Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads)

by Luis Samways

  Andy looks confused. He stands there for a few more seconds and then decides to leave. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me,” he says, walking out of the room.

  Melisa sits for a few seconds. “I love you,” she says, to no reply. Andy must have already gone downstairs. She looks at the rose and smiles. She picks it up. For a second she indulges in its beauty. Then she sees the little money spider on its stem. She nearly throws the rose in fright as she jolts out of bed. She then composes herself. “It’s only a baby spider,” she says to herself, feeling rather silly. “Goddamn house,” she adds as she gets up out of bed and stretches out wide.

  Twelve

  “It’s a nice green,” says Andy as he surveys the finished paintjob on his two outbuildings. The small workforce has gathered to bask in their work. A few of the beefy shirtless men look at each other in accomplishment as they crack open a few beers to celebrate.

  “Not bad for one hour’s work. Fifty-seven panels in each outbuilding, and we got it done fast,” says one of the workmen, obviously trying to fish for more compliments.

  “Well done, guys. What’s next, then?” asks Andy as he continues to be bedazzled by the glossy paintwork on his two barn conversions. He thinks to himself that if the inside was done up to the extent that the outside was, then he wouldn’t mind turning it into a pool house. He decides to run the idea by the group.

  “We are just waiting for Dayton to come back from the lumberyard. He seems to think that adding some outside skirting to the buildings will give it a strong, modern look.”

  “I agree,” says Andy, admiring the lengths that the workforce will go to make sure the house and its surroundings look good. “I was thinking of turning the two outbuildings into pool houses,” says Andy.

  The look of excitement on the contractor’s faces is palpable. “Great idea, Andy. Dayton said he was thinking the same thing. Two pool houses could add anywhere between $50,000 and $75,000 in value to a house. Well, these two would, anyway, considering how spacious they are,” says one of the topless workers.

  “How much do you think it would cost to make both outbuildings into pool houses?”

  The men look at each other in uncertainty. After a few seconds of brief thought, the more talkative member of the crew speaks. “That’s something Dayton will know. You should ask him when he comes back from the yard.”

  “Will do,” says Andy, his mind racing with possibilities as he stares at what is likely going to be his next “pet project”.

  Thirteen

  “$75,000?” Melisa says in disbelief.

  Andy nods. “Yeah, it’s amazing, isn’t it?”

  “No, Andy, it’s not. We don’t have the money to be doing up the outbuildings and making them into pool houses. This isn’t Cribs, and we aren’t fucking celebrities. You need to wake up and smell some reality. We can’t be pissing money down the drain!”

  Andy goes red with frustration. “‘WE’? Last time I checked, my mom left ME this house. Also, I’M paying for the renovations, not you. Now I need you to get the fuck off my back and let me make this house sellable.”

  Melisa nearly bursts into tears. They’re not tears of sadness she is holding back, they’re tears of anger. “Do whatever you want, Andy. Flush all your inheritance down the toilet, for all I care. I mean, who needs babies and houses when we have a house we can’t sell, and two pool houses? Who needs security and a future? Who needs any of that when you are willing to throw money at a dead horse?”

  Andy gets up from his seated position on the sofa. He cracks his knuckles for emphasis. “This house isn’t a dead horse. This house was my mom’s pride and joy, and I’m not having it put on the backburner for anything. I’m going to sell this thing and I’m going to make a shitload of money for us so we can have all those things you just mentioned. We surely won’t have any of that if we settle for less,” he says.

  Melisa lets a few tears run down her face. “What’s wrong with $300,000? Surely we can live with that?” she says.

  “Everything is wrong with $300,000! It’s pennies compared to what this house is worth. Not just in sentimental value, but in real estate. You heard what the real-estate agent said. We aren’t settling for anything less!”

  Andy walks out of the living room and slams a few doors in the house for good measure. Melisa remains on the sofa, this time letting out a flood of tears.

