Private EYE

Private EYE

Chapter 1: Happy Days

My name's Theo. Just Theo. I am an amateur stalker. I stalk people for a living. My Boss calls it "Private Eye Paparazzi." It's stalking. I go through people's trash and I follow them around. Sometimes, I follow famous people. Mostly though it's just really rich jealous husbands with bored sexy new wives and young sons. You know what I'm talking about. It helps I'm sixteen and really small. Usually I can tell right away what's going on and who caused it. I do some work to make the costumer happy. They pay me, I give forty percent to my boss, and I go home. Happy days. I came into today and there was a package on my desk. I received photos of what looked like a twenty five year old male. There was a note. I read it aloud.

"Figure out who he is and what he does. He's been poking around and I want to know if he's trouble. The following is his address…" I waved a picture like a fan in front of my face. "He doesn't even bother to address it to me, and then orders me a around. Boss—" I growled, and dealt with my anger. I dressed up in my usual dumpster diving clothes. A weathered tan trench coat, and baggy somewhat dirty disheveled clothes. I walked to the male's address. It was a back alley apartment building. It didn't look so great on the outside. Suddenly, I heard the gate slam shut. I crouched down in the dumpster.

"Who's there?" a masculine voice called.

I remembered the picture. He was easily three times bigger than me, and diffidently more muscular. Time to run. I jumped out of the dumpster and went full speed out to the road. Only the male was much quicker. He tackled me and grabbed me around the stomach. The male fell sideways, taking most of his momentum to his shoulder. I still felt some off the shock from the blow of the fall. It rattled my brain inside my skull. Which was not the most pleasant feeling ever. The male was crushing my leg with both of his.

"Ow! You're hurting me," I whimpered. SO I'm a crybaby…leave me alone already.

The male turned to me and grabbed my collar. "Who are you? Who sent you?!" He demanded.

"My name's Theodore. Nobody sent me. Please, it really hurts when you sit on my leg like that—" I started to cry. It's effective on most adults. "Please let me go. I just want to go home. I was so hungry—" I tried not to sob so hard—I didn't want to over do it, and it's unattractive—but my tears seemed to come from somewhere deep and they wouldn't stop. I started to hiccup. The male stared at my face, and gave up. He had the brownest eyes I've ever seen. His hair was a dark brown and hung over his forehead. He carried me into his house. I kept my face in his chest.

The male stuck me in his bathroom, turned on the water and left. I search my pockets for incriminating evidence. My pen camera—I hadn't even taken any pictures and the film was new, so nothing there—I would probably lie. I half folded my clothes and put them on the toilet. I would grin at my intelligence for packing light, when usually I had a few more items, but I did not quite feel it. I buried it back in the pocket. I got in a bath and felt instantly better. I closed my eyes.

"Don't fall asleep," my "Prince Charming" stood in the doorway.

He had a dark blue shirt on with lighter denim jeans. He was drinking tea. It smelled like oranges. I eyed him warily. His hair was disheveled and his overall appearance would have put a model to shame.

The male squatted by the tub. He tossed me some fruit. " I'm Erik."

I ate, and stared at him.

"You can borrow one of my shirts. I don't think that any of my pants would fit you."

Erik left a white shirt. He took my clothes and left. I finished my food, dried, got out, and pulled the shirt on and buttoned it up. It easily went to my knees. Erik came in suddenly. He had the pen camera in his hand. "What is this? Where did you get it?"

"I found it in your trash, it's a pen." I backed up. Erik was in my personal bubble.

"I seriously doubt that," he spat. He pulled me forward by my chin and forced me to look in his face. He kept my gaze, his face inches from mine.

"I stole it, alright? Along with a couple dollars." I wrenched my eyes away from his.

He seemed to accept that answer, and let go.

"Where the hell are your parents?" he grumbled, as if it was my fault they weren't around.

"I don't need them! And they don't care about me, I don't even know where they are!" I'm also a little sensitive when people tell me I need someone to look after me. I'm been looking after myself since I was six, I think I do a fine job just by myself. "I'm old enough to take care of myself!" My breathing was harsh and ragged. I was tearing up.

Erik pulled me to him, holding me. "I can…" I said, close to tears. After awhile went by, Erik let me go and walked out.

I breathed deeply. I suddenly felt very sick, holding my stomach, I sank to the floor. I kept saying to myself, "Don't puke, don't puke."

Erik saw me on the floor, and crouched down beside me. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Yep." I popped the "p".

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Not puking."

"Are you sure—" Erik began.

"Yes, I'm fine." But then I had to go to puke up my breakfast in the toilet.

Erik kept my blonde hair out of my face.

"I went and got myself excited like that—" I shivered from the effect of my convulsing stomach. "That took a lot out of me. I'm nearly winded." I joked, grinning. Erik rubbed my back, and I feel asleep. When I woke up, I was tucked into Erik's chest, facing Erik, with my back to the couch. I was cold. I gently snuggled closer to him. Hesitantly, I went to kiss the corner of his mouth. He moved in his sleep, and I got him right on the lips. He grinned.

"I felt that," He whispered in my ear.

"Thank you—for staying with me." I said, red with embarrassment.

"My pleasure." Erik smiled.