by Steve Richer
Maybe she needed to back off a little. She was starting to come across as a bit needy. Especially when he had his gorgeous wife’s legs in his lap and she was clearly enjoying so much the way he rubbed at her feet and up around the ankles.
“I’ll get it,” Alice said. Perhaps she’d sensed his instant tensing at the sound of the bell.
He started to object, but she’d already swung her legs clear and was standing.
“Get rid of them,” he told her. “Whoever it is. I was just about to start working my way up.”
“I could tell.”
He’d been right. It was Libbie, again.
He heard the voices, liking the way Alice seemed to perk up when she saw who it was. He tried to tune it out, but then he heard the name Marissa and immediately listened more closely.
“…just came by to thank Tom for how good he was at Marissa’s shoot today.”
“Shoot? He hasn’t told me about that part of his day yet.”
Laughter, then: “Marissa Sigley. Her parents hired me to help her with her portfolio. She’s interested in modeling. She’s a natural. She was really good. Although I must say I was a bit shocked at how, well, suggestive she wanted to get. I’ve never done that kind of glamour stuff before, if you know what I mean. I know guys have a cheerleader thing, but…”
“And Tom helped you with the shoot?”
“Oh yes, he was great. It really helped that there was someone there who Marissa knew. He really helped her relax and let go of her inhibitions. Not that she had many of those!”
Tom was cursing himself again. He’d been going to tell Alice about the afternoon. He just hadn’t gotten that far in his account of the day yet. He hadn’t been hiding anything, but now she’d think…
“Did the pictures come out well?”
“Yes, I think so. I’ll show you them sometime, if you like? And Tom, too, if you think he’d like to see them?”
“Maybe not tonight.”
“That’s good. Anyhow, I just wanted to thank him. Would it be okay if I had a quick word?”
Moments later the two appeared in the den. Tom couldn’t work out the look on Alice’s face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“It’s Libbie,” she said. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Sorry,” said Libbie, as the door closed. “I just wanted to thank you again for this afternoon.”
“That’s fine,” said Tom. “You’re welcome.”
There was something a bit odd about her tonight and he soon found out why.
“I just wanted to ask…” she said, hesitating. “Rusty. He has a thing for Alice, doesn’t he? Has he ever tried anything, you know, rough?”
She was back on that again. She was the one who’d warned them about the dangers of adolescent crushes. If anything, she was the one who appeared obsessed. But then what she said next stopped Tom in his tracks.
“He… He made a pass at me today.”
“What?!”
“After we’d gotten back from the shoot. You went out again, so I was all alone, and he was there staring through my window. When I went out to confront him, he got strange with me.”
“What do you mean by strange?”
“He kind of reared up over me. He’s a big kid. Strong. All of a sudden I was very aware that I was alone with him.”
“Did he do anything?”
“No. No, nothing like that. He just kind of stared at me as if he wanted me to know I was at his mercy. Then… then he told me he liked me. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud like that, but he said it in a way. It scared me. Then he just stood there while I backed away. When I got into my apartment I locked the door, but when I looked out the window he was still standing there, smiling.”
“You want me to have a word with him?”
“No, please don’t! It sounds stupid now I’ve said it out loud. I was just scared. I’d hate to think he’d done anything like that to Alice, too. I just wanted you to know, that’s all.”
Just then Alice reappeared. Libbie made her excuses and rapidly left.
“Well that was odd,” said Alice, coming back to join Tom on the couch. “Were you going to tell me about your little erotic photo shoot?”
“It wasn’t like that!” Tom protested. “And I was just about to tell you when she showed up.”
“Yeah, yeah. You say that now that your sordid little secret’s out.”
She was joking about it, he knew, but it was all coming out wrong. He didn’t like being out of control like this. Stuff going on, so much he felt he had to chase just to keep up.
“You need to learn to say no to people,” Alice said. “You’re way too nice sometimes.”
“It’s just one of those things,” he said. “Libbie asked for help. I didn’t quite know what it was going to be. It was a bit weird, to tell the truth. The kid’s only sixteen, you know. The photos were all pretty tame, but still…”
Later, in bed, Alice brought it up again.
They were just snuggling down. Tom had looped a long arm around her and was thinking about where they’d left off earlier, when the doorbell had rung. He was just nuzzling into the side of her neck, when she said, “So is it true? What Libbie said? That all guys have a cheerleader thing?”
“It’s kind of designed that way, isn’t it? Bare legs and shaking those pompoms.” He sounded defensive, and he knew it.
He rolled onto his back. If he tried anything now she’d assume he was thinking of cheerleaders. Of Marissa Sigley.
“I’m not jealous,” she said. “Not really. She’s kind of cute. Marissa.”
So he was right. That’s what she was thinking. She was joking, he knew. Teasing him. But it was the kind of teasing that made him uncomfortable right now.
Particularly after what Libbie had said earlier about Rusty. A sure reminder of her warnings about the dangers of adolescent crushes… and obsessions. He remembered what it was like to be a teenager. The mood swings. The feelings you don’t understand. The constant horniness.
