“Have fun at the party,” she said. “Love ya.”
“Love you, too, Mom.” The words echoed back to her from the garage as Mara stepped into sight from behind the same door frame.
“What was he doing here?” Mara asked, not attempting to hide the contempt in her voice.
Lenore huffed. Wonderful. We're already starting off on the wrong foot.
“He left his costume and had to come back to get it,” she answered, checking the time. 3:29PM. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?”
“You and Dad said three-thirty, so I’m home at three-thirty.” Mara put on a fake grin and placed her right hand on her hip. “Reporting for solitary confinement.”
Shaking her head from side to side, Lenore met her sarcasm, “Well, the warden won’t be here for a few hours so you can roam the entire prison for a while.”
“Funny,” Mara mocked with a heavy breath and rolling eyes. “I think I’ll stick to my room.”
Lenore watched the gentle waves of her brown and blond locks bob up and down as she walked up the stairs and disappeared behind the landing. Lenore looked down to nowhere specific and leaned heavily against the wall. Her whole body sighed. Is this how their relationship was destined to remain the last year she would have her little girl at home before college? She felt a fracture forming in her heart. She wanted to reach out to Mara, be her friend, not a parent, but how could she be both?
The speakers thumped and the mirrors pulsed with each drop of the bass. The guitar hit hard for a long solo.
Instinctively, Aiden’s head bobbed with the beat, just short of full-on head banging. He guided the Camaro down the country road that would eventually deposit him at Mason’s place. Orange and red leaves were falling over the road way, swiftly finding themselves dispatched by the occasional car or swept into a cyclone and onto the roadside where the mass of the fallen debris had gathered in colorful heaps.
Occasionally the trees edging the road opened to a wide expanse of green fields or one of the many houses that dotted Enochville Road. Decorations varied from the Halloween apathetic, where only the colorful assortment of leaves on the lawn and roof indicated the season to the holiday enthusiast, or crazy person, who decorated to no end.
One house in particular had caught Aiden’s attention, as it did every year at this time. Any other time of the year the house had a large open front lawn peppered with maples and other massive trees Aiden could not identify. A fancy circular stone-blocked gazebo that matched the façade of the house itself and well-manicured set of flowerbeds typically lined the front porch and the long driveway up to the house. Yet, the family apparently took Halloween very seriously. As he drove by, the full perimeter of the expansive lawn was cordoned off by shoddy distressed wood fencing and peppered with the occasional zombie, one in particular was impaled fully through the chest across a broken fence segment. As if that was not enough, the trees had cotton-based spider-webs splayed nearly halfway up their bare branches down to the lawn below, enveloping what appeared to be unsuspecting human victims. There was even a mammoth fake spider in simulated descent to toward its victims. Then there were the spindly life-size skeletons scaling the face of the house, threatening to break in at any moment.
It was cool, that much Aiden agreed with, but at the same time it creeped him out. The family decorated more for Halloween than they did for Christmas for crying out loud. As detailed and insane as the decorations were, Aiden had always decided against frequenting the house for trick-or-treating, or really any other time of the year to be honest.
Ahead, Mason’s home came into view, the familiar Mustang sitting out front in the driveway. Aiden maneuvered the car against the curb in front of the house and cut the engine. He grabbed his costume and the pack of firecrackers, the real reason he had ventured back home before running off to Mason’s. His mom would not have approved. School definitely would not have. So Aiden had decided to leave them at home and retrieve them afterward instead. In or out of school suspension for such a stupid school policy violation just did not seem worth it.
Before he could get half way to the front door, Mason swung it open. “What took you so long?”
“Quit your whining, it’s too early for that,” Aiden jeered back, earning a nearly silent snicker and accompanying grin from Mason.
Aiden followed Mason into the house, saying a quick hello to Mason’s mom, a surprisingly young and attractive woman, as they ran to Mason’s room. Mason shut the door behind them and Aiden dropped his costume on the bed.
“You brought them, right?” Mason asked.
