THREE MEN AND A LADY
Chapter Eight
He had done it. It had taken Cal
three weeks and two days, but he had done it. He had found the perfect house.
It wasn’t too small, or too close to the next house, and best of all, the trees
stood perfectly straight in the backyard, far away from the house.
He burst into the hotel room the
four of them had shared for the last few weeks. "I found it!" he
yelled.
"Found what?" Rose
asked. She appeared interested, but didn’t look away from her newspaper.
"Well—" Cal stopped.
Why was she wearing a top hat?
Why was she wearing his top hat?
Cal didn’t know. "Uh…Rose, why are you—"
"Help!"
Rose jumped from her chair.
"Come on!"
Cal stared at her.
"Why?"
"Because your housemate is
screaming!" She pulled his ear.
"Ow!"
"That’s what you get."
In the past few weeks, Rose’s
anger had escalated to new heights. Heights Cal had never known she could
reach. It had become a common occurrence for her to pull his ears half off his
head when she became angry.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
She only did this when she was angry with him. Jack would watch, amused, when
she attacked Cal. Fabrizio would chew thoughtfully on some bacon, and usually
ask if they would help him make shadow puppets.
"Could you please get off
your lazy asses and help me?"
"Who is that? Fabrizio or
Jack?"
"Jack," answered Rose.
She walked from the room before Cal could comment.
They found Jack pressed against
the wall, eyes wide in terror. Fabrizio stood nearby, a large knife in his
hand. His arms were covered in a red substance.
"Stay away," Jack
whispered.
Fabrizio looked confused.
"What’s wrong with you?" He took a step toward Jack.
Jack pressed himself closer to
the wall, sliding into a corner. "Don’t come any closer."
"Why not?" Fabrizio
twirled the knife between his fingers. Jack whimpered.
"Uh…Rose?"
Rose turned to face Cal.
"What?"
"Don’t you think you should
help?"
"Well, duh."
Cal was perplexed. "Then why
aren’t you?"
"Do you really want to deal
with Fabrizio and a knife?"
"Rose?" Jack whispered.
Rose’s voice was soothing.
"It’s all right, Jack."
"Why does Fabrizio have a
huge knife and blood all over him?"
She glanced at him out of the
corner of her eye. "Jack, that’s not blood."
"It’s not?"
"No, Jack."
He cautiously stepped away from
the wall.
"Yes, it is," Fabrizio
said happily.
Cal looked at him incuriously.
"It is?"
Jack shrank back against the
wall. Rose quickly joined him. "It’s okay, Jack."
"But he’s--"
"Shh." She hugged Jack
tightly. "Don’t worry about it. Nothing will hurt you."
Jack kissed her. "You,
either."
Rose smiled. Cal grunted. Jack’s
voice was rapturous, all his previous terror forgotten. "What’s wrong with
you?"
"I don’t know. He was
happy," Rose commented.
"Yes, I was happy. Not
now."
"Why not?" Fabrizio
held the knife out to Cal. "Here. You take it."
Cal stepped back jerkily. He held
his hands in front of his face. "No. That’s okay."
Fabrizio was insistent. "No.
I don’t want it anymore."
Rose glared at Cal. "Just
take it," she hissed.
Cal was adamant. "But I
don’t wanna," he whined.
"Rose, why would you want
him to have a large knife? He’s psycho!"
Rose opened her mouth to reply,
but Cal spoke first. "I am not psycho!" he yelled.
"No. That’s not
psycho."
"I’m not!"
Jack was calm. "I already
said you weren’t."
"You didn’t mean it."
"How would you know?"
"See?" Cal hopped from
one foot to the other. "You admit it!"
"Uh…no."