by Tracey Ward
Amanda had been with us when we’d scouted buildings for the location of North Star Ink. Jenna had initially insisted on paying for it herself, a choice that dragged all three of us to some of the most rundown shit-shacks either of them had ever seen. It was an eye opener for her, one that made it easy to convince her to let ‘her dad’ help her finance the location. In reality it was me behind the money, money that she knew nothing about at the time.
Now here we were again, looking at buildings well below my price range but it was what we could afford, and that was important to Jenna. Even though we were getting married and my money would be her money, she insisted on a partnership. We applied for the loan together and I wasn’t allowed to just pay for the place out of my savings with one check. It made Amanda crazy because she knew my finances. She knew what we could be looking at, but I liked Jenna’s way better. On the loan application I had listed my savings but not the money my dad deposited into my account every month. My employer was the Hermosa Beach Fire Station, Jenna’s was self-employed tattoo artist, and this was what we could afford on those salaries.
A hot mess.
Amanda touched the gate gingerly but still it slapped open, smacking against the fence and making it vibrate. We all watched with bated breath as it settled. Nothing collapsed, even as we breathed sighs of relief.
“In we go,” she muttered.
The walkway was cracked with grass and weeds sprouting between the jagged lines. Amanda’s high heels clicked perilously over them up to the porch that I noticed leaned to the right a bit. I instinctively stood under the sagging side, ready to try to support it if it decided to suddenly fall on the girls.
With a little magic on the lockbox Amanda opened the door and stepped aside to let us in first.
“Are you even coming inside?” Jenna asked.
Amanda smiled. “A year ago I would have said no, but you two have made me brave. I’ll follow you in.”
We went in single file, Jenna leading the way. The inside was dark with the window boarded up and the night coming in fast, but yellow light was bursting in from the western windows overlooking the ocean. They were open, bare of curtains or boards, and I could see the crystal clear water outside. Inside the front door opened up to a decent sized living room, a small dining room, and what looked like a kitchen around the corner nearest the water. A hallway led down the left side, planks of beaten hardwood pointing the way, and the walls were dingy but intact. A good cleaning and they’d be white again.
“Two bedrooms, one bathroom,” Amanda recited, reading the paper in her hand. “Just over a thousand square feet. Large backyard with beach access. Updated kitchen.”
I laughed at that one. I was standing at the edge of the kitchen and the only thing in there that wasn’t older than me was possibly a pizza box, but I couldn’t be sure. I wasn’t about to find out.
Amanda grinned. “I know. I know. I saw the pictures. The large backyard is true, though, so you could get permits and expand. There’s a garage but I will not be going in there. No central air. Old wiring. Old pipes. Old everything, but it’s a foreclosure and it’s in your preferred neighborhood and price range, so… there you go.”
Jenna smiled at her. “Thanks, Amanda.”
“Happy to help. I like a challenge. And the two of you are definitely challenging.”
“It should be our family creed,” I agreed. “Challenging.”
“We’ll etch it in Gaelic over the front door,” Jenna chuckled.
“Shouldn’t be hard. I’m sure the termites will help.”
Jenna paused, looking at me seriously. “What do you think?”
“About this place? It’s a dump.”
“But is it our dump?”
I laughed, looking around. The ceilings were high, I’d give it that. I was a tall guy and that extra height mattered. It made it feel less cramped. Bigger than it actually was. And when I pictured it fixed up I could see it being beautiful. I could imagine BBQing on that back patio, Jenna sketching by the later afternoon light in the extra bedroom. I could see coming home to her inside these walls. Covering them with pictures of family and friends the way they did in Ireland. I could see walking the beach with Jenna at night. Curling up on the couch in the evening. It was a blank canvas, one we could make our own with none of the markings of the past. We’d start fresh here. New and bold and unafraid. Unashamed. Untainted by everything that’d ever held us back before.
It was ugly now but what we could build together, Jenna and I, would be breathtaking.
“It is,” I answered her softly. “It’s our dump but we’ll make it our home.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jenna
“Oh my God,” Laney whispered in shock. She stared at the outside of the house in Hermosa, her face pale and her eyes wide. “You bought this place?”
“Not yet. We put in an offer last week and they’re still considering it. It’s a foreclosure and they take forever apparently, but we’re hoping we get it.”
“Why?”
I laughed. “Because it’s going to be our home.”
“Yeah, a home to you and a dozen raccoons.”
“There are no raccoons!”
She looked at me doubtfully. “Are you sure?”
“No. But even if there are, there won’t be when we’re done with it. We’re going to fix it up before we move in.”
Laney looked back at the house. “You’ll spend more fixing it up than you will buying it.”
“Probably.”
“This is seriously all Dickbag can afford?”
“This is all Kellen and I can afford. And it’s fine. It’ll be fine.”
“We’ll see.” She pointed up the street. “These condos are nice. Did you look at them?”
“No, because we’re buying this house.”
“Well, do what you want—“
“I will.”
“—but I would make sure I had all my shots before going back in that place.”
