Chapter Five #3
We glanced at each other and at the same time said, “Rock, paper, scissors.”
“Fine,” Simon said. “But it’s one and done with none of that two-out-of-three nonsense.”
“Agreed.”
We each made a fist with one hand and tapped it onto our open palm three times. Simon counted down. “One, two, three, shoot.”
I threw down a rock, keeping my fingers curled into a fist. Simon, however, had opened his hand into paper and covered my rock.
“Off you go, Spencer.” Simon nodded at the door. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
“That was uncool,” I said. “Why do I feel like you knew I was going to choose rock?”
“Because I did,” he said. “Statistically, rock is the most common first play in RPS, making paper the obvious countermove.”
“How do you even know that?” I asked.
“Everyone knows that.” He shooed me with his hand. “Stop stalling.”
Despite his ridiculous good looks, I decided I didn’t like Simon O’Malley. Not at all. I switched my flashlight app on and crept to the door. I paused in the doorway, sweeping the room with the light. I glanced over my shoulder to see Simon grabbing a towel from the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” I asked. It was a heck of a time to take a shower.
“When you scare the bat out of the bedroom, which you will, I’m going to catch it in the towel,” he said.
“You’re not going to smother it, are you?”
“No! I’m not a monster.”
“To him, we both probably are,” I said.
He nodded and I felt the energy shift. Simon moved to stand behind me. “Let’s save him from us, then.”
Feeling less on edge, I entered the room. “Hey, little fella, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just going to open the window so you can get out there and eat some tasty bugs. Sound good?”
“That’s it,” Simon coached from the doorway. “Just move nice and slow.”
I reached the window without baby bat flying at me, which I took as a positive sign. Then again, maybe the poor guy was just scared out of his little bat mind and exhausted from trying to escape us.
I reached for the latch on the nearest window and turned it.
Then I lifted the inner sash and the outer screen.
I locked them both into an open position, giving the bat several inches to navigate his escape.
Then I started to back away. This was good.
I’d just shut the door behind me and Mr. Wee Bat would fly out into the night.
I knew better than to celebrate wins early.
I did. I’d had enough practice in my life watching the basketball circle the rim and then inexplicably pop out, all my numbers come up in bingo only to have the last one never get called, or the mother crusher of them all, thinking that the second line on the pregnancy test would appear only to wait and wait and wait but it never showed, forcing me to accept my infertility.
Still, like a big dope, I was supremely confident that with the window open, the bat would flutter to freedom and our problem would be solved.
I was so wrong. I had almost reached the door when the little bat fluttered down from who knew where.
He was swooping in between me and Simon when suddenly a towel landed over my head, trapping the bat inside the towel with me.
“Ah!” I let out a shriek and smacked the towel off my head, freeing the bat.
“Oh, shit! Sorry!” Simon yelled. “I was going for the bat. Ah!”
I shoved my hair out of my eyes to see the bat had landed on Simon’s head. Simon went to swat it, but I grabbed his hands, stopping him. “Don’t hurt it!”
“If it bites me and I get rabies…” Simon’s eyes were looking up as if he could peer through his own skull.
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” I suppressed a shiver when I saw the little bat’s head pop up out of the thick waves of Simon’s hair. “We’re going to walk to the window and you are going to stick your head out and shake him free.”
“His little feet…paws…claws…whatever…are digging into my scalp.” Simon’s voice was strained.
“It’s just a few steps,” I encouraged him. “Trust me.”
“You’re not the one with a bat on your head,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Not for your lack of trying,” I countered.
“Accident.”
I let it go. As soon as we were close to the window, I helped him crouch down on his knees and angle his head through the opening of the window.
I directed my phone’s light onto the bat. He seemed quite content, nestled in Simon’s hair, taking in the growing darkness.
“He’s not moving, is he?” Simon asked.
“No,” I admitted. “Maybe shake your head.”
Simon jostled his head slightly.
“With more vigor,” I suggested.
Simon shook his head like he was headbanging to some heavy metal, and the little bat fell off his perch and immediately fluttered out into the night.
