The Caughtby Jon Jacks / Mystery & Detective / Thrillers & Crime
Other New Adult and Children’s books by Jon Jacks
The Boy in White Linen – The Rules – Chapter One – The Changes – Sleeping Ugly
The Barking Detective Agency – The Healing – The Lost Fairy Tale
A Horse for a Kingdom – Charity – The Most Beautiful Things – The Last Train
The Dream Swallowers – Nyx; Granddaughter of the Night – Jonah and the Alligator
Glastonbury Sirens – Dr Jekyll’s Maid – The 500-Year Circus
P – The Endless Game – DoriaN A – Wyrd Girl – The Wicker Slippers
Heartache High (Vol I) – Heartache High: The Primer (Vol II) – Heartache High: The Wakening (Vol III)
Miss Terry Charm, Merry Kris Mouse & The Silver Egg – Seecrets – The Cull – Dragonsapien
Text copyright© 2012 Jon Jacks
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‘Hi, is Marilyn home please?’
Can’t say I recognise the weird guy who’s answered the door. Face like he’s clamping his pen between his butt cheeks.
I hadn’t expected anyone else to be here this late.
She’d sent me away when I’d called earlier. Said she was sorry.
She was taking an important call, but she’d have something for me if I called back after nine. (Okay, so I was way over half-an-hour late.)
Just a little something for me, as usual. My allowance for mowing the grass, removing the weeds. All that dumb stuff.
Way I see it, I reckon she’s paying me as a kind of personal favour, on account of Mom ain’t working for her no more.
I ain’t so dumb I ain’t noticed she’s already got regular gardeners doing that kinda thing for her.
‘She was expecting me,’ I say, seeing as how jerk-features ain’t bothered speaking yet.
You’d think he’d be a bit more polite, seeing as how he’d kept me waiting. No one had been in a rush to answer the door, far as I could see.
I’d rung a number of times, got no answer for my trouble. So, as you do, I’d taken to peering in through the windows.
Not because I’m that type of creepy guy, understand? Just to make sure she was all right.
I’d seen some shadowy shapes moving around in there. Trying to duck out of sight too, you ask me.
So I’d rung again, and again, shouting out her name. ‘Marilyn! Miss Monroe! Are you okay Marilyn?’
Five years later, the door’s finally opened by this jerk.
Type I’d seen hovering round the President that time Mom snuck me in the back of a Peter Lawford party. (Mom has to clean plenty of houses to make ends meet). Suits way too tight. These guys standing around like they’ve got ironing boards shoved up their ass. Chins and foreheads like someone’s carved them with blunt chisels.
Where the hell had this jerk been all this time?
I’ve been calling, shouting, ringing the goddamn bell. And here he is still acting like I ain’t even visible.
‘I work here,’ I say
‘Any kid could say that.’
Wow, the jerk can actually speak!
He says it like emotions don’t exist for him. Like he’s reading it from a card. Talks like he ain’t used to moving or don’t like moving his mouth too much.
‘She’s always being pestered by nosy kids. Beat it jerk wad.’
‘Miss Monroe knows me. I do odd jobs for her. She owes me fifty cents.’
The man stares down his nose at me.
He reaches into his pants pocket, fiddling around for some loose change. As I’d figured, the tight-cut don’t make this too easy. Looks like he’s having to readjust his family jewels.
Jerk-face finally flicks a dollar at me.
I catch it.
His face still ain’t risking breaking into a smile.
‘That’s next week taken care of as well kid. Now, as I said, beat it!’