Mr H.O.A

by Carina Taylor

  Tori leaned back against the couch and smiled. "That’s a great idea. I wonder if five hundred dollars an hour is too much?"

  "I would say that’s on the cheap side."

  We laughed together and then laughed louder when Bane shook his head and left the room.

  Tori stayed for another hour, chatting with me about this and that.

  When she stood up to leave, she stopped and turned around. "Oh, I forgot I was going to ask Bane something. Do you think he’s here still?"

  Bane popped around the corner at that, and I had a sneaking suspicion he’d been hiding there for a while. "Yes?"

  "Do you know what’s going on at The Market Street Apartment Complex? I drove by there today, and it’s a pile of rubble. The wrecking crew was there working on it. I even saw Chippy there."

  "I heard they were building luxury apartments there." Bane tugged at his collar as he spoke with her.

  "Well, anything would be better than that dump. I lived there before I married Ian, did you know that? That’s why I was curious what was going on with the building."

  "Really?" I sat up, interested in the turn of conversation.

  Bane looked at me with alarm and hurried to open the front door. "If I hear anything else, I’ll let you know."

  Tori waved goodbye and left the house.

  "You didn’t have to hurry her out, even if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t tell anyone."

  "Maybe not on purpose, but have you heard how fast that woman talks? Something would come out unintentionally. We have such a great track record I don’t want to ruin it now." He sighed and sat down in the space Tori had occupied moments before.

  "I think it would be nice to have someone who knew. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong, right?"

  His incredulous look would have made me laugh if I wasn’t in a contemplative mood. "You mean other than the fact we’re pretending to be married, we don’t own this house, and I’m now the president of the HOA?"

  I nudged him with my good foot. "Fine. You have a point. I won’t tell her."

  He nodded and leaned his head back against the couch. I watched his face relax as he closed his eyes.

  "I might have messed up big time," I whispered.

  He turned to face me. "Whatever it was, it can’t be that bad."

  "It’s pretty bad," I said softly. "I haven’t been speaking to my dad."

  He nodded slowly. "All right."

  "I know I’ve mentioned my friend Riley before, and that she disappeared the last week of college. I keep trying to find her on the internet, texting her old numbers. Sometimes when I’m feeling especially morbid, I check the obituaries."

  Bane watched me thoughtfully.

  "My dad, he didn’t do anything about it. He didn’t try to help find her. It wasn’t really a case for the police. I spoke with an officer and there was no sign of foul play. She just up and left. Dad didn’t help me find her. I begged. He just told me some things happen for a reason. My brother Nate and I couldn’t believe he was being so relaxed and didn’t want to help find our best friend.

  "That was around the time he stopped helping other people in the community. And I just couldn’t stand to be around someone so selfish anymore. Someone who didn’t care that Riley disappeared completely. I tried to talk with him about it, but he refused to say anything about it. So, instead of going home and staying with them after college while I looked for a job, I moved back to Riverly. This is where Riley lived during middle school and high school. I guess I keep hoping I’ll bump into her at the grocery store or something like that."

  Bane cleared his throat. "I’m still not sure how this makes you a bad person."

  I crinkled my burning nose and stared at the ceiling, hoping my watering eyes wouldn’t turn into faucets. "Nate just texted me and told me we were wrong about Dad. He wouldn’t tell me why. He simply said I needed to talk it out with Dad."

  "But you tried to do that before it sounds like."

  "True. But he is my dad. So on one hand, I feel like I should ignore it. Then on the other, he hurt me by his actions—or lack of action—and I want to know why."

  "Whatever it is that happened, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Even if he can explain the situation to you, it won’t change the fact that he refused to speak with you about it when it happened." He reached out and patted my hand awkwardly. It was a strangely comforting gesture.

  "You’re right. I asked. I tried to talk with him." I clenched my fists. "But lately he’s been trying to reach out to me. I don’t answer anything because I’m so angry. I have spent so much time worried sick about my best friend, and he’s just over there happily hoarding his money."

