One sultry summer evening at twilight, when Jim was taking me for a walk around the block (for I always felt like Jim’s pet when pacing a few steps ahead of the giant) I saw my neighbor Dave storm out his front door and across his lawn, headed in my direction at full steam. He looked enraged.

My animal fight-or-flight instincts kicked in immediately. In one smooth motion, I deftly jumped behind Jim for protection.

“It’s o.k.,” Dave announced as he drew close. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I only want to talk to you, so come out and show your face, you little…”

It is at this point that my neighbor ‘worked blue’ as they say. I will excise the specific colloquialism he used from this volume, for reasons of propriety and self-respect.

I emerged, channeling my inner alpha.

“What do you want?” I asked crossly, my voice skipping a little, undermining my attempt to sound intimidating.

“Why is my daughter over at your house all the time with your creepy friends? Why is she doing free advertising for your father’s whiskey?”

“You know why she’s doing it,” I answered him tersely. “She’s trying to find investors for her movie. If you would have just given her the money in the first place...”

“I tried,” Dave interjected, surprising me. “I offered to cover the entire budget if she would just stay away from you. But she’s stubborn.”

“So she doesn’t even need to be at my house,” I observed in shock, more to myself than to Dave. “She doesn’t need funding.”

“No she does not,” he replied gravely. “I think she’s using you to punish me for saying ‘no’ to her originally. And I would like this to end. Please figure out a way that you can convince her to accept my money and leave you alone.”

“And what’s in it for Terrence?” Jim chimed in.

He raised a good point. Quid pro quo. I knew I should be demanding something in return, but what?

Dave wasn’t waiting.

“After you caused a strike at our Port Elizabeth facility, all I should be offering is not to hire a team of hitmen to take care of you.”

“But I’m willing to make you a better deal. Grensfeld Industries will free you from having to attend another company event during the remaining time you are obligated to. You can be done with all of that. As can we.”

That was fair.

If I got one monkey off my back, and into the embrace of her father, I could also get her father, a second monkey, off my back. It wouldn’t leave me monkeyless, but it would lighten my burden considerably.

“You have a deal,” I agreed.

Dave nodded in acknowledgment.

Then he marched back across his lawn, in silence, before disappearing from view, behind the front door of his terribly ugly home.

After my encounter with Dave, I spent a great deal of time thinking about the best way to manipulate Pamela into reuniting with her father — without being forced to act like a complete jerk — when at last I struck upon a possible solution.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I would call Emily, and see what she thought I should do.

“What are you talking about? Do you think I’m a middle school guidance counselor?” Emily responded when I briefed her, seeking her advice. “You’re asking me how you should talk to a girl?”

“No,” I spat back. “This isn’t as simple as just telling her to ‘get out.’ I also need to make sure that she goes back to her father. It’s complicated.”

“How is it complicated? She has no money. She needs money. Her father is offering her money. Trust nature to take its course. Give her the boot and be done with it.”

Needless to say, Emily then hung up the call.

Very well. If everybody thought I should play hardball, I would play harderball.

I would instruct Jim not to let Pamela enter the house.

There would be no tearful goodbyes, no lamenting the early end of a burgeoning friendship, just a polite “I’m sorry miss” from Jim at the front door. It would be cold.

Jim refused.

“I’m your bodyguard, not your doorman,” he scoffed when I spoke with him. “Grow a damn pair and tell her to stop coming over if you don’t want her here.”

“But for the record,” he added, “the guys and I really like having her around.”

Great. So now I was being outvoted by my pretend friends?

Later that afternoon, when my place was lousy with influencers, I headed out from my bedroom to find Pamela. Since every influencer was only there in the hope of appearing onscreen with me, I had to go through an excruciating series of encounters just to get downstairs.

I found Pamela in the study, directing the actors as they played out the first scene of her movie for the livestream audience. Credit to her scriptwriter, the scene left me wondering what the blue papaya would turn out to be. My guess was an expensive jewel.

When the show was over, I managed to get Pamela to join me down in the bowling alley, where few people ever ventured. In the privacy of the lanes, I leveled with her.

“Look, the actors asked me to speak with you on their behalf. Please don’t take this the wrong way. They like you. We all do. It’s just that they feel like you’ve been coming around the house a lot, and I mean an awful lot.”

Rather than looking stricken, as I had anticipated, Pamela looked amused.

“Oh, the actors feel that way?” she inquired patronizingly. She then had the gall to gently ‘bop’ the tip of my nose with her index finger.

There was no limit to the number of boundaries this woman wouldn’t cross!

“Terrence, are you trying to tell me something?” she asked in a much kinder tone of voice. “Am I overstaying my welcome?”

“So you didn’t believe what I told you about the actors, and what they asked me to do?”

“Of course not, Terrence. Those are my boys. We’re tight. You should spend more time downstairs with the group. People have a lot of fun at your house.”

“Not me,” I complained.

“Then I was right. You do want me to buzz off.”

“I didn’t say that,” I prevaricated.

“Oh. So you want me to stay?”

“I didn’t say that either,” I replied hastily.

“Hmmm…you don’t make things easy, Terrence.”

“I’m just thinking that your parents are next door missing you, and instead of seeing them, you always come over to my house and…”

Fire had filled Pamela’s eyes.

“It was my father, wasn’t it?” she demanded. “He put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“Who? Dave?” I bleated.

“You’re a terrible liar, Terrence. It might be your most endearing quality.”

I hung my head, ashamed to have been so transparent in my motivation.

“Terrence, if you ever want me to leave, simply say the word and I assure you I will leave. But if it’s actually my father who wants me to leave, then I would prefer to stay with you. So is it o.k. if I keep coming over?”

I nodded yes, and she gave me a warm smile.

“I found an influencer sleeping in my garage the other day,” I added. “Maybe you could invite fewer of them over?”

“It’s a deal, buddy,” Pamela responded warmly. Then we parted company.

I ran the foul influencer gauntlet back to my bedroom and placed another call.

“Dear God, do I need to hire a nanny for you?” Emily greeted me less than enthusiastically.

I filled her in on the happenings and asked for her take on things.

“I’ve got to admit. Something doesn’t add up. She hasn’t gotten any investors from your livestream, has she? So why would she choose a long shot over a sure thing if she really wants to make her film? There must be some information you don’t have. Figure out if she has another source of funding.”

“And now I’ve wasted two minutes of my day too many thinking about this.”

Then Emily was gone. The call ended.