I'll Take Door Number Two, Please

The car used to be the envy of her friends; those with kids who couldn’t imagine having to place them in the backseat and those that couldn’t see their way to spending the extra money for something they called too extravagant for their pocketbooks. Of course, they loved riding in it, top-down, and their hair tied up. But where were they now? Not anywhere close to here, she was sure of that. 

The Mustang was a fun ride, comfortable for the driver and front-seat passenger, not so much for the back seat, which usually just housed discarded food bags, but now contained all of her worldly possessions. Which, granted, had dwindled to almost nothing. A couple of changes of clothes, one pair of old shoes that had a loose short heel, half a bottle of shampoo, two hotel bars of soap, three towels, and an old quilt, her most prized possession. The guilt had covered her since she was a child, made by a grandmother gone much too soon, leaving a little girl with a manic-depressive mother and an absent father.

Still, she had survived. And she would do so again. She wouldn’t be living in her car forever. Just a few more days. This was just a little slip-up; an opportunity would present itself; it always did. 

There would be no scolding herself for failure to hold in her anger. It was justified. She didn’t care that he was still in the hospital after two months, still healing from the head trauma. The cameras got it all; she wasn’t charged with a crime. He had grabbed her boob for the last time; she reached over, and her hand landed on a frozen turkey in the meat department where she worked as a butcher. Swinging with all her strength – which was considerable since she worked out with weights daily – the turkey landed squarely on the side of his head, and he went down. She understood being fired; perhaps she could have handled it differently, but reporting his previous mauling had brought nothing but raised eyebrows. 

So, here she was, trying to find a way to sleep in a car she now wished had a full front seat – do they make those anymore, she asked herself. She couldn’t remember seeing one in a long time. 

Movement outside the window caught her attention. The odd man walking several feet in front of her front bumper turned his head only slightly toward her car and continued across the crosswalk. She had lucked out getting this parking space. Overnight parking for only a buck, and little foot traffic to notice anyone crouched down in the front seat. But the man, there was something about him. She had noticed him earlier when she had initially pulled into the spot. He wasn’t checking her out; it was more like studying her. It was quite unnerving, actually. He had stood on the corner, watched her as she exited the car and went into the corner market next door, and was still there when she exited the market and returned to her car. She said ‘hello’ as she walked by, and he only tipped his old-fashioned fedora at her with a slight – very slight – tilt of his lips at the corners. He might be attractive; it was hard to tell. He was tall and looked to be well-built under his black suit. She thought he might be graying around the temples; it was hard to tell under the black fedora. 

The driver’s seat in the car was back as far as it would go. Raising up to see where the man was walking, it was no surprise that he had stopped on the opposite corner and leaned against the light post. He was on his phone but continued to stare at her car or maybe at her.

Okay, enough was enough. Reaching under the front seat and unlocking the box bolted there, she pulled out her little Smith & Wesson, made sure the clip was in it and the safety was on and got out of the car. She didn’t run; she didn’t hurry. She walked confidently, perhaps even brazenly, across the street, the small gun held in her hand and hidden in her jacket pocket, and confronted the man. 

“Can you tell me why you’re watching me?”

“I assure you, Ms. Kara, uh, Keplin, I believe? I assure you I mean you no harm. I was trying to decide how to approach you. 

Kara kept her distance, and her hand remained in her pocket, ignoring the outstretched hand of the unknown man in front of her. “So, you know me, and I don’t know how or why you know me. But I don’t know you. Do I need to call the cops?”

“I promise that you do not. We have a mutual friend who has spoken highly of you and recommended you for a position I have open.”

“I still haven’t heard your name. And who is this mutual friend?” Kara noticed the man didn’t seem the least concerned about the gun that she had withdrawn from her pocket and held at her side. 

A slight laugh that was an attractive attribute of this strange man startled Kara, and she returned the gun to her pocket. “I am so sorry! Yes, Ms. Keplin, my name is Conner Smythe. I am employed by a man who prefers to remain anonymous but is agreeable to my revealing that he is the CEO of a large financial company in New York. Perhaps you have heard of it? United Municipal Casinos, Incorporated.”

Kara shook her head, although she thought perhaps she had heard of it sometime, somewhere. 

“It doesn’t matter. My employer directed me to find you and offer you a position. I understand that you are between positions at the moment?”

Conner Smythe was one smooth operator, Kara thought. But why should she dismiss him without finding out what this was about? He was good-looking with deep brown eyes and a rugged complexion, but well-manicured hands, and his attire was impeccable. 

