by A. R. Case
“It’s the cabin alarm.”
“Oh.” No big deal. I set the damn thing off at least once a week.
“No, Edie, the cabin alarm went off ten minutes ago, and we think it’s on fire.”
Head spins or not, I got up. The ride was too damn long. Fin didn’t do fast, but for him, and me, speed limits were broken.
There were two, yellow fire trucks, a red, regular, pick up style truck with fire symbols on it, and one, very big truck that had a large hose mounted on it. That one was dumping water on the trees surrounding the house.
The house that was no longer there.
My paints, the colored inks, damn, a three-hundred-dollar watercolor brush. Okay, so I got it on sale for a hundred dollars, but it was sable, and it was gone.
“All my shoe lasts for the girls.” The plaster and feathers and sequins. Damn it. I’d just bought a two-hundred-dollar bolt of silk.
Fin tucked me under an arm.
The inventory of loss kept amassing my head. My breath caught. The armor prototype I’d been mocking up for Indy was in that mess of black, twisted mess of wood and water. When I couldn’t sleep two nights ago, I’d painted tiny snowflakes on it. The plan was, if he came back, I’d talk him into wearing it to the fall Renaissance faire with me. He’d be my dark fae prince for real.
A part of my dream died. “What time is it?” I whispered.
“About five a.m., almost six,” Fin answered, even though I felt the answer in my bones.
I had slept through three a.m.
Chapter 13: Sugar
Indy
I called Edie, but her phone rolled over to voicemail.
Fin called me at three a.m., Las Vegas time. Right after, I tried to reach Edie. I waited, and called again at a more decent hour. Still no answer. Fin’s wife picked up when I called that number. Now, Betty Jo may be a ball-buster, but she’s a good woman. As such, she was in full shield mode. No, I couldn’t talk to Fin, and absolutely no, Edie couldn’t come to the phone.
“Is she okay?”
“What the fuck do you think?” Her voice dripped in hatred.
“What did I ever do to you?”
“It’s not what you did to me, it’s Edie. I’m sick of her crying on my shoulder.”
“Well, you can’t really blame me for last night.”
“I’ve a sneaking suspicion if it wasn’t for you, we’d still have a cabin, and Edie would be home right now happily puttering away.”
She had it right on that. When I heard about the cabin burning down, my first thoughts pointed directly at Edward Morrice Krupps. My second, was about Edie’s welfare, but from that point on, my brain noodled on how to prove it was Eddie.
Now, that’s not fair. But it didn’t stop me from immediately painting him in the role of an arsonist. “Has Fin downloaded all the footage from last night yet?”
Betty Jo made a noise of disgust, and hung up on me. That wouldn’t do. I called Walt.
“What do you want?”
Of course, he couldn’t snarl “hello” like a normal person. “Tell Fin that Betty Jo is a bitch, and he should download the damn Nest camera footage from last night.”
There was a pause. “I ain’t your messenger boy.”
“But I’m right.”
He hung up on me. Damn it.
So, I called Snake. Fuck, I’d call every last one of those mother fuckers to get this shit fixed.
“Indy.”
Caller ID. “Morning. Would you mind doing me a favor and walk over to Fin’s to see if he downloaded the Nest camera footage?” I’d forgotten my grandmother’s first rule. “Turn on the sugar, sweetie.” I was trying that now.
“Let me guess, you called Fin, but Betty Jo answered, then you called Walt, and he hung up on you?”
Damn. There was a reason Snake was VP. “Truth, brother.”
Silence.
Usually I can wait people out. Apparently, I’d forgotten all the rules today. “You still with me?”
“Trying to figure you out.”
“Don’t bother.”
He laughed. “Okay, but next time I need advice, I’m not calling you.”
“Sounds like a solid plan.”
He disconnected, and I was left to pace the floors.
