Burnwood - The Dragon Arum

by Sarah La Rose

CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Lamar.”

  Lamar stepped back from under the hood of his Jeep and smiled. “I had a feeling I would be seeing you around here again.”

  His white muscle shirt was stained black with grease and his fingertips were as black as tar.

  “When I didn’t see your Jeep out front I had assumed you were gone.”

  He smirked. “Yeah, after all, you wouldn’t expect to find a car in a garage.”

  I laughed. “Definitely an oversight on my behalf, but I wasn’t the only one. Jane thought you were gone, too.”

  He glanced out one of the small diamond-shaped windows lining the garage door. “I noticed.”

  I leaned forward and peered out the window. I could see Jane’s car and remembered that she parked across both parking spaces, blocking the garage door.

  I gave him a sympathetic shrug. “I can get the keys from her if you need to leave?”

  He looked down at the Jeep supported on thick blocks of wood. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I opened the lid to the deepfreeze and pulled out the box of Popsicles. “Alright, well if you change your mind, I’ll get you those keys.”

  “No need.” He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a silver key ring with a single key dangling from it. “I’ve got this.”

  I gave him a questioning look. “Is that an extra key to Jane’s car?”

  He flashed me a devious smile. “She’s been playing these games for so long I had to start getting creative.”

  I shook my head. “You should be ashamed of yourself. The both of you should.”

  He wiped his greasy hands on a blue cloth and tossed it onto a nearby workbench. “I take it you don’t know yet?”

  I shrugged. “I know the basics, but I’m not so sure I understand the war between the two of you though.”

  “She hates me,” he said, leaning back against the work bench behind him. “It’s just that simple.”

  “It takes two to create a war of this magnitude.”

  “That it does, but I did try. It just got tiring and I resorted back to my old ways of handling conflict.”

  “Which is?”

  “Being a dick,” he said. “I thought that was obvious.”

  I frowned. “You, Lamar, are not a dick.”

  The edges of his mouth pulled into a smile. He turned, grabbing a wrench hanging from the wall. “So what kind of guy am I?”

  “You care,” I said. “And no matter how hard you try not to care, you will always care.”

  I slipped passed him on my way out of the garage.

  “Wait.”

  I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

  His eyes diverted to the ground for a moment and then he looked up at me. “You think things will level out with Jane one day?”

  I nodded. “One day. It only takes one person to make a change.”

  He nodded. “You’re okay, Annabelle.”

  I smiled and let the garage door fall shut between us.

  I hurried back to the room and held out the Popsicles so that Jane and Trish could choose between the colors first, but they both just looked at me with mischievous smiles upon their faces.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Interested in a little outing?” said Jane.

  I looked suspiciously from her to Trish.

  “It’s just a little house party,” Trish said. “Hardly anything to have to think about.”

  I gave Jane a troubled look, which she reacted to by jumping up from the bed and taking my shoulders firmly in her hands.

  “It will be fun! The Landry’s have one of the largest houses in Burnwood and their son, Kendrick, always throws the best parties.”

  “I’ll go,” I blurted out.

  Jane stepped back and eyed me. “Really?”

  I nodded. “It will be a good distraction…” I turned to Trish. “For all of us.”

  Jane placed her hands on her hips and smiled triumphantly. “I told you she’s not a goody good.”

  I glared at Trish. “Is that so?”

  Trish shrugged passively. “Meh, I wasn’t completely sold on the idea that she was anyway.”

  “I guess I should run home and get changed,” I said, glancing down at my blue jeans. “What do people around here wear to house parties? Same thing as the old mill grounds?”

  Jane tapped a single finger against her cheek. “Not exactly, but don’t you fret. I know exactly where to go to get what we need.” She turned and smiled at Trish who was already grinning back at her, deviously strumming her fingers together.

  I stood in the middle of a massive walk-in closet, completely consumed in the array of colored materials dangling all around me. Bright reds, electric blues, salmon, pink, and just about every color known to mankind, dazzled before me. I spun in slow circles, watching the colors mesh from one shade to the next.

  “Wow,” I mumbled.

  Jane smiled. “Look down.”

  Below, the closet was lined with knee-high shoe racks housing the most extensive collection of designer shoes I had ever seen.

  I dropped to my knees and carefully picked up a glittering gold pair of stilettos, nearly bursting into tears when I noticed they were size 8.

  These will never fit.

  Jane placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “It wouldn’t matter. Heels are pretty much useless in Burnwood.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and rose to my feet. “I know. I had to say goodbye to my collection just a few days ago. I guess it’s just a fresh wound.”

