“Yes... yes... yes... yes,” Moe traced his finger along the contract, welcoming the enticing bonuses outlined, including a fantastic salary that would keep him comfortable for months after the contract ended, extra perks like paid health insurance, access to massage rooms, spa facilities, and dining privileges. However, he came to an unpleasant clause, prodding it with his fingernail which left a crescent moon mark on the paper, "No!”
“What was it?” Einer, seated across from him, perusing his business documents, signing each one before neatly organizing them in an elegant tray— certainly not plastic, God forbid, but crafted from dark wood — Moe speculated it might be stained oak.
“I'm fine with babysitting him but living with you is a different story.” Moe decisively tossed the crisp sheets onto the table, crossing his arms over his chest for added emphasis.
“We were considering the possibility of cohabitation,” Einar remarked softly, a visible expression of confusion on his stoic face. “That's what I mentioned regarding the idea of bringing you on board- living together. Why are you changing your mind now?”
“Because I interpreted your expression as a euphemism, you know? E-u-p-h-e-m-i-s-m,” Moe explained, mirroring the stubbornly shifting eyebrows across the room with a frown. “I'll spend time with your brother, be around you - like "live," Moe added, emphasizing the last word's intonation and making air quotes with his fingers for accuracy. “But I didn't commit to genuine living. I'd be suffocating in these royal quarters within a day, dude.”
“I don't understand,” Einar exclaimed, letting the Caran d’Ache slip from his weakened fingers. “You don't enjoy the comfortable life?” The lawyer, who had been quietly sitting there until that point, stirred to life, hummed, offering his employer a supportive audience, but Moe remained indifferent.
Moe flashed a grin, glanced mischievously at the lawyer's jaw, winked mockingly at Einar, and continued, “No sharing a living space. I'll clock in during the mornings and clock out in the evenings, just like the other hired men. The freedom to live, my friend, is not an empty phrase for me. Are we in agreement?”
“I can't agree to this, Moe”" Einar, ensuring Moe wasn't joking, let out a audible sigh, furrowed his brow in puzzlement, as if unsure how to communicate with someone who had cracked a poor joke, raised an eyebrow, studying Moe intently as if he were a native of an unfamiliar country and culture, and contemplatively proposed, “Let's head to my place. You can explore, meet Manny, check out your room, and then we'll decide?”
In response, Moe furrowed his brows in puzzlement. Something hinted that Einar wasn't about to give up but was merely searching for another ploy to entice him in—a presumption that Moe would succumb to any offer at the sight of luxury melting like ice cream in the hot sun. Silly. Nevertheless, Moe nodded with a thin smile, thinking, “Let's see who comes out on top.” He had already glimpsed the apartment and wouldn't be surprised by the so-called "comfort." Rising from his seat, he grabbed his backpack by the strap and clarified, “And if it doesn't suit me, then we'll stick to the 'come, babysit, and leave' arrangement?”
“We'll make that decision there,” Einar replied evasively, casting a playful gaze upward. “Where are you off to? I've got a heap of work to tackle, and I won't be free for a couple of hours. In the meantime, feel free to check out the recreation area; it's got everything a weary employee could dream of. Sound good?”
“Can't you find somebody else?” Moe hesitated near the table. Why on earth was Einar so fixated on him? The peculiar inclination to hire the most unqualified person for the job was starting to grate on Moe's nerves—he wasn't a fan of uncertainty.
"I prefer not to," Einar stated succinctly, picking up his Caran d’Ache again and directing his gaze back to the papers. "It's time for you to leave."
Moe shot a cautionary look at the lawyer, who appeared eager to physically usher him out of the private room. "Hands off, I'm a respectable guy, not up for any unwanted touching," he declared, then casually glided out of the room, prompting restrained laughter from Einar.
He entered the recreation area with a subtle but noticeable irritation. The honorary escort, embodied by the lawyer casting cool glares and a muscular bodyguard shadowing his every move, conveyed an unwarranted suspicion, as if Moe could steal or taint something with a mere touch. The idea of calling it quits and leaving crossed his mind, leaving Einar to find another unsuspecting soul for his brother. However, his spirits swiftly improved in the recreation area. The eyes, previously burning with expectation, now scattered, unsure of what to latch onto. The space comprised several interconnected rooms, featuring a massive flat screen TV with a gaming console at its base and comfortable gaming chairs in the center. Scattered across the floor were beanbags, while massage chairs and tall shelves with books and headphones lined the walls.
