Hooked On You Read online

  Miranda was twenty-nine. Thirty was fast approaching, which was something she constantly pointed out to her younger sister. Her hair was light brown—possibly dishwater blonde, depending on the lighting. She was a writer, though not exactly a successful one. She knew nothing about makeup; her face was a blank canvas that Lily longed to transform. She hadn't had a boyfriend in four years, nor did she lament her single status. She couldn't stand the Twilight series, and she wasn't a big fan of vampires in general. She was more of a Harry Potter kind of girl.

  Despite their many differences, they got along exceptionally well.

  Most of the time.

  Miranda found her sister on the couch, where she was idling away the day. “Lily... what are you doing?”

  “Multitasking,” Lily said. She had the television on, her laptop on her lap, and her cell phone in her hands.

  “Are you busy?”

  “Doesn't it look like I'm busy?” Lily held up her cell phone.

  “Oh, come on. What are you doing that's so important?”

  “Farmville,” Lily said, pointing her to laptop. “Wendy Williams is on, and I'm texting Cody.”

  “Wow. You're really overloaded right now, aren't you?” Miranda laughed at her sister. “I better not put anything else on your plate... I wouldn't want to interrupt such a productive undertaking.”

  “Don't be a bitch,” Lily snarled at her.

  “I'm not being a bitch! It's just... there's a lot to do around here, and I could really use your help.”

  “I'm not a mind reader, Miranda. If there's something you want me to do, then tell me what you want me to do!”

  “It'd be nice if you could see what needs to be done... without me having to tell you!” Miranda countered. “We need to vacuum the living room, wash the towels, do the dishes...”

  “What's wrong with the living room?” Lily looked around the room, where a few flecks of lint might have been clinging to the carpet. “Just because you have OCD, that doesn't mean—”

  “I don't have OCD!” Miranda gasped.

  “You do. You totally do.” Lily finished texting her boyfriend and laid her phone on the coffee table. “Okay, Master, you have my undivided attention. What do you want me to do?”

  “Master?!”

  “I'm teasing, I'm teasing!” Laughing, Lily reached for her sister's arm and gave it a playful squeeze. “I'm willing to help. What do you want me to do?”

  “Why don't you do the dishes?” Miranda suggested. “I'll go downstairs and wash the towels.”

  “That sounds fair enough.” Lily rolled off the couch and sauntered into the kitchen. On her way out, she asked, “Are we going to get fast food tonight?”

  “Maybe!” Miranda called out. She was already heading down the stairs, which made it impossible to carry on a conversation.

  Lily stomped to the sink and started gathering up the dishes. She turned on the faucet, rinsed one of the plates, and loaded it into the dishwasher. She performed the task so mindlessly, it was a wonder she didn't screw something up.

  “Wish I had my ipod...” she whispered to herself. Lily thought she saw a bird on the windowsill, so she leaned toward the pane. When she looked outside, she saw something downright bizarre. “Uh... Miranda?” She tapped the window with her finger, wondering if she was seeing things. “MIRANDA?!”

  “What?!” Her sister shouted at her from the depths of the basement.

  “MIRANDA, THERE'S A MAN IN OUR BACKYARD!”

  Miranda flew up the stairs with a bottle of Clorox in her hands. “What? Really? Seriously?!” She brushed her younger sister aside and gazed out the window. Sure enough, there was a man lying face-down in the grass. “W-what is he doing out there?!”

  “I don't know. Sleeping?”

  “But why?!” Miranda exclaimed. “Why is he in our backyard?!”

  “Maybe he's homeless?” Lily suggested.

  “Maybe...” Miranda laid the bottle of Clorox on the kitchen counter and started glancing around the room, as if a solution to their dilemma would pop out of one of the cupboards. “Should I go out and say something to him?”

  Lily seized her sister's wrist. “What in the world would you say?!”

  “I don't know. Maybe... why are you in our backyard?”

  “Well, don't be mean!” Lily squealed. “If he's homeless, you probably shouldn't run him off!”

  “I'm not going to run him off. I'll be nice, I promise.” As she headed out the back door, Miranda grabbed a broom.

