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"This is literally the most nerve-wracking thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never stepped out of my comfort zone like this before - and with things changing so fast around here, literally all of my friends coming into their own adult lives, I just feel like...the Bay Area hasn’t felt like home. And you all know how much I am so not an L.A. girly...I think a new state, new house, new community – it’s...really going to bring about a new me!"
To need a fresh start in life before even making it to age twenty-five certainly wasn’t the bright spin that Enid was trying to put on the situation for her viewers. Truthfully – she was probably experiencing the collapse of her mental health, but if she wanted to keep her brand deals and bring in a new wave of followers to gain additional sponsors and up her AdSense, she needed to make a dramatic change. So what if it just happened to fall in line with a quarter-life, young adult crisis?
“As I film this – the last time I’m filming in my cute little apartment – it’s June fifteenth and I have to start packing…actually, yesterday,” There was a giggle coming out of her speakers and she cringed at herself from a month prior. “What you’re going to see is some pre-recorded content with the Vamp Squad – the wedding from my POV since Yoko and Divina have finally posted their special day, which was kind of like my last little hurrah here, link down below to see their vid!” The Enid from weeks before had a familiar wistful gaze in her eye. “After that, you’re gonna see a fun road trip series that’s going to be so gas…literally, because I had to trade in my little Tesla for a Jeep since it would be super uncomfy to try and live out of a car for a few months. It’s not quite VanLife, but it’ll work for me until I have enough work done on the new place to live in it!”
Enid nearly cried as she slid down against the stack of pillows that was both her couch and beadboard. The window to the backseat of her Jeep was open, her little battery-powered fan barely managed to ruffle her blonde, humidity-slick curls that were practically pinned against her forehead.
“So, new location reveal once I arrive at my new destination and give the first house tour! Until then, I hope you enjoy all the content from my last few weeks here as a Cali girl! Bye – don’t forget to always leave some flair!”
Feeling the very opposite of her own tagline, Enid sniffed, forcing herself to take deep breaths before melting down for the umpteenth time since making it to her new place – if one could call it that – over the last week.
She had so many hours of videos to edit to match not only her own self-imposed upload schedule, but to meet the demands of the generous, but likely over-compensating brands that she hadn’t worked with before. In order to make her vision for the next year of content a reality, Enid needed some serious cash that she just didn’t have (because she’d for sure ignored all that investing advice that the one iced coffee guy had tried to give her when she’d sat down for his podcast when she was in Vegas on a brand trip nearly a year before). With over two and a half million subscribers on YouTube stemming back nearly a decade from when she was a silly little eighth grader (with a borrowed fourth generation iPod Touch), she’d accidentally become a little bit of a star. She’d gone through her own fashion and beauty phase – nowhere near the heights of other algorithm-ly lucky girls her age, but enough to build a career on as she joined other apps over the years, successfully having a VSCO phase, and most recently dominating the lip-syncing app turned TikTok with eight times the number of followers as her long-form content.
She far preferred making ten-to-twenty-minute videos. Enid liked the storytelling component of her job rather than the quick ads, sped-through DIYs, sound bites and dances that the more popular parts of her brand told her the internet at large wanted. Coming up with a way to merge everything that was expected of her (after getting out of a long, miserable contract with a manager who’d about run her into the ground for reasons well beyond work), Enid was really ready to do what she wanted to do…while still making enough money to fund her lifestyle.
Still – that lifestyle was changing. Part of the reason why she’d picked the path she had, was that Enid was desperately hoping to be able to cater a home exactly like the one she dreamed of, one where she felt fulfilled enough to not have to constantly leave it. Enid hadn’t cleared the project with anyone, hadn’t relied on anyone but herself to secure partnerships, and had finally figured out how to do a lot of the behind-the-scenes work without help. A year after leaving her management company, ending a miserable relationship and watching all her friends moving on with their lives (marriage, getting deeper into careers as they finally left the internship phase, starting families…), she hoped that all the groundwork she’d done up until that point would allow her to move on with hers, too and be more herself in every way – whoever she was under the skincare and pricey accessories she didn’t even really like.
The plan was fairly straight forward: find a house she liked as physically far away as possible from all of her friends and toxic family, so that she’d be forced to do things on her own and meet new people instead of constantly being a drain, sucking down everyone around her. Many big YouTubers had started an L.A. exodus years prior and found themselves on the East Coast, and while Enid wasn’t exactly going to a popular city, she was following in their footsteps. Part of Enid’s brand, the ‘Flair’ component of her username, was a do-it-yourself spirit. Growing up without getting everything (re: anything) she ever wanted, she’d learned to do a lot of things herself, turn trash into treasure, and make her own cute style that seemed to transcend into every part of her life. Purchasing a sight-unseen, turn-of-the-century Victorian style house that had sat abandoned for eighteen years and hadn’t been updated since the late seventies before that was certainly more than her ‘DIY’ category, but Enid was confident – with the right contractors and attitude, she’d pull it off.
Her idea was to film tiny snippets of before and after’s for her TikTok and Instagram pages, which would lead her curious followers to her long-form YouTube to see the entire process unfold. The revenue she could generate from the Google-owned platform was so much more than what the one that the government desperately wanted shut down paid out. With a sigh, she folded her head into her pillow, wishing she was thirty-three instead of twenty-three. If she’d been able to be an adult online in the height of the YouTube era when money was flowing like champagne showers, she’d be living in a mansion she designed and had someone else build for her, not having to try to put in the work herself.
Closing her own video, which had just reached one million views with a title of ‘My Big Announcement,’ the milestone number meant she’d make about five thousand dollars in the ad revenue. She just had the payout from the skin care brand she’d put on in the ‘get ready with me’ part of the announcement, and had enough sitting in her account after paying herself back from the road trip that ended a week ago – she could get a hotel for a few nights and sleep in air conditioning.
But there really wasn’t a dollar to waste on anything unnecessary.
When Enid pulled up to the real estate office that she’d worked with from across the continent, the flutter of nerves in her belly was easily mislabeled as excitement. She tried to convince herself that her sweaty palms had only been from the oppressive humidity on the opposite side of the country. She’d kept herself steady as she walked into the office with her selfie-stick recording the first interaction with the office, only to be barked at, told not to film by the manager. A horrible feeling swelled over her immediately and she was able to correctly identify her nerves.
