"I don't usually, do things like this," I muttered nervously.
"Neither have I," Beckett said with a smirk on his face.
"You know what I mean, I don't know if I'm the right person for something like this."
"Not a lot of people are fighting over the chance to write a dying man's memoir, hence why I put out an ad on Craigslist." He joked, I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.
"What face are you making?" He asked staring up at the ceiling.
"A doubtful one."
"Well, my offer is on the table for 48 hours. 250K for 6 months of writing." Beckett said standing up.
"Do you really expect me to give you a direct answer in 2 days?"
"I'll be dead in a year, I would write it myself. But as you know I happen to be blind which prevents me from doing that."
"How the hell did you write a Craigslist ad?"
"I had my mother write it." He said staring at me. I was aware he couldn't see me but something about the way his eyes moved around my face made me noticeably uncomfortable.
"What face are you making?" He asked again. I bit the inside of my cheek and sighed.
"A doubtful one," I repeated. He nodded and looked up at the ceiling once again.
"I want the world to know how I saw it, pun intended." He chuckled to himself
"I think this is weird," I said almost immediately shaking my head.
"Beckett?! Beckett?! Where are you, sweetie?!"
"Up here, mom! The girl who answered the ad is here!" He shouted. My hands touched the table. Nail mark scratches were indented into the surface. The stairs creaked as a woman appeared carrying bags of groceries.
"Hey, honey! I'm Samantha, Beckett's mom."
"Hi, I'm Arizona," I said standing up and moving towards her to shake her hand or something.
"Oh, that's a pretty name. I met a girl named Arizona once when I was pregnant with Beckett and went to Amsterdam. Have you ever been?" She asked smiling at me.
"Uh, pregnant or to Amsterdam?" I asked looking between the two. Beckett chuckled to himself his smirk returning.
"To Arizona." She smiled putting the groceries
"Oh no," I muttered growing even more uncomfortable. I sighed and looked at Beckett who was moving to sit back in his seat.
"Well, that's sad it's absolutely lovely there," Samantha muttered. The kitchen was silent everyone breathing loudly. Samantha hummed to herself as she placed groceries in the cupboard and in the refrigerator. Beckett cleared his throat and focused his eyes on my chin.
"Well yes, I should probably get going," I said standing up slowly.
"You answered the ad for a reason. Now whether that was because you really wanted to help or I don't know some sick twisted other intention."
"Sick and twisted?"
"I am just saying, why else would you drive all the way here?" He asked. By now Samantha had stopped humming and most likely was finished putting away the groceries but was intently listening to the both of us.
"I-I fuck! I took the bus here number 1 and number 2 I am not sick and twisted!" I said standing up and walking towards the door. I sighed and stopped at the door. Turning around I walked back to the table and stood with my hands on the table.
"That is not me, that was rude. I'm sorry I shouldn't have- any of that. I shouldn't have done any of that."
"I should-" He started his face full of regret and surprise at my outburst.
"I will write the book, but we will have to start next week."
"That's fine." Beckett's eyes met mine for what felt like the third time since I'd been there.
"Fine," I repeated. I adjusted my clothes and realized I had left my bag with my first storm out. I picked it up and met the gaze of Samantha. Her smile relaxed most of my body and I smiled back.
"What face are you making?" Beckett asked. I breathed in deeply and studied his face.
"A doubtful one," I said honestly. I walked out and held my breath while I stepped out into Beckett's neighborhood.
"He's blind? How the hell did he write the ad?" Willow asked.
"His mom wrote it for him," I told her my fingers dancing on my keyboard as I talked.
"Is he cute?" She asked. My cheeks grew red and I wrote quicker and bit the inside of my cheek.
"It's a professional relationship," I muttered to her.
"So he is cute."
"Why are you here again? I can't remember."
"Of course you can't. Sugar. I'm baking Carl a 'Let's Have Sex ' cake."
"Because he needs a cake to tell him to have sex with you," I said sarcastically.
"Where is the sugar?" She asked ignoring me.
"Where it always is. You're in my apartment more than your own."
"Asking was a courtesy."
"I picked that up," I muttered my eyes never leaving my laptop. I had more than enough on my mind. I didn't need my neighbor's weird baking/sex life fogging up my concentration.
"Can Carl and I borrow a ladder?" She asked. I stopped and turned my head towards her.
"Willy, why would I have a fucking ladder? We live in an apartment complex."
"Living in an apartment has no correlation with not having a ladder."
"Get out Willow. I'm busy and I don't have time to do," I paused and moved my hands around in her general area. "this."
"Well, I just wanted sugar, not an attitude."
"No ladder, sugar's in the top cabinet," I replied with just as much attitude and watched as my face turned back to my screen.
I sighed, I wasn't really irritated with her. I was irritated because this was the first job I'd gotten in over 3 months and the only reason I was on Craigslist was that I wasn't going to be able to make this month's rent. But as a freelance writer when you don't have jobs it kinda shows you either aren't a really good freelancer or dually I wasn't a good writer. My front door closed and I stared at the page document opened on my laptop. A myriad of words danced as the blinker line thing stopped at the end of my last sentence.
"Well, the worst thing that could happen if he dies before I finish it and then he can't read," I muttered to myself. A light chuckle followed by a groan was released. "That's so mean, Arizona." I sighed closing my laptop.