by Ellen, Tracy
I was about to get these annoying splinters extracted and see the inside of my boyfriend’s house. I’ll be damned if anybody or anything, dead or alive, was stopping me this time.
Chapter VIII
“Pusher Lover Girl” by Justin Timberlake
Friday 12/07/12
12:45 AM
We parked in a paved area near the back door to Luke’s house, another spot I’ve never seen due to a bordering of thick yews standing sentinel in a row. A narrow sidewalk leads up to a small cement stoop with a wrought iron railing on each side, similar to the much wider porch adorning the front of the house.
Luke was effortlessly carrying a bulging suitcase with one hand that I recognized as Anna’s. The heaviness would bring me to my knees. I was trying to figure out what Anna has decided I can’t live without for the next two days to account for such bulk. After he scooped me down from the truck and muttered something about taking no chances, Luke’s other hand was firmly supporting my elbow as we walk up the sidewalk.
A welcome glow was cast from the porch light above the storm door fronted with decorative iron bars that looks new. Past that, there’s another wood door with a high square window that looks old. Very 1950’s, which was when I estimated this brick rambler was built by great uncle Benny.
“Is this house built on the site of the original farm house?”
“Yeah, there was a fire some sixty-odd years ago. It didn’t completely burn the place down, but enough that it gave Uncle Ben a good reason to bulldoze the old farmhouse. He had a great time designing and building this new house.” His tone was fond when speaking of his great uncle who died last March and bequeathed him this “new” house and the valuable acreage attached.
“You’ve never said too much about your great uncle. Did you spend a lot of time here on the farm as a boy?”
At this innocuous question, I was surprised to sense a shift in Luke’s body language that raised my radar. Maybe if I could see him clearly it wouldn’t have been so obvious, but picking my way across the narrow sidewalk in my high heels, I felt him noticeably stiffen beside me.
He didn’t immediately answer but when he did, his voice was relaxed. To me, it seemed too relaxed, as if he’s trying hard to sound casual, although I couldn’t see what was alarming about my question.
“Yeah, I spent weeks here every summer for years with Ben. We had a lot of good times. I’d help him with the farm chores and I got to drive the truck and all the tractors.” Luke said in admiration, “Uncle Ben was awesome with anything mechanical or with an engine. One visit, we spent hours building a go-kart together and then a track going all over the farm. I raced that go-kart for hours on end every summer and damn that was fun.”
“Wow, hours, huh? That does sound fun,” I murmured..
“We’d fish at dawn and I went swimming most afternoons in the lake with…friends.” I thought it was odd when Luke hurried to speak to cover his slight hesitation at the word “friends”, but didn’t say anything. “Ben and his group of friends had a poker game every Friday night. I sat in from about the age of seven and they all taught me how to play. They took my money routinely, too, until I learned better. No quarter was given from those stingy assholes.” I heard the smile in his voice. “Uncle Ben was cool.”
“I wish I could have known him. Poker, eh?” In my mind’s eye, I could see a preteen Luke hanging with the big boys. He’d have a glint in his eye and a stogie hanging from the side of his mouth, coolly absorbing every word of poker playing wisdom the men deliberately dropped and memorizing every tell they didn’t know they had.
I said, “In high school, Mac and Kenna both had friends that lived on Lake Roberds and they’d come here to swim all the time. Sometimes Kenna would even let me tag along, if I bribed her.” I laughed, looking up at Luke’s distinctive silhouette outlined by the moonlight. “I was hot stuff for a nine-year-old. Just think, maybe you caught a glimpse of these charms in my Ren and Stimpy bathing suit and waited for me all these years!”
I felt his breath on my cheek when he huffed out a short laugh. “A disturbing concept on many levels, but I’d stopped coming for the summers by high school, so I doubt it.”
Luke’s hand flexed tighter on my elbow and his suddenly grim tone told me I hadn’t been wrong when I sensed him tense up before.
To lighten this strange mood, I teased, “Got too cool for the farm then, huh, city boy?”