“Yeah,” Aiden assured him and then pulled the Spiderman suit back to reveal the unopened pack of firecrackers. Mason beamed at the sight. “Just remember, nothing stupid. We’re going to follow the directions, stand back as far as it tells us and everything, none of the stupid shit you tried last year. I’d prefer not to have to call the fire department, especially since I’m the one who brought them.”
“Oh yeah, no problem. We’re just going to make a lot of noise,” Mason assured him, picking Aiden’s costume top off the bed. “You do realize this thing is going to be tight as shit, right?”
Aiden sighed. “Yeah, that didn’t really cross my mind until last night, but it fits. I did try it on again.”
“Oh, I cannot wait to see this,” Mason jested with widen eyes.
CHAPTER 6
Dalton joined Jenna in the dirt parking lot that housed Cabarrus Brewery behind the old mill. The place had reminded Dalton of an old shed, maybe a barn. He felt like he should find a fleet of old half-rusted tractors within its shell.
He led Jenna up the steep staircase to the outer patio. The words Cabarrus Brewery, Co. hung overhead in large faded print above five closed bay doors where trucks used to dock before the building had been repurposed. It had a vintage vibe until you crested the stairs. Someone had forgotten the old, tattered and worn look when they put the patio boards down it seemed. Its wooden planks looked brand new, almost yellow, with maybe a half year of wear on them.
“So have you been here before?” Jenna asked, trying not to make a misstep up the stairs in her high heels.
“Once or twice,” Dalton looked back to show her a grin, and then turned as his feet hit the patio. “You want to get a table? I’ll get the beers.”
She nodded as Dalton turned and walked in to get the drinks. Jenna scanned the crowd, looking for just enough space on one of the weathered wooden picnic-style benches while she hugged her light jacket to her chest. A few seconds later, she slid onto the edge of a bench with four others. Getting a table to yourself was near impossible on a Friday night, not to mention Halloween night. She smiled apprehensively at the occupants as they took notice of her.
Twirling a strand of red hair absently, Jenna was about to take out her phone when Dalton walked up on the opposite side of the table, drinks in hand. She smiled, biting her lower lip playfully.
“The beer has arrived,” Dalton announced, placing the clear steins on the uneven surface, careful not to spill a drop of the dark amber liquid that sloshed inside.
“So, congrats,” Jenna raised her glass. “Might as well start things out right. To more progress on your client.”
With a nod, Dalton clinked his glass to hers. “Yes, progress please. I’ve waited so long for this. This one client, this opportunity. Hell, I've waited ever since I graduated from Charlotte.”
She knew. Jenna may only have been with the firm for just under three years, but she had become intimately familiar with her two bosses. Especially Dalton. It had been his dream to design a home that could become his legacy, a mark on architectural history. Something that truly mattered, that stood out.
“Well, it seems that you’re finally on track, Dalton,” she grinned genuinely. “I’m happy for you.”
Dalton took a long gulp from his glass. It was finally happening. His time may come after all despite what the dreary forecast seemed to have pred
icted. Through it all, it seemed that his savior was a man he would have never expected. He was not a painter, an author, director or hell, not even a musician. No, a race car driver. Dalton chuckled silently, his mind on his fortune and the way events came together. Rarely as one might expect them to.
“So how was the game last night?” he asked.
“It was great,” Jenna replied. Her face lit up with excitement as last night came to mind. “I’m still not sure I know what was going on exactly. I’m not really into football, but it was exciting!”
“And we won,” Dalton reminded her. It had been a home game for the Panthers. A good one that ended with the defeat of the Atlanta Falcons in the last two minutes with an interception and touch down after being down for an entire quarter. Dalton had missed the excitement of watching from the stadium with Jenna and one of her girlfriends, who was a die-hard Panthers fan. He had better things to do than fight off traffic in downtown Charlotte, or uptown as they were calling it these days. His online sports subscription had come in handy instead, lighting up a beautiful one hundred and twenty inches of glorious high-definition picture in his living room.