It was easy to imagine that taken to another level.
He found it hard to believe Rusty behaving the way Libbie had described, but can you ever really know another person?
“You’re quiet.”
They were in bed. Wasn’t it normal to be quiet?
Alice had clearly sensed the tension in him, that he was still lying there awake.
“Just something Libbie said earlier. Got me thinking.”
She turned to face him, drawing one leg up across his thighs.
“She doesn’t feel comfortable around Rusty. It just… well, it made me concerned about you, given that he likes you so much. If he makes Libbie feel that way, then what about you? Has he ever, I don’t know, intimidated you? Made a pass?”
At least she didn’t laugh. “Oh, Tom,” she said. “Rusty’s a sweet kid. Libbie just doesn’t know his ways. He’s awkward around people and he’s big. That easily comes across the wrong way if you’re not used to it. It’s nothing.”
“You’d tell me if there was anything? That’s not the kind of thing to keep to yourself. Things escalate quickly when you’re dealing with obsession.”
“Tom. Just slow down, okay? Don’t run away with this, just because you’ve gotten something into your head. You know this kind of jealousy isn’t healthy. We don’t want to go there again.”
Again. One word like a slap.
He cared. There was nothing wrong in that.
Maybe it was primitive, the hunter-gatherer protective thing. But that didn’t make it wrong.
Would she rather he didn’t?
He bit down on the responses, though. He’d only sound defensive.
“Tom?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I just wanted to be sure there was nothing.”
“Don’t obsess about Rusty, you hear? He’s a good kid. There’s nothing.”
He reached down, found her leg, and squeezed.
“It’s not all getting too much again, is it, honey?”
“The stress. The money. The construction. The tenant thing—you were never comfortable letting a stranger into our space, but I kind of pushed it on you, didn’t I?”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s lots of triggers. And now the jealousy…”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t think you should see someone? Just to be sure? You don’t want another breakdown. I don’t want to see you hit that kind of a place again.”
Again.
“I’m fine.”
He pulled away from her, and she actually flinched.
Swung his legs out to sit on the edge of the bed.
He stood.
“Tom?”
He went across to the door and paused.
“Tom?”
“I’m fine.”
And then he walked from the room.
Chapter 18
Tom tried not to let his frustrations show.
Franco had messaged them first thing, said there was a development on site and they needed to come and see and make some decisions. It sounded ominous.
Tom had wanted to head straight out, but Alice, already at work, had insisted they come together, which meant waiting until she was free at lunchtime. Convenient for her, yes, but it meant Tom had to interrupt his day rather than getting the site visit over with and getting down to his own work.
He tried hard not to dwell on how his work always seemed to come second.
It was only natural. She was shooting for VP and he was just a keyboard monkey, chasing peanuts.
Whatever.
He was fine.
They didn’t talk much after Tom picked Alice up at the office and headed on to Whitetail Lane.
They pulled up at the curb behind Rusty’s beat-up Mitsubishi.
“He’s working here already?” said Alice.
“Yeah, he seemed keen. College funds.”
The kid was a hard worker and it seemed he’d do anything for the Grangers. On another day he’d have made a joke of that, given his wife that old smile and wink, had a bit of fun. But not today.
Her concerns last night were in danger of pushing him too close to the edge. It was like her complaint that keeping on asking if she was relaxed didn’t exactly relax her. He was fine, but pressing him about the state of his mind and whether the stress was getting too much… well, that was the one thing guaranteed to push him into an unstable place.
He didn’t want to go there again.
Not ever.
“Hey, Rusty!” he called, waving to the kid.
Rusty was unloading a flatbed truck, lifting big sheets of drywall off the back, ready to move them into the building. When he paused to wave back, one of Franco’s guys snapped something at him and he jumped back to work.
Just then Franco came over, wiping his hands on his jeans before reaching out to shake.
“Kid doing all right?” Tom asked, nodding in Rusty’s direction.
Franco nodded. “He’s okay,” he said. “We have to be careful, you know. He’s not properly licensed or insured for this kind of work, but the guys like having someone lower than them to boss around, you know? Makes ’em feel superior.”
They laughed. Maybe some hard work on a construction site would do Rusty some good. The kid tended to shy away from the world if he could get away with it. Tom had worked construction to get through college and it had been the making of him.
“So is this just a progress report, or what?” asked Alice, taking the lead.
“Let me show you.”
Tom glanced at his wife. This didn’t sound good.
They went in, putting on the hard hats Franco handed them. Tom helped Alice balance as she stepped over some debris—she hardly had the shoes for this—and she smiled at him.
They went up the stairs and through to what was going to be the back bedroom. In contrast to downstairs, where they were already starting to fit out the drywall and woodwork, up here was still more like a demolition site. The entire ceiling was down, exposing old beams and wiring.
And daylight.
There shouldn’t be daylight coming in at that angle.
