by Manuel Tiger
I pulled down the visor and checked myself over, brushing my fingers through my hair then grabbed a container of breath mints and popped one into my mouth. I sucked on it slowly as the mint erupted with a chilling sensation to fill my mouth. I then grabbed my jacket and that of my messenger bag that contained my past work and most recent work which to say, I hoped my past work showed I was a capable writer.
The last two months I had done nothing but human interest stories that had ranged from dog shows, a boat race and a wine tasting event. That should have been a sign that I was nosediving when I ceased getting the compelling stories I once did.
I exited my car and approached the gate, pushing it open and started up the walkway.
All around me bird songs filled the air and the occasional sound of passing traffic. The storm clouds had semi-broken up, but I could hear the roll of thunder still marching overhead.
I paused by the fountain and held one hand out into the falling water watching it run over my fingers, drip from them.
“I used to do the same as a child.”
I looked up to see a middle age woman standing on the porch with graying hair. She was small in stature, tiny really, like a bird, and dressed in a floral gown of dark blue. Around her neck resided a triple strand pearl necklace and adorning the fingers of her right hand were that of many diamond rings, sparkling as she beckoned to me.
“Mister Sullivan?” she said as I mounted the stairs.
“Yes ma’am, Henry Sullivan to be exact. I’m to have a meeting with the editor and owner of the Heaven Falls Gazette at two.”
“You’re an hour early,” the woman said. “But that is a good sign. I love punctuality in my reporters.” She extended a hand toward me. “Belle Dawn Merriweather.”
I took her offered hand and gave her a firm handshake.
“Let’s go inside before the rain starts, Mister Sullivan,” she said releasing my hand and casting a glance upward. The storm clouds were now back in full force, swallowing up the sun. “Around here the storms tend to bring out things.”
I frowned at that rather odd statement, but said nothing and followed her into the house.
As I sat in the front parlor my eyes were drawn to the various paintings that hung on the walls of what could only be past Merriweather ancestors and residents. They looked no different than the paintings on the walls of my former family home, of those stern looking Puritan ancestors that always seemed to be condemning the viewer.
Here and there resided antique looking tables, cut crystal vases filled with fresh flowers and the furniture which Belle Dawn – as she promptly told me to call her – and I sat on looked like museum pieces that I was half afraid to put my entire weight on so I sat forward, perched like a bird ready to take flight.
“Tell me Mister Sullivan,” Belle Dawn said as she settled into her high back chair. “Is this your first time to the South? To Virginia?” she asked, her blue eyes sparkling and bright like stars.
“Yes, well, during my first year at college I did come to Virginia Beach with a…with a, ah, um, friend once. But it was just for the weekend and we only stayed at the hotel near the beach.” Okay so it wasn’t a friend. It was a one night stand and the next morning they had asked me if I wanted to go with them for the weekend down to Virginia Beach for a wedding. I had nothing else planned so agreed. I ended up having to catch a flight back to Boston as they hooked up with someone else at the wedding.
At least I had seen the beach.
“You don’t have to be afraid to speak of your sexuality around me Mister Sullivan,” she said with a smile. “Your previous boss, dear Stephen, informed me of your preference. As if that should even matter to me,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “But it is Heaven Falls. I just wouldn’t go about announcing it too openly if you understand my meaning?”
I did.
“The town likes to think it has progressed with the times, but as you will find out? It is still rather stuck in the past, at times staunchly refusing to accept the changes occurring in the world, in America, around it.”
A young Spanish woman in a gray maid’s outfit came into the room then carrying a silver tea service. She sat it down on the table beside Belle Dawn and began pouring cups. I took a cup and once she departed Belle Dawn began speaking again.
“I’m quite aware of your work Mister Sullivan,” she said sipping her tea slowly. “Stephen was kind enough to email me some of it and I must say? I’m quite impressed. I’m also surprised that someone of your talent would have allowed yourself to end up writing fluff pieces for the paper when your skills are clearly in other areas. Such as the coverage on the trial of that accountant who scammed people out of their money. You fairly weighed him in your pieces, neither condemning him nor making him appear innocent. Takes a talented writer to do that.”
“Well thank you,” I said taking a sip of the tea. “I’ve been told it’s my best piece that I have done. Right up there with the coverage on the landlord and his purposely neglecting to update the buildings which became apparent when one caught fire and resulted in several families dying.”
“Yes, I did read that piece,” she said setting her cup and saucer down. “Boiled my blood the direct quotes you got from him for the article.”
“He wasn’t sorry,” I said. “He was only sorry that he had been caught.”
“Agreed, you presented it that way, but again, you were fair in your reporting.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled and held her gaze on me for a moment.
“I will be starting you off right away, Mister Sullivan. You will be covering the weekend celebrations that are starting tomorrow, Friday, for the Fourth of July. This town tends to go all out with concerts in the park, cook offs and several parades culminating at the football field with the fireworks show on Sunday.”
