Housesitter Pt 01

Housesitter

Part One

by The Preve

Inspired, in part, by "Shower", by A-L-E-X-X

Finn Duffy stood at the door. He was nervous, as well he should. The anxiety came not from doubt, but anticipation.

This was it. The dreamiest of all the dream jobs in dream job history. Sure the gig was just for the summer. Sure the terms were headbonking crazy, but the employer was legit, ("Boy was he!") and so was the money. Good enough to clear a huge chunk of his student loans.

It was almost too good to be true. A post on the student union website, "Wanted, one house sitter. Excellent pay for three months work. Great living conditions in a prime location. Click the link to find out more."

The link led to a stall number at an upcoming job fair. Warehouse 14, Pier 8, was packed with job seekers but organized well enough. The stall was easy to find.

The company hiring was

Derleth Domestic Services,

a subsidiary of

Craftlove Development Group

. Finn recognized the name, with a small shudder.

The line at the stall was pretty long; a lot of cash-strapped students.

It took an hour for his turn. If not for some in the line leaving, out of frustration, it might have taken longer.

Three people, two women, one man, dressed in standard business suits, were at the stall. All three looked tired, disinterested, wishing they were somewhere else.

One, a blonde woman in the middle, flashed an insincere smile, and handed him a clipboard with paper.

"Just fill this out, give it back to us, with a contact number and email, and we'll get back to you."

The temptation to leave nearly overwhelmed. He doubted he'd get any callback, certainly not by summer break. Still,

May as well try,

and he took a pen and filled it out.

Name:

Finn Aiden Duffy

Age:

19

Date of Birth:

September 20, 198..

Hometown:

Bloomington, Mass.

Current Residence:

UCLA Campus Housing

Finn filled out other details regarding his college major (creative writing), contact info, turned in the clipboard, and left, thinking, "That was a waste of time."

The next several weeks were busy with classes, exams, and job searches. Prospects for summer work looked bleak.

The message in his email surprised him; he'd forgotten about the application. He opened the email.

"Congratulations! You've made it to the second round! Contact Derleth Domestic Services at #phone number."

Finn blinked.

Should I?

There were other prospects which looked promising.

Why not?

He called, left a message on the answering machine. A phone call came an hour later, also to his surprise.

This time they wanted him to come to an office, downtown LA, for a further interview.

Arrangements for a late morning meeting, Friday, when he didn't have classes, were made.

He dressed casually, but nice. The office was on the building's third floor. The smiling woman from the job fair was the interviewer. She looked better rested, and her demeanor was more affable.

"Good morning, Mr. Duffy. My name is Sandra Bennett, Derleth's hiring agent," she held out her hand. Finn took it.

It's warm.

"Now," she continued, "this is only a secondary interview. There's no guarantee you will receive the job. I must inform you that some of the questions we will ask, might be very personal. We will not disclose any information acquired from you to a third party outside the company.

You may back out at any time during the session. Before we start, if you wish to continue, I must ask that you sign a waiver allowing us to question you, and that you not disclose the nature of this conversation to outside parties.

The reason for this session is to ensure that all applicants for Derleth positions have no outstanding criminal warrants or records, commitments, or personal issues regarding family, friends, colleagues, or financial debts which might interfere with your work. Do you wish to continue?"

It took a second's thought, then Finn decided,

Yes, it's not as if I have anything interesting about me.

Standard questions, "Where are you from? What does your family do? How's your relationship? Any trouble with the law, etc..."

His answer, "Bloomington, Mass. Born and raised."

"Ah, a suburb of Boston. Very affluent."

"Dad's a businessman, real estate. Owns a country club. Mom's old moneyed. Boston Brahmin."

"So you're rich."

"I'm not. My family is, kind of."

"So how is the relationship with them?"

"Um..." Finn hesitated, "Not too good, I guess. It never really was. My dad, he... uh... has ideas about manhood. He likes strong people, like my brother. He goes to Notre Dame, football. My brother was always strong,

in body if not brains,

so Dad focused his attention on him,

which is why he's such a dick and a bully.

I'm not strong, so he ignored me."

"You look strong enough," Sandra said.

"I swim and run a lot. I guess I'm toned, but not like my brother."

"What about your mother?"

"She's kind of off in her own world. I think she wished I was a girl. She's a snob too. So's her family. They don't like me or Dad. Probably because they've been here since the Mayflower, and Dad's from Ireland, came here when he was five. Pretty fresh off the boat in their eyes. My cousins treat me like shi... uh, crap."

"So I take it, your family relationship is rocky."

"Well," Finn said, "We're not really speaking. Dad wanted me in business instead of creative writing. Mom didn't really care. Some of my cousins told me she married Dad to rebel against her parents, and then the novelty wore off. Dad told me he'd help me get into UCLA, but not with tuition, so I had to take student loans."

"What about friends?"

"Not many. I was a geek in school. Still am. I got bullied a lot,

with my brother leading the pack.

