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“What if I break something?”
“I’ll replace it.”
“What’s the rent?”
“No rent.”
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch.”
My eyes roll. I mock mouth F-man as I pull a cupcake from the bottom layer of the Minecraft cake tower, pluck a paper cutout of the default avatar skin—dubbed Steve—off, and assemble a frosting sandwich.
Penny plants her hands at her hips and lifts her chin. “What if Marciboo doesn’t marry you in November?”
“She already made me write up a contract that states I am not permitted to change the terms of your staying here for up to a year beyond November. There will be no rent and full coverage of amenities throughout the duration of your stay. If she doesn’t marry me but continues to work for me beyond next November, the terms maintain until either of you want to leave.” His eyes flick toward me. “That part isn’t in the contract. But my dear Marciboo likes certainty, so let it be known. You are welcome here. For as long as you are content to stay.”
Wistfully beautiful, Penny giggles and locks her hands behind her sweet little dress-clad back. “Marciboo does really like her contracts, doesn’t she?”
Gaze still fixed and gentle on me, F-man murmurs, “It’s a very adorable trait of hers.”
My fingers inch toward the silverware drawer below the counter where I’m sitting. Eye twitching, I tell myself not to procure a butter knife and carve out my benevolent benefactor’s jugular. If only for Penny’s sake.
I grab another cupcake. Not a knife. A cupcake.
At the very least, this place also has an in-home gym, so even if exercise won’t make up for a terrible diet, the opportunity to pretend it might diffuse some of the pure sugar soaring through my veins is available. I sure do love delusion.
“This seems a little too good to be true.” Penny pinches her chin, scanning F-man up and down. Musical, she hums, then she shrugs, then she turns on her heel. “I’ve always wanted a dedicated space for an art studio. I’m going to see if I can’t find a room with a nice garden view on the other side of the house.” She stops short in her tracks a foot from the exit archway. “How attached are you to clean carpets? Specifically, if I find the perfect room, and it has carpet, and that carpet gets stained for some reason…with copious amounts of paint…”
“Replacing carpet isn’t that expensive.”
“Great! Love to hear it! Bye!” Penny’s sunflower skirt dances as she skips out of view. I find myself shaking my head as I sign off another email with Sincerely instead of a more appropriate End me.
F-man settles onto the stool beside mine, and my fingers freeze over the keyboard halfway through the greeting of my next email.
He leans toward me, stops behind me, and reads over my shoulder. “You’ve written I hope this email finds your corpse, as I desperately do not want to deal with your whiny reply, you copious little—”
“I haven’t edited it yet,” I snip. “Have you never heard of drafting? There are two options with writing professional emails. The first, I stare at the screen for three hours, wondering what words are. The second, I draft in my own voice the necessary information, then I edit what I’ve said into corporate tongue.”
“Aren’t you worried you’ll accidentally press send too soon?”
“My send is set with a thirty second cancellation period. The only chance I don’t undo it in time is if I click it by mistake then have a seizure. But, in that event, I think I’ll have bigger problems to dwell on.”
He makes a low, vibrating sound way too close to my ear. “Fascinating.”
Scowling, I face F-man and freeze.
Barely three inches away, he rests his arm against the counter to support his prolonged closeness and searches my eyes. “Yes?”
Straightening my back, I say, “What do you think of Penny?”
“She’s sweet. Your relationship with her baffles me…yet also gives me hope.”
“So you like her?”
He murmurs, “I suppose.”
“Want me to set you two up?”
