Something Like Home

[Julie Moon]

Julie turned to face him, one hand propping up the trunk, and allowed her eyes to sweep over him from top to bottom in grim appraisal.

"Judging by your appearance, my guess would've been a street artist or something equally Bohemian, but unemployed fits the bill, too. Do you watch a lot of Happy Days?"

The familiar look of perplexity creased his face much faster this time, and just as he opened his mouth to deliver what would've undoubtedly been a razor-edged retort, Julie planted a large box in his hands.

"There. Let's keep you busy then, shall we?" she said, and this time there was no mistaking a mischievous smile as she fished a second box from her trunk and made a beeline for the house.

[Jacob Foley]

Jake stood frozen for a second, with a face torn halfway between bemusement and amusement, and the weight of his own sad submissiveness heavy in his hands. He shook his head and took off in hot pursuit of the self-appointed taskmaster.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

The answer was a melodic 'Mm-hm' which sounded far too self-satisfied for its own good. In his arms, he shifted the weight of the box as he trudged through the thick grass, its contents jostled.

"If this is how you treat the well-meaning neighbours, I'd hate to see what you do to door-to-door insurance salesmen. Skin them alive, leaving their skewered heads as a warning to other would-be tresspassers? Or perhaps you just turn them on a spit and breath fire until they're good and crispy. Take That!"

[Julie Moon]

Reaching the peak of her ascent into the house, Julie turned slowly to greet Jake with a look of incredulous appall:

"Did you just tell me to take that?"

[Jacob Foley]

After wrestling with the box, Jake managed to balance it with one arm, and dug from it with the other a CD case with five fresh-faced young men on the cover. His face contorted, stuck in that awkward place between pity and revulsion.

"Take That, Julie. Really?"

[Julie Moon]

"I'm not going to apologise for liking Take That, Jake."

He laughed at that, and made little effort to hide it, but Julie was undaunted. Instead of debating the strengths and weaknesses of Take That as a seminal modern musical and cultural influence, she retreated inside the house to dispose of her burden. And if Jake sought to badger her further regarding her musical taste, at least then she would have her hands free to respond accordingly. Once rid of the box, she wheeled around and speared him with a deathly glare.

"You're one of those people, aren't you? Oh, I get it now, with your jeans, and your boots, and your... hair. You're a music snob!"

[Jacob Foley]

"I'm not a music snob!" he retorted, his objection sorely lacking commitment, "I just happen to have better taste than everyone else."

Sweet like syrup he finished, giving Julie the sincerest of nods, who responded with a low sickened groan. Incapable of disguising his distaste, Jake returned the CD to its box with a look which suggested he was handling gruesome roadkill leftovers. Thankfully, he thought, Redención House was outside the proverbial danger zone in the event Julie fancied a spot of boyband crooning, and the temptation to call in a favour from Pedro Calaveras was avoided.

He hesitated before stepping indoors, "Is it safe for me to come in this time or is there a risk I will be told to piss off again?"

[Julie Moon]

"Oh, silly," she smiled, retreating to clear the way, "There is always that risk."

Arms folded, Julie pressed herself against the wall, granting Jake and his box a wide berth. There were notes of cigarettes, husky leather, and yesterday's aftershave as he shuffled past, in that order. Upon relieving himself of his burden, Jake made a sound which was usually reserved for men thirty years his senior; a throaty, strained kind of sigh which she would've found entertaining were it not for the health implications. Suddenly, feeling herself under his expectant gaze, Julie's insides squirmed with discomfort.

"And that's me," she shrugged, there was a brief contemplative silence before she decided to articulate what Jake was undoubtedly thinking, "I know. Thirty-two years old and all I have to show for it is one suitcase, three cardboard boxes, and a Take That CD. Oh, and this... bloody shack."

[Jacob Foley]

"Heh, that's what we call it."

It could've been his imagination but surely the temperature just dropped a few degrees. If smiles had an elastic limit, he'd reached it, and his expression sobered with a snap. Diverting his gaze to their rickety surroundings, Jake hastily back-peddled:

"Don't worry. It's nothing a bit of elbow grease won't solve. All it takes is some time and a handyman who knows his-"

He suddenly froze under the shadow of a dark turbulant thought, after a moment he was nodding to himself, in agreement with some private discussion. He cleared his throat.