  Bane raised his eyebrows at that but didn’t comment.

  "I guess I wonder if there is a way that it could be explained."

  "There’s only one way to find out."

  I steepled my fingers as I stared at him. "You’re not wrong. Unfortunately. But right now, I’d rather binge on Netflix and ignore my existential crisis."

  Bane smiled. "Fair enough. Just know that I’m here if you need to talk."

  "Thanks, hubby."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Homeowners Association Rule #79:

  All foods must be clearly labeled at block parties.

  "Everyone is coming at six."

  "So?"

  "So we haven't done anything to get ready for it."

  She reached out and squeezed my arm. "Don't worry about it—that's why I made sure to get home early. I didn't want you to have to get ready all by yourself."

  I glanced at the stove clock. "Nola, it's five o'clock. We only have an hour to get ready."

  "How long is it going to take to throw hamburgers on a grill and set drinks in a cooler?"

  "What about chairs? And tables?"

  Feeling as though I were only a spectator of our conversation, I watched as she reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out my phone. She opened my messages app. "Is this the HOA group text?"

  She flipped the phone around to show me.

  "Yes..."

  She began typing quickly, then passed my phone back to me.

  It immediately began chiming.

  Bane: BYOC. Bring your own chairs everyone and come hungry!

  Fredrick: K

  Speedy little texter, that man. Although 'K' wasn't exactly a lengthy response.

  Carol: Sounds wonderful, sweetie!

  I wasn't sure if I should feel good about the fact that Carol was trying to take on a matronly role in my life, or just frightened.

  Several more agreeing texts came through.

  Nola smiled. "See? Nothing to worry about. Now what else are you worried about?"

  Her bright green eyes sparkled, and she folded her hands across her chest. Shaking my head, I turned around to the fridge. "Okay, let's just get the food ready."

  The next thirty minutes, we spent forming hamburger patties, chopping fruit and veggies, and filling coolers with drinks. The cashier had made fun of me when I made my way out of Bi-Mart with five coolers. It wasn't easy.

  "What is this?" Nola asked as she kept passing boxes of canned drinks to me.

  "That's sparkling water."

  "What is wrong with you?"

  "What do you mean, 'what's wrong with me?'"

  "Why would you drink this?" She held up the box of sparkling water and cocked her head to the side.

  "Because it's good?"

  "No! No it's not. It's uncommitted. It doesn't know if it wants to be water or pop, and it's taken the worst qualities of both worlds."

  I laughed. "Okay, have you ever tried it? And it's called soda, not pop."

  "Where are you from? The Boondocks?"

  "Ha. Very funny. No. I just like to call things by their correct name. Pop isn't it."

  "Have you lived in Oregon your whole life? Because I call it pop—or coke," she said.

  "Who calls it 'coke’ unless they actually want a Coca-cola?"


  She passed me another box out of the pantry, and I ripped open the box, dumping it into the cooler. She spoke with a twang, "It’s a southern thing, bless your heart."

  "Woman, you're crazy," I said with a laugh.

  She grinned and handed me one more box. "That's the last of it."

  "Come on, we'll take our coke-pop-soda out there." I picked up the handles and carried one of the coolers outside. Nola came behind me, dragging one with wheels.

  "You know what?" she asked.

  I grunted as I set down the heavy cooler.

  "I think we should put it to the vote. You know, like a game for everyone at the barbecue."

  "Do I need to remind you what happened the last time we put things to a vote? I'm now the president of an HOA in a neighborhood where we don't live."

  She waved a hand through the air. "Okay, it's not that bad. Really. I don't know why you're so stressed about it. In ten years, this house could be ours according to those squatting laws of yours."

  "I still can't believe we're doing this."

  "Well, we can always move on when your conscience gets the best of you. Has Mercier answered you yet?"