  “What are you doing?!” Lily exclaimed.

  “If he's dangerous, I'll have something to clobber him with,” Miranda said, raising the broom. “Are you going to come with me or what?”

  “Well, I don't want you to go alone!” Lily ran forward, staying on her sister's heels. Together, they made their way outside, hovering behind the broom.

  They approached the scraggly man with caution. They couldn't see his face, since it was hidden under a blanket of filthy black hair.

  He was completely motionless.

  “What if he's dead?” Lily whispered.

  “He's not dead...” Miranda said. “I think I can hear him snoring.”

  “Really?” Lily tried to listen, but all she could hear was the sound of a barking dog in the distance. “I think he might be dead.”

  Miranda prodded his shoulder with the end of her broom. “Excuse me!” she exclaimed. “Excuse me, sir?”

  They heard a low moan coming from the man, which confirmed he wasn't dead. “Arrrrr...”

  “Are you awake?” Miranda gave him another gentle nudge with her broom. “If you're awake, I need to ask you a question.”

  All of a sudden, his head whipped up, and both girls screamed. “Who goes there?!” he shouted, glowering at them with his steely blue eyes. A few seconds later, he said, “It's wenches.”

  “Wenches?!” Miranda repeated with a chuckle. “Look... I don't mean to be rude, but you're in our backyard. I don't know why you're here, but--”

  Miranda's words were cut off by a second scream from her sister. The man had sat up, which put his left hand on display. Except it wasn't a hand—it was a hook!

  “O-o-o-okay...” Miranda stammered. “What are you going to do with that!?”

  “Wit what?” the man slurred. She didn't know if he was really slurring, or if she was having a hard time understanding his accent. He sounded British. Not posh British, but the sort of thick, incomprehensible British that could only be deciphered by British natives.

  “With that!” Miranda exclaimed, pointing at his hook hand. “Is that for real, or is that some sort of Halloween decoration?!” It certainly looked real, because the metal glinted in the sunlight.

  “It's real alright, wench.” The man got to his feet, and when he did, a puff of stench erupted from his body. Miranda wanted to hold her nose, but she knew it would look rude. She and her sister exchanged horrified glances.

  “Umm... okay,” Miranda squeaked. Hooked hand. Greasy gross hair. A billowy filthy shirt. Ridiculously high boots. Was it her imagination, or was he dressed a bit like a pirate? It looked like he was doing a bad impersonation of Johnny Depp's Jack Sparrow.

  A really bad impersonation.

  “What's your name?” Lily asked, attempting to be polite.

  “Algar,” the man said. “Algar the Scar.”

  “Algar the Scar. The Scar?” Miranda repeated. “I don't see any scars.”

  “Then why don't I show you, Love?” The man started untying his breeches, which made Miranda gasp audibly.

  “Wait! Don't! Ahhh... no thanks!” Miranda used her broom to prod his hand away from his pants. “We'll have none of that, please.”

  “I'm Lily,” her sister said, continuing her attempt at politeness.

  “Lily... mmmmm,” the pirate groaned. “The name suits ye. Like a beautiful flower you are!” He turned his attention to Miranda, much to her horror. “And what's yer name, love?”

  “Uhhh...” Miranda swallowed hard. �
�Look, I'm not here to exchange pleasantries. I just wanted to find out why you were in our backyard... then I wanted to kindly ask you to remove yourself from the premises.”

  A look of confusion spread across his dingy face, which made her think he didn't understand a word she said. Perhaps she needed to simplify it for him?

  “You can't stay here!” Miranda shouted.

  “And where is here?” Algar lifted an arm and started scratching his disgusting hair, and when he did, he put the yellowing pits of his shirt on display.

  “This is our house! Our backyard!” Miranda exclaimed. “And you can't stay here. Alright?!”

  “Miranda...” Lily whispered, tapping her sister on the shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn't be so mean? Maybe he doesn't have anywhere else to go?” Lily flashed a sickly sweet smile at the wayward pirate. “Are you hungry?”

  “Lily!” Miranda hissed at her through gritted teeth. “He's got a hook hand and a... and a...” She used her broom to point at his sheath. “What if that's not for decoration? What if there's a sword in there?!”