I sighed, pulling back onto the street. “You are so supportive.”
“I’m realistic.”
“Where are you and Max going to live after the wedding?”
She smiled happily. “His place. And I’ll be honest, even if he lived in a house like that I’d still move in with him just to get out of Mom and Dad’s house. They’re driving me crazy.”
“That’s the price you pay for free room and board.”
“Free?” she scoffed. “No. Mom has had me doing chores like I’m in high school. Dishes and laundry. I have to help her grocery shop. I don’t get the Wi-Fi password if I don’t. They change it when I get behind.”
“Nice,” I laughed.
“No. Not nice. Torture. I can’t wait to move in with Max.”
“Why don’t you do it now?”
“I basically have. I’ve brought over a ton of my clothes but he doesn’t have room for all of it. I’m going to have to store some things seasonally.”
“He doesn’t have a spare room you can claim as a closet?”
“No, he does. He has a spare room. But he’s redecorating it.” Laney smiled again. She did a lot of that lately. “He’s making it the baby’s room.”
“That’s sweet.”
“That’s Max. He’s thoughtful and he’s excited. Jenna, he already bought sheets.”
“Crib sheets?”
“No,” Laney laughed. “Bed sheets. Like full sized bed sheets. They have Spiderman on them. They’re for a little boy, not a baby. That’s how invested in this he is. He’s thinking that far down the road. It’s so different.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. “Different from being with Kellen?” I asked carefully.
Laney stilled, her smile fading. “Yeah. With Kellen I didn’t know where we would be the next day. I definitely couldn’t plan for the next year or the next ten. He… God, everyone thinks I pushed him to get engaged,” she blurted, her voice rushed and almost angry. “That’s not what happened. Not really. We talked ab
out it. We had agreed on it and then that was it. No proposal, no ring, no nothing. He just stalled out and let it drop. It drove me crazy! Finally I went out, picked the ring I wanted, showed it to him, and said, ‘Here. Make it happen if it’s happening.’ And he bought it. He brought it home, he gave it to me, and I put it on my finger. That’s how we got engaged. In the kitchen of his apartment, the apartment we weren’t even sharing because he didn’t want to. And now I’m practically living with Max because he wants me around. He loves having me around. Kellen just—he never did. He never wanted me with him. Not really.” She paused, looking at me with a strangely blank expression. “Not the way he is with you.”
I felt my body flush, my blood going hot in my veins as she continued to watch me with that weird look of absolute nothing. Her face was still pale, almost ashen, and I wondered if it was make up or her mood.
“Spiderman, huh?” I asked, trying to lighten the feel in the car. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice, but solid. Classic.”
Laney grinned faintly, nodding. “You guys really hit it off at the party. He loves you.”
“He’s a really nice guy.”
“He is. He said he liked Kellen too but I don’t believe it. Or at least I don’t understand it. He’s a shit.”
“Not always.”
“He punched Max in the face,” she enunciated slowly.
I sighed. “Max asked him to.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know. I don’t understand how they can knock the teeth out of their enemy and make them their friend. It’s a weird world we all live in.”
Laney chewed on that, looking out the window as we left Hermosa and headed back to Palos Verdes. We had an appointment at a dress shop for fittings, one she had been fretting for the last few days but when she weighed herself this morning she said she had actually lost weight instead of gained it. Mom assured her that morning sickness did that to a person. You were growing a baby but they weren’t gaining any real mass just yet and meanwhile you were puking up everything you ate. Losing a little weight was only natural.
Still Laney looked worried. And tired. And pale. Being pregnant did not look fun to me.
“What time are you leaving tonight?” she asked.
I glanced at the clock. It was already four and our dress fitting wasn’t for another half hour. I wouldn’t be done with these wedding errands until well after six tonight. “As soon as we’re done.”
“Gonna be a long drive leaving that late.”
“I know. We’re cutting it close. His sign in for the match is tomorrow morning, though. We have to be there.”
“Is he driving or are you?”
“He is.”
Laney looked out the window again. “You should take his bike. It’s fun.”
“It’s garaged. Has been since the accident.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she replied, feigning surprise. “I forgot he doesn’t take you on it.”
“He doesn’t ride it all anymore.”
She grinned, glancing at me. “It used to be all he wanted to ride.”
It was a dig. A not so subtle one referring to herself as the bike, and it pissed me off.
Why? Why now even when we were supposed to be over it and sisters again? Why when she sat there pregnant with the baby of a man she genuinely loved and I had postponed mine and Kellen’s plans to accommodate her wedding errands?
Because Laney was petty, that’s why. She was a brat. Always had been, always would be.
And that’s why after a stonily silent car ride to the dress shop I waited until my fitting for my bridesmaids dress was done and hers was only getting started, and I bailed. It was five, meaning Kellen and I had plenty of time to get on the road and get to Vegas at a reasonable hour, so I hugged her goodbye, told her to call a cab, and said deuces to the bitch.
“You did not call her a bitch,” Kellen later accused.
I grinned. “Maybe not out loud but I did in my heart.”