“Something like that,” Luke agreed easily, effectively ending the conversation by moving ahead up the cement stairs and unlocking the doors.
Forgetting about Uncle Benny and the good old days for now, I was following right behind Luke with one hand on his hip when he pushed the inner door open. He turned on a light and we entered into a large back entry.
All houses have their own distinct smell, and taking a deep breath, Luke’s immediately reminded me of spicy Christmas cookies and cool, quiet spaces.
“Mmm, it smells good in here!”
Setting the suitcase down to our left on the floor before two closed doors, Luke smiled but didn’t reply. He flipped a couple more switches on the wall.
Overhead lights blazed on, illuminating a sizable square kitchen on the right and a long hallway straight ahead. This long hallway ends at the front door. A carpet runner sits atop the gleaming hardwood floor, and halfway to the front door, another open doorway on the left probably leads to the bedrooms.
Stepping into the kitchen, I took a quick look around. No messy bachelor pad, the kitchen is immaculately tidy and it’s like being in a time capsule. Pearls swinging, Mrs. Cleaver could come scurrying in any moment to grab the family meatloaf from the wall oven.
The black and white checkered linoleum floor, the rounded white appliances, the yellow tiled countertops, and turquoise Formica dinette set—this kitchen was original to the house and in beautiful condition. The table, along with four chrome and turquoise vinyl chairs, sits in front of a picture window. My eyes were drawn to the exuberantly colorful fruit and floral patterned curtains. The starched and ruffled white tie-backs hold them off the wide window and were trimmed with hanging turquoise balls. So was the white shade pulled halfway down across the wide window, and I was in love. Those balls were the next best thing to fringe.
Walking forward to flick a knit ball, I sent it dancing and remarked admiringly, “Uncle Ben probably ordered this table and chairs brand new from the Sears catalogue in 1955. What a gem!”
“He did,” Luke affirmed, smiling at my enthusiasm while he leaned a shoulder against the doorway. “Some women don’t appreciate anything older than five minutes ago.”
“Well, I guess some women just don’t have souls, now do they?’ I quipped, idly strolling to peek into the adjoining darkened dining room. I spotted a plate of cookies sitting on the tile counter, covered loosely under some clear plastic wrap.
I pointed and said, “I knew it! Can I have one, please?” Even as Luke nodded, I was selecting the best cookie that had the perfect amount of white icing and sprinkles. Around a mouthful of soft chewy ginger I asked, “Holy Moly, where did these little darlings come from?”
Luke’s eyes tracked my mouth, as I moaned my opinion, and he replied absently, “I pay a teenage neighbor kid with a big truck to take care of the plowing and shoveling.”
Raising my brows, I chewed for a second more to swallow. “And this kid makes you cookies from scratch?”
“No, his grandmother does.” Luke’s dimple creased his bronzed cheek. “She’s widowed and loves me.”
I grinned across the room at the hot man looking dangerous in black leather and lounging with crossed arms in the doorway. “I’m sure she does. If Uncle Benny was anything like you, Granny was probably his booty call.”
Luke threw back his head and laughed. “Man, I hope so!” He held out his hand. “Come, Anabel. Let’s go get those splinters taken care of first. I’ll give you the grand tour when we’re done.”
“One sec.” I grabbed a napkin and the second b
est cookie I could find. I may need something to bite down on while he’s operating and there’s no piece of bark nearby. I tucked the velvet box and the cookie safely in my purse, and took his hand. “You men have it great in life.”
Luke nodded wisely. “I think so, but why do you?”
Snickering around my cookie, I replied, “Women always want to feed you all, you don’t have periods, and nobody thinks you’re butch if you beat someone up. I mean, could life be any nicer?”
Pulling me into the back entry again, Luke replied on a choking sound, “No, that’s about as nice as it gets.”
He stopped before one of the closed doors and my attention is diverted when I noticed there’s a key pad above the door knob. I watched Luke’s long fingers fly over the keypad entering a sequence of numbers too long to follow. I can’t picture Uncle Benny having a locked door of this nature, so this must be an update of Mr. Secretive’s.