When it was just Enid and the agent who’d sold her the house though, the blonde with a severe blonde bob and white power suit was slightly more understanding, but seemed to okay her filming the reaction only to rush her through the process of getting the key. Enid had hoped to stage a little production, even offered to shout out the Jellinsky Reality office to her followers, but the woman was insistent on not being in the video if she was going to insist on filming at all.
But she should’ve just listened to the manger about their no-recording policy, because when Enid watched back the footage of her seeing the home for the first time, she cried the heaving sobs. Thankfully she initially held them back for the sake of her brand – knowing she had to put that sunny Sinclair spin on the video that her viewers had come to know and love. Her entire life had been filled with disappointments, but she always had a practiced disposition of a show that she could put on to keep it from seeming that way.
Alone with her pillow, Enid added another tearstain to the collection that spilled through cheery, pink pillowcases and told the truth of her story underneath.
The video of her location reveal and first glimpse at the house was due out in a week, and she needed to get into the house and start filming herself planning each room for a month’s worth of content and to give herself time to pull together help. The house was far more than the cute wallpaper and new fixtures she thought she was going to be installing with sponsorships from an interior design lens. Rather, she was going to have to find a plumber, an electrician, probably get a permit from the city – so much more than she ever could have anticipated when she signed the documents to own her first home after the Jellinsky’s had sold her a dream from across the country, when she really arrived to a full-blown nightmare.
Enid wondered, dramatically, if it would ever feel that way, like it was her home, – or if she’d have to give up halfway through the project. That’s what her mother said when she braved going over there after not seeing her since the one holiday the Sinclair pack actually celebrated: the Wolf Moon that past January. After sitting on the edge of her family’s gatherings during meals and being largely ignored in her transformed state, she’d vowed not to see them again for as long as possible. Still, even as a near-lone wolf, Enid felt like she should at least tell the family who raised her that she was moving a six-and-a-half-hour flight away from them.
Her mother had merely scoffed and wished her luck – that she’d need it, and told her not to expect to be welcomed back with open paws when she gave up by the next Wolf Moon.
Part of Enid wanted to complete the project just to prove the woman wrong, but the startling reality of the situation she’d found herself in made her think her mother was right, and Enid would return to the Bay Area with her tail between her legs. (Though she’d be damned if she went to her parents’ house – she’d sooner live in the basement bonus room in Yoko’s new townhouse, even though it was practically a cave.)
She set a five-minute timer for wallowing, not allowing herself any longer than that before she had to get up and get ready - of course to film a TikTok that was due by the following day. Forcing herself to keep from crying anymore (that would have to wait until nightfall), Enid breathed deeply and tried not to think about her situation until the awful little ring of her cell pulled her fully from her misery. Putting her phone back on the small, suction-cup tripod that was attached to the Jeep window, she found her pretty smile with a practiced finesse and Enid once again became her familiar persona before her own eyes.
Giving her trademark snap, she said, “Get ready with me in my Jeep using the power of the sun!” She went on to name the brand of solar charger that had been gifted to her in exchange for simply saying the words to her sixteen million TikTok followers, then showed off the panels before starting to put on a full face of skincare. Over the last few years of updating her image to keep up with trends, she’d gone from nearly drag-queen inspired full glam faces with drugstore products to very simple, minimalistic ‘clean girl’ aesthetic with a hint of sparkle. Showing off each of the products she used and tapping them obnoxiously with her werewolf claws – a feature her followers adored, she retracted them between each product being put on, the sound of extending her natural cue in editing to clip the video.
(Hey – there had to be some advantages to being one of the very few werewolf influencers on the market.)
Finishing up with some butterfly clips after twisting her hair back she put her hands in front of her face, a few poses that she’d splice together quickly before finishing the video and groaning, but finally forcing herself to get a move on for the day. The dozenth contractor she’d been in touch with was coming over to meet her at the house in just twenty minutes.
Taking the small waist bag that she kept her most important things in – all her documents, wallet, and keys (just in case the vehicle she was living out of was broken into while she was out of it), she clipped it on over her shoulder, shaking her head before heading into the scary place she hadn’t been in for almost ten hours. (Her bladder was becoming stronger than her resolve.)
It was a small version of a manor, ‘Queen Anne Style,’ the relator’s listing had said, and Enid was convinced – Queen Anne must have been queen of all things creepy and crawly. The outside had a warped, wooden, wrap around porch that was likely not OSHA approved for anyone attempting to work on the house to step on after the cement steps up. Dark reddish brick combined with formerly off-white pillars and a gray roof could have been beautiful at one time, but with all the damage that had been carefully disguised by old Google Maps images in the listing and good editing, it was harder and harder for Enid to find the old charm in the exterior – though the contents of the inside were far worse. It was an elevated, two-story house, with a basement that she knew included a cellar, though she hadn’t dared to enter yet. A rounded tower feature extended past the two spare bedrooms on the second floor with another set of stairs was stunning from the outside, but the decay on the walls of the studio-style room unnerved her so much that she hadn’t been up there a second time either. Certainly – Enid hadn’t been up to the attic storage in the vaulted roof above it.
Putting the key into the lock, she twisted, praying that none of the creepy crawly creatures who called it home were busy early in the morning.
As she opened the door, a tiny gray mouse scurried away, and she gave a pathetic groan before following the vermin in.
The dust, cobwebs, and general lack of anything functional in the house, she could handle. But the constant pests were starting to truly get the better of her. Enid would wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night – not just from trying to sleep outside in eighty-degree heat with her windows barely cracked and just a fan blowing warm air at her – but from nightmares of mice and roaches crawling all over her. So far, everything she’d tried had failed at reducing the number of creatures. The mice were too smart for snap-traps, didn’t care about the fancy ‘hotels’ she’d gotten them, and even the more sinister poisons and sprays were seemingly doing nothing but providing a challenge to all the awful little nuisances that had been in the residence far longer than she.
