Miss Trailerhood

Home > Other > Miss Trailerhood > Page 5
Miss Trailerhood Page 5

by Carina Taylor


  “Let’s go!” I called as I practically sprinted out the door.

  He followed behind me, pausing to lock the door.

  “You really don’t have to bother with that.”

  “I always lock my doors.” He scrunched his eyebrows together.

  I laughed and shook my head. As if locking a paper-thin door was going to keep anyone out. He was dreaming.

  “Riley! Who’s that with you?”

  Excellent timing. The Trailerhood busy bodies, Elise and Sam, were standing on their front deck, watching us suspiciously, even though they knew exactly who he was.

  I reached behind me and grabbed Nate’s arm. “Elise, Sam, this is our new neighbor.”

  I shoved him forward. It only worked because he let me. He crossed the street in front of me and stopped at the bottom of their steps. “It’s great to meet you.” He extended his hand, shaking both of theirs in turn. “You have a beautiful deck here.”

  He gestured to the small porch made of treated wood that was covered with pots of fake plants. I watched in awe as Elise smiled at him, keeping her cigarette firmly clamped between her teeth. “We’ve put a lot of work into this. Have to water my plants morning and night.”

  Nate would soon learn that the reason she watered those plants morning and night was because she wanted to watch everything that went on in the trailer park.

  “I can see that. You’ve created quite the oasis here.” He nodded toward a particularly waxy fern. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I’d missed his dry sense of humor. I was glad he hadn’t lost that.

  “Why don’t you come in and tell us all about yourself?” Elise suggested. “Sam, go get us a cold pop from the cellar.”

  Sam nodded and trotted down the steps toward an old truck bed toolbox. He opened the lid and loaded his arms with drinks.

  I turned around just in time to see Nate mouth, “The cellar?” to me over the top of Elise’s head.

  “Elise, Nate here isn’t much of a cook. I’m worried that he hasn’t had breakfast yet today...”

  “Say no more.” Sam grunted as he walked past. “I made breakfast today.”

  This was turning out better than I thought.

  The four of us sat down to breakfast, and I had the overwhelming pleasure of watching them serve Nate a powdered-egg-and-Spam breakfast burrito. My smile grew with every bite he choked down.

  It was fifteen minutes of pure joy on my part and sheer agony on his. Elise asked him about a million questions about himself—questions that he deftly turned around on her and got her to talk about her favorite subject: trailer park gossip.

  “I hate to run, but I know you both are so busy, and Riley needed to show me around before she takes off on her busy—” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “So, so, so incredibly busy day.”

  “Oh yes,” Elise agreed. “Our Riley is something else. She works all the time. We’re so proud of her and how she has made herself a little star.”

  I stood up quickly, determined to cut them off. I didn’t want to answer Nate’s questions about what kind of work I did. He would get a lot of mileage out of my job choice. “Got to go!”

  I tugged on Nate’s arm. “Actually, I want to hear more about your star—“

  “Maybe later, if you’re a good boy.” I waved goodbye to Sam and Elise, dragging Nate out of the trailer after me.

  “Friendly people.”

  I side-eyed him as I marched us past the fake ferns, the plastic flamingos, and back onto the cracked street.

  “All full?” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.

  “I have to admit it’s the first time I’ve had a Spam breakfast burrito with a Coke. It might grow on me.”

  “You’re disgusting.” I faked a gag.

  “Maybe you should try it. You seem crankier than I remember. Maybe a change of diet would do you good.”

  He reached over and ruffled my beach waves I’d worked so hard on that morning. (I didn’t want to stop and examine why I’d been so obsessed with my appearance this morning.) Old reflexes kicked in, and I reached over to smack his stomach. “Don’t touch my hair.”

  An engine purred quietly behind us, and I tugged Nate to the side of the street so that he wouldn’t become a permanent speed bump in the trailer park. A shiny black SUV with dark-tinted windows drove by.

  “Who’s that?”

  “We all call him Gunrunner Gabe.”

  Nate stopped and turned to face me. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes?”

  “He’s a gun runner? Why don’t you report him to the police?”

  A motorcycle revved and then stopped next to the SUV at the corner. Johnny, who was driving the motorcycle, took off his helmet and started chatting with Gabe.

  “Well, it seems pointless to report him to the police when he already knows them so well.”

  Nate cleared his throat. “Remember that time you came home high from the dentist? And you made no sense?”

  “Yes...” I remembered that instance clearly—or unclearly, as it were. Nate had been surprisingly sweet, delivering me frozen yogurt while I lay on the couch. Sharon and Rob had given me permission to stay over at the Mercier’s house after I’d had my wisdom teeth pulled. I thought Nate had finally matured and was being thoughtful. Turned out that he recorded an entire conversation of me talking about sharks that live in trees, all with a numb mouth. He probably still had that video somewhere.

  “You’re making that much sense right now.” He pointed at the car. “What is going on there? Should I be worried about your safety?”

  “Not too worried. Gabe’s nice, and he hands out great Christmas baskets every year. Johnny, the man on the motorcycle who just drove by after him, is an undercover cop.” I walked a little faster, hoping I could get around the corner fast enough for him to meet Nascar Jim.