Luke swung open the heavy door and waved me forward. I peered down a long flight of carpeted steep stairs leading into a dark hole.
“Should I take off my shoes?” I asked courteously, looking back over at Luke still in his leather jacket and boots.
Luke immediately shook his head no. Eyes heavy-lidded, he smiled slowly. “I like the thought of you in nothing except your high heels and stockings while I play doctor.”
Shaking my head, I muttered, “My god, how unfair can you be! I’m too tired, remember? I wouldn’t have to put up with this kind of behavior if it were Anna doing the operating!”
He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me back near him. Sweeping aside my hair, Torquemada kissed my neck. “I know, and I’ll show you how you can thank me later.” He leaned around me and flicked on a light switch that turned on a fixture hanging at the bottom of the stairs. “But for now, hold onto the railing and get that sweet cha-cha moving down those stairs. My time is money.”
“Oh, okay, mean doctor,” I retorted on a laugh, but I started down the stairs and moved quickly to the bottom.
He was right behind me when I entered a huge, open room. Luke had left the upstairs in its mid-century glory, but he’d been busy as a beaver bringing in the new millennium down in the basement.
First of all, you’d never know you were in a basement. The room I’m standing in has no windows and the floors were thickly padded in gray commercial carpeting. The walls and the nine foot ceiling were seamlessly covered in a textured material that appeared to be gray fabric, not paint or wallpaper, except where there are doors or light fixtures. It was pleasantly cool and very quiet.
A bank of flat screened TV monitors hung from the upper wall directly across from the bottom of the stairs, about twenty feet away. Below the screens, a wide desk area ran the length and there were a couple of desktop computers.
Walking closer to the hanging flat screens, I saw digital numbers in the corners, and concluded from these time stamps that they were reflecting real-time images. The eight screens were each divided into four squares. Within each square a greenish-colored image is showing different exterior views of the outbuildings, the driveway, the yard, and the house. The whole farmstead was covered by video cameras. I knew from my recent security research this was called CCTV, or closed circuit television.
Over my shoulder, I demanded incredulously, “Do you have Svettie slapping me recorded somewhere?”
Luke grinned. “Hey, I’m a sentimental guy. That’s the first video of my new girlfriend coming to visit.”
Crossing my arms, I turned and glared. “Me taking a flying leap off the driveway?”
He winced and nodded slowly, eyes dancing with laughter. “But it was very painful for me to watch the first ten times.” He raised a finger and stroked his lip. “If I had to pick, my personal favorite is the video I’ve dubbed, “My Bitch Howling at the Moon”.
I covered my eyes with my hands while moaning in embarrassment, and then my head snapped up. “Are you some kind of pervert that has everything recorded?”
With his swarthy darkness and sinful grin, I had to reconsider if the dearly departed Aunt Lily was so far off the mark when she said Luke was the Devil. Just because she was an off-her-rocker religious fanatic doesn’t necessarily make her wrong.
Luke replied, “Why yes, I am some kind of pervert, but other than the basement door, no cameras are positioned indoors.”
I gave him the eye for a few seconds longer.
He arched a black brow with a knowing smile. “Anabel, Anabel. Do you want me to do some camera repositioning?”
Flustered, I turned my attention back to the computers on the desk, so he wouldn’t see by my pink cheeks that’s exactly what I had been thinking.
‘Porno thoughts are one thing, but porno movies? Holy Hannah, this must be how it starts for those idiot politicians that ruin their lives!’
I diverted my mind by checking out the computers like they were the coolest thing since sliced bread.
“Umm, these computers have the largest monitors I’ve ever seen. I notice the middle one is on, may I?” I peered quickly back at Luke to get his permission.
He’s still smiling, but only nodded. Not seeing a keyboard, I touched the screen. There are two lines of text. The security system was reporting the recent motions detected signifying our arrival and the basement door unlocking.
Luke spoke right over my shoulder and I shivered. “I have the alarm function turned off right now. The system also notifies me by text on my phone.”
