The House in the Hills

by The House in the Hills (retail) (epub)

  Darcy took it upon herself to start plating and by the time Harmony came back out, she had both of their plates filled.

  “Thanks,” Harmony said and pointed at the food, then set a glass of sweetened iced tea, complete with lemon, down in front of Darcy, then one for herself. She sat down and picked up her fork.

  “It looks so good,” Darcy said and dug in, taking a big bite. She moaned with delight and turned to Harmony. “This is so good!”

  “It’s just chicken I seasoned with some fajita mix, then seared it at little, then popped into the oven. Then I just made some Mexican slaw, which is easy,” she said, but was pleased that Darcy liked it. She loved to have people compliment her on her cooking. It was her passion.

  “Well, it’s really fucking good,” Darcy said and chewed, then took a sip of the tea. She moaned, again, with pleasure, then shook her head at Harmony. “That’s good tea! I’ve never had tea that good.”

  “Well, I am originally from the South,” Harmony told her. “And sweet tea down there is taken very seriously.”

  “It’s absolutely delicious,” she told her.

  “Thanks,” Harmony said. “I make my own simple syrup. It’s an old family recipe.”

  Darcy nodded and started eating again. “Well, it’s good.”

  “Thanks,” Harmony said again and took a sip of her tea, then set the glass down and looked over her shoulder. She didn’t know what she was looking for—maybe the woman from the other night or even the woman who’d just whispered in her ear?—but something in her told her to be aware, just be aware of something. What, she didn’t know. She didn’t notice Darcy staring at her, then she, too, looked in the direction Harmony was staring.

  “Just chill,” Darcy said, almost inaudibly.

  Harmony jerked around and stared at Darcy. “What did you say?” she asked her.

  Darcy shrugged, unaware that she’d said anything. “What do you mean? I didn’t say anything.”

  Was she kidding? Why would she say she didn’t say anything when she had? Harmony had a hard time containing her anger at her. “Yes, you did,” she told Darcy. “You said, ‘Just chill.’”

  “Oh,” Darcy said, chewing. “Yeah. I mean, you look bothered about something. Just chill, you know. Chill out.”

  Harmony stared at her, wondering what she was getting at, but decided not to pursue it.

  Darcy cracked up. “Girl, you are so wound up. Maybe we need some wine instead of tea.”

  “Ya think?” Harmony asked and rolled her eyes a little. If this crap kept happening, she’d need something a lot stronger than wine. It was awful to live somewhere where strange, inexplicable things happened. Things that might just be in her mind. And, if so, that was almost scarier than the other option. She shuddered at the thought of truly being insane.

  “Yeah, I think,” Darcy said. “Oh! I’m going away again for a few days, just so you’ll know. Sorry I didn’t tell you about Vegas. I guess I’m not used to anyone living here or giving a shit that I’m going to be gone or whatever.”

  Harmony nodded, letting everything go. “Well, it’s good to let someone know where you’re going.” She paused and thought about what Darcy had said and that piqued her interest. “Where are you going?”

  Darcy took another bite of food and said, “Got a calendar shoot in Palm Springs.”

  Harmony immediately brightened at the idea of Palm Springs. She and Marc had taken a vacation there not too long ago and she’d fallen in love with desert landscape and, of course, all the mid-century architect. “Oh?” Harmony said, getting really intrigued.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Darcy said and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “It’s not the Pirelli.”

  Harmony laughed a little and took another bite. “No, I was thinking about the Vargas girls, you know? The pin-ups? I love that kind of stuff.”

  “Me too!” Darcy said, nodding. “But, no, I’m not doing any high art with this one. Just bikini shots for a tool company. To be enjoyed by tools.”

  This made Harmony laugh. “It sounds fun, actually.”

  “You should come with me!” Darcy squealed. “We’d have a blast!”

  “I can’t,” Harmony said and she really couldn’t. “I’ve got too much work.” It was true. It seemed as though all she did was work. If she wasn’t working on her blog, she was working on a new recipe and if she wasn’t doing that, there was always something around the house that needed tending to. She suddenly felt exhausted and a little overwhelmed when she thought of how her life was just a series of tasks, interrupted only by a favorite TV show at night. Was everyone’s life like this, she wondered. She thought of the big pile of laundry in the hamper in the closet and shuddered. She hated laundry.

  “I hate laundry, too,” Darcy said.

  Harmony turned to her. “What?”

  “You just said you hated laundry,” Darcy said. “I hate it so much; so much in fact, I take on jobs like the calendar so I can take mine to the cleaners. I pick it up once a week.”

  Harmony stared at her. She hadn’t mentioned the laundry out loud, had she? She thought about it. She could have. Then she realized that she probably was really losing her mind. That’s what was happening. All this stress was finally getting to her. For a moment, she wished she and Marc were back in their little apartment, fighting over who was going to get rid of some clothes to make room in their tiny closet for new clothes. She always won.

  “Maybe you should try that,” Darcy said. “It’s not that expensive and my cleaner is the best.”

  “No, I can’t do that,” Harmony told her. “I, uh… I just can’t.”

