by Belle Brooks
“Don’t I know you?” Haldon’s tone is calm, maybe even curious in the pitch he spoke with.
Why is Haldon still here? Twisting at my waist, I turn my attention back over my shoulder. “Do you?”
“Aren’t you that Tank fellow from the steel mill?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, wow. I thought it was you. Remember me? I’ve been into the steel mill with Mr Horton a few times.”
“Sure.”
“Well, I never would have guessed someone working there could afford a place like this.” One eyebrow launches from under the frame of his glasses to the very top of his forehead.
Prick.
“I hope you’re not implying I stole the money. It was inheritance. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go get settled in.”
“Of course. Small world, hey?”
“If you say so.”
Just when I think Poindexter is finally backing off, he says, “Didn’t you throw the job in at the steel mill, though? I briefly remember Mr Horton expressing some dissatisfaction over this at lunch a couple of months ago.”
I turn sharply to face him. “I don’t work there anymore, no.”
“Falling out, wasn’t it?”
“Can’t remember.”
“I’m surprised you’re moving into this house here then.” He has a pathetic smirk planted across his face.
“Why exactly?”
“Oh, no reason at all, mate.” His overemphasis on mate has me reeling. “I’m here if you need me, remember?” He chuckles slightly. “Oh, this will be interesting,” he mutters.
Is he having his own private joke here?
Haldon clicks his tongue and points his finger at me in pistol form before winking.
They say I’m a loser. This guy is definitely a loser. Who does such a geek-like thing these days?
Watching Haldon climb into the shiny black car parked on the opposite side of the drive, I resist all temptation to grab his scrawny neck and tell him to mind his own business whilst shoving his finger pistol up his arse.
Woof! Woof!
“What are you barking at?” I scold, searching for the scrawny mutt.
She’s sitting right in front of the double front doors. Shaking my head, I walk over to her.
“What are you sitting on?” A thick navy mat is placed in the centre of the doorway. Using my foot, I shift Roxie’s bum over just enough to read the embossed gold cursive lettering. “Bienvenue à la maison.” No idea what that means. “Are you ready, girl?” I take the doorhandle into my grip.
Roxie runs between my legs like a lunatic, so I believe her reply to be a yes.
“Holy shit.” I’ve never seen anything so nice in my life.
There are high ceilings and a grand foyer. Standing in the doorway, I look past the foyer and out into an open room. Shifting my eyes downwards, I see the brown of my irises reflecting back at me in polished white flooring. The house is very neutral and completely bare of any furnishings.
Woof! Woof!
The echoing from Roxie’s sudden bark reiterates just how empty the place is, and when she leaves my side in a sudden bolt she skates with no coordination. It doesn’t halt her mission, though; she keeps trying to make ground with haste.
Bang!
I jolt from the unexpected closing of the door behind me, and this gets my feet moving and my eyes exploring.
The kitchen is to the right of the entry, and it’s probably bigger than my entire shitty rundown apartment. Navy blue marble benches. Silver stainless steel handles on the cabinetry and white doors, walls, floors. Whoever built this was a massive fan of white with colour splashes … I like it.
Coming back the way I entered, I continue my exploration of the lower level. Cinema. Fireplace, which surprises me mainly because it doesn’t quite get cold enough to warrant one in a place like Hoffman. A sturdy bar. A two-man sauna. A bathroom fit for a king, and two carpeted bedrooms bigger than any I’ve ever seen in my life, both fitted out with decent en suites. Pretty suave indeed. There are two more sunken rooms. Both have doors and I’m not sure what they’re for, but it’s obvious to me they are not designed to be bedrooms … I’ll have to figure this out.
Locating a metal staircase, I take the stairs two at a time and meet plush cream carpeting at the top. A kitchenette and room for at least two small couches is off-set from the stairs.