“Does it trigger the alarms from any motion?” I asked, actually becoming interested.
“There are different features you can choose to utilize depending on what your security needs are, but here I run it continuously with motion triggered alarms using Video Content Analysis software. I don’t want a text if a squirrel runs across the front porch, but if something taller than eighteen inches comes knocking, I know about it.” He added as an afterthought, “Assuming I check my phone or the computer.”
I nodded slowly, my mind buzzing. I continued looking around, admiring how all the wires, cables, and cords plugged into various ports are bundled and neatly trail off down holes in the wall or desk. Nothing was jumbled and there’s not a dust bunny in sight.
A sleek black conference table surrounded by six gray leather chairs sits off to the right side of the room. I caught an intriguing glimpse of a stack of plat maps and a huge Minnesota atlas near the head of the table before my eyes moved on. Many maps of all types, sizes, and shapes are framed and hanging on the walls. Some looked old and yellowed.
Past the table, and on either end of the wall, were two doors. In between the doors, and inset into the wall, was a black metal gun safe. It looked antique, incredibly heavy, and rested on cast iron wheels the size of round dinner plates.
On the opposite side of the room, a glass case hung on one side of that wall. Displayed inside were rifles and pistols that I don’t know the names of, but they looked to be collector’s items. A large screen TV was on the other half of the wall. There was a drafting table, as well.
I turned to check out the area behind me that I didn’t notice when coming down the stairs. There’s nothing to see but smooth wood paneling stained in the same gray as the other walls.
Smiling, I rotated in a circle. “Ah, it’s the Drake mansion Bat Cave at last!”
Luke laughed softly and touched a panel of wood on the wall. A door slid opened soundlessly and I saw a small fridge. “The Drake mansion version of Alfred,” he joked and I laughed, too. “You’re probably thirsty. Would you like a bottle of water, Princess?”
I flashed him a smile, “Thanks, I would.”
He opened the plastic bottle and passed it to me. Taking a deep drink, my eyes scanned the room again. A few more long swallows and I put the emptied bottle down on the conference table with a murmur of satisfaction.
I nodded towards the antique gun safe. “Uncle’s?”
“Yes,” Luke replied simply.
“Too heavy to move or sentimental?” I
inquired; quite sure the narrow safe couldn’t be anywhere near large enough to store the arsenal of weapons and gear I suspected Luke would have on hand.
“Both,” replied my Dark Prince and I smiled over at him, liking that he admitted the sentiment part.
As Luke smiled back, I noticed he’d taken off his jacket while patiently waiting for me to look my fill around the room. There was something hot glowing in his eyes that instantly increased my heart beat.
I nonchalantly moved away and tilted my head towards the security monitors. “Why all the cameras?”
“Why not?” Luke answered promptly, and I didn’t have to see him to know a wide shoulder had lifted in his arrogant shrug.
Hitching my purse strap onto my shoulder, I laughed at his answer. ‘Why not indeed! Every home should be equipped with a locked, sound-proofed security center stuffed to the gills with all sorts of weaponry, antiques, and hi-tech gadgets.’
Opening my arms wide, I twirled back to face Luke and exclaimed, “Don’t you think that Bat Girl needs a control room, too? I’ve made a few security upgrades recently. I had bars installed on the laundry room window and locks added on all the bedroom doors,” I waved to encompass the large area, “but I want to do this in the apartment!”
Luke’s face was serious when he nodded. “I definitely agree you should turn your building into a fortress. The office next to your bedroom could be converted ...”
“With secret getaway ladders up to the third floor of our Northfield Operations Center and down into the storeroom in Bel’s!” I clapped with excitement, at the same time Luke finished, “…into a nice little panic room.”
Seeing my disappointed frown at his words, he retracted smoothly, “Or into an escape route to our Northfield Operations Center.”
I grinned in approval and walked over to hug him around the waist. “I love your ideas, Boyfriend.”
Luke bowed his head gravely at my homage “Thank you, a man needs to take credit where he can.”