  “Kristin lives there with her kids.” I pointed to a house down a side street. The kids were already outside playing basketball in the street.

  “Are all those hers?”

  “Nobody knows. If we see a kid in the area, we just assume it’s Kristin’s.”

  My speed-walk was Nate’s normal walk, and that bothered me. I stamped forward, trying futilely to outpace him. We turned the corner down a little side avenue of the trailer park. And there was Nascar Jim.

  In all of his glory.

  Nate had spotted him, too. I could tell by the choked sounds coming from his direction. “What the—“

  “Hey, Riley!” Jim turned around and waved at us.

  Nate squeaked next to me.

  Nascar Jim wore his tighty-whities—and nothing else. They were a little threadbare and had a few holes.

  “Why is he naked?” Nate asked me.

  “He doesn’t like to get his clothes dirty when he’s gardening,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth.

  Nate turned back to look at the man busily watering his plants in the small, raised bed next to his single-wide.

  The house was black and had a large number three painted on the side.

  “Who’s your friend?” he asked as he squinted at Nate.

  I quickly introduced him to Nate who greeted him while busily trying to look anywhere else but at the pasty-white, unclothed man.

  “You know, these little beetles are infesting my tomato plants again. I just don’t know what to do. Here, look.” Nascar Jim turned around and bent over the flower bed, studying his plant leaves closely.

  “Dear Lord, I need a hedge of protection,” Nate muttered under his breath. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing as a rather large, white rear end faced us.

  Nate held a hand in front of his face, shielding the obscene sight from view.

  I leaned around Jim to look at the plants. “That looks like a slug is getting to them, Jim. I’ve got some slug bait back at my place. I’ll bring you some later this afternoon.”

  “But I haven’t even seen any slugs!” He stared at his flower bed as if he could conjure up a s
lug at that moment.

  “Try coming out early tomorrow morning.” I knew Jim never rose before nine, which was probably why he never caught those slugs in action.

  “See! More proof you can’t trust early risers. They’re all out to get your tomato plants.”

  “Well, if you keep after them, you’ll get them. If you don’t want to use bait, you could sprinkle a thick layer of salt around the base of your flower bed. It might deter a few of them.”

  Jim finally stood up, and Nate sighed with relief. “You know I like the more natural remedies when I deal with my plants. Thanks for helping me.”

  Nate pointed at the enormous pile of beer cans in front of the trailer and scowled quizzically.

  I was glad Jim wasn’t facing him.

  “Just let me know if you need anything else!”

  “I got the new Territorial Seed company catalog. Want to come in and take a look?”

  “I don’t have time right now, Jim. I’ve got to give Nate the tour before he has to leave.”

  A large hand reached over and pinched my side lightly. I’d have to get him back for that.

  We waved goodbye to Jim then walked down the street.

  “I think I’m blinded by the light.”

  I snickered, even though I did my best to hold in a laugh.

  It felt annoyingly good to be around Nate again. And I wasn’t so sure I wanted to drive him away.

  Which was a problem, because we were from two different worlds.

  Chapter Six

  Nate

  She was still closed off to me.

  I thought I had finally broken through her walls when she showed up to my trailer and offered to introduce me to her neighbors. But after the “tour,” I was sure of one thing: she was doing her best to get rid of me.

  I knew what she was up to. She was trying to scare me away by showing me the “rough” side of trailer-park life. Jim and his threadbare underwear had nearly worked. I still needed to bleach my eyes out. Unfortunately, I hadn’t bought any of that when I did my big shopping trip after kicking Riley out of my trailer the first day I moved in.

  I sat in my single-wide on the beanbag couch that FedEx had dropped off on my porch when I’d been walking around the neighborhood. I’d immediately pulled it out of the box and set it up in the living room. It was comfortable as heck.

  After the tour of the trailer park, Riley had hurried off to her trailer, mumbling something about her work and a live. When I tried to ask what she did—even though I had already figured it out—she sprinted off, leaving me standing next to Gabe the Gunrunner’s house. He was one of the double-wide owners.

  I hurried away from there and went back to my new place to get some work done.

  It felt great to be away from Portland and my apartment I rented with two other guys. We’d originally rented an apartment together because we all traveled so much it was nice to trade off with whom was home to keep an eye on things. But I ended up spending more and more time there in between jobs.

  This trailer park already suited me better. No loud background noise. No random girlfriends popping in all the time. No one blaring the TV or trying to carry on a conversation with me when, obviously, I didn’t want to talk. It was actually nice to have a space all to myself, even if it was falling down around my ears.

  I glanced up at the warped, cracked ceiling. Yup. It definitely needed work.

  I scrolled through my laptop, editing some photos I had taken from my last trip. Extras that I would probably sell to an indie magazine or somewhere online. I’d already sent my client the photos they needed. He’d only paid me for the photos he wanted to keep, rather than paying me for an exclusive shoot. Now I didn’t have another job lined up for another month.

  It had been perfect timing to run into Riley.

