back to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the mid-morning
light.
The guy, Mike, stepped back to let her out. They
were partly shaded by the trees. The walkway around the side of the cottage was
only about three feet wide, and there was an embankment of earth next to it.
She turned and looked out toward the deck, and then she saw the lake.
Fiona stepped past the strange painter-man and
finally took in the view properly. It was beautiful. There were trees to the
left and right, and directly in front of the cottage was a steep, treed hill, a
brief expanse of beach, and then the lake. It was dark blue and covered in
white-peaked waves. Across the lake was forest. She couldn't see any houses or
cottages on that side. It was a sight she was not used to seeing. It was such a
simple beauty.
"Watch the paint," the man said. She
turned and looked. He was pointing to the area of the deck to her left. There
was a clear line where the bright new red paint began covering over the old,
faded red. She looked at this side of the cottages exterior. It was all red,
with yellow trim around the windows.
"Red and yellow?" she said. "What is
this thing? A fucking fire truck?" She took a sip of vodka.
"I kinda like it," he said, crossing his
arms and smiling. "It's old fashioned. It gives the place a real vintage
style, I think."
"This place is a dump." She took out a
cigarette and lit it.
"Okay," Mike said. "We've established
why I'm here. Do you mind telling me why you're here?"
Fiona took a drag. It made her stomach turn. She
took a sip to settle her tummy, and leaned against the rail that ran around the
edge of the deck. "Don't ask me any questions," she said. She felt
like shit.
"Are you okay?" he said. "You don't
look so well."
"Kiss my ass," she managed to say, before
turning and throwing up over the rail into the bushes below. She dropped the
glass and the cigarette and held back her blonde hair while she puked, spilling
out clear liquid and gasping for air.
"Oh, wow," Mike said. "This is...
unexpected."
Fiona heaved a few times, but since she had nothing
in her stomach except water and vodka, it didn't last long. She retched, spit,
and then sank down to her knees, still holding her hair back with one hand, and
holding onto the rail with the other.
"Um, maybe let's get you back inside where you
can sit down," Mike said, stepping toward her and putting a hand on her
shoulder.
She swatted away his hand. "Don't fucking touch
me," she said.
"Okay, I'm sorry. Help yourself."
"I think my head is going to explode," she
said.
"Can I get you anything?"
Fiona struggled to her feet and after bracing
herself for a moment against the rail, she turned and stumbled back toward the
door. She went back inside the cottage and closed the door behind her. She
locked it, and then managed to make it to the couch. She lay down and then
struggled and shifted with discomfort until she finally managed to fall sleep.
Mike waited and listened, and then decided to go
back to painting the deck. He grinned as he got down to it. She was beautiful,
but what a bitch. She sounded like a spoiled rich city-girl. He'd dealt with
plenty of them at college. And what a mess! Was she drunk this early, or was
she still messed up from last night?
Maybe it would be best to cut her some slack, he
figured. Maybe she was so bitchy because he'd surprised her and seen her naked.
That was liable to make a young woman defensive.
She was beautiful, though. Very beautiful. He
thought for a moment and tried to think if he'd ever seen a girl with a better
body naked. She was so sleek and fit. Maybe he had. He couldn't think of
anyone. Some were close, but not quite as sexy. She also looked very familiar,
but he couldn't quite place where he knew her from. Maybe later he would catch
her name and it would click.
It didn't matter. He just had to paint. It would
probably take three
light.
The guy, Mike, stepped back to let her out. They
were partly shaded by the trees. The walkway around the side of the cottage was
only about three feet wide, and there was an embankment of earth next to it.
She turned and looked out toward the deck, and then she saw the lake.
Fiona stepped past the strange painter-man and
finally took in the view properly. It was beautiful. There were trees to the
left and right, and directly in front of the cottage was a steep, treed hill, a
brief expanse of beach, and then the lake. It was dark blue and covered in
white-peaked waves. Across the lake was forest. She couldn't see any houses or
cottages on that side. It was a sight she was not used to seeing. It was such a
simple beauty.
"Watch the paint," the man said. She
turned and looked. He was pointing to the area of the deck to her left. There
was a clear line where the bright new red paint began covering over the old,
faded red. She looked at this side of the cottages exterior. It was all red,
with yellow trim around the windows.
"Red and yellow?" she said. "What is
this thing? A fucking fire truck?" She took a sip of vodka.
"I kinda like it," he said, crossing his
arms and smiling. "It's old fashioned. It gives the place a real vintage
style, I think."
"This place is a dump." She took out a
cigarette and lit it.
"Okay," Mike said. "We've established
why I'm here. Do you mind telling me why you're here?"
Fiona took a drag. It made her stomach turn. She
took a sip to settle her tummy, and leaned against the rail that ran around the
edge of the deck. "Don't ask me any questions," she said. She felt
like shit.
"Are you okay?" he said. "You don't
look so well."
"Kiss my ass," she managed to say, before
turning and throwing up over the rail into the bushes below. She dropped the
glass and the cigarette and held back her blonde hair while she puked, spilling
out clear liquid and gasping for air.
"Oh, wow," Mike said. "This is...
unexpected."
Fiona heaved a few times, but since she had nothing
in her stomach except water and vodka, it didn't last long. She retched, spit,
and then sank down to her knees, still holding her hair back with one hand, and
holding onto the rail with the other.
"Um, maybe let's get you back inside where you
can sit down," Mike said, stepping toward her and putting a hand on her
shoulder.
She swatted away his hand. "Don't fucking touch
me," she said.
"Okay, I'm sorry. Help yourself."
"I think my head is going to explode," she
said.
"Can I get you anything?"
Fiona struggled to her feet and after bracing
herself for a moment against the rail, she turned and stumbled back toward the
door. She went back inside the cottage and closed the door behind her. She
locked it, and then managed to make it to the couch. She lay down and then
struggled and shifted with discomfort until she finally managed to fall sleep.
Mike waited and listened, and then decided to go
back to painting the deck. He grinned as he got down to it. She was beautiful,
but what a bitch. She sounded like a spoiled rich city-girl. He'd dealt with
plenty of them at college. And what a mess! Was she drunk this early, or was
she still messed up from last night?
Maybe it would be best to cut her some slack, he
figured. Maybe she was so bitchy because he'd surprised her and seen her naked.
That was liable to make a young woman defensive.
She was beautiful, though. Very beautiful. He
thought for a moment and tried to think if he'd ever seen a girl with a better
body naked. She was so sleek and fit. Maybe he had. He couldn't think of
anyone. Some were close, but not quite as sexy. She also looked very familiar,
but he couldn't quite place where he knew her from. Maybe later he would catch
her name and it would click.
It didn't matter. He just had to paint. It would
probably take three
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