Franco was watching them, waiting for the questions that would come.
Instead of questions, though, Alice simply said, “Tell us.”
“It’s the woodwork in the entire back section of the roof. Everything looked fine from outside, and even from inside the loft space in the early inspections. But once this lot came down and we opened it up. Well… none of the timbers are sound. Been exposed to leaks for too long. We’ll strip it down to solid wood and replace the bad, but you’re looking at a whole new section of roof up there. None of that was on the plan.”
And so none of it had been budgeted for.
“You got a ballpark figure?” asked Tom.
Franco shook his head. “I called you soon as we found it. I’ll need to get someone up there to see just how far the damage goes. I’ll get you figures soon as I can. Give you a price for the minimum fix, and one for the best job.”
Franco always worked that way. Tells you the least you can get away with, and then follows up with a But if it was me, this is how I’d do it properly. Up to now they’d always gone with the But if it was me option, because Franco was good and they wanted to do it right, but now… Tom struggled to see how even a minimum fix was going to be achievable.
They’d have to pay for the roof, of course, but if they did then that might mean halting the interior fit until Alice made vice president. Or until Tom found something better than piecemeal freelancing gigs from home.
He was starting to feel a little nauseous. He didn’t dare look at Alice, didn’t want to know where her head was racing.
He couldn’t help but feel somehow responsible, even for something beyond their control like this.
On the way back down Alice made her own way over the pile of debris.
~ ~ ~ ~
Libbie was outside. She seemed to be everywhere these days.
But Alice smiled when she saw their tenant and that shifted a weight inside Tom a little, so he could hardly complain. Maybe they needed a few more friends in their lives again, to stop them getting too closed in on each other. The ever-present Libbie really had been a breath of fresh air.
He stood by as the two women kissed cheeks in greeting, and then had that awkward moment when he realized he didn’t know the appropriate way to greet her. Shake her hand? Sketch an awkward wave in the air?
Then she stepped forward and planted a surprisingly firm peck on his cheek.
“Hey, you guys,” she said. “I was out here on a project, remembered this was where you had a place so swung by, and what do you know? I saw your car here. How’s the work going? It looks good.”
Tom and Alice simultaneously grunted an almost identical laugh, then stopped and finally met each other’s gaze. Alice smiled. Tom smiled back and he felt that weight lift a fraction more.
There was a reason he was with Alice.
Lots of reasons.
He turned to Libbie again. “Oh, you know. Things go well and then the roof falls in.”
“Literally.” He shared a look with Alice again as she said this. Back to finishing each other’s sentences.
“There’s a hole,” he explained.
“In the roof.”
“Oh dear. That sounds expensive.” Libbie had a knack for making exactly the observation that twisted the knife a little more.
“I was thinking about what we said the other day,” Libbie said, addressing Alice. “About how maybe I could take pictures of the place for when you want to rent it out.”
Or sell it, Tom thought, but didn’t say out loud.
“Maybe I could take some pictures of the work in progress? Pictures of that nasty hole in the roof, to show how bad it was, in contrast to just how good you’re going to make it.”
“You won’t need your flashgun,” Tom said. “There’s plenty of natural ligh
t coming through!”
“Tom, would you be a dear and get my camera bag from the trunk of my car? Alice can give me a progress report.”
As she spoke, Libbie slipped her arm through Alice’s and the two of them looked so easy in each other’s company Tom found himself heading off to the street without even questioning it. How did he always end up running around after the women in his life? Was he too nice, as Alice had implied last night? Too much of a pushover?
Libbie had parked her Toyota right behind Tom’s car. He pressed the trunk release button on the key fob Libbie had handed him and found the bag. Maybe he should look for work as a photographer’s assistant. He had the experience now.
Heading back, he passed his car, then Rusty’s.
That was when something caught his eye.
A book, lying on the front passenger seat of the Mitsubishi. One of those car books mechanics had, photographs and schematics of all the different engines for the various years and models of a car.
And sticking out of the book, like a bookmark, was a full-color printout. The part sticking out revealed a lurid image, like something from a magazine.
Bare flesh. Limbs tangled, splayed.
Even at first glance through the car window Tom could see it was a fake, a clumsy, unskilled Photoshop collage, an image no doubt taken from the internet with the faces changed.
The unmistakable acne-pocked face of Rusty himself on the guy. And Alice’s face on the woman.
What the…
Tom controlled the anger.
He’d learned to do that. How to block the first rush of thoughts. How to control the breathing, and by doing that control the thumping heart and the rush of angry blood.
He waited. Not looking at that obscene image.
Waited.
And then he went back to the construction site.
“Rusty? You got a minute?”
The kid was back at the truck, dragging another sheet of drywall free.
“Sure, Mr. Granger. Right with you.”
Tom waited, and then as Rusty approached he turned and walked farther away from the site, and the curious ears of the crew, so that Rusty had to keep walking to follow him.
He didn’t want to do this in front of Franco and his men. Didn’t want to do it in front of Alice, Libbie.