A hallway splits into either direction and I decide to walk to the farthest point to my right. This is where I locate the master bedroom. Entry is made through a wardrobe space seemingly stretching for an eternity … This is definitely a woman’s wardrobe. Through glass panelling, I spy a spa probably big enough for ten people, and behind this is the bedroom. There’s another door to the left and once opened, I locate another bathroom. That’s four on my count.
“I’d better hire a cleaner.”
A sheer curtain takes up majority of the farthest wall and when parted, I discover double glass doors to a veranda. There are two eight-shaped pools built into the ground, one smaller than the other. Ocean views act as the perfect backdrop and as I scan back and forward taking in all its beauty, I smile.
The breeze is fresh, and as it washes over my skin, I’m at peace. This is far better than I ever allowed my imagination to conjure up.
On the right-hand side of the bedroom is a decent-sized window with a light peach-coloured blind covering. I open the shade and secure it in place. Ocean views, farther off into the distance, have me smiling, again. This is going to be my new start in life. A house I’d never dreamt to own.
Taking in the palm trees dancing in the breeze and the perfect blue sky has me mesmerised until a wet sensation at my ankle alerts me to Roxie’s presence.
Turning my eyes downwards has my head shaking. “What do you think, girl? Pretty neat, huh?”
She wraps herself around my ankle.
“Come on. Moving day. We’d better get to work.”
Chapter Six
“Wait here. Sit. Roxie, get your head back inside the cab so I can put the window up.” This dog’s ears are painted on, I’m convinced. She doesn’t listen to a word I say. Leaning over the pulled handbrake, I take her small head into the palm of my hand and shift her back inside the vehicle before taking her under her front legs and reefing her onto my lap. Running my hand through her recently washed hair, I look at those big eyes and say, “If you’re going to live a life of luxury, you’re going to have to learn to take instructions.”
She cocks her head and widens her gaze.
“Stay here. Five minutes, tops. I’ll leave the air-conditioning going.”
She whines.
“Why are you so needy?”
She whines again, laying her head down on my lap, turning those brown eyes upwards.
“Fine. You can come with me. Only because I want you to, not because you want to.”
Bloody dog.
Turning off the ignition, I push the door and allow Roxie to run up the stairs in front of me.
“Fin. You’re still driving the lease car. When is the old tilly coming home?”
Tessa.
“Afternoon, Ms Simon.” I smile, stepping back a couple of steps and peering up at her window.
“Stop calling me Ms Simon. I know you only do it to annoy me.”
I flash her my best shit-eating grin.
“Busy day?”
“You could say this. Anything to report on neighbourhood watch?”
“No. It’s quiet today.” Her husky tone seems disappointed. It’s lacking its usual excitement.
I wasn’t going to do this now, but her lack of happiness forces my hand. “Hey, do me a favour, will you?”
“For you? Anything.”
“Go throw a bag together. Grab just enough for a few days. Make sure you pack all your medications and shit as well.”
“What?” Her head launches backwards.
“You heard me, you old bag. Go get some of your crap. I’ll be up shortly.”
Her
head throws back even farther. “What for?”
“Can you just go do it? I’m on a schedule.”
“Why?”
“Tess. Please.” I clear my throat.
“Oh … well … okay.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” she mumbles.
“Roxie, come on.” Roxie doesn’t come. It’s not surprising. “Rox.” My tone is more dominant this time. Still nothing.
“She’s in the trash on the footpath.” Tessa laughs dryly.
“Yeah,” I groan, before shouting, “Get out of the trash, you little shit, and get inside.”
Finally, she races past me in a hurry. This dog will be my undoing.
I pack the possessions I want to take from this shithole in garbage bags. Everything else can burn for all I care. I could have bought nice things with some of the money I won and furnished this place when the cheque cleared, but what would have been the point? It would’ve been stolen the very next day. No amount of locks, bolts or alarms would’ve kept the crims out. Two bags is what I fill to hold the contents of my entire life. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a seriously depressing thing. No point pondering it, though.
Taking the internal cemented staircase for the first time since I moved in here six years ago, a shiver runs the length of my spine. I hate this dump.
