Page 10 of Her Alien Neighbor

Denise doesn’t ask questions about how the house came to be mine or why I want it sold so quickly, and I’m grateful for that. It’s the last thing I need right now.

The backdoor that opens into the kitchen crashes against the wall as it’s swung open, and Axil strides right in. “Hellooo,” he calls out in a cartoonishly high-pitched tone. “Vanessa? Are you at home?” When his eyes land on me, his smile is wide. Far too wide for my comfort.

I shoot Denise a tight smile. “Excuse me for a second.” Then I race into the kitchen and block Axil’s path before he can make it into the living room where Denise is. I have no idea what he’s doing here, but I can’t imagine the encounter going smoothly.

“What do you want?” I whisper, barely concealing my wrath. “The listing agent is here right now, so you need to leave.”

“Oh,” he says, looking over my shoulder at Denise, “what terrible timing.” He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug and it’s obvious the intrusion is intentional. “Since you so rudely entered my private space unannounced yesterday, I thought I would return the favor.” He looks past me and waves at Denise. “Is that orange juice? I love orange juice!” Then he steps around me with surprising grace for a man so large and plops himself down on the couch.

“I am Axil,” he says to Denise, laying on the charm. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Denise’s cheeks turn beet red as she chuckles shyly. “Denise Watkins,” she finally mutters, sticking her hand out.

Axil leans down and presses a kiss––an actual kiss!––to the back of her hand and gently shakes it. Denise’s mouth falls open and I don’t see her blink for almost a full minute. She’s completely entranced by my intruder.

I get it. In a purely physical sense, Axil is a total fantasy come to life. With his wavy light-brown hair that looks perfectly coiffed even though he clearly put no product in it, his thick, veiny forearms covered in tattoos, and boyish smile, he could probably make anyone swoon. He’s also way over six feet tall and has intense gray eyes, so you really have no choice but to focus all your attention on him when he enters a room.

But in terms of personality, he’s extremely lacking. He’s arrogant, rude, and he acts like he’s smarter than me, which I’m certain he isn’t.

“Vanessa,” he says, turning to face me. “I would love a tall glass of orange juice.” He twists around, facing Denise. “I am quite thirsty after hours of working with my hands.” He lifts his hands in front of Denise, showing them off in an absurd way. “I make furniture, you see.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

But Denise just laps it up with enamored gasps and flirty chuckles.

“Sorry,” I say, clearing my throat and entering the living room. “Denise got the last of the orange juice, so it’s probably best if you run on home now.”

He stands, smoothing his hands down the front of his green-and-gray flannel shirt. “Very well. Lovely meeting you, Denise,” he says in a low purr. He stops in front of me, and his lips curl up into a calculating grin. “By the way, my brothers and I are having a party right now. You are welcome to attend, if it pleases you.”

I shake my head before he’s even finished speaking. “We can’t. We have important business to attend to here. Besides,” I look at the clock above the stove, “it’s ten fifteen in the morning. What kind of party takes place at ten fifteen in the morning?”

“Well, I have invited several of my woodworking friends over, so we will be trading tips and doing some work in the shed,” he nods then adds, “with power tools, of course.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course.”

“And my brother, Zev, is an aspiring DJ, so he will be mixing the greatest hits from The Beatles with contemporary yodeling, as well as some death metal.” He chuckles, and I want nothing more than to break his perfectly straight nose. “It is sure to be a full day of entertainment.” He leans down conspiratorially near my ear, but still speaks at full volume. “Probably going well into the night.”

This fucking guy. “Late into the night, huh?”

He nods, then claps his hands together. “Well, I must be going. Have a lovely day, ladies.” As he passes me, he adds in a whisper, “This is for Lady Norton.” Then lets the kitchen door slam shut behind him, whistling as he goes. He actually had the nerve to whistle.

Unbelievable.

Why is he acting like I’m disrespecting my late aunt? This kind of thing happens all the time. People die, they leave their house to a family member, then said family member sells the house. It’s a common occurrence. Plus, Aunt Franny wanted me to be happy. I know she did. And there’s no way I’ll be happy living here, so wouldn’t she ultimately want me to sell it, then use the money to settle down somewhere that doesn’t remind me of my painful past?

I brush off Axil’s infuriating interruption with a deep breath, then clear my throat as I approach Denise. “How about I give you the tour?”

She sucks down the last of her orange juice, then follows me around the house as I show her my aunt’s bedroom with its questionable baby-pink wallpaper with large black tulips, the two guest rooms on either side that are too narrow to fit a queen bed and a nightstand, so there are only twin beds in each, and the bigger of the two bathrooms, located all the way at the end of the hall, nowhere near the primary bedroom, but larger than the two guest bedrooms combined, with a massive bronze claw-footed tub in the corner that could fit an entire family.

There’s also a gilded birdcage hanging between the two sinks, with a human skull lying at the bottom of the cage. It’s not a real skull. Aunt Franny liked to load up on skeleton decor the day after Halloween when everything was half-price. Her bedroom dresser is covered in little skeleton figurines.

I tried removing the birdcage this morning after I showered, but there was no way to remove it without yanking it down and taking part of the ceiling with it. I couldn’t even open the cage to take the skull out.

As Denise pokes at the cage using the tip of her pen, I anxiously chew on the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. “Obviously, there are some interesting design choices here, but that shouldn’t really matter to prospective buyers, right? I mean, anyone interested in buying would want to do their own thing entirely.” I hope. I hope, I hope, I hope.

Denise sighs. “Well, it’s important to remove anything unusual. You want people to be able to picture themselves living here, so the decor should be as bland as possible. Nothing intense or strange. Nothing offensive.”

“Okay…” I trail off, taking in the uneven brushstrokes in the purple paint covering the bathroom walls. “Well, I can definitely remove the birdcage.” I just need to find a pair of wire cutters first. I’m not even sure she has a toolbox. “And maybe the wallpaper in the primary bedroom.” Not that I know how to remove wallpaper. I’ve never done it before. That’s something I’ll have to look up online.