I got into all the ones I needed and the two I wanted to take this semester. It’s my last year before I have to start with my certifications or post graduate training/work; I do not want to miss any of my classes and end up putting off graduation.
As I look through all the assigned course material, my door opens and Darcy walks through it (like he didn’t lock it before he left yesterday) with a handyman in tow. A very handsome handyman, if I’m being honest. The fact that he has floppy dog ears and a tail wagging behind him doesn’t detract at all from his hotness, because he’s wearing coveralls and no shirt, and his arms are huge. I love a good strong arm. Who doesn’t?
Darcy grins at me—he sees me appreciating the view—and reaches up to pat the bulging muscles on the guy. “Chet here is going to fix your lock. He’s a minion of evil.”
I study the dog man, trying to decide how one becomes a minion of evil handyman—do you just need big arms and a pretty face or…?
Ok, that’s not being my best self, is it? He probably qualifies because of his skills, not because he’s pretty—way to objectify the guy fixing your lock, Elijah.
“Thanks for coming, Chet. You happy being a minion of evil?” I ask—I don’t know if people like being minions, but hey, if children’s book author doesn’t work out for me, it’s nice to know my options.
“Oh yes, I love being Edovard’s minion. He’s the best. He’s been helping me with my gains, and I’ve already put on two pounds of muscle!” He talks like a golden retriever, and considering the blond ears and tail, I don't think I’m that far off the mark.
“I don’t know who Edovard is, but I’m really glad for you. Congratulations.”
Chet smiles like the happiest man on Earth. “Thank you! He’s Santanos’s mate. He’s taken over the minions for a while. We love him.”
I don’t know who Santanos is, but with the way Darcy scowls at the name, I’m guessing he’s the big boss or something. I can’t imagine Darcy having that much of an opinion about anyone who isn’t at least as powerful as him. I mean, why bother hating ants if you’re an anteater, right? Darcy’s the anteater, in this metaphor. And I guess minions are the ants…
Huh, I think I might not be doing my very best today. “I need coffee,” I decide, looking at Darcy.
He looks back at me like he can’t take a hint, then narrows his eyes like he can. “I’m not your sugar daddy.”
I give him a bright smile. “You could be my coffee daddy, and then I’d be grateful enough to suck your lollipop.”
“Leveraging sex for coffee is…” Darcy trails off, and I give him my warmest smile.
“I don’t think I’m my best self today,” I confess. “Coffee would help.”
Darcy’s kohl lined eyes narrow at me. “What kind of coffee?”
I think about that before deciding the best thing is to leave it up to him. “Sweet and strong. I prefer hot in the winter and cold in the summer. Today feels like a hot day.” It’s not exactly cold, but it is cool enough that something warm would feel nice in my hands.
Darcy shakes his head at himself, sighing like I’m putting him out, but then there’s a tiny little smile on his lips. “I’ll be back soon. I think it takes Romily about fifteen minutes to make coffee.” He says that last part as an aside to himself, but it’s interesting that he’s going to get coffee from the guy who house sat my apartment this summer. Squatted, I suppose, but that seems awfully cruel to say about someone who kept my plants alive and left me food.
“Is it really squatting if he left it in better condition than he found it?” I question, because I still don’t know how I feel about that.
Darcy scoffs. “He was squatting. He admitted that himself.”
At least he’s self-aware, that’s cool; I like a person who knows who they are and what they’re about. “I think I should thank him.”
Darcy shoots me a dubious look, but he shakes his head and turns his attention to Chet, who’s already working. “I’ll kill you if he’s not in one piece when I return. No harm, Chet. Just do the job you’re hired to do.”
Chet nods amicably. “I already hit my evil quota for the month, so I’m good for whatever.”
Darcy grunts his acknowledgement and walks out the door. So maybe heisinto the whole car thing and doesn’t only travel via blood array. I mean, it feels like traveling via magic would severely limit the places he can go. Humans would freak out if he just appeared in the grocery store, probably. Not a lot of people would be peaceful about that kind of thing, I think. Not with the world the way it is.
Once he’s gone, I grab my crutches from the chair beside me and get up from the table. “Excuse me, Chet. I gotta get some pants on.”
Chet glances up from where he’s fixing the holes in my wall, executing a comical double-take when he notices the missing foot. “What the fuck happened to your foot!” he demands, immediately dropping his tools and coming to me, waving his arms around me like he’s half convinced I need to be carried to my bedroom.
I raise my leg, pulling up my pant leg so I can show him the very old amputation with the bolt sticking out of it. “There was an accident when I was a baby. I lost my foot, but I’m fine now. I’ve had a prosthetic since I was three.”
“You’re supposed to be whole when Darcy gets back. He’s going to kill me for cutting off your foot before he realizes I didn’t do it! What am I supposed to do? I’m going to die!”
I reach over, patting his shoulder to ease his panic. “How about if I just put some pants on and my foot, and then he won’t even notice anything is missing?” I suggest, pointing to the foot sitting on the floor under my coffee table. “Grab that for me and Darcy won’t know any different. How’s that?”
Chet breathes a sigh of relief, nodding as he strides over to the prosthesis and gently picks it up, shoe and all. “Promise me you won’t tell him before I leave. I don’t want to be blamed for this.”