“That soon?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, not at all. It’s just that I have yet to find a place to move into. Not that I have much at the moment to move as everything I own currently is in my car.”
“I have taken care of securing for you a residence,” she said. “I happen to own some townhouses near the newspaper office. Of course first rent will be taken from your first check. Don’t worry for much won’t be taken out. I have no need for more money, obviously.”
“Well, thank you Belle Dawn,” I said unable to believe my luck.
“You’re quite welcome Mister Sullivan,” she said taking up her tea. “However, there are some things I must tell you about the town so that you are aware of how it is here.”
“Such as?”
“I would advise that you not linger after dark in the town,” she said holding her cup posed near her lips, her blue eyes fastened on me. “Trouble is all that is to be found after midnight. Also avoid the forests to the south of the town. People have been known to become lost in them, even the most experienced have fallen prey to the quicksand bogs and marshes that dot the area.”
“Noted,” I replied.
She held her gaze on me for a long time then nodded her head, placing her cup and saucer to the side as she picked up a silver bell and rung it, its clear chime filling the house.
The maid soon appeared again this time holding an envelope in her hand that she handed off to Belle Dawn before retreating out of the room once more.
“You’ll find the key to your townhouse here as well as the number to it,” she said waving the envelope. “It is furnished. If however you do not like the furniture you may exchange it out for something more to your liking Mister Sullivan.” She extended the envelope to me and I took it, thanking her again. “Of note Mister Sullivan? I will be sending one of my reporters over to meet you to guide you through the three days. Come Monday I will have some things for you to start working on for the paper.”
“I can’t thank you enough Belle Dawn,” I said smiling from ear to ear.
“You are welcome again, Mister Sullivan. I hope that you find Heaven
Falls to your liking while you reside here with us.”
“I’m sure that I will.”
It was a twenty minute drive from Bell Dawn’s stately residence to the Riverwalk Townhouses, appropriately named for the nearby river that cut a snaking course through that part of town.
And that area of the town was like stepping back into time, or into a storybook setting.
One moment I was driving on paved, smooth road the next it became cobblestones with houses in pastel shades residing on hilled lots to my left and right.
The houses all appeared to date to quite possibly the American Revolution for some resembled nothing more than simple log cabins but updated ever so slightly to keep its original style. Mixed in were those antebellum era houses made of stone and wood or that of the familiar red-brown brick that began to appear the further one drove.
I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if a spirit in early America attire, or Daniel Boone himself, was to float in front of my car at any moment.
I finally arrived at the townhouses and pulled my car into the parking area in front of them.
The townhouses looked to have been at one time a single three story brick home which had dominated the parcel of land that it had been built on before they were reborn as their current incarnation.
Divided down the middle each were painted a light to dark brown and had wrought iron lacework festooned to the front outlining the windows and balconies. It was similar to the homes and buildings in New Orleans I had seen once during a family trip to that city when I was ten.
Across from the townhouses was that of businesses that seemed to go with theme of early America.
One was a bakery, another a sewing supply store, then a coffee shop and a used bookstore. Ending it off was the two story offices of the Heaven Falls Gazette, my new place of work.
At least I wouldn’t have to fight traffic, I thought as I made my way to the middle townhouse staring up at it with the key to it in my hand as a light rain fell on me.
This was to be my new home. This was to my place of starting over for however long it would take me to attain those heights I had once enjoyed.
Now, if only my demons would stay away as they had been doing everything should go well.
The inside of the townhouse was more spacious than it looked on the outside. The living room was filled with tasteful looking furniture in the form of a couch flanked by two overstuffed chairs, end tables, a coffee table and medium sized TV which resided on a dark oak table before the curtained bay windows.
I couldn’t help but notice that the furniture looked like reproductions of what I had seen in Belle Dawn’s parlor, right down to the large rug that covered the hardwood floor and ended at the dining area.
The kitchen itself was large, easy enough for several people to move around in at the same time. Off to the right of the kitchen was a small laundry room and storage closet. Going upstairs I found the master bedroom, a guest room and a large bathroom that contained a shower and a claw footed bathtub. A door near the bathroom held stairs that ended in what had once been the attic now turned into a storage.
Overall it was a nice place and I was sure I would adjust to living here.
At eight the next morning I woke to a loud persistent knocking at the front door. Making my way downstairs in my robe, tying it off around the waist before I answered the door, I was greeted by the tanned, handsome, blue eyed smiling face of a young man.
“Good morning!” he greeted with a dazzling white smile. “I believe Miss Merriweather told you to expect me? You are Henry Sullivan yes?” he said in a southern drawl. He was dressed in a white shirt open at the throat, cream colored slacks and dress shoes that looked freshly polished. “I’m Mayfield Wright, your fellow reporter from the gazette?” he hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the paper’s office across the street.
“Right, right,” I said wiping the sleep from my eyes. Gray clouds were rolling across the sky revealing patches of blue. “You’re to show me around the town today while I cover the events going on.”
