Clark's House

A Story by Ni1408

A small bit of story

There was a newly painted sign on the villa gates that wasn’t there last time. It was secured perfectly on the white irons which looked brighter than I could remember. The shade they were when he first moved from the guards quarters to the idyllic little town did nothing but make his plot stick out from the Stepford style homes that surrounded him. The bars used to be breeze block grey, and I didn’t want to say anything when he first gave me the grand tour that Christmas but, they did kind of look like his old place. When I visited him once more before I left for Vegas he said he wanted to give the place a freshen up. He did well.

The most ridiculously over the top fountain complete with mermaid statue in the centre welcomed us up the drive. It was impressively lit up, with golden spotlights on running water which gave it a hotel entrance appearance underneath the evening haze.

We pulled up In front of the double garage and made our way to the front porch.

I noticed that the doors had also been repainted and could still smell the lacquer drying. When I entered the house, I saw that the rest of it was also redecorated.

All of the hallway lights were on and there was a homely smell wafting through from the kitchen. It was sweet, a mixture of aromas, possibly bread or cookies, definitely something baked. I couldn’t decide but I really wanted both. Eating hadn’t been on my agenda until now.

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone new.”

Clark smiled gracefully at my remark.

“Is it because of that delicious smell? You knew I couldn’t cook!”

I could tell he was happy.

“Nope. It’s the walls.”

“What about them?”

“The hallway is a different shade of white to the lounge. This is a shade unbeknown to man entirely and is what the strange beautiful beasts, also known as women, like to call “Magnolia.”

Clark laughed his dry fuzzy laugh.

“You’re good. Come and meet Lorena.”

She was startled when we stepped into the kitchen. Of course, in an enormous house it’s difficult to listen out for the front door when it’s at least a few million miles away.

You could tell she had been expecting us. Not just because the plates were layed out nicely on the dining table but because she didn’t have any sign of the day. Her clothes were pressed pristine and her makeup retouched for the umpteenth time.

She stood slightly taller that Clark, now with his arm proudly around her waist. Lorena shifted her weight from one immaculately polished heel to another. It was obvious that she had been dressed up for quite some time waiting for me as her mystery guest. I imagined that Clark had told her he was just cruising over to the airport to pick up his best pal and to make something to eat for when we get back.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mr Hope. I have heard so much about your historia with Clark.”

She came closer to kiss my cheek and I could breathe a damn familiar scent.

When she smiled none of her face wrinkled in the slightest. Why do I always notice the mascara?

The garnish of the soul windows.

The stuff she had on was drying around her eyes, which tells me she hadn’t just applied it two seconds ago. This was a woman that wakes up and throws herself face first into her cosmetics case. She was attractive but by no means stunning, so maybe it really helped her out.

“I’m sure you boys have a lot to catch up on, I have made some sweet bread from my Madres recipe. I hope you enjoy it. I am going to get some sleep.”

She pecked Clark on the cheek. It reminded me of a father and daughter but I’m sure it was the work she had done- fifty going on facelift.

Clark cut me a slice of bread and loaded it with thick butter than began melting as soon as it touched down.

My stomach knotted itself and groaned as I watched him put some grapes on the side of my plate.

“So, Eight- what’s the plan?”

I took the plate gently from him and tried to reserve myself even though I was starving and wanted to fill my face as fast as I possibly could.

The combination of the butter and bread looked exquisite.

I bit in.

Taste. Smell. Texture. It was f*****g delicious and I no longer cared about composure now that Lorena had left the room.

“Since when have you called me Eight?” I chewed.

The bread was almost gone and the grapes better think fast.

“Well. Seeing as you were known as Eight to your Vegas fools, I want you to put yourself back in that mindset. We have got to come up with a way to keep you safe, anonymous, moving. I don’t care what it takes, I don’t need some psycho drug ring leader on an ego trip to send his maniacs after you just because you said no to his sweets.”

My stomach knotted up again and I felt undigested bread rise a little.

“Sleep on it kid.”

I left the grapes.