by Dani Collins
“But—” Dayton said.
“Porsha.” Mercedes grabbed the phone from Dayton’s hand.
“I want to talk to Mommy!” Ayjia sprang for the phone too, but it was too late.
“Sorry, hon,” Mercedes said. “I guess she had to go.”
“You hogged it!” Ayjia accused Dayton, taking a swing.
“Whoa!” Mercedes held the two apart, but Dayton only jerked away and went back to his Legos.
“Stupid Dayton!” Ayjia turned red and made tiny fists of fury. Tears filled her eyes. “You didn’t let me talk!”
“Shh, shh.” Mercedes scooped up the little girl’s stiff body. “It wasn’t his fault, sweetie. Mommy had to go. That’s all. She’s busy.”
“But I want to talk to her. I want to talk to mah, mah—”
“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” Mercedes hugged her, trying to stem the explosion she could feel building.
Ayjia wrapped herself like a vine around Mercedes’s trunk. “I want Mah-meee.”
“I know.” Mercedes jiggled and patted. “It’s okay. We’ll talk to her another day.”
“I want Mommy!” Ayjia screeched.
“Stupid, fucking Legos!” Dayton smashed his creation, scattering blocks so they rained on the wall and floor with a clatter. He kicked the bin so it banged against the wall, spilling in a fall of yellow and red. “I hate Legos! Why’d you even buy them?”
“Everything all right?” Mrs. Brewster called from the walkway beyond the patio.
“Fine.” Mercedes carried the wailing Ayjia across the room so she could shut the door. Lego drove into the bottom of her foot and her knee buckled. She staggered to stay upright while Ayjia sobbed, “Ma-Meeeee!”
Dayton gave the pile of Legos another kick, raining blocks over the couch and into the register with little pings.
Yeah, everything was just friggin’ terrific.
L.C. was staring at the pipe in the laundry room, wondering if he would have to get that repair inspected before he closed up the wall, and was peeved all over again that he didn’t have a proper trades certificate of his own.
He had started looking online for a GED class here in Flagstaff, but it seemed like he had missed the cycle and would have to wait for summer to find one anywhere again.
A knock at the back door pulled him into the living room.
Mercedes stood behind the closed screen. She packed a lot of sex appeal into loose curly hair, a sporty halter dress and red toenails peeking from a pair of dollar-store sandals.
“Hey,” he said, instantly hard, just from one glimpse.
“I thought you would still be moving in or fixing something.” She hugged herself, looking up at him as he opened the screen.
“Not much to move in.” He waved at the two lawn chairs, one with a toolbox for a footstool, but his attention stayed on her, admiring how the late evening sun slanted from the back patio, making her hair glow and leaving shadows of vulnerability in her soft face.
A bicycle bell pling-plinged. Mercedes swung around to say, “No ringing in the complex, Ayjia. Dayton, stay where I can see you.” She sighed wearily and turned back to L.C., staying in the doorway as she said, “New bikes.”
“Good idea.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see. And sorry to interrupt, but I needed to ask you something. Is there any way you could work on the other unit first? I could pay you a bit of overtime myself, maybe help in the evenings.”
“You? Why?”
“So me and the kids could move in. My apartment is too small. I’m on the couch because the kids are in my bed. It sounds like this arrangement could go on a little longer than I planned. Moving is the board’s idea—”
The bell ping-pinged again.
“Ayjia, please! I have to go.” Mercedes turned back to him. “I promised we’d ride to the park and Dayton is... Okay, I can’t see him. So can you? Fix it first?”
“I guess,” he started to say, but Mercedes was gone.
He stared after her as she retreated.
She couldn’t move in next door. He was already lousy at hiding his interest. He would wind up flirting. Zack would turn it into something it wasn’t. Eventually he, L.C., would do something stupid. Then she’d rip his heart out and leave it for the crows.
He ought to leave now, before it got ugly.
He closed the screen and moved back inside only to see another shadow flicker.
Zack parked his bike and came in, heading straight for the cereal cupboard. “I just saw Mercedes. She said she wants to move in next door.”
