by J. J. Neeson
A note informed all customers to prepay, so Reigh ran up to the small reception area, which was attached to the much larger garage. Behind the desk was a stunning woman with eyes as dark and amiable as chocolate. Her wavy brown hair was tied back into a ponytail, and she wore the blue coverall of a mechanic.
The woman smiled at her warmly. “Broke down in the rain?” she asked, offering her a towel from behind the desk.
Reigh used it to mop what she could from her blonde waterlogged head. “No exactly,” she replied. “I need gas.”
The woman looked out the window to the convertible. “Looks like you need more than gas. Drive into the garage. I can fill the tank, dry out the interior, and fix the top.”
With no other choice given the storm outside, Reigh did as she was told, returning to the reception area when the convertible was safely out of the rain.
A hot cup of coffee waited for her. “I’m Luciana,” the woman introduced, handing her the brew. “But everyone calls me Lu.”
Reigh held the warm cup of coffee up to her wet cheek, taking in the small joy. “Reigh.”
“Travel far?”
“Vegas,” she answered.
Lu lit up, much like the Strip itself. Reigh was used to it. People outside of Nevada always got excited when Vegas was mentioned. Sin City had an enduring reputation, except to those raised within its suburbs.
“Guess you don’t get much rain there,” Lu speculated, sipping her own coffee.
“Does it rain a lot here?” Reigh asked uncertainly. If she wanted moody weather, she would have driven north to Seattle.
“Not usually like this, but sometimes, yeah. June is only the start of hurricane season, so we’ve got another five or so months of this to look forward to. Intermittently, of course.”
“Great,” Reigh said, the coffee still upon her cheek. “I better buy a poncho. And a rubber suit for the lightning.”
Lu looked surprised. “You plan to stay?”
The rune came to mind. “I think so.”
“Here in Broken Ridge?”
“It feels like the place to be.”
“Well, Reigh, I guess I’m your welcoming committee.” Lu laughed sweetly. “Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”
The woman seemed genuine, entirely expressive and real, especially her eyes, which looked as if they held no barrier and no sword. Reigh trusted her, enough to open up about her circumstances. Her bank account was currently in the three digits.
“Actually, my cash is limited right now. I can pay you for the repairs, but would you know somewhere cheap to rent?”
“How cheap?” Lu probed, curious.
“Well, I’ve been sleeping out of my car since I left Vegas, so somewhere in that price range,” she said casually, trying to make light of her situation. She didn’t want Lu’s pity, just a recommendation.
Lu hesitated, conflicted. “Well… I actually have a little shack by the bayou that I can rent you, but it isn’t pretty. It’s tiny, there’s a threat of gators, and your closest neighbor, a short boat ride down the swamp, is a family of gypsies.”
It was clear she felt bad suggesting the shack, but it sounded perfect to Reigh. “And the rent is cheap?”
“The cheapest you’ll find around here. Except for the haunted plantation house, but no one has lived there since the war ended.”
“Then the shack it is,” Reigh proclaimed.
Lu seemed as delighted as her. “Abuela always told me storms brought gifts, but I didn’t believe her until now. When the rain stops, I’ll drive you down.”
***
Sitting in Lu’s giant blue pick-up truck, Reigh had hoped they’d pass through the center of Broken Ridge on their way to the shack so that she could get an idea of job prospects, but they’d instead backtracked in the opposite direction, towards the town sign and everything she had left behind. Before reaching it, they took a sharp left onto a road much less traveled. Fallen branches crunched beneath the tires of the pick-up as it cruised across the road of a backland that was both swamp and woods.
“The shack actually belongs to my sister, but she returned to Mexico years ago and left it for me to manage,” Lu informed her. The tone in her voice told Reigh the sister hadn’t left under good circumstances, but she didn’t pry. “You kind of remind me of her, wild like this storm.”
“Do you have other family here in Louisiana?”
“Just my husband and my children. Twin girls and a boy. But we travel to Mexico frequently so that they can visit their relatives.”
