he walks into the room.
"I am not really good at breakfast in bed," Tré tells her as he tries not to make the tray topple over as she shifts to accommodate the two men, "but I just had to come annoy you two at four thirty in the morning."
"Four fucking thirty!" Mike states, throwing his hands up with dramatic flare. "He never gets up this early."
"I had to make sure you weren't taking advantage of your house guest."
"Sounds like you were thinking of yourself on this one," Mike says, rolling his eyes at Delilah and grabbing the grapes. She laughs when Tré bends backwards and opens his mouth at Mike's hand.
"Feed me like I am your Queen."
"You're not my Queen," he says, "but those men at the bar will happily make you...."
He stops talking when Tré attacks his hand, and Mike gives up and feeds him the grapes. Delilah wonders if their episodes would take place during the tour as Tré purrs when Mike starts petting his head. She nodded, this is going to be interesting.
***
They arrive at the studio at 5:30, just as the buses were pulling into the parking lot. Billie wasn't there yet, but a couple of other cars that contained what looked to be family sat around. She laughed as Tré flew over to his little boy who had exploded out of the car when he saw his dad get out of Mike's car.
"Hey buddy," he yells, "didn't we already get over all the mushy stuff last night?" He grabs his son and twirls him around as a woman laughs at the two. She popped the trunk on her car and Tré started pulling bags out of back, declaring that the woman sure did have a lot of junk in her trunk.
"Clauds, this is Victoria, the chick we ran over," he points at Delilah. "We decided to steal her because she was so cute."
The woman laughs and shakes hands with Delilah. Before Claudia pulled away from Delilah, she told her good luck, giving her an amused wink.
"You should see him when puppies are involved," Billie says from behind her, his voice strained, "he's worse then a three year old."
When Delilah looked back to reply to Billie, she burst out laughing because he had both of his sons hanging off each side of him. The youngest son looked at her and raised his eyebrows; Delilah wondered absently if he remembered her, shaking her head and reminding herself that it was impossible.
"Alright, let's pack it in," a man in a dark black business suit that looked as if he would be heading to a funeral once he got the buses on the road, came up behind them. He was at least a foot taller than the guys, and he looked oddly familiar to Delilah. She racked her brain for a couple of minutes before she gave up on trying to place his profile. His sunken gray eyes grated into their group before they dispersed to go load up the buses.
It was strange how there was not a word said after the man walked away.
She thinks back to her apartment; it currently has clothes thrown around, and she was sure there was a load of dishes in the sink that had failed to make it into the dishwasher. His house smelled Pine-sol fresh, and she laughs and wonders if it was always like this, or if he had put in extra effort because of his house guest.
"I'll show you to the extra room," he says, grabbing her one bag of belongings that she had packed to look like she was homeless but not tasteless.
"This place is gorgeous," Delilah tells him, taking in her surroundings of various family pictures on the walls, mixed in with hanging bass guitars on display.
"I'll give you a tour later." He opens up the door to the guestroom and ushers her in, telling her that she should make herself at home for the night, and that he had already set the clock for five in the morning so she wouldn't have to worry .
He sets her bag down and asks her to join him for a drink downstairs. The look in his eyes was sweet, almost begging her not to turn him down. For some reason, Delilah wondered if Tré and Mike had practiced their puppy dog eyes in the mirror together. She laughed as she thought about them trying on make up as Billie paraded around in a dress, telling everyone that he was the woman of his dreams.
"Okay," she says, "that would be good."
Two hours later she had finally remembered that she was not supposed to be drinking alcohol on the job, or mixing it with her pain killers.
She had taken to calling Mike 'Mister Monkey Butt', but it was too late to take back the four glasses of champagne he had already given her that night.
"Oh, fuck, I totally forgot," he tells her as she starts prancing around his house, asking if he has a powder room, "you have got to start acting more pathetic so I can remember you're in pain!"
"Hey, Monkey Butt, what's this?" she says, holding out an odd contraption from his laundry room; she pressed down on a button and screamed as an ironing board pops out of the wall, nearly knocking her out.