“I heard.” Sante Fe, he thought. He could still get a day in on that course in New Mexico.
“We could finish ripping up that carpet tonight, get it loaded into your truck. You could get rid of it tomorrow morning while I’m at school.” He poured milk on his cereal and began shoveling it into his mouth.
“So you think it’s a good idea?” He folded his arms, waited for his son’s gaze to hit his. It glanced away just as fast.
Zack shrugged. “I like her. She’s done me a favor. Why? You don’t want to be around the kids?”
“I don’t mind the kids.” It was the woman who was the issue and Zack had made it clear he saw it that way, too.
“You said you’d leave her alone, right? So why shouldn’t we give her a break? Seems like she could use one.” Zack scraped the bowl and slurped the milk, then set down the dirty dish with a satisfied sigh.
There it was. The nascent trust L.C. had been hoping to rebuild between him and his son.
“Yeah,” L.C. said. “Sure. Let’s get those carpets up.”
The board hadn’t properly met since before Mercedes had started her vacation weeks ago, so they had a number of items to address. Mercedes arrived unusually weighed down with binders and spreadsheets. She’d even brought the framed “A Place For Family” plaque for some reason that Edith couldn’t fathom.
As Edith glanced over the agenda, Mercedes said, “Before we begin, I should let you all know I’ve assumed temporary custody of my niece and nephew.”
The extensive agenda seemed to grow longer and more cumbersome. Edith removed her glasses and let them thump onto her breastbone. “You’re giving notice?”
“No! No. Heh.” Mercedes smiled, but it was laden with apology. “I, um, would very much like to stay, but I realize staying in my apartment isn’t practical.”
“But we need a manager who lives on site. We’ve always agreed.” Edith looked to the rest of the board.
“Oh, absolutely,” Mr. Dolinsky said. “She’s gotta stay on site.”
Harrison and Mrs. Yamamoto nodded. They didn’t look nearly so shocked by this news as Edith felt. Had they not heard Mercedes had taken custody of those children?
“Right. So, um...” Mercedes fingered the pages in front of her: a copy of the bylaws, Edith noted, and the wait list of people wanting to buy into Coconino. “Do you remember Edward Hilroy? He’s waiting for an apartment. All his financing is in order. He could move in right away. It’s not as much as we would get for one of the duplex units, but at the moment, the only ones available are unsellable, right?”
Confused, slightly panicked that she wasn’t following because she deathly feared the kind of dementia she’d seen overwhelm her contemporaries, Edith said, “I’m not sure what Edward Hilroy has to do with your custod— Did someone pass away?” The thought stopped her heart and she flattened a hand over her glasses chain. Who? Had those hooligans had anything to do with it?
“No, no! I’m sorry. I’m not explaining this very well.” Mercedes gave Harrison a pleading look. For once, he seemed intent on letting her flounder without his interference. “I’d like to move into the Fairmont unit with the kids,” Mercedes said. “That would free up my unit.”
Astounded, Edith cast a glance at her fellow board members. None met her gaze.
Ah. Apparently she was the only one to whom this was news. “I see.”
“I, um, thought you might like to move into my unit, Mrs. Garvey.”
“Did you.” She supposed they all thought she could be given a pat on the head and silenced. “Unfortunately, I’m not interested in listening to children screeching and splashing at all hours. I’m sorry, but I don’t see this as a feasible solution for anyone.”
“Edith—”
“No, Harrison,” she said with a hard-won firmness, but when she was forced to stand up for herself, she did it. “The cooperative will see a better return in the long run if we wait until we sell the Fairmont unit and its twin. Our bylaws state we need only provide the manager with a single-bedroom unit. Putting Mercedes in a two-bedroom unit is not something we can approve. And it’s not as if the children will be with her permanently. Will they?” she asked Mercedes, daring the girl to say they would.
“No, Ma’am.” Mercedes cleared her throat. “But it makes sense for me to move into the other unit for now, to get the children away from the front of the complex where they won’t be so intrusive. I spoke to L.C. He’s willing to do the work right away.”