“That we did. All I know is that some big guy caught the ball in the last little bit and ran to the other side,” she explained. “It was exciting, though. I’m surprised you didn’t ask earlier.”
“My mind was too stuck on Mr. Bostian this morning,” he explained. He purposefully ignored the sad puppy dog whimper and frown. Dalton changed the subject. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but this coming Thursday you’ll have been with us for a full three years, right?”
A sheepish grin stretched from cheek-to-cheek before she parted her red lips. “Yes. Three years since you and Daniel rescued me from the basement of Randall’s Pest Extermination company.”
Dalton laughed. Jenna had come to them only a few years out of college, stuck in a low-paying and less than desirable secretarial position at Randall’s, a local exterminator. He still remembered when she had dropped off her résumé. She had been dressed in a tasteful beige pant suit which hugged the curves of her body just the slightest bit, just enough. Dalton and his partner at the firm would never admit how much her job offer had had to do with Jenna’s curvature rather than her well-rounded experience and blooming attitude, which of course she had as well.
“Well why don’t we celebrate your three years with Cage/Summers Architecture, too?” Dalton eyed her with a smile, and a bit too much longing in his eyes. “Another round?”
“Oh yeah!” Jenna nearly yelled, pulling back her arms and pronouncing her chest. “Let’s celebrate!”
The room felt so lonely. Too quiet and empty even though it was filled with the same furniture and things as it had been for at least the last year. Lenore lounged back on a cushy mocha leather couch, eyes wandering from picture to picture. There was so much history in the portraits, so much love and happiness.
A large spring portrait from two years ago showed the family spread out on a thin white blanket among the grass, surrounded by magnolias. Another featured Aiden sitting up straight, with a flat top and his mouth shut tight; his first grade portrait and the day he lost his second tooth. He had been tormented by the thought of a gap in his smile for his school pictures. Lenore laughed lightly at the memory.
Next was one of Mara’s school pictures, sixth grade if Lenore remembered correctly. Mara had been more agreeable back then. A simple pre-teen, unburdened with the needs of popularity and boys. And, best of all, she had yet to discover how her parents lived solely to hold her back from everything she wanted. Lenore huffed. Parenting had been so much easier when Mara and Aiden's thoughts never went beyond how much fun they could have at home with the family or with their little friends. Now there was no end to where their imaginations roamed. Being a parent and friend to two teenagers was anything but easy.
Right now was one of those less than amiable times. She felt so alone in the house. Mara was no more than twenty yards away, just a set of stairs and a locked door away, probably still bemoaning her ill-fated fortune of shelter. Lenore let herself laugh a little at that notion. What she would give to be under her parents’ rules again, to live with the simplicity of a child’s life. What she would give simply just to see her mother again. A tear escaped Lenore’s eye unhindered. Five years seemed like ten and the sadness never seemed to dissipate. She had been a victim of Parkinson’s.
Lenore wiped the tear from her cheek and placed the book she had been reading on the end table before making her way to the kitchen. The trick-or-treaters would begin to file through within the hour and she had yet to prepare the candy.
Dressed in a loose fitting white blouse and a simple pair of jeans, Lenore tore open the first bag of candy, Snickers. She eyed the small digital clock on the oven. Eight till seven and Dalton was nowhere in sight. Lenore cursed herself for thinking the man would come home when asked. She opened the second and third bags and poured their entire contents into a large orange plastic bowl shaped like a smiling jack-o-lantern.
Lenore heaved the heavy bowl off the counter and shuffled over to the front door. She dropped the bowl on a waist high mahogany table by the frosted glass entry door. Satisfied with the placement, she walked past the plain white columns dividing the open foyer from the kitchen, dining area and living room back into the kitchen and rummaged through the junk drawer for the lighter. She hooked her index finger through the spindly handles of two old-timey looking lanterns and walked back to the foyer and then outside.