Lu was only a few years older than her, likely in her early thirties, but it was clear they led completely reverse lives. Children were not on Reigh’s list of priorities. They never had been. And a husband… she wanted to find someone to spend the rest of her life with—her soul mate, which she profoundly believed was a match by choice, not fate—but the act of marriage was an ideal she was uncomfortable with. To her, love went beyond a contract. It didn’t require a judge or a preacher to make it real. It was or it wasn’t.
After several more minutes of being jostled around the bumpy terrain, Lu parked the truck. “Here you are. Home not-so-sweet home,” she declared.
Reigh jumped out, her duffle bag and blanket in hand. The place was exactly how Lu had described it. The shack itself was tiny and the wood around the exterior was worn and chipped, but it had a porch that wrapped completely around it, and a pier that stretched out into the bayou where a verdant tangle of underbrush and willow trees thrived, their long branches weeping into the water.
Lu went to the back of the pick-up and pulled out a rifle.
“What the hell?!” Reigh cried.
“In case there are any gators,” Lu explained innocently.
“Freak’n hell. Talk about the lamb holding the butcher’s knife,” Reigh griped, catching her breath. “For the record, I hate guns.”
“It’s set for stun.”
She raised an eyebrow at the massive barrel. “Somehow, I doubt it.”
Rifle in hand, Lu led Reigh into the shack, the door unlocked. Clearly, there was nothing in it worth protecting, not even from gators, but to her relief, the place was free of boot skins.
“It’s an open concept,” Lu stated weakly, as if it were painful to say.
More like no concept. The bedroom and front room melded into one studio, the focal point a wide plum-colored couch that added some charm to an otherwise dusty grey room. Behind the couch was a little nook with a mini fridge beneath a black countertop and a narrow oven.
“I love it,” Reigh said honestly, ignoring the cobwebs in the rafters. “It has potential.”
Lu frowned, seemingly unconvinced. “That’s the bathroom,” she said, pointing to a brightly beaded curtain that acted as a door. “Toilet and shower. No tub. Is that okay?”
“It beats the truck stop bathroom. It didn’t have a tub or a shower. Just a sink,” Reigh disclosed, optimistic despite her exhaustion.
Shoved in a corner was a water-stained mattress and wardrobe, from which Lu pulled out a thick quilt and sheets. “My sister left some stuff behind. Help yourself to it. But also feel free to change anything around. She won’t be coming back. This is your home now.”
The relief of having a decent place to sleep was uplifting. A swell of happiness overwhelmed Reigh as she looked around, knowing this truly was her place now.
All the lights in the shack suddenly switched on.
“Must be a loose fuse,” Reigh surmised. “Good to know the electricity works.”
“Except that half these bulbs are dead,” Lu claimed. She studied Reigh with an inquisitiveness that made her shrink back, as if she were a monster in a freak show. “Do you like pottery? There’s a pottery circle I belong to that meets every Monday. You should join us at our next meeting.”
It sounded terrible, like a group of pretentious artists, so Reigh declined. “Pottery really isn’t my thing.”
Lu persisted. “Trust me, you’ll love it. I won’t t
ake no for an answer.”
She didn’t put up a fight. She was too tired and happy to. Nodding reluctantly, she spotted a radio on the countertop in the nook and turned it on, grateful when she found a classic rock station. “Now it feels like home,” she said. “I’m sure Axl is enough to scare away the gators.”
In response, Lu pulled an ornament from her pocket. Fashioned like a star, it was made of little sticks covered in multi-colored yarn. “Actually, this should do the trick,” she said, jangling the ornament as she went to the door and tied it to the outside handle. “This will keep all unwanted creatures from entering the house. Just don’t move it. Keep it here.”
Reigh looked at it doubtfully. “It’s pretty, but I think I’d rather take my chances with the gun. Or Axl.”