  As far as I could tell, Riley still thought I was a bum living off my parents’ money. She figured I dropped out of college because I didn’t like the work. Not true. I dropped out of college because I found other work I liked better. Photography was way more fun than business.

  What she didn’t know was that I could see through her paltry attempt at photoshopping backgrounds on her social media. I clicked open the tab on my laptop to her Instagram page. Oh yeah, I’d finally put two and two together. It also helped that she had #crazyplantlady stenciled on the wall in her trailer. It made it easy to find her. She had one heck of a following. She’d done well for herself.

  Her lifestyle Instagram was eye-catching. She had the perfect combination to draw people in. She was beautiful, unique, smart, and a talented deceiver. She gave them a portion of the story, and it made her followers want more. They asked her questions. Questions that she answered in the comments rather than with another photo.

  I grinned as I clicked on a photo of her standing in front of her trailer with a false desert background. #arizonadeserts.

  Yeah, that looked more like Idaho to me when I looked closely. But it was enough of a blur that she could get away with it, even with Arizona natives. Several Arizona dwellers had commented on the photo, saying, “I’ve been to this exact same spot!”

  As if standing on the same stretch of desert built a greater connection to Riley.

  I couldn’t even blame her followers—not when I had the same urge to connect with her.

  I spent the next few hours reviewing her photos and liking every single one, adding annoying comments on some. I wondered if she was as curious about me as I was about her. I wanted to know what she’d been up to since I last saw her. I wondered if she thought the same.

  Curiosity killed the cat, they say, and there was a knock on my door that I was pretty sure was the cat.

  I glanced at the clock. It was already five o’clock. I’d spent most the afternoon cyber-stalking Riley. I closed my laptop and took my time putting it away. Another knock sounded, shaking the thin front door. I made my way toward it.

  “May I help you?” I asked after I opened it to find Riley standing on the porch, a serene smile on her face. Faker.

  “I was just coming over to see if you wanted to come to a neighborhood barbecue.” She smiled reassuringly, as though she had buried the hatchet. I knew better. But I was up for the challenge.

  “Hang on while I grab my phone.”

  I left the door open and walked into the kitchen to grab my cell phone and car keys. I didn’t mind so much if someone got into the house, but I wanted some kind of warning if they did. I wasn’t ready to lose my new laptop.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place!” Riley commented from where she now stood in the center of my living room. She gestured to my beanbag couch.

  “All right, so it’s not home sweet home yet, but it will get there.”

  “Oh, I know it will,” she replied patronizingly.

  I scowled. “Are we going to the barbecue or not?”

  She scurried out of the house, a guilty expression on her face. “I don’t want you to be bored tonight. I’m second-guessing inviting you now. I know you’re used to so many more exciting things, Mr. Drop-Out-of-College-and-Explore-the-World.”

  “College was the most boring years of my life.”

  She flattened her lips together. “You were there for a term. You don’t do boring.”

  I slung my arm around her shoulders and tugged her to my side. “Nothing is boring with you, Ri-bear.”

  “I was hoping you would say that,” she laughed.

  Something smelled like gas in the air. I wondered what kind of barbecue we were going to. We rounded the corner, and on the empty lot across from Johnny’s, there were about fifty people milling around. But that wasn’t what made me stop.

  “What are they doing?”

  Her innocent face was cracking. Riding lawn mowers sat on a chalked red line in the middle of the street. She looked positively gleeful.

  “Oh, they’re having the lawn mower races.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious.”

  “So, th
ey just get on the lawn mowers and race to the end?”

  “No. They have to make three loops around the trailer park.”

  “That sounds like the most boring thing in the world.”

  Riley hummed quietly under her breath.

  She turned and crossed the street to where a man in a back brace was topping off his riding mower with gas.

  “Are you racing?” I asked the man—Eldon, I think his name was. We were next-door neighbors, and I’d had the great fortune of being woken up by that lawn mower engine, if I wasn’t mistaken. Now I knew why they had all those lawn mowers when they didn’t have big yards.

  “Can’t.” Eldon patted the back brace around his middle.

  I scowled when the man placed a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “I need you. My back won’t let me sit down.”

  He grimaced.

  “Are you sure?” Riley asked.

  “I can’t do it. I need someone to drive for me.”

  Riley nodded once then turned to look at me with a calculating look in her eye.

  “Actually, I think Nate would be the perfect driver for you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Nate

  She volunteered me for a lawn mower race. Was she crazy?

  The man latched onto my arm. “Oh, would you, son? I’ve seen the way you drive that Jeep. I’d feel good having a feller—“

  “Fellow,” Riley muttered under her breath.

  The man continued, “Like you driving. I know we’d stand a chance. Riley drives like a grandma.”

  I looked at Riley in surprise. She drove like a grandma? That was news to me. I’d had many a prayer service when I rode with her during high school.

  The pleading look in the man’s eyes finally got to me. I mean, what could it hurt to drive in a lawn mower race? What was the worst that could happen?

  “Sure, I’ll do it.”

  “You’re such a good feller,” he repeated.

  “Fellowwww,” Riley groaned.

  Eldon frowned as he studied my face. “You sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  Riley practically levitated with glee at my response.

 

‹ Prev