Slowly, she walked into the entryway. The floorboards either needed to be ripped up or gone over with a special sort of wood varnish and non-splintery-chemical that Enid knew nothing about. The baseboards would need to be completely replaced, due to gnawing damage from the rodents and the mysterious black substance that was spindling around some of the edges was either a dark entity or mold – and she didn’t have the professional requirements to address either. The wallpaper that had been adhered on the walls – pasted over and over based on how many layers were peeling from different residents added to the dramatic look of deterioration, and the fact that none of the light switches worked in the main hallway wasn’t unsurprising, either.
The entryway itself had arched walkways that led to what at one time had been formal dining room on the right, and fancy living room area on the left. Beyond the entrances, was a door that led to her nightmare basement and cellar, then a winding staircase up to the second floor, which she’d declared off-limits to herself until further notice. Down a little further past either set of stairs was the kitchen, and a hallway to a less formal living room and the only downstairs bathroom.
Not bothering to peak into the crumbling rooms on either side of her, she hurried her well-worn path down the hall and to the left corner of the main floor, where the only toilet in proper working order was in the establishment. Truthfully, she was grateful that it was at least on the ground level, and she didn’t have to take the precious stairs that were in desperate need of repair. With her breath out her lips, she pushed open the squeaky-hinged door, wincing as she turned on the light, not immediately spotting anything running away. She was grateful – the main powder room was just that and didn’t have a bathtub drain for one more hiding spot for creepy crawlies to come out of. Following her usual sequence of events, Enid turned on the water in the faucet as hot as it would go, letting it run to hopefully get anything in the sink pipe flushed through. She gave the toilet handle a jiggle, making sure the unpredictable plumbing was working that day. When the water receeded and refilled, she quickly checked in one of the roaches favorite hiding spots behind the exposed pipes, before taking a seat, closing her eyes and imagining she was anywhere but home as she peed as fast as humanly possible.
Opening a plastic tote, she folded up toilet paper quickly (needing to keep it in there so that it would stay sanitary and not be shredded by the mice for bedding) and then nearly burned the skin off her hands as she washed them under the scalding water with the medical grade soap she’d bought, putting a glass jar over the drain before exiting and shaking her hands dry as she had to wait for the contractor to come outside as a roach wiggled into one of the cracks in the floorboards. Swallowing a lump of tears, she paced on the steps once she could breathe fresh air, checking her email for the latest quote from a professional pest control company in the area, which after giving a deposit to the contractor that day if he agreed to the work, Enid realized that even once she got the AdSense payout, she could not afford the level of treatment her new house required.
Her credit cards were maxed out – years of living above her means #ForTheViews had left her with a mountain of debt that she’d barely started to scale, making minimum payments on the cards to keep her credit score somewhat viable. She was only able to secure the home loan for the house because she’d had so much squirreled away in cash from selling all the luxury goods she’d purchased with those credit cards to keep up with trends in her late teens, on a reselling app as a promotion for it, under her influencer username. The house was listed as a foreclosure, and after meeting with her relator in person, she was pretty sure that she’d been swindled into buying it in the first place, given the family company just enough of an offer to make them cash and get away from the property as fast as they could.
She lost track of time as she stewed in her thoughts, trying not to pace too much and increase how much she was sweating in her cute little sundress – she had another TikTok to film after the meeting to promote the internet company that had given her a hotspot for the temporary housing situation that she’d found herself in. She shook herself out of her own misery when a white work truck pulled up in front of the house, a man in jeans somehow in the oppressive climate, took the steps up to the front of the house, already looking unimpressed. “Ms. Sinclair?”
“Yes, that’s me!” Enid painted on her character of a smile. “Vlad Sharp – owner of the SharpCo, right?”
He nodded and shrugged, his thick accent coming through as he spoke, “I’ll be honest – I looked up your account after you called with your disclaimer that we might find myself on camera during any point in the construction. Turns out my daughter is a fan of yours and she’s chuffed that I didn’t bring her along.”
Finding a giggle, she gave a playful wink. “Well, maybe you can bring her by at some point during renos!” She said. “Come on in…um – it’s – basically, the entire house needs work, but – I’d be happy to just start with the back half of the main floor and the owner’s suite upstairs to make it livable. Oh! And the tower, too. I’m hoping that will be my at-home studio. It was practically impossible to make two rent payments every month in the Bay, with my apartment and studio, so it’ll be so great to have it all in one,” She said in an optimistic ramble as she opened the door, cringing at the sight of another mouse running across the entryway.
“Well that’s not a great sign,” The contractor said gruffly. “Ms. Sinclair, is that a common occurrence in the house?”
“Um, unfortunately,” She blinked quickly, trying to keep up her smile as she led him to the kitchen, adjusting her waist bag awkwardly over her shoulder. “It’s – I think that once we do the renovations, their nests won’t exist anymore, so -”
“I’ll be honest,” Vlad repeated himself, looking unamused. “If you aren’t willing to take the steps to keep my guys safe, I won’t be sending them in here. We’re professionals. Construction is not pest control, sweetheart.”
“I’m working on it!” She said, showing off the kitchen full of sticky paper behind the decrepit fridge that didn’t work, sticking out from beneath the stove, and in cabinets that had doors falling off due to broken hinges. Forcing herself to remain as optimistic as she could, Enid insisted, “I just got another quote from a pest control company this morning, so – I’ll have it taken care of in no time! For sure, before your guys come out.”
The kitchen was a host of different decades, all rotting together in one room – pre-war cabinetry, countertops from the 1960s, tile from the early 1970s and appliances that hadn’t been updated since the same decade were all on display of poor maintenance around her.
Another mouse skittered out from a cabinet while a small colony of roaches crawled up and down the walls. Enid was completely red in the face, so embarrassed by the state of things.
“Nenorocit, Sinclair,” He swore in his first language and opened the abandoned fridge – which was empty, but obviously broken, pulled the oven out, sending several dozen roaches and other bugs fleeing the sudden light. Enid scooted back herself, trying not to have a full-blown panic attack. “Doesn’t even have power – rodents have eaten through all the cords…this sticky paper is useless.” He cringed, shining a flashlight to look behind the appliance. “You’ve seen the rats yet?”
“Rats?” She squeaked like one. “N-no, I…I just thought there were mice!”