"You know, actually, I could do it."

[Julie Moon]

"Jake," she said, after recovering from his sudden epiphany, "Not that I don't appreciate the offer but, how can I put this? You look like you'd be swept away in a stiff wind."

She wasn't quite prepared for his reaction to that, how wounded he looked. In an effort to defuse a potentially disasterous exchange, she adopted a professional tone and regarded him with dispassionate scrutiny. It was as effortless as slipping into a pair of comfy slippers.

"First of all, do you have any experience in home improvement?"

[Jacob Foley]

"Did you see that big old house further down the road?" he asked, prompting from her a hesitant nod, "Good. I did half the work on that thing."

It wasn't completely untrue. Jake did get his hands dirty from time to time and was no stranger to a tool box, but never without assistance from more experienced hands, which meant that this time he was flying blind. And while Julie looked dubious, her silence invited him to convince her otherwise. So he pressed on, counting out a list of odd jobs with his fingers and praying he would at least make it to the second hand.

"I built the fence and the porch, paint jobs included; carpeted four of its largest rooms; installed the downstairs bathroom, which included plumbing, tiling, plastering, and painting; wallpapered one and a half rooms - I won't lie, I hate wallpaper; now brick-laying isn't really my thing but I did my fair share when the extention went up; I'm no stranger to gardening, and I've put together countless flat packs, fitted numerous doors, and perform routine maintenance on most of the plumbing and electrics in the house. Oh, and if you have a leaky roof, I have a good friend who can fix you up like that!"

He finished with a smart snap of the fingers. The fingers were free, of course, because the counting had gone out the window halfway into his epic testimony. It was a curious thing, he thought, how a little white lie becomes a full-blown conspiracy.

[Julie Moon]

There was a stereotype associated with the American handyman which proved quite apt given Jake's lengthy spiel; the brash, cocky everyman with an answer for everything and no concept of a deadline. It was enough to make her think twice but there was one problem: Jake didn't strike her as the knuckle-dragging-neanderthal-with-a-builder's-bum type. And her previous assessment still stood, truthfully, she'd seen more meat on a butcher's pencil. This meant the validity of his claim was still in question but it wasn't the most pressing matter on her mind.

"You live in that big house?" she asked, finding it hard not to sound deflated. Perhaps she'd misjudged him. Maybe he was wealthy, an artist even, a one-shot-wonder who sold a painting for a million dollars, treated himself to an impressive home, and now lives a life of eccentric humility helping needy neighbours. She was unsurprised then, to find her reasoning flawed, first of all she was anything but needy, and secondly, no-one in their right mind would actually choose to live in what was quite clearly America's answer to Mogadishu. She snorted bitterly.

"They say size doesn't matter. You probably tell yourself this. But what would you rather have: something big and sturdy, plenty of room to play with and great for entertaining guests, or some sad little thing that you can barely trust to keep you dry in the night and could collapse at any minute thanks to years of abuse. Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm talking about houses, Jake!"

[Jacob Foley]

"Psychologists would have a field day with you."

Julie had successfully steered the conversation off on a rather surreal tangent, leaving Jake almost lost for words. But instead of being swept away by the tidal way of innuendo, he found himself anchored firmly in place by a scatter-brained idea that wouldn't go away. He could do it, he told himself, against his better judgement, and he pressed the matter with a manic kind of enthusiasm.

"Think about it for a second, will you? I'm out of work so this place will have my undivided attention. Plus I live something like thirty seconds away, meaning if you have a problem I could be with you at a moment's notice. And-"

Something akin to victory flashed in his eyes, he suddenly swept past and stepped outside. There was a little swagger in his step now; a confident grin, a jerk of the thumb.

"You can check out my place."

[Julie Moon]

She stepped into the doorway and scanned the opposite row of houses with fleeting interest. In all likelihood, his intentions were sincere, but the persistant flapping was becoming irksome. Julie's hackles were up.

"Your place?"

