The Babysitter

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“Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time, Ava?” Matt Parker stared at his girlfriend’s topless form in the afternoon sun and she grinned from her perch on the blanket.

“I prefer the phrase ‘big-shouldered-broad”, thanks,” She shoved her celebrity sunglasses further up her nose and held up a bottle of SPF 35. “Do my back?”

Matt rolled his eyes and collapsed next to her on the blanket. He and his friends had been coming to this deserted cove since they could carry their own boards. Although it wasn’t until he’d started bringing Ava that the beach got a Mature rating. He made fun of her when she first moved here, milk pale skin that she had to slather sunscreen to wasn’t he best when you spent all your time on the beach. But it was kinda cool, his girlfriend didn’t have a freckle on her. ‘Cept two. One teeny, tiny mark just under her right eyelid, and a small freckle about an inch to the left of the exact center of her chest. That was his favorite mark to play with, because it made her squirm.

“So wha’ts on the agenda today, Joan Crawford?”

Ava’s smoky chuckle made him grin and she lay back after he’d done her back, beckoning with her eyes for him to do her front as well. This time he squirmed.

“After this I’m running by the Armstrong place, I’ve got to let the dog out and stuff. And no, you can’t come.” Ava was relatively unaffected by the boy’s ministrations on her breasts, but she affected a groan for his benefit anyway.

“Oh come on, Ava the man’s never gonna know if you bring people. Please?” He bent, rolling on top of her and nuzzling her affectionately. “It’s gotta be a gre-at house…”

“Oh, it’s a great house,” she giggled when he nipped her breast playfully. “But you’ll never see it.”

“Ava! I’m your boyfriend. You’re sitting on Billie Joe Armstrong’s house keyes and you’re not even gonna let me take a peek?” He made his voice just the tiniest bit whinier and she melted a little bit. He grinned. Worked every time.

“You’re more than welcome to wait in the car.”

She laughed at his indignant yell and he tickled her until she gasped for breath. “How about now?” He’d learned long ago not to hide his arousal from Ava and quarrels had a tendency to turn into heavy petting. Sometimes more. He was hoping she was in a ‘more’ mood. And access to the man’s house. That’d be really fucking cool too.

“You’re not going with me, Matthew,” She had her arms around his neck and her voice was husky. Her breath tickled his ear. She pulled away from his face about an inch, “Why do you want to go so much?” She cocked her head to the side, “You don’t have a crush on him do you?”

Matt rolled his eyes and slid off of her. “you’re like the only person I know who’s not a Green Day fan, you know that?”

“Yeah, and?” She sat up, reaching for her discarded top as she went. He rolled his eyes again.

“Ava, do you have any idea it is how cool it is that you get to go Risky Business in Billie Joe FUCKING Armstrong’s house?”

“Do I look like I care who he is? And what makes you think I’d run around his house in my underwear?” She reached into a massive leopard print bag and pulled out a pair of cut off jean shorts.

“Well you’ve got to at least steal me a guitar pick or something.”

She snorted and got up,pulling on the shorts as she slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops. “Jesus, he’s like freaking Elvis or something.”

He’d pissed her off. Matt couldn’t help but get defensive. “Hey, if he were Roger freaking Daltrey and I was the one scooping up his dog’s poo you’d be all over me.”

Ava grinned and kissed his nose playfully. “Yes dear, but Roger freaking Daltrey is freaking cool.” She was halfway to the car before he caught up with her.

They were at a stoplight and eating greasy burritos from some fast food joint when he spoke again. “You never did tell me why you don’t like punk.”

Ava shrugged before gulping her water, “I like music I can dance to. Punk’s too…hectic.”

“And for that you don’t like Green Day. They’ve come out with some great stuff-“

“I can list more punk bands than you can that came out with great shit, Matt. I didn’t’ say they weren’t talented musicians, I mean it’s not like I’m condemning an entire genre because I don’t like the style. I’m just not a fan. Besides, Billie has one of the most annoying speaking voices on the planet. And I’m not sneaking you into his house just so you can steal something random to show to all of your bonehead friends.”

“Okay, okay, easy tiger it was just a thought.” He gestured to the park at the next intersection. “Just let me off here, okay? I told Bob I’d meet him.”

She pulled over and let him out. He kissed her quick and Ava rolled her eyes. She was not being bitchy, dammit!

@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@

She let herself into the house and disarmed the alarm almost as an afterthought. As far as houses went it was pretty cool, Matt was right about that. It was just… empty she guessed. Not lived in. It didn’t have that a-family-lives-here vibe that she was used too. Actually though, her dad’s place didn’t have it until she moved in and started leaving shit everywhere.

That was the problem with the Armstrong place, it still felt like it was in exhibition phase. I-just-moved-in-nobody-touch-anything. Her dad said Billie’d lived there for a few months. Ever since he and Adrienne split. But he only had the kids when his schedule permitted. So that was like what, once in a purple moon and twice in February? She was a regular house-sitter after that Disneyland thing. In the last month Ava spent more time in the place then the owner did. And that was sad.

The dog yowled from its pen in the laundry room and Ava laughed. It really was too cute. He’d bought Joe a basset hound and she had to admit the puppy was cute. But it was a puppy and it was growing up without anybody around. She spent so much time over here because she hated to leave the poor thing. And apparently the kid couldn’t take the damn dog with him back to his other house. Ava wondered about that.