“These aren’t mice droppings back here, far too large – rats cause far more damage to a building’s structure…”
Letting out a sound that was nearly a whine, Enid watched him take a look at all the surfaces, the walls, around the windows. He backed up, looking even more concerned suddenly, “Have you done mold testing in here?”
As Vlad confirmed what she already suspected, Enid wondered if either of them were actually safe to stand in the kitchen.
“Who was your inspector on this property?”
“Um…” She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to escape her stupid decisions as much as she didn’t want to see the results of them. “I waived my inspection to close on the house before the competitor got it.”
He ran a hand over the scruff on his chin. “Who sold you this place?”
“The Jellinsky Family Reality Corp? Debbie was my agent.”
“Not surprised,” He muttered. “I’m…look – I think you’re a nice girl. Your messages about your hopes and dreams for this place really made me smile. What my daughter showed me – your personality shining through your little videos – how you’ve shown girls in her tax bracket ways to make themselves look like the bell of the ball for years…but – this isn’t a Cinderella story. I think you’ve gotten yourself a money pit here, and it’s way beyond the type of DIY you’re used to.”
Feeling the tears about to escape, Enid tried to explain herself, “But – but that’s the point! I…I needed some reinvention – all…all my friends have moved on from their content and in their lives and…I just…I just wanted to keep up with them, and – this…this has to work. I know it’s a lot of work, but I can do it! I just need more help than I thought I would.”
Vlad shrugged as a mouse dashed from one side of the room to the other, and the tears finally fell. “This isn’t about painting a mural over an ugly colored wall. Likely everything from the electrical to the tile and the floors and the drywall need to be redone here. Who even knows if the foundation is solid? Have you talked to your parents about this, maybe they can -”
“I don’t need my parents!” She shouted, crossing her arms. “I need…I need…”
He sighed and was about to say something when a new sound of a different pest than Enid was used to caused both of them to freeze. “Was that…”
Suddenly, a new creature darted in. “A bat?!” Enid shrieked and sprinted from the kitchen down the hall and back outside, collapsing into a puddle of tears on the front steps.
The contractor wasn’t too far behind. He let out a great breath and gave her a moment before sitting down beside her, opening his clipboard, handing her a few business cards as he shuffled through them. “I’ll be honest, this is more of a project than I can let my company take on in the current state of things. You’ve got groundwork to do before you can think about renovations. You need some demolition, plumbing, and electrical done after you get the pests and mold taken care of. The spores in the kitchen - that’s probably toxic, black mold. That will kill you if you breathe in too much of it. I wouldn’t spend any more time in there without a respirator on. And…bats? That’s a whole new level of creature capture that I haven’t seen in a while. You need to call in some experts. By the time you’re done with the pest and mold removal, get the plumbing fixed and the electrical…I can have a crew out to start in the kitchen and bathroom. But my real advice? Might be to call this one a loss, Ms. Sinclair. I don’t think it’s going be worth the toll will take on your mental health for views and sponsors to take this on.”
With a blubber of a thanks, Enid watched Vlad get back into his white truck and onto his phone – probably calling the city to have the property condemned so that she couldn’t move forward with any of her plans.
Mopping her face, Enid returned to her Jeep, fixing her makeup and practicing her smile a few times before taking out a standing tripod, setting her phone on it and giving a very delighted, “Hey Flair babies! Time to hop online and post some vids – all thanks to my handy-dandy hotspot,” She spoke the name of the company and showed off the device to the camera from different angles. “Thanks to the quick internet speeds, I’m able to plug this portable connection into my solar-powered generator, and my new temporary home can become my office while I start renovations on my actual home. I can dance all night long, knowing I’ve got fast, reliable internet no matter where I go!”
Doing a trending, viral dance in front of the Jeep, she figured she had more than enough footage to edit it all together.
Looking up at her house, and blinking away thoughts of the pests, she folded down her mattress cover, put away her makeup, stored her generator and powered off the solar chargers to take her Jeep fifteen minutes up the road into town. She’d be in desperate need of a shower at the gym she’d joined for that exclusive purpose later, and really needed to sit in a café with an overpriced latte to actually edit on reliable internet while she lied to her followers about the speeds of the one she just advertised.
X
Rubbing her eyes and not caring if she smudged the minimal mascara she’d put on after her good cry hours earlier, Enid successfully edited both sponsored TikToks, then cued them to come out between some other pre-recorded dance and road trip content. She paced out the eleven-dollar coffee and bagel she purchased at the café, about to work on her next YouTube video when her headphones died and she didn’t have the connecting cable to plug into her laptop to finish in her bag. Not about to torture the other patrons at the location with cut-scenes of herself screaming into the camera, she closed her computer and finished the latte. Her next stop would be the public library – where she could plug everything into a real outlet and work the rest of the day away without being pressured to give up her seat for a paying customer.
Libraries had been her secret her entire life – as an escape from her miserable mother when she was little, a resource to learn new skills when she was in her young teens, and a place to borrow things that were far from books or media as an in-debt adult – the taxpayer-funded library was one of her favorite locations. Most would look at bubbly, loud Enid through her content and assume she’d be one to be kicked out of such a place, but she knew how to be sweet and respectful. The majority of the noisy, chaotic klutz was part of the image that her viewers liked as they aged out of Rapunzel the a-dork-able princess and needed a different sort of relatable character. Enid could be that – it helped to conceal her real self from the world.
Packing the Jeep, making sure her tinted windows were holding up in the New Jersey sunlight to keep prying eyes from her personal items in the back, Enid stopped at a convenience store to put fresh ice in her cooler, draining the water that had melted into a mason jar to use for something else later, not about to waste a drop. She was focused only on what she needed to do for her work, and though her house was her full-time job, she had to have enough money from the other aspects of that job to start the work…to do her job…
Shaking herself of the thoughts, she pulled her curls up into a low ponytail at the back of her neck, took out her butterfly clips, stuck on a non-branded baseball cap and took an oversized sweatshirt from one of her clothing containers for the inevitable chill from sitting in air conditioning for so long. Locating a neat set of cords from her organized stash, she repacked a tote got mentally prepared to head into the library for six hours or so.
