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I sit in the break room at work the day after my escapade, munching on a sandwich and considering everything I’d learned from the adventure. But my train of thought is knocked clean off the tracks when Austin walks in, mouth already running. So much for my moment of peace.
“What are you doing, having a staring contest with the floor?”
I sigh and my shoulders slump. Before I can think of a response, I realize I was, as I thought, engaged in a staring contest with the gray tile floor. “Seems like it.”
Austin tosses his lunch bag onto the round table I sit at, directly across from me, and plops into a green molded plastic chair. Turning sideways, he props his feet up on the armrest of a chair beside him. “Who won?”
“What do you mean?”
“The staring contest.”
I raise an eyebrow, and he laughs. I have a strong feeling he takes his lunch breaks at the same time as me because he enjoys annoying me with his chatter. Even changing the time I stop for break only thwarts him for a day before he’s back at my table.
Withdrawing a sandwich from his bag, Austin stares at me. “I know that look. Something happened at the Haunted Hawksley Hovel. Am I right or am I right?”
Once again, I sigh. Austin won’t let up until I tell him everything that transpired yesterday. Maybe he can help me process it, with his endless knowledge of town gossip. Plus, he got me into this ordeal, anyway.
He sits straight, taking his feet off the chair, and leans forward as I launch into the tale of my discoveries and surprises.
My listener takes it all in, remaining quiet until I finish by explaining my narrow escape. His first comment is, “That was a really lame excuse. Why would you close the door for an extended time if you were looking for the bathroom? It obviously isn’t in there.”
“It was the best I could come up with. Could you have done better?”
“Well, yeah. You could say that you were chasing a signal that your ghost finder app picked up. Or you could say you were playing Pokemon Go and lost track of where you were.”
I roll my eyes. “Right, I’m sure he would buy those.”
“Hey, he probably believes in ghosts. I would, if I lived in a haunted place like that. I mean, I already believe in ghosts even though I live in a ghost-free apartment.”
“Not everyone is like you.”
Lunch long gone, Austin kicks his feet back up on the chair. “So, are you gonna look for the dragon’s hoard again next week? If so, I’ll come with you and we can search twice as fast. As long as we split the treasure, of course.”
My phone buzzes on the table with an alarm. It’s time to return to work. I stand, picking up my lunch bag and pushing my chair in. “I think I’ll be fine on my own.”
Austin remains lounged across the two chairs. “Fine, but at least let me give you some pointers.” He stops for a moment and takes my silence as permission. “First, don’t be so noisy. Second, go deep. Don’t just look in the easy places. That house is huge, and there’s probably more underground. See how far you can go, and then you’ll get closer. He probably has all his furniture back there, so no one snooping around up front—like you—can take any. You can at least swipe a…a golden fork, or something. That’ll give you some cash.”
I walk past Austin toward the door and place my hand on the knob. He may have actually given me some good advice for the second time since I’ve known him. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
I descend the rickety stairs from my apartment, pocketing my keys, heading to another lesson with Shane. My apartment is directly over Austin’s, which is how we met—an occurrence I regret from time to time. It’s not that I don’t like him, per se, he’s just…annoying. He’s unpredictable and uncontrollable. And he seems to have, for whatever reason, latched onto me as a prime victim of his stories.
But perhaps it was the providence of God at work that he told me about the Hawksley fortune. Maybe Eva was right about all that stuff she said, how He would guide me to what I needed. But would He approve of my stealing the treasure?
These thoughts simmer as I reach the end of the staircase and traverse the short distance to the worn and cracked parking lot. This place was the cheapest I could find without living in a seedy neighborhood, and it shows. I don’t mind, though; I have to save every penny I can.
I frown upon seeing Austin leaning against the driver’s side door of my car, reading a magazine. What’s he doing there? He usually waits there in the mornings when we carpool, but we just got back from work half an hour ago. Probably, he wants me to run him to the store. He doesn’t have his own car, ever since he totaled it driving recklessly. And I don’t have time to run errands.
He hears my footsteps and looks up from the magazine. “Oh, good, you’re here. I was getting impatient.” He tosses the magazine over his shoulder and it flutters to the ground behind the car.
“How long have you been standing here?”
“I never went inside. I need you to do a favor for me.”
“I can’t. I have an appointment.”
Austin stands, getting off the car. “Well, that’s the thing. I have an appointment at the same place at the same time. Would you mind taking me to it? You’d lose no time.”
It finally clicks what he’s trying to do. “No, I am absolutely not taking you to the mansion. Conversation over.”
“Why not?”
“You would attract suspicion. I can’t just bring in a visitor to a piano lesson.”
Austin grins. “Maybe I’m a world-renowned pianist, coming to help teach.”
“You really think anyone would believe that?”
“Probably not. But I can help you find the treasure. I know how much you want it, though I can’t imagine why a smart guy like you would need it all.”
“Therefore, you demand a reasonable half of the findings. Correct?”
He grins again. “You guessed it.”
I take a step closer. “No. Now please let me get in my car. I’m going to be late.”
Leaning back against the door, Austin cocks his head. “I’ll give you a bargain. One-third of the fortune for my premier treasure-hunting skills. I’ll worry about getting myself inside, as long as you can get me there. Deal or no deal?”
I scratch at my forehead. “You really don’t know when to quit.”
He waits, expectant.
“Fine.”
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