  “My flats will fit you,” Trish said. “There not much, but they’ll add all the jazz you need for dresses like these.”

  “How are we ever going to decide? There’s just so many. What does your mom do with all of these?”

  Trish shrugged. “Collects them from my understanding.” She pulled a sparking silver dress from the hook and held it out to me. “Just look, this one still has the price tag on it.”

  “Whatever,” Jane said, snatching the dress from Trish’s grasp. “I’m just glad she’s never around to notice when their gone.”

  “I’m just glad she’s never around, period,” Trish scoffed.

  “What about your dad?” I asked.

  “He’s just down the hall,” she replied surprisingly nonchalant.

  “He doesn’t mind?”

  “He doesn’t know,” she said. “And he doesn’t need to.”

  I couldn’t help but question his parental abilities in light of the closet raid happening right next to him. How on earth does he not realize a bunch of teens giggling as they rummage through his wife’s closet?

  “Jane!” Trish bellowed as she pulled a hanger from the pole and held out a brilliant yellow strapless dress. “This has your name all over it.”

  Jane’s face lit up as she took the hanger from Trish. She held the dress to her body before the full-length mirror in the corner of the closet and swayed back and forth, admiring the way the dress flowed against the air.

  “That’s the one,” I said.

  Jane stopped swirling and pressed the material closer to her body. “You think?”

  Trish nodded. “Definitely.”

  Jane gently hung the dress on the hook fastened to the mirror. “Alright. Now for you two…”

  “No need,” Trish interrupted. “I’ve known about this party since this afternoon.”

  Jane’s mouth dropped open. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “It’s not like I didn’t preselect a dress for you.”

  Jane crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. “Still, it would’ve been nice to have a heads up.”

  Trish gave her a tiring look, which was ironic and somewhat amusing to me. After all, it had been Jane who came to her aid through all the drama that had landed her in the sheriff’s office.

  Trish sorted through a few hangers and pulled out two dresses, holding the black one against her chest. “This is what I’m wearing,” she said, and then held out the second dress, �
��And this one is for you.”

  In her hand was a spectacular blue satin dress with a long slit up the leg. I took the dress and felt the soft material between my two fingers. It was heavenly.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I said.

  “Yes, well I did pick it,” she said, sounding insulted.

  “It was a compliment,” Jane interposed.

  Trish waved her hand dismissively. “No time for pleasantries. Use whatever you need to get ready because we’re already late.”

  Jane took out her cell phone and looked at the time. “Shit! It’s already 11. We’re really late.”

  “Fashionably late,” Trish corrected. “But, I want to get there before everyone’s shit-faced. It’s no fun being sober around a bunch of retards.”

  Jane, Trish and I scrabbled around the room as we got ready. We changed into our dresses, did our makeup, and tried on almost every piece of Jewelry we came across. Jane tied her hair in an elegant bun and Trish pulled her hair into a ponytail. I, of course, let mine fall down my back in loose curls. Finally, we were ready to leave.

  “Wait,” I said as we stepped into the hallway. “You said you had a pair of flats that would fit me?”

  “Right,” Trish replied. “Just down the hall. They’ll be right next to the door at the end of the hallway.”

  I nodded and we parted ways.

  There was a dimly lit room at the end of the hallway with the door wide open. Inside I could see a black bedframe covered in red satin covers.

  That had to be Trish’s room.

  I poked my head through the doorway and found the pair of little gold flats exactly where Trish said they would be. I grabbed them and hurried back down the hall, trying to slip them on as I walked. Finally, I got the last shoe on and lowered my foot to the floor, but I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor. I looked up and noticed I wasn’t alone.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said to the tiny Hispanic woman kneeling on the floor beside me. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  “I’d say so,” she chuckled and got back to her feet.

  She offered me her hand and I graciously accepted it, feeling the softness of her delicate little fingers. Her eyes were a warm chocolate color and her hair was long and pulled back into a neatly combed ponytail.

  “I’m really sorry about that,” I repeated.

  “Child, it is hardly worth mentioning,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Now had you collided with Mrs. Wells there may have been a greater issue at hand.”

  “Yeah, or Mr. Wells,” I added, assuming the wrath would be of equal magnitude.

  She looked at me sideways and was quiet for a moment. “You don’t know, do you?”

  I furrowed my brow. “Know what?”

  She stepped back and opened the door to the room she had come from before I knocked her to the floor. Inside was a space completely blank of all color and fashion, replaced only by the kind of machinery you would find in a hospital. Beside the mess of beeping and humming equipment was a single bed with a middle-aged man laying asleep.