Just before getting out, she blinked curiously at the sight of a small someone rounding the corner away from the library – thinking they were absolutely crazy – wearing an all-black outfit in what was going on ninety-one-degree heat, without the humidity factored in…teenagers, she figured. Remembering when she’d do anything to be perceived as cool, she rolled her eyes before going in, sweetly greeting the librarian who’d gotten to know her over the last few weeks of her arrival, starting to work right away and losing herself into hours of additional editing, responding to emails about the videos in the queue, then digging through her junk folder to see if there were any other brands she could work with to pay for pest control before an idea struck her.
Smirking, she went to the websites of a few professional pest control companies who’d gotten back to her with quotes that were far out from her budget. CC’ing them on the emails they’d sent her with the amount, she sent her usual script full of links, introducing herself, her platforms and why she thought she could be a good fit for an advertisement, instead of paying for their services. With a plea into the universe, she started searching for mold removal places, once again – nothing popping up with direct, flat fees – everything wanting images and details of the scope of the problem to offer a quote for services. Figuring that meant – too much unless she got pest control for free, Enid went onto her favorite one-day shipping site, ordering herself a respirator to keep safe in her own home.
Thinking she was going to need to spend even more time in the community in an attempt to utilize the bathroom just once maximum and reduce her own risk of infection, she started to map her days out for the next week. They were practically a flow chart of ‘if/then,’ all depending on who was willing to provide her services in exchange for promotion. Thinking that her plan was really more of a wish, Enid glanced at the time, realizing she ought to head to the gym for a shower and then make herself a pitiful excuse of a dinner using the microwave and power there before tucking into her Jeep in her driveway for the night.
She packed up and followed procedure of checking out and returning a book that the librarian thought was important and underrated, just to keep it in circulation. Enid was about to walk out the door when a new note on a bulletin board caught her eye, one with spider-web boarder around antique-looking stationary, with neatly printed cursive letters.
BLACK MENAGERIE
Spiders? Vermin? Birds & Bats?
Return to your peace.
Below the haiku was a simple email address – just the phrase Black Menagerie again, with the server after. Assuming that it was a pest control advertisement and not just the classic Japanese syllable-style poem on display, Enid took a picture of it to return to later, wanting to follow the only part of her schedule that she knew for sure would be completed without fanfare.
At the ten-dollar-a-month chain gym she’d joined when starting her journey so that she’d always have a place to take a shower, Enid got in a thirty-minute walk on the treadmill first – just to make sure she had some steps in that day and make it look like she wasn’t living out of her vehicle, but using the gym for fitness. The best part of every day came next – hot water pounding on her back out of the showerhead that had entirely too much water pressure. She loved it – even if she had to wear a pair of Old Navy five-dollar flip flops to bathe in, there was something about the water rolling off of her that made her feel whole again, not like she was surrounded by bugs and apparently – mold.
Letting her troubles wash down the drain, without any mysterious creatures crawling out of it as she lathered up bodywash and scrubs, Enid gave herself one final rinse before pulling a towel around herself – another perk of the gym, was that it was less laundry, as all the towels were washed on site and smelled like bleach, so she was pretty confident they were actually clean.
Going through as much of her night routine that she didn’t need to film as possible, Enid set herself up in the mirror after pulling on a clean pair of cotton sleep shorts and a tank top. She twisted her curls into a special headband to turn out again the next day after using the blow dryer from her locker. Finally set and needing to get back to her reality, Enid put away everything in her little metal storage, twisting the lock and taking her bag that had what she wanted to heat up in the lounge before glancing around, spotting no one, washing out her container from the night before and putting it back in her bag while her dinner warmed. When it dinged, she smiled as someone else entered the space, and headed out, shameless in her pajamas and headband-curled hair, sitting in her Jeep for a solid twenty minutes to eat before driving her mobile home back to her driveway of the home she wasn’t sure would ever be suitable, or safe to live in.
After chugging a glass of water to try and make it into her second and last use of the house before the sunset, Enid let out a long sigh, dreading to return to her final bit of editing and communication for the night when her FaceTime chirped.
Cringing, she answered. “Hey, Yoko,” She said, careful to point the camera up and away from her face.
“Yo,” Her vampire friend replied. “Haven’t heard from you in a few days. Everything alright?”
“Oh, yeah! Just supes busy! Nobody said homeownership is easy, and that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, she’s still bullshitting,” Yoko called behind her. Groaning, Enid looked at the screen just a little bit. Divina appeared and they both shot her a look. “It’s like what – seven P.M. there? Why are you already going to bed?”
“I’m not,” Enid insisted. “It’s a long story.”
“We’re working from home today, so – we’ve got time. It’s only four o’clock here, babe. What’s going on, for real?” Yoko wondered, glancing over her trademark round sunglasses that weren’t just part of her brand for views, but were very necessary for her to function in the world during daylight hours, even if the Bay Area was notoriously gloomy, her eyes were extremely sensitive to even the mildest light.
“I’ve just…run into some roadblocks that I didn’t expect is all – and I’m trying to keep up with all my brand deals and sponsored posts while working through it, editing – you know more than anyone.”
“Well, yeah, Enid – we frickin’ tried to invite you to work with us here for how long, and you refused – so maybe we don’t know exactly what madness goes into your process, but…you know, that’s why we have mangers that we don’t fire to deal with all that for us.”
Rolling her eyes, glad they couldn’t see – the power couple that dominated lesbian TikTok for well over a year had no idea what Enid had been through with her manager, and they weren’t about to, either. “Look, not all of us just have legacy townhouses willed to us -”
Yoko lifted her hands in self-defense. “We’re not saying our life isn’t on the easier side. We know you’ve got a lot going on. That’s why we’re calling. We’re just worried about you. We were friends outside of all this viral shit, right? So – that’s what friends do, they check in on each other, even when it’s not for the views.”
“The fact that you have to say that out loud has me thinking you spend more time convincing yourself that we’re friends than we actually are,” Enid said with far more hostility than she needed to.
