Page 12 of His Big Bad Stick

“Pick your own room,” Mom says to me, her eyes wide.

She’s enjoying this.

For me, it’s weird. It’s really fucking weird, okay?

She just met this guy a few days ago and now I’m here at his mansion about to pick out my own bedroom?

The only good thing is maybe the size of the place means I can have some space to myself.

We enter the giant house into an open foyer.

Mom squeaks with delight and starts to spin, arms out, like she’s in some movie.

To her, this is all like a movie.

Jack looks at me and points. “Down that hallway there are the first floor bedrooms. There’s some great views. And one of the bedrooms has its own private entrance. Or exit. Takes you right out to the pool.”

Of course the place has a pool.

I start my travels from the foyer to the hallway.

I can hear Mom beaming with excitement at everything she looks at.

I guess I’m happy that she’s happy.

At the end of the hallway, I turn left.

A first floor bedroom with my own way in and out of the house does sound kind of nice.

I figure that’s a good place to start this self-guided tour.

As soon as I make it to the door, it opens on its own.

For a split second I think there are automatic door openers run by sensors.

Nope.

The house isn’t that advanced.

The door opens because someone is in the bedroom.

That someone is a shirtless boy, standing almost twice my height.

I say boy… but he looks like a man.

He’s my age.

I swallow hard.

My eyes bounce quickly to look at his muscular, cut body.

My brain tells my mouth not to drool.

He curls the left side of his lip into a high snarl.

“Who the fuck are you?” his voice growls at me.

Oh, sure, nice to meet you to.

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