He froze mid-step, eyes narrowing as he spotted Rose sitting at the table with a plate of pasta, happily twirling fusilli on her fork like she belonged there.
"Rose." Charlie's voice was flat, his expression horrified.
Rose looked up, smiled brightly, and waved her fork at him. "Hi, neighbor!"
Charlie set the pizza down with a thunk. "What the hell are you doing in my house?"
Alan frowned, utterly confused. "Charlie, don't be rude. She's your housekeeper, isn't she?"
Rose's smile widened innocently. "Yes, exactly. Housekeeper-slash-actress-slash-hand model."
Charlie's jaw dropped. "Housekeeper? Alan, are you out of your mind? My housekeeper is Bertha. Not… Rose."
Alan blinked. "Wait… so… you're not his housekeeper?"
"You let Rose into my house!" said Charlie angrily.
"But she said she was your maid," Alan protested weakly.
Austin set his fork down and sighed, as though the grown-ups were hopeless. "And you believed her, Dad?"
Alan turned to him, incredulous. "Well—yes! Why wouldn't I?"
Austin gave him a look. "Because no housekeeper in the world wears three-inch heels while mopping floors. You'd last, what, twenty minutes before your ankles gave out?"
Alan blinked. "That's… a good catch."
Before Alan could recover, Charlie cut in, pointing accusingly at Austin. "Hold on a second. If you figured that out, then why didn't you say something?"
Austin shrugged, calm as ever. "Honestly, I thought she was just someone who was in love with you." He tilted his head, studying Charlie with disarming curiosity. "Which reminds me—why aren't you two together?"
Charlie froze. "Well, uh… that's a very… complex situation."
Rose folded her arms, smirking. "Oh, do explain."
Charlie cleared his throat, searching desperately for an exit. "Let's just say… Rose and I had a moment. A brief, passionate… friendship."
Austin blinked, "A friendship?"
Charlie nodded too quickly. "Yup. The kind of friendship where two adults care about each other very much… and then they leave and never talk to each other again."
"So, it was a friendship that lasted for one night?" asked Austin.
"Something like that," said Charlie," You'll understand once you grow up."
"Why is it one night? Why can't it be one day?" asked Jake innocently.
"Well, sometimes, it can be during the daytime. Sometimes, it can be just one hour."
"Or five minutes," muttered Alan.
Charlie blinked, then turned slowly to Alan with a mock look of horror. "Five minutes? Wow, Alan. That's… generous."
Alan threw up his hands. "It was a generalization!"
Charlie smirked. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Just make sure Judith doesn't hear your stopwatch theory."
Before Alan could retaliate, Rose sighed dramatically, stepping closer with dreamy eyes. "You can joke all you want, Charlie, but you can't deny the truth. You and I—we had a connection. It wasn't just passion; it was destiny."
Charlie rubbed his temples. "Rose, destiny doesn't usually show up at my front door at three in the morning with a crowbar and a cheesecake. At least not the one that's fully clothed."
"It was symbolic!" Rose protested. "The crowbar represented how I broke into your heart, and the cheesecake was—"
"—evidence," muttered Charlie.
Austin watched her, fascinated. "So you're saying you love him… even though he clearly doesn't want to be with you?"
Rose nodded solemnly. "Love isn't about logic. It's about devotion. I would do anything for Charlie."
"Okay, we are getting off track here. Rose, thank you for
Charlie clapped his hands together, forcing a cheerful tone. "Okay! And on that mildly concerning note, we are officially getting off track. Rose, thank you for coming, always a pleasure—good talk, goodbye!"
Rose smiled sweetly. "Bye, Charlie."
She turned and headed toward the balcony. Everyone assumed she was leaving through the door—until she swung a leg over the railing.
Alan blinked. "Is she—?"
Charlie didn't even look. "Yep."
A soft thud echoed from below, followed by the faint jingle of wind chimes and a muffled "I'm okay!"
"Awesome," said Jake.
Austin's fork clattered on the plate. "So… she just climbs down from the balcony?"
Alan rubbed his temples. "Charlie, you can't just let someone exit your home like a cartoon burglar."
Charlie sighed. "Alan, at this point, I'm just grateful she used the balcony and not the air vents again."
"I'm done eating, Dad. I'll start on my homework right now," said Austin, already standing up.
"I'll watch TV, Dad," Jake chimed in, stretching like a cat who'd earned it.
Alan turned, voice slipping into parent mode. "No, Jake. You finish your homework first—then you can rot your brain with cartoons."
Jake groaned but trudged after his brother toward their room.
Halfway down the hall, they stopped.
"Grandma!" Jake cheered, running to Evelyn Harper. She crouched gracefully, wrapping him in a hug that smelled faintly of Chanel and expensive decisions.
"Hello, darling," Evelyn said smoothly. "You've grown so much. You'll be taller than your father soon—though, let's face it, a coat rack could manage that."
Jake grinned. "Hi, Grandma!"
Austin hung back a few steps, watching them. Evelyn Harper, mother of Alan Harper and Charlie Harper. Austin never liked her too much. She walked with an air of self-importance, and nothing else mattered to her. She had to have the final say. Nevertheless, she treated her grandchildren well, so there was something good about her. 'Some people make better grandmothers than mothers, I suppose,' thought Austin.
"Hello, Grandma," he said aloud, smiling politely. "Still working in real estate?"