I had a few friends, but they're scattered all over the country now. I chat with some sometimes, but not often. We're all busy with our own things."

"Any girlfriends? Boyfriends?"

"No, not really. Girls tended to stay away in school. Boys... I don't know,

besides, everyone was terrified of my brother.

I'm too busy with college for relationships now."

Sandra smiled and jotted some notes in her pad. "Do you have any legal issues? Commitments for the summer?"

"No and no," Finn smiled.

Sandra wrote some more. "Okay, I'll take this back to the office. I can't guarantee you'll get the job. We have more applicants to sort through. We'll call you shortly if you qualify for a third interview. Oh, and it includes a medical exam."

"Medical exam?"

"We need to be sure prospective employees have no health or other medical issues that might impact their work," Sandra's smile was plastic and bland.

"Oh... uh... okay."

Finn rose and shook Sandra's hand, and left.

Sandra took her notes and walked to an adjoining room. Joe Cummings, the man who'd accompanied her to the job fair, was there.

"So what do you think?" he asked.

"Loose family ties, distant friends, no social life, doesn't look the criminal type. Fits closer to the profile Gavin wants."

"We'll see," Joe replied, "There's a bunch of others."

Finn receive the request for a third interview, and medical exam, the following week. He answered by email. Arrangements were made for a 10am appointment,

Howard Phillips Medical Center,

a Craftlove clinic for employees. Its location: Malibu of all places.

It looked new and high end. A place for movie stars, not megacorporate employees. "Maybe," Finn thought.

Sandra met him at the door. "I'm here to get you checked in," she said, "The doctor will perform the examination. Then we'll conduct the third interview."

"Okay," Finn was a little nervous but,

they're doing this for good reasons, I guess.

The examination was routine... for the most part. There were areas, slightly odd. The doctor, Robert Lin, was professional.

The routine parts:

Height:

5'7"

Weight:

125lbs

Eyes:

Blue

Hair:

Black

Blood type:

O

The slightly less routine parts:

"Symmetrical face, narrow chin, long, straight nose, Grecian type, thin lips, pale skin. Skinny body, but good muscle tone."

Finally, the odd, uncomfortable part:

"Penis, above average length, average in girth. Testicles round, walnut size, no sag."

Huh? What's that about?

Finn felt mild discomfort.

Doctor Lin, however, kept a strict professionalism.

"You may dress now. Please step out when you're done," he said, and left.

Sandra was waiting in the hallway. "Good, that's out of the way. So how was it?"

"Um, it was okay, but kind of weird towards the end."

"Oh, yes, that part. It's more about being sure there are no issues that may arise during your tenure, if you're hired of course. The length of the contract is three months. We need to be absolutely sure of your health."

"Well, I guess it makes sense, sort of," Finn was still unsure.

Maybe it's an STD thing.

Sandra escorted him to an office. This one was well-furnished, in white and gray. A glass table, modern desktop PC with the Craftlove logo, on top, a plush chair, light ash in color, before it.

"Well, this is where I leave you. I won't be conducting the third interview. A representative of Craftlove will be here shortly. Just make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink or snack while you wait?"

"Uh, no, thank you though," Finn replied.

Sandra smiled, "Well then, good luck. I hope it works out." She nodded her head, Finn smiled back, and she left.

The room, in spite its cold, minimalist look, was pleasantly warm.

"They're good with temperature control at least," Finn thought as he settled into the chair.

The wait lasted ten minutes. A door at the opposite end opened. Finn was startled, as he hadn't noticed the door, near invisible against the white wall.

A man strode in, a gray man. At least he gave that impression to Finn.

Everything about the man was gray, from his neatly cut hair, to his immaculately tailored Brooks Brothers suit.

Gray eyes looked coldly at Finn from behind silver wire rim glasses. The only non-gray aspect was his pale white skin, slightly wrinkled. Finn got an impression of age, but not too old. He stood up.

"Non, non, please sit," the man's voice carried a slight lilt.

Finn sat back in the chair. The gray man sat at his desk.

"Hello, Mister Duffy. I am Emile Bouchard, human resources director, Craftlove Development Group. I trust that your examination went well?"

"Yes sir," Finn knew instinctively, Bouchard was a man who commanded respect.

"Good, good. I will make this interview short. I'm a busy man and I'm sure you have things on your plate as well. This third interview is to confirm the information you presented from the previous two, and to give you an idea of the prospective position.

I cannot give you the complete information regarding the requirements of the task. I will inform you the nature of the position requires an open-minded individual, and some considerable... fortitude. It is... demanding, in its own way.

If you have concerns over the lack of information, you may stop the interview at any time. If you are still interested in the position, on completion of this session a fourth and final interview will be scheduled. The full details of the job, including pay and requirements, will be presented to you then.

I must place emphasis on discretion and secrecy in regards to both this interview and the final. Nor will it be guaranteed you will be accepted. There are other candidates after all. Do you wish to continue?"