  Fourteen

  Andy has been sulking in the garage for an hour or so. He can’t bear to think about the house anymore. He just misses the time in which he and Melisa were on the same page. He doesn’t want to fall out with his wife over such a benign thing as selling a house, even if the house is the key to their future. He sits there, shoulders slumped inward for a few minutes. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the countryside from where he is sitting. He can also hear the sound of workers working on his property. Some men are chatting idly near the garage, commenting on the state of the house. He hears a conversation between two voices he doesn’t recognize as he notices the light shifting in the room as a shadow squeezes through the crack of the garage door.

  “Smoke?” the voice says. Some footsteps accompany the sound as they stop just outside the door.

  “Sure,” says the other voice. The sound of a lighter sparking up follows.

  Andy moves in closer to the garage door, being careful not to knock anything down on the short journey.

  “Big house,” says the voice.

  “Sure is,” agrees the other. A long moment of silence follows. All Andy can hear is the faint sound of a cigarette being inhaled.

  “You reckon the guy, what’s his name?...Andy, that’s it. You reckon he’s going to go for the pool house conversion?”

  “Maybe. The guy’s a sap, but Dayton said he’s good people.”

  “Dayton is soft in the head. Just because he’s good people doesn’t mean we can’t make some money while we are at it,” says the voice from behind the garage, sounding a little formidable in his tone.

  “True,” agrees the other voice.

  Andy just sits there for a while. What follows is idle chit-chat regarding sports. Then the sound of an approaching pickup truck disrupts the conversation as both men scamper back to their duties. Andy assumes the boss, Dayton, is back. Andy remains there for a while, mulling over what he just overheard. Could the two men be right? Is Andy just a sap? He didn’t think so. In fact, he’s fixing to make a point out of it. Just as soon as the time is right.

  “Sap, my ass,” he says, shaking his head in anger. “I’ll show all of them. Trying to rip me off.”

  Fifteen

  “What’s wrong with you?” asks Melisa as she notices her husband’s moist eyes. “Have you been crying?” she asks.

  Andy just shakes his head. He can hardly stand to look at her. In his head, he knows she is always right. That’s what’s good about her. And he knows that he let her down, trying to act like a man and stand up for his beliefs. But he knows she was right, and now he feels like a fool. He just looks down at the hardwood kitchen floor and blushes a little.

  “Andy?” his wife asks, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “You were right. We don’t need any of this. We don’t need to do the house up, and we certainly don’t need to be wasting money on improvements that could leave us out of pocket.”

  Melisa smiles. “Look, honey, we may not need it, but if it makes the house more appealing, than I don’t see why we don’t go for it.”

  That’s typical Melisa. She always supports her husband in the end. Even if it means admitting she’s wrong, even when she isn’t. That’s what Andy loves about her. She’s always there for him, through thick and thin, stupid and foolish. Whichever one of those he is, she stands by him, always.

  “I love you. You know that, right?” he asks, returning a gentle hand to her firm waist.

  “Of course I do. It’s written all over your face, day in, day out. Baby, we will get through this. Mark my words!”

  At th
at moment, they both kiss. Following the kiss, a commotion breaks out in the garden. Andy snaps his lips away from Melisa and tilts his head to the window, trying to see what is going on. He can’t see anything through the net curtains on the window.

  “What the hell is all the shouting about?” he says aloud to himself. Melisa is thinking the same thing. They both decide to go outside and investigate. They walk through the house rapidly and jar open the front door. The sun cascades into their eyes as they try to pinpoint the direction the noise is coming from.

  Melisa cups her hands over her eyes, as if she’s sightseeing in the bright light. She sees the workmen gathered around in a circle near the pickup truck a few yards away. She points. “Over there,” she says.

  Both Melisa and Andy race over to see what all the fuss is about. A few of the workmen are pacing nervously. A few others are looking on with an expression of shock on their faces. All of them are staring down at something on the floor. All of them are surrounding it like a circle of school children mystified and puzzled by something on the playground. Melisa pushes through the huddle of humanity. She gasps.