Lu smiled knowingly from the porch, preparing to leave. “In this town, things are always more than what they seem, even simple door ornaments,” she said. “Welcome to Broken Ridge, Reigh. You’ll never be the same again.”
To prove her words true, the mechanic snapped her fingers, causing the door to slam shut behind her.
Chapter Two
The shack now swept and decorated, it felt more like home than the apartment Reigh had shared in Vegas with two of her so-called friends. Living here would be wholesome, more so than walking into the kitchen of an apartment, only for her roommates to go silent and put on fake smiles, as if they hadn’t just been speaking ill of her behind her back.
From her bed, she grabbed the blanket Big Ben had gifted her and draped it over the back of the couch. “There,” she said, pleased.
In the afternoon light, the yellow plaid of the blanket added to the vibrancy of the additions she’d made to the shack. Earlier that morning, after Lu had dropped off her car, she’d taken her new landlady back to the garage then ventured into the center of town. Delighted, she’d happened upon a thrift store, her kind of shopping, where she picked up a trio of vases made of fragments of colored glass that complimented the coral and purple patchwork of the quilt Lu’s sister had left behind, which she’d washed in the shower the night before. After hanging up a few fairy lights and lining the window-sills with plants, the deal had been sealed on the shack. It was now a place she could zone out in while she listened to her tunes and figured out what the hell she was going to do to earn money.
In Vegas, when she wasn’t working at the thrift store or helping out at the community center, she was with her girlfriends in search of their next free hit. Drugs had been her recreation. Now she wanted something better. She didn’t want highs and blackouts. She wanted to remember her youth before it was gone completely.
This is a start, she thought, falling onto the couch like a limp doll, resting before she had to venture out again. Lu had invited her to dinner with her family, and it was nearly time to leave. If there was any flaw to the shack, it was how far it was from town. Between the rent and the repairs made to her car, her well had almost run dry. She had very little money left. Which meant she had to watch the gas she used. With the sun blazing outside, drying the land after yesterday’s storm, there was no reason Reigh couldn’t walk to Lu’s house, no matter how long it took.
Dozing, a rumble in her stomach forced her to roll off the couch. She hadn’t eaten since the twisty fries. After a quick shower, she changed into a pair of cut-offs and a fitted black tank top, over which she paired a large red flannel. Stepping outside, she adjusted the fairy lights she had hung around the rail of the porch and headed away from the bayou.
According to her cheap ass phone, which kept switching off every time she was online more than a few minutes, a majority of the walk to town was along a forested trail that ran parallel to the road. Reigh followed the directions carefully, afraid of getting lost. She hadn’t driven all the way to Louisiana only to become some alligator’s bitch.
The woods were dry compared to the swamp. With sunlight streaming through the trees, the walk turned out to be quite peaceful, except for the sense that she was being watched.
It didn’t alarm Reigh. She had often felt like someone watched over her, a benign force, probably whoever protected her with the rune, if it wasn’t a hallucination. Since arriving in Broken Ridge, there were plenty of small, random things she was certain were hallucinations, things her mind refused to process, but she was willing to overlook a few curiosities if meant keeping sane in this startling new place.
The journey through the woods was long but easy. A little over an hour in, she broke through the tree line and stepped onto the cobbled streets of the town.
Reigh didn’t know the history of Broken Ridge, but it looked as if it had been founded as a French settlement, with low brick buildings pushed close together on the slope of a hill. Small black iron balconies with elegant detailing stood beneath a majority of the upper windows, which had thick wood-like paneling similar to those she’d seen in the Paris hotel in Vegas. The buildings were surrounded by lush trees, brightening the historic brick with green.
Nearby was the library, a colossal building with high marble columns and a grand staircase that led up to heavy Gothic doors. It was more Roman that it was French, but it did not distract from the rest of the town; it reinforced it, like a stately watchtower guarding over the citizens, the wealth of knowledge inside supporting its stance. It was its own presence.