“If you want to go for a ride on the Harley I’ll take you.”
“No, I’m good. That’s not what it was about anyway.”
“I wanna say that I can’t believe she threw it in your face like that, but I can. I’m not at all surprised.”
“I am,” I grumbled. “I thought were good.”
“I don’t know if Laney will ever be good with any of this.”
“It’s been a year. She’s engaged to someone else. She’s pregnant!”
Kellen shook his head resolutely. “Doesn’t matter. She’ll always make jabs like that. We’ll be old and gray with grandkids and she’ll still throw it down like a gauntlet just to make everyone uncomfortable. She’s trolling. She wants you to take the bait and get upset.”
“She wants me to get irate so that she’s the calm one.”
“She likes being the victim.”
“Ugh,” I groaned, my head falling back on the headrest. “It’ll never stop.”
“Nope.”
“I’ll disown her.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I’ll stop talking to her.”
“Nope.”
“I’ll tell her to stop?”
“You will, but it won’t help.”
I groaned again, this time collapsing onto the bench seat and laid my head next to Kellen’s thigh. He reached down and rested his hand on my hip, heavy and reassuring.
“Every time I think it’s over it starts up again,” I complained quietly.
Kellen sat in silence next to me, no words of wisdom to soothe me, no advice to give to help me. So he offered me silence and a steady hand on my hip as he drove us east into the desert. As the street lights thinned and cities faded behind us, bringing in the stars and the moon lilting lazily across an ink black sky.
It was nothing but it was enough, and I fell asleep there under the moon and his hand.
***
“Jenna,” Kellen whispered. His hand shook my shoulder gently. “Hey. Wake up.”
I blinked rapidly, waking slowly. I was looking at the unlit console of his truck and yet the inside of the car was lit up like Christmas. But it was night. What the hell was happening?
“Where are we?” I mumbled, sitting up slowly.
“Las Vegas.”
“Seriously? I slept the whole way?”
“Silently,” he replied sarcastically.
I glared at him where he stood outside the open door. “Let me guess. I was snoring again?”
His eyes were laughing. “No.”
“Shut up.”
“I said no!”
“Only with your words.”
“I don’t know what that means,” he said innocently, offering me his hand.
I took it and let him help me out of the truck down to the asphalt. Our bag was waiting patiently next to him. The second I stepped out of the truck I was hit with a wind that whipped my hair behind my head and swirled around me, warm and dry. We were on the top floor of a parking garage packed with other vehicles. It sat at least four stories up and I got a stunning view of The Strip in the distance, blinking and vibrant, uninterested in the lateness of the hour. It was ready to go, all day every day. It danced and pulsed and begged us to join it, and I felt myself smile as I stared at it. I’d been here before as a kid with my parents but not since I’d grown up. Not since I could actually enjoy it.
“It’s beautiful.”
Kellen didn’t reply. He stood next to me and kept his mouth shut and his posture rigid, and it was only then that it occurred to me that this was the first time he’d been back since he left with his mom. I couldn’t imagine what this felt like for him and I ached in my chest with each silent breath he pulled into his lungs.
“Are you okay?” I asked gently.
He nodded silently, his signature response, and I let it go. I didn’t push. Instead I followed.
He led me out of the garage down onto the street where we walked farther from the famous Strip and deeper into the darkness, straight t
oward a towering, glistening building set off from the main attraction.
The lights across the top read boldly The Palms.
“Is this where we’re staying?”
“Yeah,” he answered, taking my hand as we crossed a small side street. “It’s where my dad lives.”
I almost tripped, over the curb and his words. I’d forgotten the name of the hotel his dad held permanent residence in and when he offered to make all of the hotel arrangements never in my wildest dreams did I think for a second that he would take us to the same hotel as his dad.
“Does he know we’re here?” I asked.
“Your dad told him. I have his phone number. I’m supposed to call him.”
“When?”
“When I’m ready.”
The inside was different than I expected – very dark and modern. Sleek and minimalist but also grand. High ceilings with dark paneling reaching all the way up to the top. Dark leather benches, gray floors, white ceilings. It was elegant and simple but reeked of money. I was used to the scent but I’d never particularly loved it.
Kellen led me to the front desk where he gave the receptionist his name.
“Mr. Coulter, wonderful,” she beamed. “Welcome to The Palms.”
“Thank you.”
“Mr. Thorpe has left a message for you.”
The bubbly brunette in all black handed Kellen a dark envelope. He balanced it between his fingertips, almost like he was worried it would explode.
“Thank you,” he repeated, still staring at the envelope. “We’d like to check in.”
“It’s been taken care of,” she assured him proudly. “The room keys are in the envelope.”
“Don’t you need our credit card?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “No. It’s all been taken care of.”
“By who?”
Kellen snapped the envelope sharply against the counter, turning to face me with empty eyes. “Who do you think?”
“Your dad,” I guessed reluctantly.
“He’s your father?” the girl asked, still smiling. “I knew you must be family. You look so much alike.”
Kellen turned abruptly and headed for the elevators without a word.