About seven a.m., I finally got an answer. It was a grainy shot of a white truck parked near the edge of the property. A few minutes later, a shot of a guy in a hooded coat near the porch. Nothing solid. But Fin finished the message with, “Insurance notified.”
Well, good. I guess.
About noon, I called Walt to apologize. That didn’t go well, either.
“I’m trying to say sorry, dammit.” My voice was rising despite all my inner pep talks.
“You don’t run things here. I do.”
I counted to ten, then ten again. “I want what’s best for Edie.”
“If you wanted that, you never would have hit that.”
“That’s not fair, Walt.”
“Fuck fair. It’s the truth. You are not fucking good enough for her, and being in our face about it, isn’t winning any points. Do us, and her, a favor and stay the fuck out of her life.”
He hung up again.
TomTom took that inopportune time to stumble out of bed. “Who ya yappin at?”
I counted to ten again. “Afternoon.” See? Sugar. Meemaw would be proud.
“Fuck afternoon. Fuck mornings.” He yawned.
“Rough night?”
He glanced at me, then focused on the coffee maker.
“Edie’s cabin was torched last night.”
The pot went back onto its burner. “She okay?”
“She stayed at Betty Jo’s and Fin’s last night. Blow out.”
“Oh. That’s good, I guess.” He tried again to get the coffee brewing. It took him a minute to get firing on all cylinders.
I waited.
“Wait, arson?” His brain was finally starting to wake up.
“That’s my guess.”
“Fucking Eddie.”
“Yup.”
He poured the water and got the grounds in. “What are you still doing here?”
Good old TomTom. “Waiting for you to tell me not to go.”
He looked at me. “Right.” The struggle inside was projecting on his face. “You never listen, so …”
Two mugs came out, one set next to me, another prepped with milk and sugar. I shuddered.
“You need your bike shipped, or are you riding?”
There were times when I remembered why I liked TomTom, and let him take my best girl away. “Riding. I’m certain Betty Jo has circled the wagons. She’s probably talked Snake into the house across the street, and is getting the old ladies to set her up with the necessities.”
He nodded and sipped his obscene concoction.
“Plan?”
“None.”
He made a noise.
Yes, I had no plan. With three days of hard riding, I’m certain something would brew, but for now my only path was to tie things together here, and get moving.
“There’s a construction firm in PA that has a few of our affiliates on the crew.”
He was thinking like a Destroyer. “Surveillance? Or are you thinking something else?”
“The clean work. What do you figure, three?”
“Four.”
He whistled. “Two weeks is about three runs profit.”
“You still think small.”
He glared at me. “I don’t have your capital.”
That was true. “You are going to need to remember that, and build your own.”
“You know that goes against the rules of the brotherhood.”
Fuck the brotherhood. Most of them were assholes. “Who would bail you out?”
He sipped his coffee. “Vega.”
I laughed. He was fucking right.
“You get me the cash, I’ll get them on it.”
“Mighty obliged.” I stuck out a hand. He ignored it.
; “Did I hear my name?” Vega was wearing a slouchy sleep shirt that had a big middle finger on it. Her legs were bare, and her tits perked through the thin fabric. Sue me, I looked.
“TomTom said it, not me.”
She smiled and kissed him. Like I wasn’t in the goddamned room.
“Fill her in, I’ve got calls to make. You going to be okay if I give you a list of promoters? There’s some I haven’t checked out to see if they are legit or not.” I directed this at TomTom, who was not paying attention. He managed to nod, but still grope my best girl’s ass.
She wasn’t wearing panties. Both of them were enjoying it, like I wasn’t in the goddamned room.
Edie
Betty Jo offered me the spare bedroom. Mary offered me her spare bedroom. Snake, through Walt, offered me loan of the empty house across from Betty Jo’s but none of them offered what I wanted. My cabin back.
The day was wasted chasing my tail. Fin was in contact with his insurance. But my first order of business was to buy a charger for my phone. It was dead, and the old charger probably a black tangle of wires, if that.