Joe named the dog Domino. She wasn’t sure why.

“Hey, Fats,” she leaned over the puppy gate in the laundry room and lifted the puppy into her arms. The ball of short legs and floppy ears and licking tongue wriggled so hard she nearly dropped it, but he was happy to see her. She grinned. “I missed you to, buddy, but don’t piss on my leg, okay?” Ava rushed him to the kitchen door, opening it and shoving him out. Shutting the door behind him she turned her attention to the pile of mail she’d dumped on the kitchen table. Sorting ads, random letters, and a few newsletters took all of five seconds and before the dog was scratching at the back door she was done. “Time to play,” she announced to nobody in particular, helping herself to a beer from the fridge she went out back, taking a bright orange ball with her.

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“How long have you been out here with my dog, exactly?” Billie stood on the back porch, hands shoved in his front pockets, eyeing the empty beer bottle on the bottom step.

Ava looked over her shoulder at him before tossing the ball across the yard and checking her watch. “I dunno, a few hours maybe.”

It was starting to get dark out.

“Do you do this every day?” He walked down the stairs and hopped the last couple, landing in the grass a few feet to her left. Ava shrugged.

“He’s gotta pee every day, doesn’t he?” She narrowed her eyes, “I thought dad said you weren’t getting back in town for another week.”

“Plans changed. Why, planning a party at my place?” Domino brought the ball back and dropped it at Ava’s feet before falling over his ears to get to Billie. His tail wagged so hard his entire back end went with it and his puppy faced grinned. She laughed, but she did feel a twinge of jealousy. Then she felt stupid for caring whether or not her boss’ dog liked her better.

“Are you nuts? I don’t want my friends anywhere near your house.” She plopped into the grass and grabbed Fats’ hind legs, hauling him toward her for some rough, in the grass play. The dog growled happily. Billie arched an eyebrow and plopped down next to her. Ava rolled her eyes.

“You don’t like me very much, do you, Ava?”

She bit her lip, her hair was in twin braids today, stray tendrils fell free and she’d highlighted it with an indigo color. “I’m not paid to like you, Mister Armstrong.”

He laughed, “So that’s a ‘no’, then.”

“No,” she sighed, “You seem like a cool enough guy, I guess.” She rolled the dog over in the grass and scratched its belly. “I’m just not a fan.”

“Naw, really,” he leaned back on his forearms and looked up at her, well, her back really. She was cute, this kid of Tom’s. But she had a shit-ton of walls. He was silent for a bit. When Ava spoke again he wasn’t surprised.

“It’s not you, you know. It’s… all you represent.” Fats rolled back on his stomach and scrambled up into her lap. She scratched him behind his ears. “I’m not a punk fan. It’s like the entire genre represents how much my dad didn’t want me around.”

Fats licked her chin. Then scrambled away from her again.

Billie sat up when Domino jumped in his lap. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that one, Ava.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I know. All of a sudden I’m all after-school-special. No, see, when I was like ten I had this huge thing for Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. I mean huge. I’d been after my ‘rents to go to a concert for like forever and finally, finally, my dad decides to take me. And I was stoked. It was actually sorta sad how excited I was.” She laughed and rolled her eyes, eyeing the dog. “So we get to the concert and everything’s great. I can’t do much cause I’m only like ten, but no big because my dad got us backstage and whatever and right between the first and second set he decides to tell me that he and mom aren’t working out and he’s moving to Cali. And I can’t come because he’d rather I stay with mom.” She picked a fistful of the grass and let it drop.

“So… you hate punk because your dad’s got a bad sense of timing.”

Ava rolled her eyes. “What is it with you people thinking I hate the genre?! I’ve got nothing wrong with the freaking music, already. I just really don’t like people having fun, dammit!” She threw her hands in the air.

He stared at her.

Ava realized what she said.

They stared at each other.

And then they laughed.

Ava stared up at the sky, “Matt, my boyfriend,” she clarified, “thinks I don’t like punk because I can’t dance to it.”

“Next time I’d stick with that story.” He sat up, putting the dog back on the grass. Fats Domino stared at the two of them before taking off across the yard.

“Yeah.” She shook her head, “I didn’t mean to unload on you like that.”

“I figured there was a reason you were being so…”

“Independent?”

He laughed, “That works too. Thanks for house sitting and all. I’ll probably need you next month too.”

“Fine,” she got up, dusting off her ass as she went. He followed her, reaching into his back pocket for a thick envelope. She grinned, Ava loved money. “Fats likes the orange ball better than those designer fung-shui dog toys you bought. And he’s fine with the puppy pads in the laundry room, but if you’re home you might want to keep the back door open.”

“Fats?”

“Yeah…” she looked at him like he was crazy, “As in Domino…”

“I got it.” He rolled his eyes, nice to know the teenager could still make him feel stupid.

“Besides, he’s a basset hound, he’ll look like he needs Weight Watchers in a few months.”

She took the envelope and lifted the flap, thumbing the money quickly.

“That much work for ya?”

Ava grinned, thumbing a twenty and handing it back to him, “Yeah, thanks. This’ll cover the beer I mooched.” She shoved the rest in her back pocket while he laughed.

“Just make sure your dad doesn’t find out.”

“Thanks Mister Armstrong.” She turned, going quickly up the porch stairs.

“Call me Billie!”

“Bye Mister Armstrong!”