AllFreeNovel
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There are a couple of guys behind me, moving soil from the truck to a wheelbarrow and carrying it along the outside of the house. I bribed the landscaping foreman by telling him I had a thing for Maria, the housekeeper. Convinced him I was trying to win her hand in marriage from her super religious family, who does not approve of our relationship. Sad sob stories and puppy-dog eyes always get the good-natured people. They are easy to screw with, such suckers.
A few housekeepers are bustling around inside, including Maria. They must expect the owners of this establishment home soon. You can feel the tension in the air and I’m devouring every taste. Stress tastes of saltiness and mixes with the remembrance of Reese’s sweet taste. It’s gold.
A car slowly pulls into the driveway. The well-dressed man gets out and walks to the front door. He walks with no concern for anyone else, but his furrowed brow gives away his anger. He is almost at the front door when another car I don’t recognize speeds up the driveway. The driver shifts it into park and she steps out in her expensive heels, her jewelry finally matching the woman. No modest jewelry here… true colors exposed. You are welcome, world.
“Mitchell!” she screams.
“Allison,” he firmly states. “Shouldn’t you drive slower since you flipped your car?”
It covered his condescending tone of annoyance.
“Shut your mouth! Did you get any more information on that George Smith I told you about?”
“No. No clue who he is. Why didn’t you get his ID or insurance card like you should have done?!” He looks around, seeing all the landscapers. Frustration fills his face, and then he points to the house. “Don’t embarrass me.”
Allison stomps into the home, and I take sight of some bruises and cuts on her body. Smiling and almost wishing that it killed her. Selfish bitch.
I stay under the open window. Thank you, Maria, for leaving the windows open to air the home out. As they move throughout the house, I slowly follow their voices. The footsteps of the housekeepers are swift. Trying to avoid the tornado of a situation.
They move to the back of the house where his office is. DuPont is such a gentleman as he walks through the door first and promptly sits at his desk. Allison stomps in behind him and slams the door.
“Where are your people with this George Smith?” she yells.
“Take that tone down, Allison. It’s very unladylike,” Mitchell says while he smirks at her. “You wouldn’t want to get a wrinkle.”
“Shut up!” She throws a file at him. “He knew about everything!”
“What do you mean?” Mitchell seems so unfazed. “Knew about what?”
“The foundation front we set up.” She folds her arms over her chest. “What is going on?”
DuPont sits taller in his seat. He puts his elbows on the desk and leans forward toward his wife. “How does he know?”
“I don’t know, Mitchell!” she mocks him. “He knew way more about me than any of my other clients! I thought we paid a lot of money for the practice’s privacy?”
“Then we have a pig that likes to squeal in our circle.” He sits back in his chair, causing it to creak. I think to myself how ironic it is coming from the man who can’t keep it in his pants.
“We need to move fast before this George Smith person talks.” She paces the room.
“Calm down. You look desperate.” He runs his hands over his chin, trying to think. “What do you remember about him?”
This should be good. Come on, Allison, tell him what you thought of George. I pull my camera out of my jacket and record.
“He was an asshole,” she states. “I could see he was dealing with some major issues.”
True statement.
“He was a disgruntled old man, but you should’ve seen his face when he saw the picture of the boys. He was furious.”
Also, accurate statement.
“He pinpointed who I was. That practice is the only thing I have of ME! Fucking George!” she huffs.
“Anything else?”
“A military friend referred him to me. So he’s military,” she states.
“That doesn’t narrow it down,” he mocks her.