  “Andy! Dayton is unconscious!” she screams.

  Andy makes his way through the onlooking workers. He sees Dayton lying face down in the dusty dirt. He immediately turns Dayton over and onto his back. Andy catches the glimpse of a metallic sheen around one of Dayton’s wrists. A pair of handcuffs hangs off his left wrist, one end clasped tightly to his arm, the other bent and distorted, as if they had been ripped off something. The unconscious man coughs up a little mucus but remains still.

  Andy doesn’t know what to do. All he can think of is saving his friend. “Call an ambulance! Quickly!” says Andy as he barks at the workmen surrounding his downed friend.

  Sixteen

  Andy and Melisa have been at the hospital for three hours. They’ve been waiting for news, news that can’t come quickly enough. News that means a great deal to Andy. Both of them keep darting their heads from the floor to the door every time it swings open. And every time it does, it’s someone of little importance.

  “He’ll be okay,” says Melisa as she cuddles Andy’s arm in the waiting room. The aircon buzzes above her head. A few flies zap into the electric zapper as she looks around the hot and muggy seating area. It’s literally empty. They are the only people there. The workforce that was working on their house decided to go out for a drink. Melisa remembers thinking that maybe some people find it hard to stay in hospitals. Still, leaving your boss alone in critical condition is pretty gutless, even if she may say so herself. “He’ll be okay,” she says once again, just in case her husband didn’t hear.

  “Maybe,” he says.

  Melisa feels helpless as she watches her husband deal with the trauma of seeing his friend get airlifted to the hospital. Medics on the phone said that his symptoms could be cardiovascular and insisted on calling in the helicopter for the job. It was all a little too much for Andy. He had put it in his head that his best friend was just exhausted or had sun stroke. He didn’t dare to think it was anything as serious as a heart attack.

  The paramedics paddled his chest when the helicopter arrived. It was then Andy realized his friend had died in his dirty yard. It was then Andy realized that if he hadn’t hired his long-term friend to fix up his house, then maybe he wouldn’t have keeled over trying to make the place stand out.

  “It’s not your fault, Andy,” says Melisa, trying to reassure him. She knows his face of guilt. She’d been accustomed to seeing it many times when he had missed arranged days out because of work. “It isn’t your fault, Andy. How were you supposed to know that he had a heart problem?”

  “I didn’t. I mean, we don’t. We just assume. A healthy thirty-three-year-old man doesn’t just collapse,” says Andy as he rubs his hands together.

  “So what else could it be? You saw him being revived by that defibrillator, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, but he could have died from something else.”

  “Either way, he did die. And then he was revived. So everything is going to be all right.”

  Andy shakes his head. “So why haven’t they come and told us anything?”

  Melisa doesn’t know how to answer. She just continues to cuddle Andy’s arm.

  Seventeen

  “Come on out… That’s it… Faster…’ the man in the bushes says as he tips a container upside down. The container is medium-sized, the sort of container you may put leftover Chinese food in.

  “Fuck!” he screams. He immediately realizes that his vocal outburst was too loud. He sucks his finger in pain. He pops his finger out of his mouth and winces at the sight of a big red sore. “Fuck,” he says again, this time quieter. He rustles around in the bushes some more and pulls out another container. This one is a little larger. He repeats the process of pouring out its contents. He does that again two more times. Each time the container gets larger. “That’s it… Follow the yellow brick road,’ he says as he looks on. “Into the crack in the wall,” he says. He gets up and shakes himself down. “Gives me the creeps,” he says while he pats himself down vigorously as if he has ants in his pants.

  He quietly makes his way to his car and gets in. He looks at his reflection in the side mirror and smiles. He keys the ignition and reverses out of the driveway.