Divina finally spoke up. “Hey…Enid? You’ve kind of got that…sad tone in your voice – like you’re going to cry. We’re not on camera. You can let your guard down a little bit. What you’re doing is super hard. Like – you literally gave up everything, left your community, are living out of a Jeep and bought a freaking house, sight-unseen and traveled across the country, alone. Like yeah, you’re probably the most stressed you’ve ever been, except for-”
“Please, do not bring that up!” She squeaked out, feeling the ever-present dam of tears about to burst. “Look, I’ve still got a video to film tonight for that stupid moisturizer that doesn’t even work – so if I want my four hundred dollars to pay for all my subscriptions this month, I can’t cry again today.”
There was quiet as she admitted – she’d already done that.
Feeling even more defeated, Enid sniffed back any trace of tears before finding an in-character smile, lifting up the phone and wondering, “How was the weekend in the Redwoods?”
Divina and Yoko let her successfully transition the conversation to focus on them, promising her she’d see the TikToks soon (actually, she wouldn’t – she long ago blocked them on her secondary account she used to actually watch TikTok, not needing to see their carefree lives pop up on her FYP). After getting them to gab for about twenty minutes, Enid glanced at the sky and nodded – thinking she was about at her perfect timing before it would get dark and the creatures in her home would be more active than ever.
Waving goodbye to the girls and ignoring their plea for a FaceTime house tour soon, she ended the call and mentally prepared herself to head back inside – a whole new level of terror unlocked at the prospect of toxic mold and frickin’ bats waiting for her.
Fully psyched up and ready to brush her teeth in the driveway after with the water she’d saved in reserve from the cooler instead of at the sink like she’d been doing, Enid unlocked and scrambled inside, the path worn from worry. As she hurried to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light, she sat down to use the toilet when a scaly sensation tickled the back of her thigh and she turned around, discovered an actual snake on her toilet seat, screamed, sobbed, and ran back out the door after barely pulling her shorts up.
Having a full-blown panic attack in the front seat of her car, she shrieked, smacked her steering wheel in frustration and struggled to catch her breath, shook her head, not caring that she’d left the house unlocked – she’d be damned if someone breaking and entering the ruins of a dream could do any more damage than the structure already had.
Making an impulsive decision after a day of being determined not to spend any more money, she backed up and drove back into town, finding herself mindlessly checking into a Hilton at the cost of one hundred forty dollars for the night.
Electronics, important documents and skincare in hand, she collapsed on a real mattress, crying into the pillow like she’d wanted to all day, about to call Yoko and Divina back and confess everything when she sat up suddenly as she remembered something from earlier.
Opening her phone, she pulled up her photo app, then opened her laptop, typing the email address from the spiderweb stationary she’d seen into a new message, sending a desperate plea for help with her home.
It was hardly three minutes after closing the lid and lying back down – expecting a reply in the morning, Enid received one that simply said: Address?
Sniffing, again – not caring what happened to the house by entrusting the street and number to a total stranger from a handwritten sign in the library – she figured, perhaps a small local business would offer her a better deal than the corporate rates the professional pest control people had offered her.
With another shocked sound, she read the next message out loud, “Tomorrow, noon.”
Blinking, she wondered what the individual expected in terms of a deposit, none of the other companies had been willing to even come out without some sort of cash up front. Asking and not getting a reply back, Enid sat in front of the AC unit for a while, willing the redness in her face to go away before filming a ‘go to bed with me in a hotel,’ giving no context about why she was there, merely smiling, tapping her nails on her products, and falling into the surprisingly comfortable mattress dramatically for the camera – managing to sleep the night away without being startled awake for the first time since arriving to the East Coast.
X
After checking out of the hotel exactly on time – a productive morning spent eating a hot, continental breakfast, working on their internet editing videos, and watching her feed blow up after a few in the queue released, Enid replied to business emails (not surprisingly, none of the pest control companies seemed to care about a promotion from her) and sat in her Jeep at the edge of the driveway. She was more than curious about her upcoming meeting. There had been no signature in the email that had been sent, and she couldn’t find any local business with the name of the email when she typed it in. Hoping she wasn’t going to get scammed (or murdered), Enid sat in a pair of comfortable, cotton leggings and a crop top, but had a long-sleeve ready, along with a pair of gloves and a surgical mask she pilfered from the hotel supply closet – the only way she’d enter the home that day.
At noon on the dot, a sleek black sedan (with window tint that could have in no way been street legal) pulled up to the curb, where it idled for just a moment before the driver’s side door opened. Feeling a pit in her stomach and expecting some creepy old dude in robes coming down from a mountain, she tilted her head in surprise when it was far from an old wizard character it all.
In fact, she hardly believed the person getting out of the car was old enough to have a driver’s license.
A pale girl, probably a few inches shorter than herself, who clearly hadn’t spent much time in the sun that summer, strode towards her in a pair of Doc Martens. Her black hair was twisted in braided pigtails, adding to her entirely youthful appearance, and the black, short-sleeve, knee-length dress over a long-sleeve white button-down shirt, with the collar folded down overtop didn’t help. Finding herself as she assumed that despite her age, perhaps she worked with her family and was trusted to assess homes, Enid gave a cringy, “Howdy!” Immediately wondering why she went for such a greeting she awkwardly held her arms out at her sides before dropping them with a tight-lipped smile.
The girl had a black backpack over her shoulders and a leather portfolio in her hands. She stood in front of Enid with an expressionless face, wondering, “I need to speak with the owner of the property.”
“Um…that’d be me. I’m Enid Sinclair, thank you so much for coming out…?”
“Wednesday.”
Blinking, Enid bit the inside of her cheek. “Uh, it’s Thursday…so - you…can come back next week, or?”
The girl stared harder. “My name is Wednesday.”
“Oh! Right, sure – sorry! Nice to meet you, Wednesday. You are here for pest control, correct?”
“That’s what you messaged me regarding,” She replied in a flat tone.