“That would be correct, Mister Sullivan.” Again that flashing smile was given forth.
“Please, just call me Henry,” I said opening the door wider and stepping aside, gesturing for him to come inside. “Let me take a quick shower, dress and I’ll be ready to start the day with you.”
“Of course, of course. You may call me Mayfield,” he said as I closed the door behind him. “I see Miss Merriweather has given you one of the nicer townhouses. I lived a door down when I first arrived here to work and now live up on Dale Street. It’s a nice neighborhood filled with homes dating back to the twenties and thirties.” He turned to face me. “Have you seen much of the town yet, Henry?”
“Only a glimpse when I passed through Mayfield,” I replied. “Please, have a seat. I’ll get ready quickly and we can begin the day.”
“Of course,” he replied moving further into the living room. “Must be quite the change our town is after Boston.”
“How you know I’m from Boston?” I said pausing halfway up the stairs.
“Oh, word gets around quickly in a town like Heaven Falls, Henry,” he said flashing that smile and adding a wink this time. He let his gaze linger on me for a few beats before he slowly turned away to take a seat in the closest chair.
I wondered how much had gotten around about me already, but by the way he was eying me? I was pretty sure as to what information he had interested himself with the most.
The first day was spent interviewing residents as well as taking photos of the Boom-Boom Market, a flea market that was held annually in the town park in the days leading up to the fourth of July. The second day was spent BBQ tasting and interviewing the cooks as well as taking photos of the children’s fourth of July parade, a yearly event since the Sixties. By the third day it was abundantly clear that Mayfield Wright was quite interested in me.
Each time we were interviewing someone he would move behind me, his hand grazing my ass or he found some excuse to touch me, lean against me or simply invade my personal space. I wasn’t one for office hook ups as I had learned the hard way a few times that can lead to a rather tense work environment when one of the two that had agreed to not develop feelings does anyway and then it’s all downhill from there.
But it had been a while since I had been with anyone sexually, at least nearing a month. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to sample the local produce and compare it to what was found in the city.
After the fireworks show in the football field Mayfield invited me to accompany him to the local pool hall on the outskirts of the town for a game of pool and drinks.
“It’s where most of the young ones like us tend to go,” he said leaning against my car door gazing down at me with what could only be described as a hungry gaze.
“Well, it’s still early,” I said checking my watch. “One or two rounds of pool then I have to call it a night. Miss Merriweather phoned me a little while ago saying she wished for me to be in early so we could look at the photos and what I had written down for the article to appear in this Wednesday’s edition.”
“Of course, of course,” he said. “I’ll see you there Henry.”
I watched him turn and leave to head to his car.
I shook my head as I started up my car. He seemed like he would be the possessive type if not the stalker type. Perhaps it would be better to keep him at a distance I concluded pulling out of the school parking lot and following him.
The pool hall was called Rumbling Rowdy, named after – as Mayfield told me – Rowdy Goldenrod who was something of a celebrity around Heaven Falls for having once been a golden weight boxer. Once he retired from boxing he had come back home and opened up the two and half story pool hall on the outskirts of the town.
The pool hall was surrounded on one side by an open field that butted up against the gravel parking lot and on the other side by the river and a steel tussle bridge that crossed it. Already a mist was rising up to shro
ud it, nearly obscuring bridge and river both.
“If you ever want to go hiking up in the mountains?” Mayfield pointed to the dark shadowy hint of them in the far distance. “Just let me know. I’ve been out there a few times. Quite a lot of secluded places to enjoy.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said as we entered the pool hall.
Rock music greeted us as we stepped through the door as did the haze of cigarette smoke and liquor. The floor was covered in a thick layer of peanut shells that crunched underfoot.
“It’s custom to throw your peanut shells down on the floor,” Mayfield shouted above the music.
“Why?”
“You know? I never really asked.” He squeezed my arm. “I’ll go order us our beers. Be right back.”
I nodded and hooked my thumbs into the front pockets of my jeans, taking in more of the pool hall.
Tables and booths filled the area as well as a large dance floor in the center that was currently filled with dancers. My eyes were drawn to a dark headed male in the center that seemed to be grinding up between a male and a female that flanked him, each vying for his attention as their hands caressed some part of his upper or lower body. I watched as he grinned and would turn every few minutes toward the male then the female giving both as equal amounts of attention as he could.
He was simply gorgeous, so I did not find it hard to believe that both genders would want to be with him.
I watched as the female parted his shirt with a tug revealing a lean muscular body beneath as he grinned and laughed, shaking a finger at her before kissing her on the lips before the male grabbed at his chest, drawing his attention back to him to receive a kiss as well.
All of sudden he leaned back from the male, whipping his head in my direction and focused his blue eyes on me as if he had sensed me watching him, but that was impossible. I was in the gloomiest part of the bar, not even standing in any of the overhead lights. Yet, he was looking directly at me the smile leaving his lips, his stare suddenly becoming penetrating, capturing, as I involuntary took a step back.