“Tess. You ready?” I yell, simultaneously banging against the split wooden door. “Tess.”
The door opens a fraction. “Where are we going?” One blue eye and half of her face is all I see through the small gap, yet it’s still enough for me to notice the worry imprinted in her expression.
“You’ll see.” I try to offer a reassuring smile, yet I believe it didn’t come off as intended, mainly because Tess closes the door with a hard closing.
“Tess.”
“Finlay, please leave.”
“Nope. I’ll stand here all day if need be. You’re coming with me.”
“Where?” she shouts.
“Out of this dump. You deserve a castle to live in, not a shoe. Get your shit together so we can go already.”
The door opens once more, a little wider this time, but still not even halfway. “This is my home, Fin. It’s all I’ve known for a—”
“It’s a rat-infested, disease-carrying dump, and after what you did for me in life, I owe you. Let me repay you. I’m moving, Tess. I want you to move with me.”
“I didn’t do…” Tessa pauses. “I want nothing in return, Finlay.”
“I know. Woman, can you just open the door so I can come in?” It takes a few minutes, and I don’t lose my temper, surprisingly. Instead, I wait patiently, looking through the crack at an old woman who has bigger balls than me, yet is still a human capable of fear. Who knew leaving here would be her kryptonite?
“Fine,” she mutters, dropping her arm away from the doorframe.
“I can come in?”
“If it makes you happy.” She fakes complete disinterest.
Not once have I ever stepped foot into Tessa’s flat, but with one light press against the wood, I’m shown her space for the very first time. For a dump, she’s created something pretty. It’s clean, organised, and decorative. “Nice.”
“You make do with what you have.” Her voice is strained, and I’m curious as to why her back is still turned.
“Tess?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
I hear her sobs. They grow louder almost instantly, and then her shoulders shake from the coughing that follows.
“Hey!” Wrapping my hand around her frail arm, I attempt to offer her comfort, but she’s quick to shrug me off.
“My suitcase is on my bed. I’d like to take the plant from the kitchen windowsill, too. Will I be able to have the rest of my stuff in this castle of yours?”
“Sure. The bedroom alone will fit all of this in there.”
“Shit,” she croaks, turning to face me before taking a handkerchief from the pocket located on the side of the flowery dress she’s wearing. She delicately dabs at either eye.
“You need somewhere nice to die, Tessa. Not here. You don’t deserve to leave the Earth here, after all you’ve done for so many people.”
“Pfft. Stop your nonsense and get my plant and bag, will you?”
“Done.” I offer a smile, and in turn she hitches her top lip only briefly.
It’s a sombre walk down the stairs for Tessa, as she clutches the handrail and I take control of the oxygen tank on wheels following behind. She doesn’t speak another word the entire way to the ute.
Throwing her bag into the tray, I help her into the passenger seat and pass Tessa the small pot plant she so eagerly needed.
“Roxie, you’re in back,” I command, opening the back door. Roxie leaps in without further instruction to do so. Now that’s surprising. Damn dog never listens.
“Right, you two. I’m going to start the car, then go and grab my stuff. Don’t go anywhere, okay?” I roll my eyes to emphasise the fact these two are stubborn to boot and a serious thorn in my arse when it comes to taking any form of instruction from me.
Tessa only nods.
Roxie, on the other hand, hops into the driver’s seat and curls into a ball.
“Be right back.”
The two garbage bags and two photo frames is what I leave with. There’s nothing else of value worth keeping in the place I’ve called home since the day I came to fall off the rails and almost got myself killed for it.
Securing the cover onto the tray, I stand by the driver’s door and as I drop my head to look through the window, I say, “Scoot, Rox. You can’t drive.” I was expecting her to be sitting there. She’s not.
“She’s out of your way,” Tess whispers.
So she is, curled up on Tessa’s lap beside the pot plant she’s still holding.
“Okay. Ready?” I exhale, twisting the key in the ignition before glancing at Tess.
She only nods.