Finn had a moment's thought.

Sounds kind of fishy. It's supposed to be a house sitting job. Why the medical examination and secrecy?

A neon sign flashed through his skull,

Danger! Danger! Human trafficking alert!

He dismissed it.

Craftlove was one of the largest conglomerates on the planet. It's founder and CEO was world famous.

You're watching too much crap news, Finn,

he chuckled to himself. "Yes."

"Good then. So, let's summarize: you are Finn Aiden Duffy. You are nineteen, a sophomore and English major at UCLA, and you've applied for the house sitting job at one of Craftlove's domestic properties, for the duration of the summer.

Your father is Liam Conor Duffy, real estate investor, and property owner. Your mother is Edwina Corning-Duffy, from the Boston Cornings, I take it. Prominent Boston Brahmins. Your brother is Donal Conlon Duffy, full back for Notre Dame.

No criminal record, no outstanding health issues. No drug or alcohol issues. A good candidate but, remember, not a guarantee. Is this information correct?"

"Yes."

"Good, right, so, those items out of the way, the next is to explain, in part, the job for which you applied.

It is a house sitting job. The house in question is in a fairly remote location, but within American territory. It's recently remodeled and has unique features. The question is would you be willing to reside at this location for a period of three months, from June through August?"

"Um, I don't know. What type of house is it? Where is it? And what am I supposed to do there?"

"Let's just say it's a unique property, experimental, designed to revolutionize home living. The location was selected to keep it from prying eyes.

I will say it is somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Your duties will be more as a monitor. The house is designed to take care of itself. The company, however, wants a human voice to record his or her impressions over the summer. To see what works, and what doesn't. Also to step in for maintenance if necessary.

If hired, you will be the only one present for those three months. The house is stocked with every variety of ready-to-cook gourmet meals. Plus a vast library of books and home entertainment. Also, an indoor swimming pool, gym, and running trail.

There will be other requirements you might find... odd, but the compensation, I assure you, will more than make up for the eccentricities.

So, now that I have made a partial explanation, are you still interested? If not then I wish you well, and thank you for coming."

Bouchard smiled. His smile slightly unsettled Finn. He weighed the information.

A house in a remote location, alone for three months, job requirements vague, smells fishy up the ass. On the other hand, it's a well-known company. They spring surprises like new inventions all the time. Gavin Peters is known as an eccentric. Plus, I don't have many options. No summer work's forthcoming. I got student loans coming out my ears, and my only other choice is going back to Bloomington.

"Okay Mr. Bouchard. I'm interested,

besides, I'm a loner anyway. I can do three months.

"

"Good, good. I will make arrangements for the fourth interview. I'm happy that you are interested."

Arrangements were made. The appointment was set for next week, after morning classes. This time, instead of driving his own car, the company would pick him up at campus.

11:00am Tuesday, Finn left creative writing and immediately recognized the car.

Craftlove Edison, figures.

He went straight to it, ignoring the curious stares of the other students.

The driver was someone he recognized. "Terri Brooks? You work for Craftlove?"

"Finn Duffy? They told me I was supposed to pick someone up here. I didn't know it was you."

Terri was in his nonfiction class. She was nice enough, smart and attractive, but they weren't close.

They spoke on the drive to the interview.

"So you're going to work at Craftlove?" she asked.

"I don't know, maybe. I'm not really supposed to talk about it."

"Oh yeah, they can be pretty secretive."

"How long have you worked for them?"

"About a year. I chauffeur mostly. It pays the bills."

"I understand that," Finn smiled.

They chatted some more, mostly about classes, finals, and summer plans (excluding Finn's) until they arrived at the destination:

The Intercontinental,

downtown LA.

Finn was stunned. This wasn't some medical clinic or office building, but one of LA's most luxurious hotels.

Terri stopped in front. "They told me someone will meet you in the lobby. I'll be back in an hour to pick you up. Good luck," she smiled. Finn smiled back and left the car.

Sandra met him in the lobby. "Well, you made it this far, Finn. I'm to escort you to the interview. Hope you aren't nervous."

"I am, a little."

"Don't be. The interviewer is actually a nice guy. We've whittled the prospects to just a few candidates. He wants to talk to each to see if they're willing to work to the full conditions. Even I don't know what they are, or the pay. He'll tell you."

"I didn't expect a hotel," Finn said, "Much less the Intercontinental."

"The interviewer is here on other business. He finds it convenient to cross this one from his list. He'll be quick."

Sandra escorted him to the elevator and pressed the top floor button. "This is where I leave you," she said. "I'll be waiting in the lobby when you're finished. He'll be at the bar on the roof. Good luck."

Finn nodded as the doors closed. The ride up took a nervous minute.

Who's up there?

He didn't think it was Mr. Bouchard.

The elevator opened directly to the bar. Finn stepped out. One man was there. The sight dropped his jaw.

Ho...lee...fuck!

To Be Continued.