Adonis lived in an old gothic manor. It was fashioned from dark grey stones and carried an asphalt roof. Green moss ran along its sides; the garden was mostly weeds, Cal knew it could be cleaned up, but it proved that Adonis had been honest about the lack of people available to do physical labour.
Adonis led him inside and up the creaking steps. The air was still and stale. The pale green wallpaper was stripping in some places—he would have to fix that as well. There were photograph frames on the walls, but the protective glass of each was cracked, and the pictures were missing. Cal wondered if this weak-looking Adonis guy was a serial murderer who entranced his victims with his pretty, fragile appearance and got them to let down their guard before taking them home and killing them. He knew that his mentor, Scar would say that every action had consequences and that Cal's naivety and ability to blindly trust someone was his greatest downfall.
They followed a long stretch of dark wood-paneled hall. There were windows on one side that showed the overgrown grass filled with weeds. They passed maids, old women with black shawls covering their heads and lined faces. The doors were closer together here, so he guessed that they were approaching the worker's rooms. There was a badly painted door; one could see the red beneath the newer coat of black. Adonis picked that one to open. Cal followed behind carefully; he had a dagger hidden beneath the waistband of his pants. If Adonis tried anything, he would be ready. They stepped into a room with a white crib, its wood splintered in some areas.
The yellow wallpaper had repeating lines of stuffed teddy bears. It looked like someone had tried to peel it off, leaving the wood beneath exposed. There was a study table with a lamp. The desk was broad with plenty of room for Cal's books. It also had a shelf underneath that would fit more supplies. There was a full-body mirror that was a bit shorter than him.
He glanced at the wardrobe and chest of drawers. Lots of room for the clothes he didn't have. A thick layer of dust covered everything. Adonis sneezed, cleared his throat, then said, "It used to be a nursery." He glanced at the place, a reminiscent look settling on his delicate features.
"Yours?" Cal asked.
"Mhm." He pointed at a door in the left wall. "That's your bathroom. Questions?"
"Do you guys have a vengeful spirit living here or something? Should I be concerned?"
Adonis laughed, his eyes bright and cheerful. "Just my mother. But she won't kill you.... I think."
"I'm not convinced," said Cal, half-jokingly, half wondering what he had gotten himself into. He felt that the place could look quite nice with a bit of work and sweat. The project intrigued him. He liked the idea of turning something ugly into something beautiful. "Does the entire house look this rundown?"
Adonis nodded. "Pretty much."
"Can you afford to buy the things I need to clean up and mend things?" By the condition of the house, Cal doubted Adonis had the money to pay for decent upkeep. Otherwise, the place wouldn't look like it was home to an army of wallpaper scratching ghosts.
Adonis said, "No worries. I can pay you for now."
"What does that mean?"
"When I turn sixteen, the funds will dry up. But that's two years away, just do your job. Whatever money you need, we'll give it to you. I'll order a bed for you. If you need anything else, I'll leave my door open till midnight."
Cal had many questions. The most pressing being, 'Why would the funds dry up when Adonis turned sixteen?' But he left before Cal could ask. Cal glanced at the room. He had much to get done before nightfall.
***
Cal spent a week at Adonis' manor. In that time, he restored his room, removed the wallpaper, and painted the walls mint green. He replaced the wood that was creaking in some areas of the house. He cleaned up the outside walls and replaced broken shutters and windowpanes. His calloused hands moved with ease as he performed each of the tasks; he found it exciting to transform the old furniture into something more modern.
He had learned a lot about Adonis too. The boy spent most of his time watching movies in his room or reading books. He and his mother rarely crossed paths, and when they did; they argued.
They could argue about the dumbest things. Once, he had heard them arguing about whether it was raining outside or not. It had been raining earlier in the day, so Adonis told his mom it was raining, but his mother looked outside and saw that it wasn't raining, so they argued for ten minutes. Cal had gone out to clip the branches of a tree that was knocking on a window, and when he had returned, they were still arguing. He gave up on them and went to his room.
He felt like the mother and son hated each other. They were like cat and mouse. Adonis didn't speak much, and he didn't seem to have any friends. He didn't go out and play like Cal would have done if he had the money and freedom to stay at home doing nothing. The mother, well, she was uptight and arrogant, but she treated Cal well enough.
Cal lowered his window's blinds and sat on the bed with a novel he had swiped from Adonis' room. Someone knocked on the door, and he hid the book beneath the pillow in case it was Adonis.
It was Adonis' mother, Madame Cruz-- she was Spanish but preferred the French form of address. She had said it was more ladylike. She let herself inside; she was wearing a satin robe. The low neck showed off her sagging boobs. She was a big lady, nearly three hundred pounds; her belly sunk towards the ground. Fat swallowed the contours of her face. She walked towards him and sat on his bed. He felt it sink and lean towards her.
She said, "Thank you for helping out around here. It's nice to have a man who can do these things for us." She rubbed his leg and looked at him through her lowered eyelashes. She had nice, glossy black hair that sat in neat layers.
Cal wanted to cover his eyes. As she leaned towards him, her robe opened slightly, and he could see more of her boobs. More of her than he needed to see. He cleared his throat. "Do you need help with something, Madame?"
Her hand clamped down on his jeans near his groin. She squeezed it and smiled at him in a way he was sure she deemed to be seductive.
"Yes." She removed her robe and dropped it on the ground. Now, Cal knew that there were some big, beautiful women out there, but Madame Cruz was not one of them. She made his skin crawl; he found her repulsive. She lay naked next to him; her breath was sickly sweet. He could see her skin folds and pouches of fat. Cal quickly rolled off the bed and said, "I'm not here to comfort you like that, Madame Cruz."
"If you leave this room, I'll call the police and tell them you assaulted me." She held his arm so he couldn't leave.
Cal said, "Madame, you are a very nice lady, but I'm not someone who is easily manipulated. You call the police, and you can find someone else to fix up the place at the same low pay you give me. While they are at it, they can look after your gay son." He didn't mean to say the last part, but in his anger, it had spilled out uncontrollably. Rage contorted Madame Cruz' features.
"What makes you say that he's gay?" she asked. She stood up and quickly put on her robe, knotting the belt.
"I saw him with another man." Cal felt a pang of guilt but ignored it. He had only known Madame Cruz and Adonis for a week. Why should it matter to him if he accidentally revealed to the mother that her son was gay? If Adonis asked him to leave, he would find another job. He had options.
Madam Cruz' face paled, and she left the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Cal would tell Adonis he would leave if the boy's mother touched him again. He wasn't desperate enough to sleep with someone for a job.
***