Moe quickened his pace instinctively towards the gaming chair, dropped his backpack next to it, eagerly rubbed his hands together, and made his request, “I'll take a burger with ketchup and mustard, lettuce and jalapeños, onion rings, a large Coke, and a side of solitude. Serve everything in this order.”
“You've got some nerve,” remarked the lawyer, whose name Moe had promptly forgotten. “Do I look like a waiter?”
“Weren't you assigned to keep me entertained?” Moe grinned with satisfaction, observing the lawyer's lips tightly clench. “So, entertain me! Otherwise, I'm walking out of here. Do you want me to?” He leaned down to pick up his backpack with deliberate, leisurely movements.
“I'll order it right away,” the lawyer gritted his teeth, turned to leave, and added quietly. “Asshole.”
“Why are you being so self-deprecating,” Moe chuckled, slumping back in his chair and grabbing the gamepad. “You're not a full-fledged asshole, just a smug turkey.”
The meal arrived after about forty minutes, delivered by a waiter from the restaurant, as if the lawyer had chosen a deliberately slow pace for his revenge. However, Moe, deeply immersed in the game, paid little attention to the delay. Taking a break from gaming, he enjoyed a substantial meal that left his body pleasantly weighted. Carrying his backpack, he then moved to the room with darkened glass, enticingly labeled as the "Sleeping Room." It lived up to expectations—instead of a conventional bed, a spacious massage chair awaited him, reclined to a semi-horizontal position. Chuckling with delight, Moe rushed to the chair, closed the door behind him, adjusted the chair to his liking, felt the pleasantly elastic yet soft massage rollers, activated the "sleep" mode accompanied by the subtle sound of ocean waves, and drifted into a tranquil nap, eventually slipping into a restful sleep.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Sleeping without dreams felt so wonderfully restful that when he was gently awakened, Moe grumbled in protest, swatting away the persistent wake-up call. However, the wake-up caller was persistent and intercepted Moe's sluggish hand, lifting him from the comfortable chair, and said, "Come on, Moe. We need to leave; you can sleep at your place."
"I don't have a place," Moe mumbled, reluctantly opening his eyes and rubbing them. "You're a real party pooper, Einar. Why did you have to wake me up?"
"I apologize, Moe. I have an important call to make tonight, so I needed to wake you up," Einar said calmly, meeting Moe's disgruntled gaze. He pulled more insistently, adding, "Let's go."
"I won't live with you, so don't get your hopes up," Moe, realizing that the fun was over, struggled to rise from the chair. He picked up his backpack and, casting a longing glance at the magical room where he could have stayed, attempted to clarify the situation, "Look, Einar, you have money to spare. You can hire anyone you want—the most perfect teacher or nanny in the world. So, why do you need me? When it comes to children, I prefer to exist in parallel, our paths never intertwining in vain. I can't teach them anything worthwhile. I'm a person without a fixed residence, without a defined profession, without social connections—basically, the freest being. I understand that the wealthy have their quirks, but I don’t fucking get why you are clinging to me so much."
"Because everyone else before you failed; consider it my business intuition," Einar replied absentmindedly, typing something into his phone. "I'm seldom mistaken about people—let's say I have a particular instinct, and it picked you."
"Flattered," Moe muttered darkly, casting a glance at the bodyguards standing a bit too close to him in the rather spacious elevator car. "Do your guys have to shadow me? It's not like I'm plotting to end your life."
"Better get used to it," Einar stated calmly, slipping the phone into his pocket. "My men are simply doing their job, and they're good at it. Until the vetting process is complete, they'll, as you say, be keeping a close eye on you."
"Vetting process?" Moe exclaimed in bewilderment, standing frozen and shooting an incredulous look at the composed Einar, who trailed the bodyguards into the underground parking lot. "What the fuck? This wasn't part of the deal!"
"We didn't have any deal yet" Einar looked around and gestured for him to come along. "You're a tough negotiator. And everyone with access to me and my team undergoes a thorough check, so don't take it personally."
