A Crippled Love

The One With The Mean Man

A Crippled Love: The One With The Mean Man

               I took a deep breath after I paid and exited the cab, and then took another one as I stared at the mansion in front of me. It was gigantic-complete with gates and a garden.

        Just as I was about to step back into the taxi, the man sped away. Well, there goes my last chance of changing my mind, I thought.

        I slowly started walking towards the gates, wondering how on earth I was going to be able to get the job. I was a nineteen year old college dropout for God’s sake! This was a stupid idea. But might as well try.

        I nervously smoothed down my clothes, which I had taken forever to choose out. It consisted of a pair of black jean shorts to just above my knees, a plain white shirt, and a light half-sleeve dark blue cotton cardigan. I wanted to seem friendly, not too business like.        

        Deciding that since the flier had said that a professional degree was not needed, they wanted a somewhat benevolent person. And considering the sweltering heat, I would’ve literally melted in a suit. My long dark honey hair was in a fishtail braid and traveled down my right side.

        Taking in the stunning sights of the luscious greenery around me, I let out a sigh. This place was amaz- BZZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZ

        I jumped at the sudden loud noise, letting out an embarrassing squeal in the process. What on earth was that? The noise was deafening!

        “Oi! You there! Why are you here?” A large burly man shouted from behind the gate. I peered through the bars of the gates at him, squinting my eyes.

        “Um, I’m here for the job….?” I shouted back at him, not knowing how could say ‘cripple’ without sounding weird, and also feeling a bit awkward just standing there shouting through metal gates.

        The gates slowly opened as the man pressed some kind of button near him. I slowly walked in as the gates moved back, and headed towards the large doors.

        The man walked towards me. Up close, he was sort of handsome, in a middle-aged posh kind of way. “I am Mr. Ed; I am the butler. You may go right in, Mrs. Volkolv is in the sitting room.” He opened the gigantic doors, and ushered me in.

        "Um, alright.” I replied, not telling him that I wasn’t rich so I didn’t know where the sitting room was. “Can you direct me there?”

        The man rolled his eyes, but gestured with his hands to follow him.

        I hurriedly followed his fast paced steps, and stared, amazed at the interior decorating of the elegant house. Everything was either crème colored, black, or red, and it was astounding.

        I wish my crappy home was like this, I mused.

        "Here you are, Ms….” He trailed off.

        “-Ms. Faye, but call me Peyton.” I said hastily. My God, I hated using my last name. It reminded me too much of my mother, and thinking about her always put me into a depressing emotional coma.

        I looked into the room that he directed me too, and gaped. The room was gigantic and luxurious, but it wasn’t the 10 foot long love seat or the 200 inch t.v. that had me gaping.

        It was the man sitting on the one-seater sofa right in the middle of it. A very gorgeous man.

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