He walks over to her and pulls her out of the laundry room while minding her injuries. She wrapped her arms around his waist and thanks him for inviting her into his house even though they had just met.
"You seem sweet enough, Victoria," he presses, "a trustworthy person."
"Who?"
"What?" He turns her around in his arms and looks into her eyes, "You're Vic-to-ria...right?"
"Yeah," she giggles, pressing her face into his shirt and nodding while kicking herself on the inside for forgetting who she was, "I just forgot for a minute."
He looks as if he is going to question her again because she could practically feel his guard going up. She feels herself sober rapidly when she realizes she needs to think of something fast to make him misplace her uncertain dishonesty. She stands herself up from ducking into his chest and looks him in the eyes once again, tracing her lips up his jaw and kissing him.
Then she passed out.
***
The clock was beeping in Delilah's ear until she decided to chuck it at the wall. Five minutes later someone was knocking on the door, telling her that she shouldn't throw appliances across the room.
"It's not worthy!" she yells back to Mike, cupping her head in her hands when her brain begins to pulse with evil intensity. She was still laying in the clothes that she had arrived in the previous day, sighing when she realized she probably made a fool of herself in front of Mike on the last night they would probably be alone.
"Why would I want to be alone with him?" she asks herself. "Oh yeah, because he is hot." But that is beside the point.
"I have coffee, am I worthy?" Tré busted through the door, confusing Delilah for a moment until she realized Tré had come to raid Mike's refrigerator. He had a tray of coffee, cereal, grapes, bananas, and orange juice.
"No milk?" Delilah asks, and he curses but lightens up when Mike holds up a pitcher of milk as he walks into the room.
"I am not really good at breakfast in bed," Tré tells her as he tries not to make the tray topple over as she shifts to accommodate the two men, "but I just had to come annoy you two at four thirty in the morning."
"Four fucking thirty!" Mike states, throwing his hands up with dramatic flare. "He never gets up this early."
"I had to make sure you weren't taking advantage of your house guest."
"Sounds like you were thinking of yourself on this one," Mike says, rolling his eyes at Delilah and grabbing the grapes. She laughs when Tré bends backwards and opens his mouth at Mike's hand.
"Feed me like I am your Queen."
"You're not my Queen," he says, "but those men at the bar will happily make you...."
He stops talking when Tré attacks his hand, and Mike gives up and feeds him the grapes. Delilah wonders if their episodes would take place during the tour as Tré purrs when Mike starts petting his head. She nodded, this is going to be interesting.
***
They arrive at the studio at 5:30, just as the buses were pulling into the parking lot. Billie wasn't there yet, but a couple of other cars that contained what looked to be family sat around. She laughed as Tré flew over to his little boy who had exploded out of the car when he saw his dad get out of Mike's car.
"Hey buddy," he yells, "didn't we already get over all the mushy stuff last night?" He grabs his son and twirls him around as a woman laughs at the two. She popped the trunk on her car and Tré started pulling bags out of back, declaring that the woman sure did have a lot of junk in her trunk.
"Clauds, this is Victoria, the chick we ran over," he points at Delilah. "We decided to steal her because she was so cute."
The woman laughs and shakes hands with Delilah. Before Claudia pulled away from Delilah, she told her good luck, giving her an amused wink.
"You should see him when puppies are involved," Billie says from behind her, his voice strained, "he's worse then a three year old."
When Delilah looked back to reply to Billie, she burst out laughing because he had both of his sons hanging off each side of him. The youngest son looked at her and raised his eyebrows; Delilah wondered absently if he remembered her, shaking her head and reminding herself that it was impossible.
"Alright, let's pack it in," a man in a dark black business suit that looked as if he would be heading to a funeral once he got the buses on the road, came up behind them. He was at least a foot taller than the guys, and he looked oddly familiar to Delilah. She racked her brain for a couple of minutes before she gave up on trying to place his profile. His sunken gray eyes grated into their group before they dispersed to go load up the buses.
It was strange how there was not a word said after the man walked away.