The air had grown cooler. It nipped at her nose as she placed each lantern on a separate table on either side of the door. She hated the cold, and constantly had to remind herself that it only lasted a few months before North Carolina’s warm spell started up again. It was cold, though, autumn, a cold autumn and it did not show any signs of warming. Lenore shivered as she lit the oil wicks and stepped back into the house, hurriedly shutting the door behind her.
It would only be a matter of minutes, maybe less, before the first group of annoying little trick-or-treaters would knock on the front door. She imagined their greedy little plastic or paper bags held high, expecting nothing less than some sugary treat.
Trick-or-treat my foot. More like trick-or…well, just trick actually. When else did little kids get away with walking up to a total stranger’s doorsteps demanding candy or some stupid ass trick? It was definitely just a trick.
Lenore looked up toward the staircase leading to the second floor where Mara was fortified in her room sulking. Maybe, just maybe, she could convince Mara to come down and help her with the kids. Mara had always been good with kids despite her more recently attained lack of restraint.
She made her way up the stairs and down the upper hall, walking past more photographs, her legacy. A picture of Aiden in basketball shorts and a jersey poised to make a shot, which Lenore was pretty sure he missed. One with a four year old Mara, grinning from ear to ear, mustard smeared down the whole right side of her mouth. Lenore’s heart brightened at the sight.
Ahead she came to Mara’s door. It was shut, just as expected. She stopped and went to turn the knob but then froze, thinking better of it. Instead she rapped gently on the door with her knuckles.
“Mara?” she called through the heavy wooden frame. She waited, nothing. She frowned. “Mara? Come on, Mara, talk to me.”
“What do you want?” Mara finally responded, the irritation more than evident in her almost distressed answer.
“Uh…” Lenore stuttered, hurt more than she would ever admit to Mara. “I just thought you might want to come help me with the trick-or-treaters, dear.”
“Uh. No.”
Lenore frowned behind the cover of the door. "Come on, Mara. You used to like passing out the candy."
She waited. Nothing. Lenore leaned her cheek against the door and closed her eyes. She sighed and pursed her lips.
Lenore swallowed the sadness in her throat. She took a deep breath and raised her head, staring at the solid door as if she c
ould see right through it. She imagined Mara lying on her bed, angry, with headphones stuck in her ears. She turned and walked back downstairs. Mara was just angry, a teenager deprived of a night out and unable to understand the reason why. It would pass and she only hoped the sadness would, too.
“Man, you've really got to get a new costume,” Mason leered behind Aiden.
“Are you staring at my ass?” Aiden asked, his left brow raised and forehead crinkled with a contradictory friendly grin. “I mean I can’t blame you, but—”
Mason cocked his head sideways, the unruly brown and sandy tufts displaced further down his brow. He tossed the strands back up and his eyes met Aiden’s, an attempt at displeasure in his eyes.
“No,” Mason retorted. “It’s just really, really tight. I mean…”
He put his hands out, waving in a broad up-and-down motion to signify the entire outfit. He had trouble finding the word, trying not to sound wrong.
“It’s just really tight.”
“Yeah, I know,” Aiden said, trying to hide the embarrassment. He had not expected the costume to be this formfitting, and he was not excited about it. “But this is the last time I’m dressing up, and it still technically fits.”
Up the stone path from where they stood sat an imposing stone-faced home, Zed’s. Vines and other greenery twisted over the face of the home's two oversized levels. Windows dotted both levels in perfect symmetry. The driveway overflowed with a plethora of cars. They ranged from growling muscle cars to the giant Ford crew-cab with a ten-inch lift kit and accompanying American flag waving beyond the truck bed.
Aiden brushed a hand through his milk chocolate brown hair, pushing it back, as he pulled up the Spidey mask and secured a piece of Velcro at the nape of his neck. The two stepped up to the entrance landing and took a quick glance at their reflections in the large glass door.
To his right stood a short and spindly version of Mike Myers, complete with a blood-filled plastic knife and off-white latex mask. Then Aiden’s eyes traveled to his own figure in the glass. He sighed at the sight of every overly-emphasized curve under his Spidey suit.
To Watch You Bleed Page 6