I like you - Post Malone

1 Willow

Willow watches as the big black gate opens slowly. She has heard of this place, it has been the small-town gossip for months. The Thompsons who were rich as fuck had sold it to a rapper from LA and then disappeared. The rapper, whose name escapes her, had moved in, but she has never seen him. She has seen his very expensive cars with dark tinted windows floating around the small Cottonwood Heights area, but that's about it. Nothing much happens in Little Cottonwood Heights so the news of some famous rapper moving here had the town people very excited. They had invited him to the town fair, town hall meetings, and even to the neighborhood watch, but he keeps to himself and people only know he is in town if one of those cars suddenly appear in the street. People say they have met him and he is the nicest guy - but Willow doubts that. She lived in LA for a few years and LA people are not nice. Moving back home to Cottonwood Heights just outside Salt Lake City in Utah was the best move she ever made.

"It's open. Drive forward," Willow's five-year-old nephew, Fern, says. Willow shakes her head and gives him a little laugh. "Daydreaming," she says. "When are you not? You are a hippy," Fern says with a giggle. "A happy hippy," Willow adds. "A crazy hippy," Fern counters with a grin. "And my favorite Aunt," he adds. Willow lets out a laugh and nods her head - he is not wrong. Between her animal grooming business, love of flowing bohemian clothing, homemade whisky, and crystal collection - she can not be classified as anything but crazy. But, she is happy with the label so it's no sweat off her back.

Fern's parents let him visit as much as possible. He had gone through a terrible stage where he wore suits and carried a briefcase - he looked like a mini version of his father in perfect hand mirror-shined shoes. But he is a hippy at heart so now he has matching tied-dyed outfits to hers and his hair has grown into a blond shaggy mess. He wants dreads like her, but he has to start school soon and his parents are insisting he conform to the standards of man while he goes through school. It's barbaric. "Fabber-babba-wabba!" Fern says when the rapper's house comes into view as they drive up the long driveway in her van. Fabber-babba-wabba is the right word!

She had been up here as a kid and although the Thompsons had always loved showing off their money - it is clear the rapper is dripping in the green stuff. The alterations he has made to the house and the property surrounding it are mind-blowing. There are expensive cars, boats, motorbikes, jet skis, and even a helicopter parked around the property. When she had been here in the past there was only one giant flashy house, but now that flashy house is humongous and extra flashy, and she counts seven more smaller houses that have been built around the massive property - it's a small town on its own.

Willow parks her van near the front door and hops out with Fern. The house is out of this world and Willow suddenly feels out of place in her tie-dyed romper, she should have borrowed one of Fern's discarded suits. "You are good, Willow," he says when he sees her slightly nervous face. What would she do without him? She winks at him and flashes him a smile then walks up the front steps and bangs on the front door that has a large bear carved into it.

They wait for a good ten minutes before a woman who looks more plastic than human opens the door. "You the dog lady?" the woman asks, bored. "Yeah. Hi! I am Willow and this is my nephew, Fern," Willow says in her happiest voice.

"You look like you should be selling crystals and doing tarot card readings...do you sell weed?" the woman asks checking her nails and playing with the large gold chains around her neck.

"I do sell crystals! Not the tarot reading - I think every day should be a surprise. No weed selling either but, if you want an amazing facial cream that has hemp extract in it I can make you some," Willow offers happily.

"Great," the woman says in a bored tone taking her phone from her back pocket and typing on it. "The dog is around back. Don't let the boy get too close - it will rip him to shreds," she says as she starts closing the front door. "Hold on!" Willow says jamming her foot in the door. The woman's eyes snap to Willow and she frowns. "He is not here, so don't ask to meet him," she says.