Page 19 of Over My Dead Boss
The smile on his face reveals fine wrinkles around his eyes and deep dimples on his cheeks, which make him look deceptively charming, and me forget all about the itchy blisters for a moment.
Darn those ocean-blue eyes. It’s just not fair.
“Come on,” he says after throwing the stick one last time before following a trail that leads us down a hill.
I follow in slight agony and defeat and silence as Dog paces around us like a hyperactive kid, once in a while chasing after butterflies and squirrels. After a while, we come to a lavish house in the woods that I recognize immediately. Next to it, crawling on her knees through the vegetable patch, is Nana, unaware of anything other than the slugs she is trying to gather in a bucket.
“Need a hand with that?” Phoenix asks as he bends down to help her up.
“Nonsense,” she replies with her heavy Scottish accent and a smile when she sees me. “This is my exercise. I need to do it myself, otherwise I won’t make it to 200. I plan on outliving all of you. Just wait and see… at least as long as you can. I am glad to see you are still around, Olivia. Not that I’m surprised.” She brushes the dirt off her hands and gives me a wink. “What brings the two of you here? Shouldn’t you be doing… whatever it is, two younglings like you do on a beautiful day like this?”
“Just checking up on you, Nana.” Phoenix leads her towards a bench nearby and helps her sit down.
“How about I get you some water?” I ask.
“Oh, that would be lovely,” she answers and points towards the house. “There’s some in the fridge in the kitchen. It’s the one with the taste. You can’t miss it.”
Walking into her house, I once again feel like a spy doing not entirely legal things as I search her living-room for pictures of young Phoenix. The walls, much like his, are covered in paintings, although they look more contemporary than the ones in Phoenix’s house. The kitchen is enormous and every chef’s wet dream. It certainly has its perks to be rich. I open the fridge and find an assortment of vegetables, cheeses, beer, and no water.The one with the taste, of course.I grab a bottle of German lager and look around for a glass, then fill it with cold water from the tab and slowly make my way back out. On a wall near the back entrance, I finally discover family pictures.
Here we go.
Quickly, I see whom I believe to be his parents, Leon and Nora Cyrus, and I am more than delighted when I also find teenage Phoenix, wearing braces, a Nick Carter haircut and a shirt that says ‘Normal people scare me’. Maybe that’s why there are no pictures of him. Despite looking the way he does now, he’s certainly not photogenic. Maybe karma isn’t dead after all. Before I get a chance to snap a picture, I notice Phoenix approach from outside, sticking his head through the door. Not wanting to get caught, I rush out and bring both beverages back to Nana, making her squeal in delight.
“You can have the one without taste, Olivia. Or you can get yourself one of these if you want to.” She raises the bottle, takes a sip and involuntarily releases a small burp, which is followed by a loud giggle. We sit together for a bit and chat while Phoenix is busy doing things around the house. I skillfully deny that we are out on a romantic walk by almost choking on my own saliva and Nana promises to pay us a visit as soon as her tomatoes are ripe enough for her grandson, and my personal tormentor, to make a delicious quiche. An hour or two later, Phoenix and I make it back to his place and I feel like taking an ice bath to combat the itchiness. Instead, I observe as Phoenix sits down at his desk and begins writing. As silently as possible in order not to disturb him, I sit down on the couch behind him and, despite my better judgment, watch him work. For some reason, unlike yesterday, he seems to be consumed by his writing now. The pen speeds across the paper and he hastily flips the pages to not lose his train of thought. I notice how enraptured I am when I have to remind myself to slow my breathing to a normal pace.
If he keeps this up, I could be out of here in a week or two.
Dog barks loudly and, since I was sitting on the very edge of the couch to get a better view, I almost fall off.
“No, no, no. Don’t interrupt him,” I whisper and try to grab Dog to calm her down, which just causes her to bark even louder, which in turn causes Phoenix to stop writing. He swivels in his chair, cracks his knuckles, and lets out a deep sigh. “You’re right. Thank you,” he says and gets up.
“Well, nothing much to thank me. I couldn’t stop her. Sorry she interrupted you.”
“She does that when I sit for too long without taking a break. Bad for my back. And you should stop assuming I am talking to you.”
“Oh,” I hum as Dog gleefully jumps me from the side, causing me to fall over. I grunt in pain, which seems to entertain Phoenix.
“Enjoy seeing me suffer?”
“I can neither deny nor confirm those accusations,” he states like a lawyer while checking the fridge in the kitchen. “Right. Need to drive into the city. Dog! Come on. Leave the emergency rations alone. For now, we’re still buying food at the supermarket.”
“Rude and wait for me,” I shout and run after them.
Phoenix groans. “Is this how it’s going to be then? You’re gonna shadow me everywhere?”
“What were you expecting? You’re my most valuable asset… at least until you have served your purpose, but until then, I shall make sure nothing happens to you. Can’t have you dying twice in one week. Although I’d probably write a better obituary. Anyway, consider me your bodyguard. Assistant/editor/bodyguard. Also, keep in mind that I am trained in most major martial arts and have no problem using any of them against you.” When I finish putting on my shoes, I notice that while I was speaking, Phoenix had already left the house. The door falls into the lock when I get back up.
11
Before he can drive off without me, I open the passenger door and jump in. “So, where are we going first?”
Phoenix’s response consists of a heavy sigh and nothing else. I turn around to see Dog observe us from the back of the car, panting just as heavily with what I assume to be excitement to go for a drive. I feel the same way and am determined not to let Phoenix ruin our good mood. Since our driver is not the best conversationalist, I turn on the radio, which immediately plays Richard Wagner’s Ride Of The Valkyries at full volume. I jump in and hum along with all that I’ve got but am cut off almost immediately.Phoenix turns the stereo off and I can’t help but pout a little. Only true evil would stop a song as beautiful and fitting as this one in the middle of the best part. Looking into the sky, I see that the sun is at its peak and, after the mosquito debacle earlier, I’m now glad that I’m not wearing more clothes than I actually am. When Phoenix looks out the window to take a hard left turn, I swiftly turn on his seat heater. Grinning with anticipation, I eye him from the side and wait for him to notice. Instead, he continues to drive absolutely straight-faced until we reach the parking lot of the supermarket. Not a single word, not a single uncomfortable sliding around in his seat. It’s like he’s used to the heat because of his frequent trips to hell as their ruler.
“Come on, Dog,” he says as he opens the trunk.
When we enter the store, I am on the lookout for the employee who accused me of stealing the other day, and I am relieved when I can’t find her anywhere. I’d prefer not to be chased out of the store all over again. We pass by the produce section first, and Phoenix watches as I haul all kinds of fruits into our cart. Along the way, I also grab flour, rice, and some other staples, but I am incapable of finding the most important one. Phoenix follows, as me and Dog chase through the aisles, my head tilting from left to right like a hawk.
“What are you looking for?” he finally asks.