  “Is that Trish’s father?” I asked.

  The woman nodded and shut the door.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s been in a coma for nearly four years,” she said sorrowfully. “It’s a shame, you know. He was… is… is such a good man.”

  “Annabelle!” called Jane.

  “Are you making the shoes up there?” added Trish.

  “I’ve got to go Mrs. …”

  “Mrs. Hernandez, but you can call me Mrs. H.”

  “Mrs. H,” I repeated. “That means you’re…”

  “Cruz’s mom?” She smiled. “Yes, but you mustn’t hold that against me. He’s just too busy getting in his own way to listen to me.” She shook her head and continued down the hallway mumbling something in Spanish.

  I hurried downstairs and we left without mention of the man clinging to life in the room next to the one we had just pillaged. How would I ever forgive myself?

  Trish drove, insisting we arrive in fashion, a comment that Jane took as a blatant insult.

  The Landry’s house was down yet another dirt road through the seemingly endless forest. We pulled up to a house not excessively huge, but big enough to warrant some excitement. There were cars parked in the driveway, on the side of the road, and even on the lawn, which was where Trish, too, decided to park.

  We walked up the brick-laid path to a set of doublewide white doors. Trish didn’t bother knocking and walked right in with her head held high and a defiant look in her eyes.

  “Can she do that?” I whispered to Jane.

  Jane smiled back at me and I saw the same glint in her eyes. “Annabelle, you’d be surprised what we can do around here. Besides, Kendrick is… well, he’s a close friend.”

  Jane sauntered inside and I follow suit.

  The crowd parted as Jane made her way through the house, whispering quietly to one another as their eyes followed us.

  “Why are they staring at you?”

  Jane laughed. “They’re not staring at me, Annabelle. They’re staring at you.”

  I felt my face get hot and my palms dampened with sweat. “Me? Why are they staring at me?”

  She sighed. “It’s hard to explain, but you’ll see soon enough.”

  I stopped and turned back for the door.

  Jane chased after me and grabbed my arm. “Annabelle, wait!”

  “Tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.

  Trish appeared from somewhere behind me. “I told you she couldn’t see it.”

  “What can’t I see?” I asked Jane, still keeping to a murmur.

  “Oh for shit sakes.” Trish grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me into the room next to us. She turned on the lights and I could see we were in an extravagantly decorated bathroom.

  “Look in the mirror, Annabelle,” said Jane. “You’re gorgeous. And, if that wasn’t already enough, you have a story that everyone’s dying to hear about.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  Trish stepped forward. “You’re a Kennedy. You’re a Burnwood original.”

  Jane hopped up and down excitedly as if the news opened a floodgate of joy for her.

  “So,” I said.

  “See,” Trish huffed. “She still has no damn clue.”

  “Trish, she’s new here… even though she’s actually old here,” Jane said, stuttering through the confusion. “Anyway, your family is one of the original Burnwood founding families.”

  “As are Jane’s family and mine, and a handful of other kids here,” said Trish.

  “Why is that important?” I asked and then realized the true question. The anger surged through me like fire in my veins. “Wait. How did you two know about that?”

  Jane and Trish share a quick glance at one another.

  “You have to understand,” Jane began. “I didn’t mean for everyone to figure it out, but when Mrs. Crawford mentioned it I was just too overjoyed to keep it in. I told one person who told another and the next thing you know there’s a party in your honor.”

  I froze, my entire body seizing like it was inches away from plummeting off a 200-foot drop. The air caught in my throat, forcing me to swallow it down.

  “No, no, no,” I repeated as I paced the very short length of the bathroom. “This can’t be for me. I don’t know what to say to these people.”

  “What are you so worried about?” said Trish. “They’ll eat up your story.”

  I stopped pacing and shouted, “I don’t even know my story!”

  Trish looked and Jane and Jane at me.

  “Jane, I just found out today that I am originally from Burnwood. I don’t know anything about being part of a founding family.”

  “Oh,” Jane said, staring at me blankly. “I didn’t know.”

  I shook my head and resumed pacing.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Trish said, stepping in front of me. “You’re a founding family member. That’s as
good as gold around here.”

  “She’s right,” Jane added. “You don’t have to say anything. Your name is all they need to hear.”

  I frowned.

  “I can’t do this,” I said and threw open the bathroom door before either one of them could block my path. I hurried back the way I had come and, in my haste, ran face first into a tall figure.

  Of course he would be here.