Enid scratched the back of her head, drawing the other hand behind her back as she struggled to make the introduction work. “Well – no offense, I for sure love a haiku, but your advert wasn’t exactly clear, and you didn’t respond to any of the questions in your email and – oh, right to the house tour, then.” She grabbed her ‘protective items’ as she followed her up the steps. “Hey – before we get started, I’ll be honest, I’m in a bit of a budget crisis due to this property being sorely mis-advertised and being an ignorant, first-time homebuyer. I have really tight guidelines I need to stick to and if you’re asking for even the same as the pros I’ve gotten quotes from -”
Wednesday interrupted stiffly as she walked up the steps to the house, almost glaring at it. “We’ll discuss compensation after I have seen the extent of the infestation. What are you using to protect your respiratory tract from the black mold you claim to have as well?”
“I’m waiting on the better protection from Amazon, should be here tonight or tomorrow – oh…?”
Wednesday blinked, shoving her portfolio into Enid’s hold, where she almost dropped the pitiful blue paper masks she’d lifted. Wednesday shrugged off a backpack strap, opening it and handing a respirator to Enid before pulling one on herself, along with a pair of (black, of course) gloves. She nodded to Enid after taking her portfolio back, who pulled her shirt on, then the spare respirator over her mouth and nose, feeling like she was entering some sort of riot instead of the house she’d bought to paint cute murals in. Upon stepping into the house, there was an immediate smile that lit up Wednesday’s eyes, though Enid couldn’t see her mouth. “Delightfully run-down.”
“I’m…trying to see opportunity everywhere, but I can’t even start to see a silver lining until the mold and pests are removed. I really need to get a move on, I have so many deadlines to make.”
Wednesday shot her a look that almost expressed curiosity, though she didn’t ask. “Which room would you say is the worst?”
“The contractor totally didn’t even make it past the kitchen. I literally can’t go upstairs – there are so many roaches…the snake that did me in yesterday was in the bathroom down the hall…I hadn’t seen a bat before yesterday, either.”
Wednesday didn’t react to any of that. “I’ll start upstairs and work my way down.”
Enid gave a little squeak and a whine at the thought of being alone in the house. “Do you need me for this, or…can I wait outside?”
“This is your home. You are responsible for it, and that means for the creatures within it. If I’m injured, though it is incredibly unlikely, you’re going to want to be witness to the event so I don’t pull a false insurance claim against you. From the sounds of things, you can’t afford it.”
Grumbling, she took a few breaths. “Wednesday, critters totally freak me out. I know that is totally opposite of my nature – everyone wants to think we’re these blood-thirsty, killing machines, but I’m not like them!” Enid slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing she’d already revealed too much, then tried to backtrack, sputtering her words. “I’m – I’m not a murderer! I’ve never killed anyone! Or anything!”
“Pity,” Wednesday shrugged. “Let’s go to the attic -”
“No, no – I haven’t even made it all the way up, please, Wednesday – can’t we – eek!” She screeched, but not at a mouse, but at the slightly-shorter girl collapsing onto the floor as Enid put the slightest pressure on her shoulder – she almost looked like she was having a seizure for about twenty seconds before she sat up in a gasp. She tugged the respirator off as she caught her breath, brown eyes wide for just a moment until she dropped her shoulders stood up, glancing at the stairs that to the upper floors.
“Are you okay? Should we call somebody? Do you need – rescue medication?”
“I’m fine. Watch yourself on the steps. They seem to be very precarious.”
“Well – yeah, but…how do you…what was that?” Enid wondered, having never seen anything quite like what she just experienced. Wednesday put the respirator back on and started up the steps, deftly ignoring her, opening her backpack again, taking out a can of black spray paint. She shook it up and marked a spot on a specific stair, earning Enid’s, “Hey!”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Wednesday rolled her eyes before capping it and taking off upstairs.
Nervous that she was going to tag additional parts of the house – though she wasn’t sure why – the whole place really should’ve been torched and rebuilt from scratch, Enid hurried up the stairs, following the mysterious pest control girl and asking a half dozen questions in a single breath, all of which were left unanswered.
Mice were skittering about, surprisingly active for the morning, and as Enid caught up to Wednesday, she spotted her with her gloved hand out, kneeling on the dusty, tore up floorboard in one of the secondary bedrooms as a –
“Rat!”
“Neotoma floridana. Eastern woodrat, common to New Jersey, however – less common in residential areas,” She said quietly, approaching Enid, who backed up once the rat contented itself in Wednesday’s palm, nearly as big as her small hand. “They are supposedly more attractive to the human eye due to the sheen of fur that coats their tail compared to their city brown and black rat counterparts.”
“Um, no! It’s not attractive! Ew, Wednesday, why are you holding it?”
“This rat, and these mice, are in excellent shape for an infestation. Usually there are signs of aggression due to food scarcity in abandoned structures like this, but from what I can observe in the dozen or so up here, they are a healthy horde and mischief.”
“Horde and mischief? Are you naming them?”
Wednesday gave her that deadpan look again as she took her portfolio from where it was being waved around in Enid’s frantic hands. “A group of mice is called a horde; a group of rats is called a mischief.”
“Oh. Fitting. So – great. Super. Glad my mice and rats are in good shape and not having rodent fight club up here. So do they just follow you out like some demented Disney princess?”
Wednesday leered.
“So, what’s your plan -eek, Wednesday!”
She shrieked when the rat traveled up to perch on Wednesday’s shoulder. “Relax. She does not appear to be disease-carrying. I need to see the rest of the house before I develop a strategy. Standard German roaches…and, it looks like you may have…” She reached down, picking up the shriveled carcass of a spider. “A brown recluse somewhere around here, too.”
“At least that one’s dead,” She said in a fearful moan.
“This is an exoskeleton – she’s simply gotten bigger,” Wednesday said, keeping it in her hand and Enid honestly felt like she was going to be the one to pass out next with all the creature talk.
“Are you, like – with the New Jersey DNR or something that you can identify all of these?”
Wednesday once again offered no explanation as she moved into the Jack-and-Jill style bathroom between the two smaller bedrooms. “Here’s your snake. It’s just a milk snake – hardly eighteen inches. Was this what you sent in such a panic?”
Her tone suddenly had some sympathy to it and as she held it up, Enid actually needed the toilet to throw up, and remembered that one was out of order. She dashed down the stairs to the other one, barely making it in time. She was so disgusted with what her life had become. She knew that while it was no fault of her own, the infestation of her new home somehow felt like a complete reflection of everything that she’d done up until that point – the mold, the filth, the bugs and vermin all coming down around her like she honestly wished the walls would, too.