Of course. She saw how the wind was blowing. They were all seriously misguided if they thought she would put up with this.
“Regarding That Man,” she said to Mercedes. “I heard disturbing gossip today. Are you and he engaged in a liaison?”
“Excuse me?” Mercedes sat straighter with what looked like genuine indignation.
“You were observed canoodling, Mercy-girl,” Harrison said, lifting his gaze from the spreadsheet she’d just handed him.
“What? When? Where? I haven’t canoodled anyone!”
Edith almost believed the outraged innocence, but the sad fact was, “Some people have nothing better to do than sit in the cantina and watch who comes and goes.”
“True.” Peter Dolinsky felt his head for his glasses and lowered them to his nose.
Mercedes set her forehead into her hand. “Someone overheard him ask me out? Then they must have heard me turn him down.” She lifted her head. “Look, I can’t help it if a few people think— It’s more than a few, isn’t it?” she said as Harrison snorted.
“No one means harm, Mercedes,” Mrs. Yamamoto said. “You’re a very pretty girl. He’s a man of your age.”
Mercedes blushed an intense red. “We’re not involved,” she insisted.
“I should hope not,” Edith said, approving the rejection. That Man shouldn’t be here. “We might not cater strictly to Christians, but we do adhere to Christian values.”
“Does that mean we have to cancel the betting pool?” Harrison asked in one of his ill-placed, droll asides.
“Tell me you’re kidding,” Mercedes said.
“How much to play?” Mrs. Yamamoto asked, lowering her knitting.
“If Edith doesn’t want Mercy’s unit, we’ll give it to Lindy Bellacerra,” Harrison said. “She’d like a front row seat on watching this courtyard courtship.”
Lindy Bellacerra. Over her dead body. “Do you see what nonsense you’ve started?” Edith asked Mercedes.
“I haven’t started anything!” she insisted, wide-eyed as Peter Dolinsky splayed his hand and mouthed ‘five’ to Mrs. Yamamoto.
Mrs. Yamamoto nodded and began searching her knitting bag.
Truly, Edith was the only adult on this board of juveniles.
“Stop!” Mercedes’s sharp tone startled everyone. She never spoke like that.
Voice shaking, plainly upset, Mercedes said, “Don’t do this to Dayton and Ayjia. This isn’t some big joke. It’s two children’s lives. I can’t—” She blinked back tears.
Whether they were anger or humiliation or helplessness, Edith couldn’t tell, but she felt an empathetic sting fly into her own eyes.
“The kids are confused enough. I’m not about to start bringing men home. If people are speculating on my love life and the kids might overhear it, then...” She swallowed. “Maybe I should quit.”
Beside Edith, Mrs. Yamamoto caught a dainty breath.
Mr. Dolinsky swore. “I don’t want to call that agency again,” he told Harrison.
Harrison cleared his throat. “I was only teasing, Mercy-girl.”
“I guess I don’t have much sense of humor when it comes to the kids,” she said, running fingertips under her eyes.
“So you shouldn’t,” Edith said, overcome with a sense of something like pride that Mercedes had had the strength to put her foot down. “And putting Lindy Bellacerra in your unit would only encourage these sorts of shenanigans. No, I will move into your apartment and put a stop to this betting nonsense once and for all.”
Which meant agreeing to something she had violently opposed a few moments ago. Oh, dear. She sighed and shuffled her papers, ignoring the stares she felt turn on her.
“However, we must set limits on when those children can use the pool,” she quickly stated. “I will not listen to their screeching day and night. And I will personally sign off on all proposed purchases for the duplex renovations because I do not trust That Man. Now let’s vote on these items. Harrison and I are due in the Writer’s Circle.”
“Okay,” Mercedes agreed, voice husky with sincerity, “Thank you, Mrs. Garvey.”
Chapter 10
Sunday night, Mercedes had finally wrapped up the last of her backlog mess and could start on the new mess: all the painting and scrubbing necessary to make what L.C. called ‘The Cathouse’ livable.
She’d snickered in the paint store today, tempted to buy Bordello Red and East-end Ebony for the trim, but had resisted and had come back with two buckets of Beige Number Boring, just in case she got fired after all and the board had to sell the unit.