[Jacob Foley]

"Well, it's my sister's place. She runs a halfway house for mutant teens, strictly non-profit, of course. I just help out where I can."

Loathe as he was to make such a confession, even Jake realised that would have been a deception too far, but that wasn't the point. If she saw the house she would take him on. But when e looked up at Julie, and saw the frost in her eyes, he realised he was fighting a losing battle. The adventures of Handyman Jake were over before they even began, and he was left feeling cheap, and a little dirty.

"Look, Julie, forget the house. Do you want to just come over for coffee? Or tea, right? You Brits love your tea. Consider it a welcome to the neighbourhood."

[Julie Moon]

"Because it's the neighbourly thing to do?" she asked dubiously.

On the inside, Julie was siezed by a thrill of excitement, but she kept it buried beneath an inscrutable mask of stone. Mutant neighbours, an entire house of them, it was almost pornographic. A flicker of a smile and she unstuck herself from the doorframe with a sigh.

"Far be it from me to say 'No' to a cuppa."

She closed the door without ceremony and managed to get all the way to the sidewalk before pursuing the small matter of the genetic petri dish on her doorstep:

"So... a house of mutant teenagers. I can see how that can keep you busy."

[Jacob Foley]

"There's eleven of us in total so it does get pretty manic, and when there's no school, we're practically tripping over each other. Anna's the glue that keeps it all together."

Banyon Street was still, and apart from the occassional rumble of a car engine, silent. The sun had reached its summit and glared down at Los Santos as if waiting for something to happen, but it was like a Sunday, a lazy afternoon in which folks retreated to their gardens with a cool drink and a glossy magazine, and just did nothing. And strolling through such a desolate suburban landscape with someone by his side suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You're taking this well for a- a non-mutant. Normally people recoil and are running in the opposite direction by now."

[Julie Moon]

"Well, normally, people are idiots," she said tartly, "No, I think the human genepool has much larger problems than a few mutants."

From end to end, the understated panorama of Banyon Street was dominated by Redención House, despite its age and the years of wear, it stood proudly amongst the humdrum homes populating the neighbourhood. The picket fence rankled Julie's contemporary sensibilities but by some marvel of style, it worked. Jake led the way to the door and, keys poised over the lock, gave her a last bracing look.

"Jake, it may not surprise you to hear that I don't scare easily."

[Antonio Fernandez]

The door was yanked open, pulling the key out of Jake's hand while it was still in the lock. "Jake!" Antonio faked a punch at his older brother, and then dragged him into the house. "Told you I'd come visit!"

Belatedly the twenty year old noticed the chick standing on the porch, and grinned at her. "Hey Jake's friend! Come on in!"

[Jamie Morrigan]

Just then there was a shrill reptilian shriek, and a brightly feathered creature about the size of a turkey but with jaws full of sharp teeth and big sickle claws on its feet leapt onto Antonio's back and started gnawing on his neck.

A young girl's voice shouted in dismay from upstairs. "'Tonio, the raptor got you! Quick, give him a snausage!"

Jamie came rushing down the stairs with an improvised dog treat in her hand, but when she hit the bottom she suddenly realized that Jake was standing in the doorway with a stranger, and she blushed and tucked herself behind Antonio. "Oh - sorry."

The velociraptor dropped off of Antonio's back and curled itself around Jamie's legs, craning its neck up at Julie and flaring its crest with an inquisitive trill.

[Jacob Foley]

"Tonio! Hey, what you doin', vato?"

Jake beamed, and clapped his brother in a hearty embrace. Finally, after months of broken promises the lazy douche made good on his word. He fixed him in place with a heavy hand on the shoulder and with the other lightly tapped him on the cheek.

"Look at you! College life is treating you well, eh? Have you shrunk?"

His laughter was interrupted by the screech of Jamie's miniature velociraptor, and with the little illusionist not far behind, Jake remembered himself and turned to Julie with a look of irrepressible amusement.

"Tonio, this is Julie, she's new to the neighbourhood. Julie, this is my brother, Tonio. And this-"

He extended a hand to Jamie, prompting her to come out of hiding, "This little lady is Jamie."