There was suddenly a black shadow looming behind her and while Enid’s reaction the day before would’ve been that her house was not only infested, but haunted, or maybe that the mold had grown legs and come to fully attack her, she realized it was just Wednesday. As she heaved for the last time, she gave a little cry and pushed past her after flushing the toilet and moving wordlessly past her.
Heading outside, Enid sat on the step after brushing her teeth with water from the cooler, spitting in her driveway, wondering if she had any dignity left. Chugging a bottle of water, she sat on the steps, waiting for Wednesday to gather more pests up like Snow White…Black.
Whatever.
It was nearly forty minutes later that she emerged from the house. Enid passed over a water bottle, but she politely refused – that one damn rat still on her shoulder. “I avoid consumables in plastics.”
Rolling her eyes as Wednesday dropped her mask over her chin and took a seat beside her, she mumbled, “Well, I bet my pipes are full of lead, too – so if you’re thirsty, it’s here,” Enid mumbled, placing it miserably between them on the stone.
“I could test for lead,” Wednesday offered before stating, “I can return after nightfall to begin the removal pest process.”
“Something tells me, I can’t afford it,” Enid said as she just continued to self-deprecate.
“Confession,” Wednesday started, stiffly glancing off to the side, “I have been seeking access to this property for some time.”
At that, Enid tilted her head in her direction, feeling like she might finally get information out of her.
“You’re not actually in pest control.”
“Not in a career professional sort of sense. But I am very good at removing what are often perceived to be pests from individual properties and relocating them to my menagerie of pets on my own.”
Enid blinked. “You…do pest removal by…letting them live?”
“Of course,” Wednesday finally blinked as if in question. “Why would I kill them when I could study them and return them to their natural ecosystem where they can thrive once they are healthy enough to be relocated from my care?”
“But hardly seemed fazed when I talked about murder in there?”
“Human on human,” She said as if it were obvious. “But I’m not here to discuss the myriad of morbid crimes that interest me. I have had…several run-ins with police while working on getting into this house. I confirmed my suspicion – there is a small cloud, or colony of Lasiurus borealis, also known as red bats, living in your tower attic. They are supposed to be part-time residents in New Jersey, coming from Canada in the late fall and early winter months before following their migration path home. I believe they have been here for two years, and I want to know why before they become an invasive species.”
“What, are you like the local Batgirl or something…or…” She cringed, “Ratgirl?”
Wednesday put her hands on her lap, staring into space. “I like all creatures feared and resented. I find beauty in the unlovable and outcast.” Enid recoiled at the word. “You have a problem with Outcasts?” Wednesday wondered with a sharp tongue, giving a glare.
Enid perched a brow. “You didn’t click onto any of the links in my email signature, did you?” Wednesday just stared her negative. Enid sighed, letting her claws come out, staring sadly at them. “I’m a werewolf.”
Wednesday made no comment at first, simply followed up with a question of her own. “Running from your family pack?”
Enid sighed, wondering if she’d been completely painted transparent. Could Wednesday really see her that easily?
“It’s complicated.”
“I doubt there are many other reasons a socialite from the West suddenly picks up, buys a decrepit property, sight-unseen, with no skill to do any of the work herself.”
“It is more complicated than your assumptions. What am I going to owe you for your services, Wednesday? Please, just tell me so I can move money around?”
Wednesday stood, the rat moving across her shoulder to her other one under her braids and Enid felt her stomach roll at the sight as she finally removed her gloves, somehow silently indicating that she wanted Enid to follow her to her vehicle. Opening her trunk, she revealed a host of materials for catching animals and Wednesday opened a small travel cage, then made a sound. The creature just instinctively headed inside without putting up a single fuss. “I only require your patience. If you are going to work with me, we’re going to do things my way. There is a certain level of treatment I will complete, but I want to get the mammals and reptiles out first. Much as I love entomology, the insects are so numerous that it doesn’t make sense for me to spare them all, though I will collect samples as interest specimens and perhaps, a few for preservation. I will take time this afternoon to consider the myriad of strategies I will employ.”
“You…seriously don’t want me to Venmo or Cashapp you or something?” Enid asked, crossing her arms suspiciously. “I’m not…like – flat-out broke. This is all just turning out to be way more than I was expecting.”
“Clearly.” Wednesday’s dry stare was back and Enid pressed her lips together – wondering if she had the right personality to work with someone so…abrasive. “I will return tonight around dusk. I assume you’re not staying in the house?”
“Clearly,” Enid gave her back and she observed as Wednesday almost smirked at her boldness. “I’m…living in the Jeep, at the moment. Last night I had a meltdown and stayed at a hotel, but – I did convert the Jeep to suit my needs…well, Jeep did a bit of the work for me in exchange for…never mind. Can I give you my phone number, in case you change your mind?”
“I won’t,” Wednesday said decidedly. “I will return with gear at dusk. I expect you to participate – bats are difficult capture, and you should learn how to deal with pests, as it is your future home. These creatures got in and made it theirs, you need to establish dominance. Pretty sure you should be good at that, it’s a werewolf tradition, is it not?” Enid ignored the quip and Wednesday added, “We will develop a schedule for my services after a successful capture of the bats tonight, including finding and sealing entry points and figuring out what their food source could possibly be that the animals are in such good shape.”
Dropping her shoulders and making sure she completely lost her attitude, Enid put on a little smile – not quite worthy of the camera, but in gratitude. “Well, I really appreciate you doing this for me. Are you…are your parents okay with you doing this?”
Wednesday recoiled. “Why would my parents have anything to do with my operations?” Enid bit her lip and Wednesday narrowed her eyes. “How old do you think I am?” Not wanting to incriminate herself, Enid just shrugged. Wednesday looked to the side and Enid swore there was a little blush on her cheeks as she muttered, “I’m twenty-three.”
“Oh. Weird, same,” Enid giggled. “Guess we have one thing in common, then.”
“Two things in common,” Wednesday slammed her trunk and moved around to the driver’s side with a wicked little smirk replacing the nearly embarrassed look. “Tonight, we are both going to catch bats.”