  “We should be optimistic. He seems nice,” Lily said.

  “Nice?! Are you really that daft?!”

  “Mr. Scar?” Lily addressed the pirate. “You look lost and confused. Would you like to come inside?”

  “How could I say no to such a lovely lass?” he asked, flashing a grin that made Miranda groan.

  “My sister's name is Miranda, by the way,” Lily went on, motioning for him to follow her into the house. “I'm sorry she's being so rude.”

  “Arr... it's alright, Petal. She has every right to be cautious,” Algar said. “I'd be cautious too, if I were to meet the scourge of the Seven Seas!”

  “Did you just call me Petal?” Lily asked. “Aww... that's really cute!”

  Miranda followed them into the house, still clutching her broom like a weapon. She wondered what happened to her sister's brain, because it seemed she was completely void of common sense. Like a watchdog, she hovered next to Lily. She kept her eye on Algar, waiting for him to make any sudden movements.

  As soon as they were in the kitchen, Algar ran over to the sink and tapped the faucet with his hook hand. “What abomination is this?!” he growled.

  “Uhh... it's a sink. You wash your hands with it,” Miranda noted. Her gaze landed on his hand, which looked like it hadn't been washed in ages. “Lily, this is really weird. Are you sure you want him in our house?!”

  Ignoring her sister's reservations, Lily asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Aye. I would.”

  Lily pulled open the refrigerator and peered inside. Algar stood close to her, which made Miranda wonder how she wasn't affected by his stench. “We have Vanilla Coke, orange juice, Pepsi Max, and apple juice. Do any of those sound good to you?” she asked. “Oh, and we have milk.”

  “Ye have anything hard? Like a strong ale?”

  “Uh... no.” Lily pulled out a Vanilla Coke and laid it on the counter. “Why don't you try this?”

  “You drink this?” Algar snarled, poking the top of the can with his hook hand.

  “Well... wait! You have to open it up.” Lily snatched the can from beneath his hook hand and popped it open for him. “There. Now you drink through the hole...”

  “Lily...” Miranda grabbed her sister's sleeve and dragged her over. In a whisper, she hissed, “Why are you treating him like an infant?!”

  “He doesn't seem to know what any of this is!” Lily exclaimed.

  “Yeah? Well, he's bullshitting you,” Miranda said. “He's playing this pirate role to a tee, and you're just playing along?!” She stared at Algar for a few seconds, her eyes filled with disbelief. He was currently bending over the counter, trying to suck Vanilla Coke from the can's hole. “You need to pick it up!” she shouted at him.

  “Oi?”

  “You need to pick... it.... up,” Miranda repeated slowly. “The can. You pick it up and drink it!”

  “Oh. Right.” Algar lifted the can and took a swig. When he did, he winced. “It's bloody cold!”

  Miranda turned her attention back to her sister and said, “You can't just invite random creepers into our house and start giving them drinks! Seriously, there is nothing normal about this guy!”

  “I don't know why you have to be so mean...” Lily said with a roll of her eyes. She left her older sister's side and went to one of the cupboards. “Mr. Algar... are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”

  “That I would, Petal. That I would.” He patted his stomach with both hands, the hooked one too. “Meanwhile, would someone care to explain where the bloody hell I am?!”

  “You don't know where you are?” Miranda asked. “Are you drunk or something?”

  “No, Miranda. He's not drunk!” Lily defended him. She stood on her tiptoes and reached for the highest cabinet, which made her short skirt even shorter. Unable to resist temptation, Algar leaned forward and used his hook hand to lift up her dress even more.

  “Okay, that's enough!” Miranda stepped in. She used her broom to shove the “pirate” away from her sister. “You need to leave.”

  He started to speak up. “I--”

  “LEAVE!” Miranda repeated. “I'm not going to have some pervert in my house trying to look at my sister's underwear!”

  Lily turned around, wide-eyed with shock. “Was he trying to look at my underwear?!”

  “He was,” Miranda confirmed. She grabbed Algar by the arm and proceeded to drag him through the living room, to the front door of their house.

  “Sorry, Petal,” Algar apologized to her over his shoulder.