Kara knew what she looked like. She looked like a homeless person. “I still don’t get it. Why would you want me? Who is it that is our mutual friend?”

“I apologize. Marty McFly recommended you highly and said you were a conscientious and dependable worker. He mentioned that you had fallen on hard times and was deeply saddened by the circumstances that caused your last employment to end. How horribly unfair it was to you, he said. I believe that you have the support of many of your co-workers. Alice and Becky spoke highly of you.”

Mr. Smythe had such a wonderful voice; Kara was mesmerized by his deep tone. Something tickled at her memory when he began speaking, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Alice and Becky were her co-workers; who was the other person he mentioned?

“Okay, so what is this position? I’m an apprentice butcher; well, at least I was. I mainly just watched, but I’m a quick learner.”

Mr. Smythe smiled, his perfect row of white teeth white flashing at her. “Oh, my dear Kara, you deserve much more than working behind a butcher’s counter. No, no, no. We need a caretaker of sorts. I think you will be very impressed with the accommodation. Do you like the beach, by any chance?”

“Oh, yes, I do like the beach. But still, I don’t know what this is about. Let’s back up just a bit. More details, please.”

“Here? On this corner? Why don’t we go to a restaurant and have a drink, perhaps?”

Kara shook her head. She was not presentable to go into a restaurant that this man would suggest. “No, you can tell me all I need to know right here.”

“Very well, then. Your benefactor or employer, if you please, owns a large estate on an island that is sitting empty. The estate needs a caretaker indefinitely. My employer has a disability that prevents him from spending any time at this castle, excuse me, estate, but he has no desire to sell it. He wants to retain the property for reasons of his own.”

“And I would, what? Clean the place? Take in the mail? This castle? Who has a castle around here?”

“You will need more appropriate attire, I’m sure. “Take this,” Conner Smythe said, handing over several hundred dollar bills, “and buy some clothes, maybe go to a spa and get the works. We can meet tomorrow night again, here?” When Kara shrugged, unsure about the money now in her hand, he continued. “Yes, tomorrow night, here. I will explain everything over a nice dinner with wine. How does that sound? And then you can decide whether you wish to remain here, or rather there,” he said, pointing at her car, “or if you would prefer living on an island where you could enjoy the beach during your leisure time.”

Kara spent the next day just as he suggested, shopping, at the spa, and still pocketed over four hundred dollars. A fortune in her present state. She didn’t know if this meant she had decided to take the position; she supposed she could always give him the clothes she had purchased and tell him she owed him for the spa expenses. What could he do to her, anyway? It wasn’t like she owned anything except her car. Besides, a beach and a castle sounded pretty good. It really didn’t matter what she had to do there. She could clean all night and enjoy the beach all day, right? Sleeping on the beach sounded pretty good. Taking care of a castle sounded pretty good, too. It seemed like there really wasn’t a choice, was there? She had to pull hard on the door of the old Mustang; it seemed to stick more often lately. She looked down at the hood of the car. “Sorry, baby, I think I will have to find you a new home. Maybe someone can fix that door. I’m pretty certain I can’t take you with me.”

Dinner with Conner Smythe was an enjoyable evening, although Kara feared that taking the position would mean she would probably not see him again. She felt like a fairy tale princess, dressed in new clothes, her hair clean and brushed until it shone, and a light shade of lipstick on normally bare lips.  There was something about him, though. Weren’t his eyes brown yesterday? Today they were green. Maybe he wore contacts, she thought. 

“Well? Have you made your decision on this opportunity?” Conner Smythe reached across the table, taking her hand in his. Kara was surprised at the revulsion she felt at his touch. His hand was cold. What was that all about, she thought. Smiling, and folding her hands together, hoping he had not been slighted, she nodded. 

“Yes, I think it sounds, well, interesting. I want to give it a try,” Kara said in what she hoped was a mature voice, eluding responsibility and dependability.

“Very well! I am exceedingly glad that you made this decision. Shall we leave, then?”

Kara stood as he had, surprised that the evening was over so soon. “Of course. When would I be needed to arrive at the, uh, the castle?”

“Oh, we are leaving now. You do not need to pack, correct?”

Kara was taken aback by his answer. There was no need to rub it in that she was homeless. “Well, there are a few things I need to take care of. I have some personal belongings, and then, of course, there’s my car. I have to sell it.”

“No need. I have my man packing your belongings as we speak, and he will dispose of your car. What do you think it is worth, maybe five hundred dollars? Surely not much more.” Conner Smythe pulled out a wad of bills, counting off hundreds.