  I shook my head. Countless emails and numerous phone calls, and I couldn't seem to reach Mercier. Our deposits still hadn't been returned and Chippy had turned off his cell phone.

  "Then if he's not going to answer you about the deposits or the eviction, we can live here with a clear conscience. We've tried." She smiled and nodded at me.

  "I don't think you and I follow the same logic patterns," I told her.

  Her green eyes sparkled as she scowled at me. "Okay, Mr. HOA."

  I sighed. "Touche. I should have kept my mouth shut."

  "Yes, you should have, but this is so much more fun." She turned around to head inside. I followed, ready to pull out the rest of the coolers. "You're the HOA president. You could write in so many by-laws. Think of the fun you could have! Residents have to wear pink on Wednesdays. Blue on Tuesdays. Black on Mondays."

  I laughed. "You’re the kind of person who abuses power, aren’t you?"

  Her eyes twinkled as she nodded.

  "I actually was reading the bylaws on this whole thing, and there are some crazy details in there."

  She grabbed the platter of watermelon off the counter. "Such as?"

  "Such as no towel sharing at the pool. Everyone must have their own towel. You can't borrow someone else's."

  "Oh, my word. Doesn't everyone have their own towel, anyway? What a funny rule to add."

  "I know. There are some other good ones. Did you know we're only supposed to mow the lawn on Thursdays and Fridays?"

  "The horror! You mowed it on a Wednesday. You rule breaker, you."

  She shook her finger in my face and gave me a stern look. I wrapped my hand around her petite finger. "There were several people mowing that day. I think there’s a quiet rebellion going on."

  She wrapped her free hand around my wrist and raised our arms in the air. "To the revolution!"

  Nola stood at my side placing hamburgers on buns after I pulled them off of the barbecue. She passed a loaded plate to each person who came through the line.

  Everyone had brought folding chairs, and even though it was a large back yard, it was getting more and more crowded by the minute.

  Several kids ran around shooting each other with small squirt guns much to the chagrin of their parents—and the adults who had to dodge a soaking.

  Carol stopped on the other side of the barbecue, her scarily attentive eyes noticing Nola and my careful attention to avoid touching each other.

  "How long did you two say you’ve been married?" She asked with her eagle eyes. I set down the tongs and slipped an arm around Nola’s waist.

  "Feels like just yesterday."

  Nola glanced up at me with a quirk of her brow as she passed off the plate she was holding to Marcia. "You’re so right, sweetie. And just look at you now. I didn’t know I was going to get a Mr. HOA when I married you."

  I smiled stiffly at Carol, who was now busily glaring at Nola, as if Nola weren’t in the picture that I would somehow decide to pursue her instead.

  Luckily Ian and Tori were the next in line. "Ian, how do you take your burgers?" I kept my arm firmly wrapped around Nola’s waist. She was my lifeline in Carol-infected-waters.

  "Well-done." Ian ran a hand across his mouth but not fast enough to hide his grin. Tori visibly elbowed him.

  "Tori, what about you?" Nola asked.

  "You two just seem a little uncomfortable together," Carol interrupted.

  I heard a hiss come from Nola before she answered, "It’s probably because we’re busy serving food right now."

  Carol looked like she was about to go in for the kill, so I did the only thing I could think of. I angled Nola to face me and bent down just enough to kiss her square on the lips. It was brief, but she kissed me back without hesitation.

  Pulling back, I gently brushed the hair behind her ear. "I’m so sorry, sweetie. I should have realized you’ve been working on getting ready for this party all day. I’ve been so inconsiderate of you."

  Nola’s eyes danced with mischief as she did her best to look weary. "I think I’m just so tired."

  Ian jumped in. "We’ll man the grill for a while so you two can go visit with everyone."

  He winked at me as he took the tongs and hot pads from me. I had a feeling he’d been on the other end of Carol’s obsession before. Tori patted my arm as she walked around me to take Nola's place.