I love Tessa, more than anything in this world. She’s the only reason I’ve managed to stay away from a life behind unbendable bars and a demise that comes with rotting away in a boxed jail cell. I owe her more than I’ll ever be able to provide. She’s aged poorly. A simple glance highlights her tough existence and the years she’s battled.
Placing my hands on top of my head, I take a moment to just breathe. I wasn’t planning to do this here and now, but witnessing the scared expression Tessa is sporting makes me sick to my stomach.
“Hey, Tessa.”
She rotates her head in my direction with a blank stare.
“I have something for you.”
She says nothing.
Reaching into the pocket of the button-up shirt I’m wearing, I remove an opal hair comb once belonging to her, many years ago now, a hair piece I had no idea was even in my place at all until I was packing it up. “I think you should wear this today.” I unfold my fingers to reveal the comb perched in the middle of my palm and as I watch, she drops her eyes in its direction.
It’s an over-dramatic gasp, followed by an immediate cough that has Tessa readjusting the prongs leading into her nose from the oxygen tank sitting between her legs. I wasn’t expecting such a reaction.
“Can I?” I point to her hair.
“Yes.” It’s all but a hush.
Outstretching my arm, I run my hand gently up the side of her grey wispy hair to press down the fly-aways before sliding the spikes of the comb into her locks just above her ear. “I always loved this pin, Tess. I had no idea I even had it.”
“I knew you did. It’s been missing for a long time.” It’s only a quick arch of her upper lip that stays long enough for me to see her attempt at a smile.
I sit, studying Tessa’s deep lines and excessive wrinkles far too long.
She croaks, “Eyes go on the road, Fin, when setting out to drive. Not me.”
“Right,” I respond with a chuckle.
Driving out from the gutter, I announce we have one stop to ma
ke before we head to our final destination of the day.
Tessa cocks an eyebrow, but remains quiet.
The drive is silent, and even though many times I think to turn some music on to encroach the muted environment, I don’t. I instead think back to the hair comb I found in my place today. When did I take this? Why didn’t Tessa say anything about it missing? She used to wear it all the time.
This driveway is something I’ve seen too frequently in the last few months. Of course, I’m lapping the parking lot with a desire to find a place to pull into. Bloody hospitals, they never have adequate availability for visitors. After more laps than I care to count, I drive down a small incline and stop in one of the five-minute pick-up bays by the entrance … and even that is still a distance from where I need to enter.
“I have something I need to do. I won’t be too long. Tess, act sick or something while I’m gone so if security comes past they won’t marshal someone to issue me a fine for stopping here for too long. I’ll be longer than five minutes.”
Tessa twists her neck and performs one hell of a dramatic eye roll, pointing at the tubes shoved into the opening of her nose.
“Yeah. That will do it.” I smirk. “Righto, sit tight.” Climbing out, I make my way to the front of the Landcrusier, tapping the hood gently in passing. “Be right back,” I mouth as I turn and jog towards the automatic doors.
There’s a help desk just inside the annex, and I approach with a slight hesitation. Two people stand waiting in front. Glancing at my watch, I note the time is now twelve-thirty, and I have about an hour to make my way to the new house. I’d like to give the deliverymen a hand with moving in the new furnishings. Extra hands never go astray, and I want to be set up before the night’s out.
“Next,” the lady sitting behind the desk calls in a rather disgruntled tone.
A middle-aged woman at the front of the line finally makes her escape from the geezer I spotted standing much too close for comfort behind her.
Tapping my foot impatiently against the thin carpeting, I scan the wall covered with posters behind the counter. There are ones expressing chest pain is bad and if you’re having it, to report immediately to Accident and Emergency. This seems to be something common sense alone would explain. A purple-coloured snot-nose germ is on the poster beside it, and in big letters it reads, ‘Have you been out of the country? High fever and constant coughing means you should seek medical attention immediately.’ Common sense again if you ask me. Moving onto a poster about breastfeeding, I hear the voice from behind the counter again instruct, “Next.” This one’s for me. Where did Mr Too Close For Comfort go?