Lu did not live in the center of town. Small businesses dominated the streets, each unique and locally owned. Above some of the businesses were apartments housing the owners, but a majority of the residents of Broken Ridge lived in the immediate suburbs—majestic mansions on acres of land, modern housing estates that attempted to imitate the colonial elements of the town, and small trailer parks with floral arrangements out front where a surprising number of elderly lived. And the shacks by the bayou, where she lived.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. It was Lu. “I’m nearly there,” she answered.
“Oh no. I should have called you sooner,” Lu said fretfully. “One of my girls, Abigail, has fallen sick. Samuel is at the garage, so between taking care of Abigail and minding the other two, I haven’t had time to prepare anything special. I think I’m just going to throw a few hot dogs on for the kids. Do you mind if we postpone?”
“Sure. Do you want me to come over and help out until your husband comes home?”
“It’s a tempting offer, thank you, but Abigail may be contagious, so better you stay back, just in case.”
“No problemo,” Reigh said, and then she let Lu go, knowing she had her family to attend to.
Folding her arms, she stared down the hill at the river that ran along the far end of town, watching the soft ripples glimmer in the sunlight. Now that she was here, she was in no hurry to leave. Curious if they had Rolling Stone in stock, she was tempted to go into the library and have a look around. She couldn’t afford a magazine subscription, but she could spare change for a library card. But a better plan overruled her need to catch up on the wicked and the famous.
Smoothing out the wrinkles in her flannel, she hit the road. The stores around her would close soon, but she had enough time to poke her head into a few and ask if there were any jobs available. She thought of the grocery store first, but on her way there, she passed by the thrift store she’d visited earlier that day.
Odd Wonders.
Makes sense, she thought, pushing the door open.
Entering, she inhaled the old clothing and wares like a scholar would an atlas, or a pluviophile would the rain. Already, the place was familiar to her. It wasn’t as big as the chain she’d worked for in Vegas. This one was privately owned and beautifully decorated, with intimate, dim lighting and boutique style hangers. The shelves that displayed the wares were made of a dark oak, giving the place more the air of a vintage shop than a thrift store. It was classy, just like the older woman who owned it, Mrs. Florence.
“You back, child,” Mrs. Florence greeted, sitting behind the front counter, not at all surprised to see Reigh. She was a plump woman in her sixties with
mocha skin and wise eyes that looked as if they peered through eternity.
“I used to work in a thrift store in Vegas,” Reigh informed her. “I find peace in a place like this. If you’re ever in need of an assistant, someone to stock the shelves and keep things tidy, please let me know.”
“Does it look like I need help?”
Reigh looked around the store. It was immaculate. “No, but you might want it.”
Mrs. Florence huffed—out of derision or humor, Reigh couldn’t tell. “Perhaps. How much?”
She didn’t want to give a number, afraid it would hurt her chances of being hired. “I’m cheap,” she replied. “I’ll take what I can get.”
“Now don’t be saying things like that,” Mrs. Florence scolded, unimpressed. “Know your worth, girl.”
Reigh rephrased. “Okay… I’m reasonable.”
Mrs. Florence stood, though it looked like it strained her to do so. “And so am I. I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come along. I’m getting old. My bones don’t work like they used to. They’ve betrayed me.”
Reigh offered her a hand, but the woman slapped it away.
“You can start on Monday,” she continued as she shuffled through the register, appearing to close up. “But none of that silly rock music while you’re working. I like myself some good ole rumba. And I can only offer you part-time hours, to begin. The occasional day here and there.”
She didn’t remember discussing music with Mrs. Florence before, but it was irrelevant. She had a job! It was such a relief. As carefree as she was, she still had to eat. “Part-time is fine. That was easier than I thought,” she admitted.
“Sometimes, it’s best to shut off the head and let the feet do the walking. They usually know where to go.”
Reigh snorted. “In Vegas, I did very little thinking and lot of walking. I walked to the bedside of a lot of bad choices.” She fumbled with a leather pouch hanging by the register, not sure why she was confessing her sins so freely. Maybe because it was therapeutic.