Evelyn's eyes lit up, pleased at the question—and more so at the opportunity to talk about herself. "Of course, dear. I'm always in real estate. It's not a job—it's an art form. Right now, I'm trying to close a deal on this magnificent coastal property. Been courting this self-important tech mogul for months."
Austin blinked at the sudden influx of information," That's good to… hear, I think."
Evelyn's expression softened—well, as much as Evelyn's expression ever could. "Where's your father, boys?"
"In the dining room," said Austin.
"Still eating," added Jake, pointing down the hall with a noodle of a finger.
"Of course he is," Evelyn sighed dramatically, adjusting her immaculate pearl necklace. "I swear, that man chews slower than escrow paperwork."
Before either boy could react, Evelyn swooped in like a hawk in heels, planting a firm, lipstick-heavy smooch on each of their cheeks.
"Now run along, my darlings," she cooed, waving her manicured hand as if dismissing an audience. "Grandma has to go rescue your father from another one of life's many... mishandled negotiations."
Jake and Austin both froze in the aftermath of the assault.
"Ugh!" Jake rubbed at his cheek with his sleeve. "Why is it sticky?"
From behind them, Evelyn called, "Don't wipe off Grandma's love!"
"Too late," muttered Austin.
…
The night had settled comfortably over Malibu, quiet except for the hum of laughter and the clinking of poker chips. The living room was thick with cigar smoke and the smell of whiskey—an unmistakable sign that Charlie Harper's weekly poker night was in full swing.
Around the table sat Charlie and his usual band of misfits—Mike, Rodney, Ken, Doug, and Lenny—all mid-hand and mid-banter. Jake, still in his pajamas, stood just behind Charlie's shoulder, watching with the intensity of someone witnessing a high-stakes heist. Austin sat slouched on the couch nearby, legs tucked under him, a fully solved Mirror Cube placed on the table in front of him. He kept on glancing at the countdown, waiting for it to reach the next check-in.
[INTERSTELLAR QUEST SYSTEM]
Planet: Earth
Last Check-in: 10 years ago (Birth)
Next Check-in: 2h 32m 10s
'Welcome to the longest two hours of my life,' thought Austin.
Meanwhile, the adults were engaged in an intense game of poker. "Last card, down and dirty," Mike announced, flicking cards to each player. "King's bet."
"Dollar," said Rodney, tossing in a chip.
"I'm in," Ken added.
"Me too," said Mike, tapping the table.
Charlie studied his hole cards, unaware that his movement gave Jake a perfect view of them. He grinned. "I'll see the dollar—and raise it five."
The chips clinked dramatically as they hit the pile.
Jake frowned. "You raised five dollars on that?"
Instantly, everyone at the table reacted to the tidbit of information.
"I call," said Lenny.
"I call," Doug echoed.
"I call," Rodney added.
"Call," said Ken.
"Make it six calls," Mike finished. "Show 'em."
For a heartbeat, Charlie's face was a picture of anguish—then it melted into smug satisfaction as he flipped his cards. "Queens full of nines, gentlemen."
The men groaned.
"Hey, kid," Lenny said, pointing his cigar at Jake. "You even know what a full house is?"
Jake grinned, leaning closer to Charlie. "Uh-huh. I also know what a psych-out is."
Charlie laughed, proud as ever, and slapped Jake a high-five. "He knows what a psych-out is! I love this boy!"
Jake beamed. "Austin taught me."
Every head turned toward the couch. Austin lowered his comic slowly, sighing like a man haunted by his own generosity. "And I regret it ever since," he said dryly. "That's what I get for trying to teach Jake about fractions—somehow it turned into a lesson on gambling odds."
The table erupted in laughter.
Jake shrugged innocently. "Well, you said math teaches you when to take risks."
"Out of context," responds Austin," I said to take risks when the math supports you."
Austin shifted on the couch, tapping his fingers on the armrest. The poker chatter was loud, but his mind wandered—he needed a distraction from the countdown that had been gnawing at him all evening. Glancing down, he remembered the twenty-dollar bill he'd slipped from Dad's wallet earlier—a secret indulgence he'd been saving for just such a night.
"You know what?" he said aloud, standing up. "Maybe I'll join. Could use a little mindless fun."
Jake's eyes lit up, bouncing on his toes. "I want to play too!"
Charlie shook his head, raising a finger. "Hold on, kid. You need money to play, and the minimum buy-in here is twenty dollars."
"What's a minimum buy-in?" asked Jake.
"It's the amount of money needed to join a game," replied Austin.
Jake pouted. "I have… I have imaginary money!"
Austin smirked, laying a crisp twenty-dollar bill on the table. "Well, my money's verified by Uncle Sam," he said with mock gravitas.
The adults exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of amusement and moral discomfort. Charlie leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender. "You're really letting him do this?"
Austin shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Afraid a kid's gonna clean out your wallets? Or are you just afraid he's gonna outplay you?"
Charlie's smirk returned. "All right, fine. He can play."
Jake's eyes practically sparkled with excitement. "Really?! Can I join?"
"No," said Austin," You don't have 20 dollars. You can watch, though."
"I'm older. I should be playing," protested Jake.
"Tell you what, let me loan you 20 dollars. If you win more than 20 dollars, you keep the rest. If you end up with less, then you owe me," said Charlie.
"You're letting a kid play poker," said Austin incredulously.
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Right, stupid question," muttered Austin.
"Well, it's your funeral, kids," said Mike.