Luckily, I had my truck, and my sketchbooks. It wasn’t all of them. I’d lost all my past work. That hurt. My laptop too. The notebook I kept in my purse with the list of passwords and emergency numbers was now my main connection to the real world. I didn’t have Indy’s number in it though. What did that say about me? I vowed to write it down once my phone was charged.
I knew my mother’s number though, so called her first thing from Betty Jo’s phone in the morning. It didn’t go well.
“You should come home.”
Oh Hell no. I did that once. Grief kept me insulated from the suffocation for about two years. Once it eased, that itch which drove me to Eddie when I was eighteen came back with a vengeance. It took me a few years, but when I found Betty Jo through the festival circuit, and leapt at the chance for a small, decrepit cabin in the middle of nowhere.
“I’ve already lined up a house.” It solidified in my head. I would tell either Snake or Walt that I’d stay at the empty house across from Betty Jo’s and Fin’s. It sat empty months at a time. Every once in a while, some member of the club would stay for a month or two, and then it would go unused again. The longest resident was a girl named Michelle, who’d married one of the members, and promptly moved out. Maybe the place was cursed?
A shudder ran down my spine. I was sick of vengeful gods and curses.
My mom went on for at least a minute. I couldn’t tell you what she said, because I had tuned it out. “Mom, I’m on a borrowed phone. I need to let you go.”
“Call me back as soon as you get your phone charged.”
I promised I would, and hung up. Then ran to the phone store.
From there to the coffee chain place where I hunted under the tables for an outlet. Being untethered to a conventional home for so long, I’d found many ways to survive with nothing. It was a long minute, waiting two tables down for the clueless, late middle-aged woman to vacate her perch straddling the one, visible outlet. I think she was creeped out by me watching her, which caused her to vacate in a huff.
I slid into the wall seat and scrambled to plug in the cord. Then it was another waiting game. How long would it be before I had a charge strong enough to power up? How much longer would I need to wait to draw enough of a charge to download messages? My notebook came out and I made a list of everything I needed to do.
There were fifty-seven messages. I braced myself for the onslaught of phone numbers I didn’t know. Luckily, there were enough messages from the girls who I designed for, Walt, Snake, Fin, and others which offset the numerous unknown callers. Specifically, there were five calls from Indy, each with a message. The first came shortly after Fin woke me up in the middle of the night. The last was only a few minutes ago. I listened to each one. The first was frantic. It didn’t sound like him. Usually he’s self-assured, with a lazy drawl to his voice. Sometimes it speeds up when it is strictly about business, but for me, it contains a modicum of sweetness. This was Indy in, for him, full panic. Of course, even in full panic, he still manages to get straight to fixing things.
“Baby? Fin just called, let me know about the cabin. You stay safe. Call me as soon as you can. I’ll answer. Don’t bother about the time. I just need to hear your voice, okay?”
The next one was a bit calmer. “Sweetheart, I hope you’re sleeping. If not, when you get this, call me. I got a hold of Fin about the camera footage. He’ll get it to his insurance adjuster. Don’t worry about things, we’ve got you covered.”
The third was a bit more cryptic. “Call me, please?”
Then, “Hey Edie-love, Fin told me you lost your charger. Take the place across the street. The girls will set you up until insurance money kicks in. We’ve got you.”
And the one that was just a few minutes ago, “If you call, it will roll over to voicemail. I’m on the road. TomTom is covering Vega, and he’s good. I’m coming home.”
That one stopped me in my tracks. I glanced around the coffee shop. There were enough customers that I had to force the tears that sprang to my eyes down. I blinked and took a deep breath. I would not break down.
My things were everywhere, and my truck didn’t have a working outlet to charge things. For a second or two I panicked, and stuffed everything into my bag. It took me unplugging the phone and seeing it go black to trigger rational thought. I carefully plugged it back in. Then I called Betty Jo to ask her if they could get the key from Snake for the house across the street.
