Page 104 of Talk Nerdy To Me
It isn’t until after I finish locking the doors on my truck that I glance around, taking inventory of the really expensive vehicles parked in all the other driveways. I look back and snort at myself for locking my doors.
Shaking my head at myself and feeling really out of place, I jog inside and…stop.
When I bump into a wall, my elbow hits a switch, and a massive wall across from me starts moving over the fireplace to reveal an obnoxiously sized TV.
Un…real.
A low whistle escapes me as I move through the house. I bet just one piece of furniture in here costs more than any number I’ve ever had in my bank account.
I’m not even sure where the hell Britt is, but just as I open my mouth to call for her, my eyes fall on a bathroom around the next turn I take.
“Holy shit,” I say under my breath as I glance around at the floor-to-ceiling marble or some shit.
How many showerheads does one person need? And do I even want to know why Ian Sterling built a shower stall big enough to hold ten people?
I back out, shaking my head at the ridiculousness that is life as a Sterling. This is probably just one of his houses.
“Britt?” I call, already apparently on the wrong section of house, since this is not the way I came.
“I’m in the kitchen,” she says loudly.
Where the hell is her voice coming from? How am I supposed to find the kitchen?
I startle when I see a man at the end of the hallway, hands behind him as he stares stoically at me. Not creepy at all.
“Britt, is this place haunted by dead dudes in fancy suits, or will I stumble into a bat cave if I pull a secret lever?” I yell.
The apparition/butler in question gives me a dry look.
“I’ve never read anything substantiated on paranormal activity that wasn’t highly controversial, so I’m undecided on if I believe in the possibility of a death dimension with windows, or isolated breaches, to parallel planes,” she answers back.
“I believe Ms. Sterling is informing you that there are no such things as ghosts, Mr. Masters,” the dude dressed way more expensively than me says with thick condescension.
“And Batman’s name is Bruce. Not Ian,” Britt says very seriously through an intercom that carries throughout the house.
So that’s why I couldn’t follow her voice.
Mr. Suit holds out his arm. “Should I escort you to Master Sean’s room, or were you still debating whether or not to use the lou’s shower?”
“I’m guessing you get paid too much to feed a cat,” I say under my breath as he walks in front of me.
“Certainly not, but the darling feline is Sean’s responsibility, and he arranged to have Ms. Sterling ensure the cat’s well-being.”
“So someone calls Britt over here to do it because she’s even less important than you,” I surmise, snorting to myself at the shit-tastic way the rich really do things.
“Yes. Certainly. She’s their servant too,” the dick says in a serious tone before pushing open a door and walking away.
I glance inside, finding possibly the largest kid’s room I’ve ever seen in my life. Then I realize I’m just standing in the motherfucking closet when I see another door open to an enormous bathroom that connects to a monstrous bedroom.
That little dick’s a prick because he has a closet bigger than the house I grew up in.
I thought Britt’s room was large, but a twelve-year-old’s room make all her stuff look modest.
I only thought I wasn’t bothered by all the money until this minute. To top it all off, they have Britt running around dealing with shit below a douchebag butler’s salary—
A rattling in a huge set of cabinets scares the shit out of me, cutting off my inner rant as I give it a wary glare.
It rattles again, and I start to get worried that small psychopath-in-training has the cat locked in there. I yank open the door when it rattles again, and see something…horrifying lunge at my face as a feral battle cry explodes from its vicious jaws.