  “Well, it’s up to you,” Darcy said. “But laundry does suck.”

  “I know,” Harmony said and thought about it. “It’s like you do a load and almost immediately, there’s another load to do. It’s like it regenerates itself. It’s weird. So, it’s always laundry.”

  Darcy laughed and said, “It’s always laundry! That sounds like a show on TV.”

  Harmony joined in and added, “It is always laundry—a show about the most thankless task on the planet.”

  “Amen to that,” Darcy said and finished up her tea. “You sure you can’t come with me? You can crash in my room. I’ll get one with double beds. It looks like you could really use a break.”

  Harmony shook her head. “No, I can’t.”

  “Why not? I’m sure Marc wouldn’t mind.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Harmony said truthfully. “But it’s just... I just… Can’t. You go and have fun, though.” She smiled at her then a sharp pain shot through her stomach. She groaned a little and held her stomach.

  “You okay?” Darcy asked.

  “I just got this pain in my stomach,” she said and grimaced again as another pain shot through her stomach. “It’s nothing.”

  Darcy nodded and eyed her. “It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

  “I’m okay,” Harmony said, though she wasn’t so sure herself.

  “You might be pregnant,” Darcy said knowingly. “Maybe it’s implantation. That’s when the little sprog attaches itself to your uterine wall.”

  Harmony’s eyes popped a little at her explanation.

  Darcy continued, not skipping a beat, “I thought I was pregnant once and looked it up. That’s how I know.”

  Harmony swallowed hard, not wanting to think about something like being pregnant. Not now. They were way in over their heads with this house and a baby would really complicate things further. She told her, “I’m not pregnant.”

  Darcy shrugged as if she couldn’t have cared one way or another and said, “Cool. But that time I thought I was… Man! The would-be father was my co-star on this shitty exploitation movie. My God, he was so handsome. But, alas, dumb as a box of hammers. And a very bad actor, very Theater 101, you know? So, it was probably for the best.”

  Harmony had to ask, “Were you going to, you know, stay with the father had you been pregna
nt?”

  Darcy considered for a moment before answering, “I don’t know. But we would have had a pretty baby. But it didn’t work out. Turns out, it was just a bad burrito.” She stared at Harmony. “You and Marc would have a beautiful baby, though. If you are pregnant, I’ll babysit so you can have date nights.”

  “Date nights? Oh, shut up already! I am not pregnant!”

  Darcy stood. “I’ll shut up. I have to go pack and I have a long drive. Sure you don’t want to come with me? They’re letting me have the mini-bar!”

  “No, I can’t,” she said and smiled at her. “But have a good time.”

  “It’s work. A good time will be had when it’s over and I’m back home again.”

  Harmony nodded and smiled at her again. She felt herself really beginning to like her and was suddenly glad she was around.

  Darcy began to back out of the room. She threw up one hand and said, “See ya!”

  “Bye,” Harmony said and watched her disappear out the door. She turned away from the door and stared into space, wondering if the sounds she kept hearing were real. She got really still and really quiet and listened, almost inviting the sounds, or the woman’s voice, to enter. But nothing happened. She shook herself, told herself to stop it, then got up and cleared the dishes from the table.

  PARTY HARD

  A few days passed and Harmony didn’t see or hear anything else. While it made her uneasy, she chalked it up to stress and tried to dispel it from her mind. She didn’t tell Marc about what she’d seen on her computer screen or the voice she’d heard, mainly because she thought he’d just say she was trying to get them out of the house and was using any artillery she could get her hands on to justify the move, even if it made her sound like a crazy person.

  And she had completely expunged the bra incident from her mind. Whenever it would roam there, she forced it out. It was almost as if it never happened.

  Then, one night, she went to bed early because she was exhausted. It had been a long day and she just wanted to climb in bed, pull the covers over her and fall asleep. Marc wasn’t home as he had a late broker’s open and she didn’t feel like waiting up on him. She lay down and snuggled into the bed, then shivered. The house was so cold. She got up and went to the thermostat. It was set at sixty-eight. Marc! He was always turning it down and she always had to go behind him and turn it back up. She shook her head and turned it up, setting it at seventy-two, which she knew wouldn’t last long. As soon as he got home, he’d turn it back down. And she’d go behind him and turn it back up. It was a bit tiresome, the thermostat dance.

  Knowing it would take forever for the house to warm back up, Harmony grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt out of the closet, put them on and got back into bed.

  She shivered and pulled the covers up to her chin, then turned on her side and stared out at the pool, which was glistening with the moonlight from above. But it was distracting, so she sat up, grabbed the remote from Marc’s nightstand and closed the curtains. Then she laid down and almost immediately fell asleep.

  She wasn’t asleep very long and it seemed that almost as soon as she closed her eyes, she came awake, as if a bad dream had taken over her. Her eyes popped open and she was breathing heavily and in a cold sweat. She lay very still for a minute or two, trying to remember what the dream was about but she drew a blank.

  She glanced over at Marc’s side of the bed. He still wasn’t home. She was still alone. She got her breathing back under control and closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep again.