“I, I really don’t know. Can’t we wait until tomorrow? This is kind of sudden.” Kara was stalling; she knew it. Everything was moving too fast.

“No, I’m sorry, we must make the trip tonight. You have no one you need to talk to, am I correct?”

“No, there’s no one.” Kara’s shoulders slumped. He was right; there was no one. No looking back, she supposed. She might as well strike out on this adventure now.

Kara was led into a large black SUV; she sunk into the large back seat. Two boxes were in the seat beside her. Peeking inside, she saw what appeared to be her belongings. Digging quickly through the box, she found the only thing she was certain she wanted with her. Her quilt. Underneath the quilt was her gun. Good; somehow, it made her feel better that Smythe didn’t consider taking her gun away from her. 

“Yes, my dear. Pixon thought the quilt was important to you; he included it with your other things, despite my questioning his choices.” Conner Smythe spoke from the front passenger seat, turning slightly to talk to her. 

Kara assumed that the driver was Pixon. “Thank you, Pixon. You are correct. My grandmother made this quilt; it is very special to me.” 

Pixon did not comment, but Conner Smythe wasn’t finished. “You will need very little. All will be provided for you. Have a drink, my dear. There’s a water bottle in front of you.”

Kara was thirsty; the dinner, chosen by Conner Smythe, had been highly seasoned. Volquetero, a dish from a small town called Puyo close to the Amazon (as described by Smythe), was delicious but very salty. The water was chilled and satisfying. And that’s the last thing Kara remembered until she was awakened by Conner Smythe several hours later. 

“We are arriving at our destination, my dear. Please prepare yourself accordingly. There is a facility in the rear of the plane if needed.” His voice remained in the same tone as before, but there was a coldness underneath it. Kara felt a chill. Rising from her reclining seat, she looked around the small plane. Exquisitely furnished, it obviously belonged to someone very wealthy. As Kara felt the fog lifting from her brain, she started questioning how she was taken here, but realized that it would probably be futile to ask anything. She had been drugged; there was no question. But why?

Returning from the restroom that adequately provided everything she needed, she sat down opposite Conner Smythe. Pixon was multi-talented. She could see the pilot, and it was Pixon. “May I ask how long I’ve been asleep? I mean, what day is it?”

Smythe looked up from his phone, smiling. “Does that really matter, my dear?”

Kara was becoming weary of his attitude and said so, ending with, “I’m not so sure about this; I’m not sure you were honest with me.”

Conner Smythe looked directly at Kara. His eyes were gray, with black specks throughout. “I told you that you would be responsible for caring for a castle. We have arrived on the island with the castle. Look out the window. The castle is in the distance.” His eyes returned to his phone.

The window did afford a view of the island. The landing field was next to the beach, little more than a wide strip of concrete with barely enough room to land the plane. The estate in the distance was impressive, although a little foreboding. It was a castle, albeit the dark and dreary kind. Kara reminded herself that no one was there; it would be dark. 

The door opened, and Smythe remained seated. “Pixon will give you your belongings. I think he has procured a wagon to put them in.”

“Aren’t you going to go with me? You know, show me around?”

Conner Smythe didn’t look up from his phone. “No need. There will be a letter on the front table when you walk in, explaining all the details.”

“I don’t want to go by myself,” Kara said.

Smythe shook his head, looking up at her with exasperation. “I’m afraid you have no choice, my dear. Get out. Now.”

“I think I have decided that I do not want this job,” Kara said, suddenly sure she did not want to remain here.

Smythe stood and took her arm. “Get out. Walk up to the front door and open it. No key is necessary.” He gave her no choice, leading her down the steps. Pixon handed her the wagon with her few belongings and returned to the plane, pulling up the steps immediately. Kara had to hurry to get out of the way of the plane’s movement. 

An hour later, she stood in the massive hall of the castle, reading the instructions and realizing her great mistake. The island was isolated, with no electricity or phone reception. There was a spring nearby where she could obtain fresh water. Enough canned foods to last for years. Nothing about when she would see another plane or where she was. Walking up to the top floor, she could stand on the balcony and see around the entire island. The castle was the only building; there was nothing else, no one else. A large parrot greeted her as she entered the only room with light shining in the window. Her charge. “I hope you can at least talk. I think I’m in big trouble here.”

The parrot replied, “Bienvenido a mi castillo.”

“Great. I should have paid attention in Spanish class, huh?”