Chapter 2: Curiosity

Mercie screamed.

The boy merely gave a dimpled smile and began to howl in unison

"AWOOOO!"

Mercie's survival instincts kicked in. She kicked at the howling boy's stomach and rolled away, knocking over the plastic trash bin in the process.

Mercie haphazardly reached into the kitchen drawer for anything sharp.

The boy turned to search wildly for Mercie. "Where are you going?" He laughed.

Mercie took out something from the drawer and held it out, along with another hand to cover the boy's privates from her vision.

The boy took a step forward.

"Don't come any closer!" Mercie took a step back. She flattened her body against the kitchen sink behind her.

The boy merely cocked his head in curiosity. "Is this some sort of new game?"

"Yea, it's called 'if you touch me, I stab you'"

Mercie's hand shook as the boy took another step forward. Looking closely at the utensil in her clenched fingers.

She had hoped she pulled out a deadly knife, but instead she pulled out a non-threatening, leftover batter crusted, rubber spatula.

Her dishwasher hadn't been working in weeks, so she had to wash everything by hand.

"I'm warning you, don't come any closer" Mercie flailed her spatula wielding arm around violently.

The boy's head followed her arm movements. When her arm moved left, his eyes followed.

Noticing this, Mercie raised an eyebrow in suspicion. She deliberately slowed her movements and raised the spatula high above her head.

As she had expected, the boy turned his head up to stare at the object.

They stood like that in silence for a few long seconds.

Mercie decided to test something.

She tossed the object over the boys head and out of the kitchen. It landed on a couch cushion in the living room.

The boy turned, his head following the flying spatulas trajectory. He looked back at Mercie, eyes wide in expectation.

A wave of dread washed over her. She looked at the boys face incredulously, and inwardly cursed at herself for the word she was about to say.

"F-fetch?" The girl said reluctantly.

The boy launched into motion out of the kitchen.

Mercie slumped against the sink, dazed. If anything this was just some bizarre dream, and she would wake up any minute.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

There was a loud banging on the door. Mercie froze. Now was not the best time to be answering the door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Another round of incessant knocking resounded.

"I know you're in there! I heard screaming!"

Mercie would have to open the door now, or she wouldn't hear the end of it.

She rushed past the living room and cracked open the front door. Sure enough it was her landlord on the other side.

He tried to peer into the apartment but Mercie wedged herself quickly between the door and the doorframe.

"Sorry my rent was late this week, I got caught up with a lot of things" Mercie began to explain.

Her landlord held up a rugged plastic toolbox, effectively cutting her off. "I'm here for your dishwasher, you said it was broken"

From the corner of her eye, Mercie could see the stark boy who was currently digging at the couch.

Yes, she desperately needed to fix her dishwasher, but she wasn't exactly in the position to be letting anyone in.

"I got it!" The boy triumphantly raised the spatula over his head.

Mercie narrowed the door a bit more with a nervous laugh.

"Am I interrupting something?" The landlord smiled slyly. "That explains the howling. stuff" he looked impressed.

Mercie felt her face grow hot. She contorted her face in disgust "No that's not--"

"Relax, you're young. I understand. Don't mind me" her landlord, her only hope for a fixed dishwasher, gave her a wink over his shoulder before tiptoeing away.

"Stupid old " she muttered before closing the door and twisting the lock.

Without looking at the boy, she traveled to her bedroom, pulled off her duvet and tossed it over his head.

She had more than an eyeful today. It's not like she hadn't seen one before, but seeing it unabashedly out in the open was enough for a lifetime.

Ignoring the boy currently sniffing at her blanket, she inspected the bathroom. Sure enough, her dog was not there, but a large puddle of water was left behind instead.

Mercie walked back into the living room where the boy stood.

She guided him by the shoulders and sat him down on the couch.

The blanket slid of his head and draped around his waist, leaving his torso . Around his neck was a chain and a dog tag.

Mercie brought herself at eye-level to the boy.

"Lay?" She tested.

"Yes?" He smiled at her, looking deep into her eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Lay..." She began again. She had called a dog that all but an hour ago, and it was hard to adjust to calling him that.

He cocked his head attentively, still gazing in her eyes.

"Lay, where do you live?"

"With you"

"No, I mean..." Mercie grasped for a better question "who is your owner?"

"You are" he replied innocently.

"No, I mean--" Mercie sighed in defeat. "Ok sure. Who was your owner, then?"

Lay looked up thoughtfully. "Mister President"

Mercie was getting impatient. "That's not a name, that's a title" she said through gritted teeth.

"Mister President is his name." Lay retorted "That's what people called him"

Mercie face palmed. She stood back up and brushed herself off.

"Well I can't keep you. This apartment doesn't allow pets so you're gonna have to find somewhere else to live"

Mercie trailed off and peered over at Lay. He was staring at a magazine on the coffee table.

"Mister President!"

Mercie turned to look at the magazine. The headlines read:

25 Under 25: Our Country's Hottest Moguls

Exclusive Interview with the CEO of UrbanApparel

On the cover was a handsome man with styled hair and a confident smirk.

Mercie gaped

"He was your owner!?"