“There he goes!” I cried, kneeling beside Simon.
Simon glanced up, catching sight of the little fella before he disappeared into the safety of the trees. Then he collapsed back onto the carpet and put his hand over his heart. “I do not ever want to be that close to a bat ever again.”
“Let’s hope there isn’t a colony, then. In fact, we should open the windows and close the doors up here in case there are more.
” I crossed the landing to the other bedroom and opened the window, shutting the door behind me.
I did the same with the bathroom. If there were any more bats in the upstairs rooms, they had tonight to get their furry little butts out of my house.
I returned to the bedroom to find Simon still lying on the floor.
I knelt down and said, “I’d better check your scalp and make sure he didn’t scratch you or poop.”
“Gah!” Simon sat up and tipped his head in my direction.
I aimed the light beam at his scalp and ran my fingers through his hair; it was ridiculously soft.
I swallowed hard as I checked the area where the bat had been perched.
The ends of Simon’s hair twined around my fingers in the most beguiling way.
I snatched my hand away. “You got lucky, no scratches or poop.”
When I leaned away from him his deep brown gaze was studying me with an awareness that mirrored my own. His voice was low when he said, “Thank you, Spencer.”
He was so appealing in his dishevelment, I almost leaned in. But his use of my surname checked me. Nope, nope, nope. I had no interest in making a complicated situation worse.
“I’d better check on Dude.” I all but ran from the room.
When we arrived downstairs, Dude was still snoring and the cottage was almost fully dark.
I shivered. I wondered, What should I do now?
Curl up with Dude? Sleep in one of the chairs?
On the floor? Or go out to my van, where I had a bed?
That was the most reasonable option, but I suspected Simon would consider me weak for fleeing the house, and I didn’t want to give him any ammunition to argue in favor of selling the house.
Despite the bat, I wanted to stay. Maybe just downstairs until I knew there were no more critters, but within the house all the same.
I glanced over at Simon. In the darkness, I could see he had reclined his chair to the fully sprawled position.
His ankles were crossed and his arms were folded over his chest. I was about to ask him if he planned to sleep there when I heard the faint sound of deep breathing accompanying Dude’s snores. The man was out.
Fine. I reclined my chair as well, pulling the crocheted throw that had been draped over the back of it across my body. I snuggled down into the seat, assured that if Simon put one toe out of line, Dude would protect me.
The smell of coffee roused me and I opened my eyes, startled to find I wasn’t in the bunk in my van with Dude on his dog bed on the floor. It took me a second to remember that I was in Pops’s house, sleeping in the living room because…bat!
I popped up and scanned the room. The recliner next to me was empty as was the couch. Daylight illuminated the room and I glanced toward the kitchen, where I heard the distinct thump of a tail wagging.
I pushed aside my crocheted throw and staggered to the kitchen.
Seated at the counter was Simon and beside him was Dude.
It appeared they were sharing a breakfast of eggs and sausages.
My stomach growled but I couldn’t keep letting Simon feed me.
It made the balance of power uneven if I didn’t provide my fair share.
“Sit.” Simon’s tone of voice didn’t invite a discussion. I sat.
“I went out for a run this morning and picked this up on my way back. Eggs, sausages, biscuits, gravy, and hot coffee.” He loaded up a plate and pushed it toward me along with a large paper cup full of coffee.
“Are you trying to win me over through food?” I forked up some of the fluffy eggs.
“Would it work?”
“No, but I am grateful.”
A small smile tipped the corners of his lips. “Eat. We can talk after.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I ate as if I hadn’t seen food in a month. I didn’t know if it was the fresh air, the bat caper, the anxiety of sharing a house, or if I was cruising up on that time of the month, but I was starving.
When I finished, Simon took my plate and said, “We can talk now.”
I cupped my coffee in both hands. “All right.”
Dude settled down on the floor once he was certain no more food was forthcoming. Simon sat on the stool beside mine.
“I want to make you an offer,” Simon said.
“An offer?” I repeated.
“For your half of the property,” he clarified. “I want to buy you out, Spencer.”