Mainstream

For the Cameras

Mrs. Shields was a severe woman with steel gray hair. She reminded Waylon of the headmistress at an all girl's school. Eddie excused himself to his room, after walking Andrew out of the house, and Waylon was left alone with the house manager.

"I can show you to your room, and give you some time to get settled," said Mrs. Shields, with a polite smile. "Or I can give you a tour of the property."

"TOUR!" said Waylon, laughing like a child. "Tour, oh please, fuck this is so cool."

Waylon's enthusiasm tested Mrs. Shields' polite smile. She managed to maintain her composure as she gestured toward the stairway. Waylon clapped his hands together and rushed to take the stairs, two at a time.

The second floor was decorated as pristinely at the first, looking like a model home inhabited by humans. Waylon almost wept when he saw his bedroom for the first time. There was a large, arched window overlooking the backyard with its hillside view and the tropical landscaping around Eddie's infinity pool.

A large, four-post bed dominated the room with a white comforter so fluffy it could have been made of marshmallows, and enough cushions for an entire soccer team to start a pillow fight. Waylon was afraid to even touch the bed, lest he make everything dirty by his mere presence.

"You're welcome to redecorate as you see fit," said Mrs. Shields, standing at the door with her hands folded while Waylon circled through his new room. His meager boxes and suitcase were already delivered and stacked unopened in the corner.

"Why would I want to redecorate, it's already the nicest room I've ever had in my life, damn," said Waylon, turning around and around like some kinda Disney princess. "What else is up here?!"

The second floor was long hallways with doors and some areas open to the living room below. Eddie's bedroom and study were off limits, but Mrs. Shields pointed them out to help Waylon avoid them. There was also a fully decked out media room with movie theater seating and a giant, flatscreen television.

The rest of upstairs were guest rooms, and a game room with a ping pong table and leather couches. All of the paddles and balls were still encased in plastic. The room looked unused.

"Eddie's not much of a gamer, huh?" asked Waylon.

Mrs. Shields' only response was a polite smile and a motion to follow.

Downstairs was more interesting. Several different sitting rooms and living rooms, all full of art, matching furniture, window treatments, and state of the art electronics. The gym was especially amazing, floor to ceiling mirrored walls with every type of weight machine, free weights, and all other calisthenic tools. The gym looked very used, scuffs on the rubber floor mats, and some of the handles worn down.

Mrs. Shields opened the back doors to show Waylon the pool with connected hot tub. It was glorious. The light rising up from the waters, the quiet trickle of the fountains, and the distant hills twinkling with lights. The pool seemed to stretch away into the twinkling horizon.

"Can I use the pool?" asked Waylon.

"Of course, the cleaners come on Mondays, but every other day is free," said Mrs. Shields.

"Oh, it's not just you then?" asked Waylon.

"I live on the property, I have an apartment near the garage," said Mrs. Shields. "There is a full-time landscaper and chef, though they do not live here. There's also a laundry service, maid service, pool cleaners, grocery delivery, personal trainer, security personnel, and other less frequent attendants. As the property manager, I'm in charge of the schedule. If you have special dietary needs or wish certain food items, add it to the list in the kitchen."