  “It's okay,” Lily said. “It's really not that big of a deal, Miranda...”

  Miranda opened the front door and motioned for Algar to leave. “Goodbye!”

  Algar leaned toward Miranda and sniffed her a few times. “You smell nice,” he noted.

  “Yeah? Well, that's more than I can say for you!” She gently nudged him through the doorway. “You have your Vanilla Coke? Great. Good. See you later!” She slammed the door behind him and rolled her eyes at Lily.

  “What?” Lily innocently shrugged her shoulders.

  “Girl...” Miranda flopped down on the couch, relieved to be rid of their foul-smelling burden. “Sometimes I think your brain must be dripping out your ear!”

  Chapter Four

  The night's sand felt cool on her bare feet.

  Her toes squished through the sand, which felt cool beneath her bare feet.

  The moon had chilled the sand, which felt cool against her bare feet.

  Miranda sneered at every single sentence she wrote; her delete key was getting a lot of exercise. Now that Lily was gone to work, she had all the peace and quiet she could want, but her writer's block was worse than ever.

  For some reason, Miranda's mind wouldn't rest. She kept thinking about the backyard pirate and how they had tossed him out. Sure, he was perverted, disgusting, smelly, and probably insane—but would it have killed her to have a bit of compassion? Their encounter with him took place nearly twenty four hours ago, and yet she couldn't get him out of her mind.

  Miranda decided to give up on writing, at least for the rest of the day. She closed her laptop and went to grab a soda from the fridge. As she stood in the kitchen, sipping her beverage, her eyes wandered to the window. To her shock, Algar the Scar had returned. He was sitting in their backyard as if he belonged there.

  “Are you shitting me?!” Miranda whispered to herself. She tapped on the window, trying to get his attention, but he wouldn't look her way. He was too busy swatting the flies that were swarming around his face. Since he smelled somewhat similar to soiled sewage, Miranda was sure they were drawn to his stench.

  Miranda grabbed her broom and ran outside. It was probably foolhardy to approach him while Lily was gone, since there was strength in numbers. But she liked to consider herself a good judge of character, and Algar didn't seem particularly harmful. He was loony, sure, but she doubted he would
hurt her.

  “Algar!” she screamed his name as he approached.

  “My angel!” Algar leapt to his feet and held out his arms. “I knew you would come for me, Love. How's about a hug?”

  “How's about no?” Miranda fired back at him. As she stared at him, she could feel her lip drawing into a sneer. He was even more bedraggled than before, likely from having spent a night in their backyard. At least, that's what she assumed he had done. “Were you out here all night long?”

  “Aye,” he confirmed. “You have very soft grass.”

  “And you really have nowhere else to go?”

  “Aye,” he said again. “I have no idea where I am, Love. No idea whatsoever.” Algar scratched his hair, and she swore she saw an insect fly out of it.

  “Are you homeless?” she asked.

  “Homeless?” he repeated. “Well, it seems I'm currently without a ship right now, dunnit?”

  “A ship? Oh. Right. I forgot.” Miranda had to roll her eyes. “You're a pirate, huh? Wow, you're really playing that role to death.”

  “I like you,” Algar said. “A woman in breeches. I like that a lot. They look very snug around your bum.”

  “Okaaay, Algar,” Miranda uttered his name with a sigh. “I feel... guilty. If you really don't have anywhere else to go, I wouldn't feel right turning you away. Do you want to come in for awhile? The least I can do is feed you... and help you find someplace else to go.”

  “You'd really do that fer me?”

  “Uh... yeah,” Miranda said, regretting every second of it. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

  “Aw'ight, Love. But first I'm gonna hafta have a piss.”

  He started removing his trousers, so Miranda had no choice but to reach out and grab his arm, as disgusting as it was. “Wait! No. Don't just... pee out here. That's gross. I can take you inside and you can use the toilet.”

  “The wot?”

  “The toilet,” Miranda said. “You know what a toilet is, don't you?”

  “No, Angel, I don't.”

  As Miranda headed for the house, she motioned for him to follow. “Okay... seriously, enough with the Angel thing. That's just weird, coming from you.”