  Eighteen

  The police officer makes his way down the hospital hallway. Melisa spots the man first. Andy hears the chains on his belt whip against his leg. The sound makes him turn in the direction of the oncoming officer. Melisa looks on nervously. It’s as if she realizes what is happening. It’s not like she knows what’s happening, but she knows something bad is happening. She gets a funny feeling at the mere sight of the approaching officer. “Andy?” she says, sounding scared.

  “What?” he asks, still looking at the oncoming officer.

  “What’s going on?” she asks.

  Andy turns to face Melisa. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

  The officer reaches the couple. He looks down at Andy. His expression is blank. It’s unnerving for both Melisa and Andy.

  “You Andy?” the officer asks in a thick country accent.

  Andy nods. “Yeah.”

  “The guy with the house renovation?”

  Andy nods again.

  “You brought in Dayton?”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” Andy says, starting to sound impatient.

  “I’m afraid I need to take you to the sheriff’s office. We need some questions answered.”

  Andy looks shocked. “Questions? What sort of questions?”

  The police officer extends his hand as a gesture to follow him. “Just protocol in a situation like this.”

  Melisa looks at Andy and then at the officer. “‘A situation like this’?” she repeats.

  “Yes, ma’am. Your husband will be fine. It’s just procedure.”

  “Procedure for what?”

  The officer looks uncomfortable. “I’d rather not say,” he says.

  “Please. Tell us what is going on. What procedure are you talking about?”

  The officer grabs Andy by the arm and yanks him up to his feet. Andy hasn’t got time to react. Before he knows it, handcuffs don his wrists. “Procedure for attempted murder,” the officer says with a hiss while dragging Andy up the hallway and out of the building. Melisa just stands there in shock.

  Nineteen

  “I don’t understand what’s going on,” Andy says as he braces himself on the steel folding chair. The officer goes behind him and pushes Andy in closer to the table. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor resembles chalk on a blackboard. “Is anyone listening to me? I need some answers. This isn’t fair!” he says, feeling trapped against the table, which is in close proximity to his sternum. “I’m innocent!” he bellows.

  The officer who reprimanded him smiles a coy snaked grin. He finds Andy’s protests this early on in the “procedure” to be rather amusing. He immediately thinks that the interrogation
will be a cakewalk.

  “Innocent, are you?” the officer asks in his thick country accent.

  Andy nods emphatically. “Yes, I am! Just tell me what’s going on.”

  The officer nods. “In due time, Andy.”

  Andy remains stunned into silence. He can hear his heartbeat in his head.

  After a few minutes the door to the bleak interrogation room opens. A heavy-set man walks in, wheezing with every step. Sweat drips down his forehead. He has a large star emblem on his chest. It reads “Sheriff.” The man sits down opposite Andy and goes through some paperwork. The original officer with the country accent waves Andy off sarcastically and walks out of the room, leaving Andy with the strange-looking lawman. After a few more minutes of silence, the Sheriff finally looks at him. His big round face oozes sweat and authority as he takes a deep breath and opens his wide mustached mouth.

  “I’m the sheriff of the county. And you are Andy, I suppose?” The man’s accent seems to match the other officer’s thick country twang.

  “Yes, that is correct,” Andy says, rubbing his palms on his sides, trying to wipe the fear off them.

  “Born in ’72, on May the twenty-eighth?”

  Andy nods. “Yes,” he says, clarifying his rapid head movements.

  “Your wife is Melisa. She, too, was born in ’72? A September girl, the twenty-second?”

  “Yes.”

  The sheriff continues to rustle through some documents. He stops dead at a piece of paper. “You are selling your mother’s house? You had an offer of $300,000?”

  Andy looks on in awe. “How do you know that?”

  The sheriff smiles. “It’s our job to ‘know that.’”

  “What has any of this got to do with anything? How does me selling my mom’s house implicate me in an attempted murder?”

  The sheriff remains quiet. He just continues to read through some more files.