  Harmony was half-asleep when she heard the song. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming and lay still listening and then recognizing it as a newer song Marc liked so much he played it all the time. She liked it too but the title, and the artist, escaped her. What was that song? It was a little haunting, but poignant. It wasn’t one of those top forty hit songs you hear all the time; it was more alternative, a song you only knew if someone let you know about it or you stumbled by it on accident, like someone played it at a party or in a hip restaurant.

  But then she realized that she was hearing it for real. She wasn’t dreaming and the sound of the music was filling her head. She opened her eyes and lay stock still wondering if she was really hearing what she thought was hearing. She was. She was hearing the song. It sounded like it was coming from a long way away. It was playing far off; as if it were blasting at a party down the street and all she was receiving were the muted tones. But this was impossible. It was late at night. Could it be coming from within the house? And if so, who was playing the song? Marc? Was he even home yet? What was going on?

  Harmony didn’t move for a few seconds, then glanced over at the bedroom door, which was ajar. A stream of light shined through and she got up, went to the door and opened it.

  The music got louder as she walked down the hall and into the living area, where she stopped and took in what was happening just outside the glass doors…

  A party was happing in the backyard. Lights shined though the doors, almost making the living room look fully illuminated. And all around the pool was a crowd of beautiful people dancing, drinking, making out and, generally, having what looked like the times of their lives.

  As if in trance, Harmony started towards the doors, then glanced to the right and saw the black cat Darcy had petted a few days before. The cat was walking quickly in front of the doors, and with purpose, then in front of her, then out of her sight.

  She turned in the direction of the cat, but she could no longer see it. She stared after the cat who had all but disappeared but decided to not let it distract her from opening the door. She had to get out there and see what was going on. For some reason, that’s all she thought about—getting out there and seeing what was going on. She had to see, she had to know and, for some reason, none of this threw her off. She didn’t stop to think about why this was happening and she didn’t pause to question it; she just knew it was happening and accepted it at face value and something told her to get out there. It was almost as if she were in her own personal dream sequence and she was just taking direction from the director, who knew the shot he wanted and pointed her which way to go.

  She opened the door and once she did, she stepped onto the patio and into the party. And what a party it was. It looked legendary. Everyone at the party, all the men and all the women, were dressed in chic, seventies style clothing and not the kind that made one wince and wonder what they were thinking donning this or that, but the kind that looked and felt expensive, from major design houses. They were all beautiful people. The women were all thin, some tall, some not so tall, but all almost perfect with makeup done just right and hair just stunning. The men were handsome and they all had these brilliant, toothpaste advertisement white smiles.

  The women were wearing expensive jewels and the men were wearing expensive watches and Italian leather shoes. These were not your average, run-of-the-mill Hollywood Hills hangers-on, sycophantic party-goers. These people were someone. They were somebody. The way they acted told Harmony that. They were so confident. They were so sure of themselves, their egos were readily apparent.

  Harmony realized that these were the same types of people that were in the picture that had popped up on her laptop screen, but she didn’t let it dissuade her from taking in the party scene. Nothing could have. She couldn’t take her eyes off what was happening. It’s not like she wanted to join in on the party, but just observing was enough. And Harmony was not a party person at all, but for the life of her, she couldn’t take her eyes off the crowd of people.

  As Harmony stared in awe at the people, a tall handsome man wearing a pair of black slacks and a very starched blue shirt walked up and stopped beside her. She felt his presence and heard the ice clink in the two highball glasses he was carrying before she turned to stare at him. He was tall and his hair was jet black but his eyes were so, so blue, almost the color of the ocean in a tropical location. His jaw was angular, chiseled, and he had
high cheekbones. She’d never seen such a handsome man in her life before and her own husband was about as handsome as they came. For a moment or two, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him and was so enthralled she didn’t even think to ask him who he was or what he wanted, though he obviously wanted to speak to her. She glanced down at his shoes, which was something she did with most people when she first met them, noticing that they were similar to the other men’s shoes at the party, though these expensive Italian leather loafers were well worn. She took note of the condition of his shoes, figuring that the reason he wore them was because they must be his favorite pair and he was past caring what anyone else thought, even though they did look a little worse for wear and tear. It was a sign of supreme confidence, him wearing those shoes with that outfit to this party. And, for that, Harmony immediately liked him. She stared back up at him and their eyes locked. She realized she could get lost in his eyes. They were that mesmerizing.

  He stared back at her and chuckled a little as if he were used to getting this reaction from women and that he got it all the time. Most women would have a hard time looking away from a man like him. And while this fact pleased him, he acted as though he was over it and had been for a while and that it bored him just a bit. While it amused him, he didn’t take it as a way to boost his ego. He already had plenty of that.

  Without a word, the man handed her one of the two drinks he was carrying. And, without a word, Harmony took it, then took a sip. It was Scotch, not a spirit she had much taste for, but one Marc loved so much she bought him bottles of the expensive kind for his birthdays. She coughed a little as the liquor burned her throat.

  The handsome man turned away from her and stared out over the pool where a few couples were swimming and playing around. He turned back to Harmony and said, “They like to party out here. It keeps them connected.”

  “What?” Harmony asked, not getting what he was saying at all.