Zack and L.C. had gutted the place. The floors were stripped to concrete, the doors unframed, and the laundry room walls showed their insulation. However, she had electricity, so Mercedes drove her small television over with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn. She settled the kids with an animated movie, propped open the doors and windows to catch the evening breeze, and began prepping the walls.
“Why are you being such an asshole about this?” Zack’s voiced carried beautifully to the spare room so she could only assume the kids heard it as clearly.
Mercedes shot past them through the living room, hearing L.C. say, “I’m not being an asshole. I just don’t feel like a road trip.”
Barefoot, she stepped onto the warm bricks of her patio and saw L.C.’s back. He sat on the brick half-wall that surrounded his patio, sipping a soda. Zack stood in the open door to their side of the duplex, a sullen expression on his face. He closed down when Mercedes moved to set her palms on the wall near L.C.’s hip.
“Hi. I’m your new neighbor. Lovely conversation. Mind watching your freaking language?”
“Hey.” L.C. smiled and gave her one of his sidelong, smoky looks. “Didn’t realize you were in there.”
“I thought I’d get some paint on the walls before the flooring goes in. We have an appointment to pick up the appliances tomorrow, by the way. Ten o’clock.”
“Sure.”
“So are you two done or do I need to close some doors?”
“No, we’re done.” L.C. drained his soda.
Zack snorted. “So that’s it? Discussion over?”
“Shi— Shoot, Zack,” L.C. corrected. “We’ve talked this one to death. Look, Mercedes won’t let you go anyway, so yeah, the discussion’s over.”
Zack shifted his gaze to her. “I want to take an extra day next weekend and go home for a family thing. Is that all right with you?”
Mercedes licked her lips. “Maybe you two should work this out yourselves.”
“Is it?” Zack repeated.
She thought it over a moment, glancing at L.C. while she did. He was trying to look bored, but she sensed defensiveness beneath his stony expression.
“If it’s really important to you, Zack, of course I don’t mind. But if you want to know what I’d prefer, I’d like to see you make a dent in that list I gave you. It would reflect better on both of us if you applied yourself to your community hours without a
sking for time off right away.”
“About that list.” L.C. placed his hand behind hers, so he angled his wide chest toward her. “Are you familiar with the term ‘exploitation?’“
About to sling something snarky right back, she noticed Zack’s narrowed eyes and paused. He wasn’t about to be put off.
“Aren’t you going to be out of school in a few weeks anyway?” she asked him. “And home for the summer?”
Zack’s gaze swung back to his father with such challenge, she could practically see the testosterone rising with the flush beneath his skin. “Will you come home then?”
“No.” L.C. didn’t hesitate or explain.
Zack’s nostrils flared. “You really don’t care, do you?”
L.C. crushed the can on the wall and leapt to his feet, rushing Zack.
Mercedes caught her breath.
The younger man fell back a step, but L.C. only swept past him, moving inside, leaving Zack staring after him.
Mercedes pressed her gritty hand to her chest, where her heart pounded a mile a minute. “I thought he was going to hit you or something.”
“No,” Zack dismissed with a snort, and seemed unable to decide whether to follow his father or let him cool off. He chose to move closer to her on the patio and give his dad some room. “No, he’d never hit me.” He scratched the back of his head. “But he’s pretty mad. Sorry about the swearing.”
“The kids can fine you a dollar. Do you want to tell me what this is about?”
“I’d rather live, thanks.”
She tilted her head, smiling because she realized he wasn’t afraid of L.C., but there was obviously high emotion going on here. “Why—”
L.C. came back, a cellphone pressed to his ear. “Zack wants me to come with him this weekend. Do you want me there?”
He held the phone out, letting both of them hear the dead silence. Bringing it back to his ear, he said, “That’s what I thought. Do me a favor and explain that to him.” L.C. didn’t give the person on the other end a chance to respond, just ended the call and lowered the phone.
“Satisfied?” he asked Zack.
“She hates it when you talk to her like that.”