  Nola and I didn’t have to be told twice. We practically ran to the other side of the yard. I bent down to whisper in her ear. "I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first before I kissed you. I was running out of ideas on how to change the subject."

  "It’s okay, we’re married. Married people kiss. Sometimes. I think. I mean—we don't." She wrung her hands together. "I have to get a drink. I’m dying of thirst." With a laugh, she pulled away and went to get a can of soda from the ice chests.

  She was thirsty from the heat. I was thirsty from something else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Homeowners Association Rule #64:

  Lawn crews are only acceptable if they are from the approved HOA list.

  "Here." Bane passed me a cup of coffee one early morning. It had been two days since the barbecue. We'd slipped back into being removed roommates who did nice things for each other.

  It was stifling. Ignoring the tension between us. Pretending we were fine keeping this distance.

  I was not fine. I was on fire. I was about to blow, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

  "Thanks." I sipped the hot, creamy goodness as I pulled the eggs out of the fridge. Bane drank his coffee black, I now knew, and that explained why he was so worried about our living situation. No one can be calm if they drink black coffee.

  He walked outside to turn the sprinklers on while I scrambled some eggs. When they were done, I dished them up on two plates, handed one to Bane when he walked in, then headed to the living room to eat on the couch. Bane tossed my book club book to me, then sat down at the bar to eat breakfast.

  "Where is the—"

  "Next to the fridge!"

  Bane stood up and made his way to the fridge, where he grabbed the small salt and pepper shakers.

  "Thanks."

  I nodded.

  The morning continued as it typically did, Bane gathering his things and running out the door while I drank copious amounts of coffee. It was Saturday. Bane had an early morning showing, and I had the day off. Shauna and Rob were taking a family camping trip.

  I had big plans with Netflix. Maybe read the romance about a dejected heroine. It would fit my current mood perfectly.

  I picked up the book and opened it. The words all ran together as the hero took shape in my mind. He looked remarkably like Bane, only with a cutlass and pirate attire.

  The front door creaked open.

  "Forget your sunglasses?" I called over my shoulder. "I'll grab them for you."
>
  I grabbed the sunglasses off of the counter and turned around to hand them to Bane.

  Except the man standing in the entryway was not my Bane.

  Sebastian Mercier stood in the hall.

  His broad shoulders, grey hair, and grimly set mouth slacked open when he saw me. His green eyes, the same ones I stared at every morning in the mirror, studied me in surprise.

  "Nola," he whispered.

  I shakily set the sunglasses back down on the counter. "Dad."

  He stepped forward, dropping his briefcase on the ground. The next thing I knew, he enveloped me in a bear hug. There was the familiar scent of aftershave that he hadn't changed in my twenty-four years of life. It was probably the first recognizable smell to me as a child.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked as he pulled back.

  "I...what are you doing here?"

  "I noticed a change in my electric bill."

  With a sigh, I knew I was going to have to explain everything to him. "That’s it?"

  "And I’m here to check on The Market Street Apartment demolition. I heard that the deposits weren’t returned to the tenants. I’m here to find out why. I'd hoped you'd been staying here."

  "Wait—you mean you returned them?"

  "Yes. The apartment manager was in charge of distributing them. I didn’t want to mail them in case the tenants wouldn’t get them before they moved." Dad rubbed the side of his face. "But after getting your letters, and another persistent man’s emails, I’m thinking there’s something going on. Chippy had told me it was all taken care of and that he returned the money. I assumed the man emailing me was just trying to get some more money out of me."

  I tapped my fingers against my leg. He hadn’t kept the deposits. He hadn’t taken people’s money for no reason.

  "Bane told me he’d been emailing you when we moved in..." I muttered under my breath.

  His eyes narrowed as he interrogated me. "What are you talking about? Who are you talking about?"

  Sebastian Mercier, my father, was a loom-er by nature. He loved looming. It was one of his favorite hobbies that he'd perfected over the years. He was getting in some good practice right then as he stared me down.