She assured me she’d have it for me when I got back.
Then I sipped the last cold dregs of my latte. I savored them, despite the temperature. Taking my time, so I could to center myself. While I did that, I looked up the insurance company I had my auto and renters’ insurance with. They were big enough I was able to reach a real person on a Sunday. They took my information, and set the claim into motion. I wrote down what I needed to do for them on the end of my to do list. It was a full two pages now.
The coffee cup completely drained, my main order of business completed, I re-listened to Indy’s voice. I played the message twice. That wasn’t enough. I called him and left a voice message.
“Hi love. Please be careful. I’ll be at the house across from Betty Jo’s.” I took a breath. “I love you.”
The important things weren’t possessions, even the ones which came out of creation. The important things were people. If there was one thing I needed above everything else, it was for him to be safe. I prayed for the first time in years. It wasn’t bowed head or even folded hands. Just a set of closed eyes and a plea to the universe to keep him wrapped in my love, and to protect him until we could be together again. It wasn’t so much a prayer as a plea from my soul.
When I finished, I got angry.
Edie - again
I was settled, as best as I could, in a small house that was about twice the size of my cabin. But it felt smaller, and more exposed. I’d adopted the forest around my home as my own. This place was four walls, okay more than four, but I’m only counting the ones that faced the outside, and a whole lot of outside world that wasn’t friendly around it.
There was the good energy of Betty Jo’s coming from across the street. That energy was interrupted by the negative energy of the street separating us. Snake’s house, two houses to my left, felt cold, but solid. He was rarely home, but his presence seeped out and lingered. To the right was the bend in the street, and a field. That felt mostly tired. Behind the house was more tired land, and the chaotic energy coming from the back neighbor’s yard was tainted with teenage angst, too much metal, and absolutely none of the earthy energy which wrapped around me in the woods.
Yes, I could feel all of it. And no, I’m not crazy. It was all there, and real. Even the dog that lived in the house between Snake’s and here, gave off an energy. He wasn’t a nice animal. Mostly because his owner wasn’t a dog person. If he’d had a pack to ground him, I’m certain he’d be a
better dog. Poor thing.
This place had good earth under it, that was slowly being killed by suburban restriction. I sat, cross-legged in the living room to feel it seep upwards. Fantasy, and grounding complete, I puttered around to wipe the place down, and get it rearranged a bit to dispel some of the gloom that had made it so inhospitable. The shower curtain needed to go. It was an ugly, tan thing that was straight off the discount shelf of the local super-sized mart. The folds hadn’t smoothed out, which meant no one had bothered to shower here. The color clashed with the ugly gold of the sink, tub, and toilet. It needed to be green, forest like, or bamboo. I added the idea to my book.
The bedroom was worse. Paneling and high, short windows. There was very little light and too much ugly fake wood. I turned the page and pondered what would make this room better. Not much came to mind, as bad as the energy was here. It needed a full rehab, much like the entire house.
More paneling in the closet. It wasn’t so bad if it was limited to that small space. I could ignore it. The energy in the closet was different, more nest-like. Odd. Maybe spiders lived in the corners.
My phone rang. I rushed out to it, checking the number. It looked like my insurance, so I picked it up. Luckily, it was. My call waiting beeped while I was talking to the agent, but I ignored it. There had been at least three more hang ups, and one no-message voice mail.
I called my mom when I finished with the insurance.
“Hi Mom.”
“Hi honey, are you okay?”
“Of course I am, why?”
“Eddie says he can’t reach you.”
“You gave Eddie my number.” No, it wasn’t a question. I knew my mom. This had her fingerprints all over it.
“Of course. He said he was in the area and could take you out to get some clothes and things. That’s so nice of him.”
Oh my fucking God.
“Was that his idea?”
“Oh yes. I don’t see why things didn’t work with you two. He’s always so considerate.”
“He’s in the area.” The wheels in my head were turning. I blame Indy for that, but hey, whatever works.