"What have they discovered so far?" Moe cautiously moved forward, keeping a wary gaze fixed on Einar as he distanced himself from the elevator wall.
"Nothing objectionable," Einar sighed impatiently, taking a step back and gripping his arm. "That's why I could negotiate contract terms that would have been impossible if my security team had found even a single blemish in your background."
"Maybe they didn't look hard enough," Moe clenched his teeth, pulling his hand away. "They didn't do a good job finding the five bodies I dismembered and scattered in the dumpsters."
"No," Einar gently directed him towards the car door. "Perhaps it's your free-spirited nature that makes you one of the purest individuals around- no speeding tickets, no pot smoking, no unexpected outbursts, even though I expected some. You're as pristine as a priest, Moe.”
"Mm-hmm," Moe pushed his backpack inside, making sure there was no space for Einar. Arching an eyebrow disapprovingly, Einar lingered for a moment, hoping Moe would reconsider. Eventually, he sighed, circled around the car, and settled in on the other side, cringing at the proudly perched dirty backpack between them.
"I'd prefer your... um, luggage stashed in the trunk."
"My 'um, luggage' is a part of me; consider it the only shadow in my life story. Like any respectable serial killer, I carry souvenirs of my victims' body parts in it," Moe chuckled, flinching slightly as the door clicked discreetly. "Hey, do you really need to lock the doors?"
"You're too anxious for a serial killer," Einar pressed the backpack down into the roomy foot space and promptly inched closer, preventing it from resurfacing. "Relax, Moe. You'll meet Manny, explore the house, join us for dinner, and then make your decision about signing or not. Unlike you, I'm not a maniac; I don't harm anyone, so you're perfectly safe. Trust me," the gray eyes caught the headlights of a passing car, gleaming intensely with sincerity, and Moe nodded in agreement.
The drive was long, leaving Moe bored as he gazed at the evening lights twinkling against a landscape transitioning into opulent villas and mansions nestled in lush gardens. They were headed to a different apartment than his last visit, apparently used by Einar for periodic meetings, or more accurately, liaisons. Moe grinned, stealing a glance at the man now engrossed in typing on his laptop, evidently having forgotten about him. The soft bluish light highlighted Einar's refined profile, lending depth to his focused gray eyes and enhancing the overall attractiveness of his features. Moe found himself unintentionally drawn into this visual study, admiring Einar and questioning how their paths had converged. No man of such striking looks had ever entered Moe's life orbit, and initially, he hadn't been interested. Yet, Moe sighed involuntarily, snapping back to reality, his fingernails digging into his palms until it hurt — you're deceiving yourself, Moe. There had indeed been a wealthy, handsome man in his life.
His sigh appeared to draw his focus - Einar shifted his gaze toward him.
"We'll arrive shortly... Moe?" Einar closed his laptop, stowed it in the side pocket of the door without glancing, and approached, resting his palm gently on Moe's shoulder, sensing the tension. "What's bothering you, Moe? We're simply heading to my house; nothing untoward will occur. If you're uncomfortable with the arrangement, they can drive you back to the city."
"It's okay," Moe shrugged off the warm palm from his shoulder, though the gentle touch did make it somewhat easier to breathe. "Just an unpleasant memory, never mind. How much farther?"
"About ten minutes," Einar remained close, enveloping him with the warmth of his body and the soothing fragrance of the sea breeze, intermingled with hints of eucalyptus aftershave and the scent of sandalwood. He guided the way to the serene temple nestled in the pine grove along the rugged seashore. "What happened, Moe? Would you like to share?"
"Just a poor guy’s problem, Einar. Do not bother." Moe reclined in his seat, rolled the window glass down, allowing the fresh, sweet scents of the woods and humus to permeate, displacing the unnecessary hint of sea salt. All these games were not his style; he had only agreed to them in vain, allowing the buried past of yesterday to resurface today.”
"I won't insist," Einer also leaned back, as if casually placing his large palm on Moe’s clenched fist, as if covering it with a blanket. Without being rebuffed, he began to stroke lightly. Moe permitted this small gesture, gradually relaxing and dispelling the ghosts of the past in a brief connection with the unfamiliar alpha, allowing himself to momentarily pretend to be a man unburdened by heavy baggage.