Beatrice

Short #5: Irishman

I woke up next to Kenny, he was still asleep. Knocking on the front door woke me up. I kissed his forehead and got up from the bed. I put on my robe and went downstairs.

I opened the door to see a tall white man he looked...familiar. He looked angry when I opened the door, but his expression softened when he saw me. He quickly took off his hat and lowered his head out of respect. "I'm sorry that I woke you up from your beauty sleep, ma'am. I heard that a man who go by Kennan live here. You heard of him?" He asks, with a smug look on his face, looking up at me with his eyes as his head was still lowered.

"Yeah, that's my boyfriend. He's asleep, but you can come and wait 'til he's up." I say, a bit cautious. He had trickster vibes written all over him. He had Lestat written all over him.

He lifted his head and grinned. "Thank you, ma'am. Being such a sweetheart to me. I appreciate the hospitality." He coos, he walks inside.

"No problem, just take your shoes off. Lock the door if you'd be so kind to." I say, turning around and heading to the couch. He looked like he had been working all day. His clothes all dirtied up, his boots, dirty. The parts of his body that were exposed, sweaty. His muscles were bulging out of his tank top and overalls.

"Of course." He does what I asked of him.

"You want some wine? We have a lot." I say, sitting on the couch, I couldn't stop looking at him. He looked so familiar. Remmy? Relick? Relish? Fuck.

"Hell yeah, but I don't like drinking alone. Imma pour you a glass too." He says, walking up to me and crossing his arms.

I sit back and cross my arms too. "Then go make me one, shit." I say, chuckling with a smirk on my face. He chuckles back. I tell him where it is and he goes to make us glasses.

While he's doing that, I turn to look at him, he had his back turned towards me.

Who

Is

He?

I was sweeping, that's all I did. That's all he wanted me to do. My father. Clean, fold, cook, dust, mop, all with a smile on my face. He was wealthy enough to afford this house, but not a fucking maid.

There was work being done on our garden and around neighboring farms. So the environment wasn't as quiet as it usually is, but I'm not complaining. I love people. I usually cook sandwiches for the workers hard work and give it to them.

My dad didn't find out until a worker told him and he yelled at me. Saying shit like 'The food I pay for should be going in my mouth only.' My father is a selfish boy.

Knock knock.

"Who is that knocking on my door?" My father asks loudly.

"I'm checkin' daddy, chill." I roll my eyes and open the door. It was a white man. He looked up and me and took his hat off.

"Ma'am." He says.

"There's no need to call me that, now. You making me feel old and I'm probably younger than you, sir." I chuckled, he smiled and licked his lips.

And just like that, the fun's over, my dad pushed me out the frame of the door with his body and I was only able to see the man from behind my dad. Then my mom came along too and did the same thing I was doing.

"What is your business here on my front porch, boy?" My father rudely asked.

"Uh... hello, sir. I'm Remmick, I'm doing work on the farm a few feet that way and I'm really parched. I was wondering if you could provide me with a little sum to drink. Water, anything." He says,