The Player Next Door: A Novel

by K. A. Tucker

  “She told me the same thing the other day.” The day everything in my life went to hell.

  “I don’t know if it’s true. You know how those things go, with men like that.” She waves a dismissive hand, but there’s no shortage of scorn in her voice. “But she wanted to know what she should do.”

  “So, she asked you?” I can’t keep the surprise from my voice. Wendy was there to catch my mother in the act. She had to deal with the fallout. She couldn’t have been that sympathetic.

  Wendy’s smile turns secretive as she studies a pen for a long moment. “Dottie was ten when I started teaching here. She was a high-spirited kid who liked to entertain. She was unlike any other child I’d ever met. And beautiful! So beautiful, even back then. I sometimes worried about what was going on at her home …” She frowns but doesn’t go further with that thought. “By the time she was twelve, I knew she was going to be trouble, skipping school and taunting older boys behind the bleachers. She loved the attention they’d give her. She was never mean-spirited. That’s not Dottie.

  “On several occasions, I sat her down and tried to get through to her. But there was no getting through to that girl by then.” She sighs. “She wasn’t a good student, but she was resourceful when she needed to be. When she got pregnant with you, she came to me for advice. I helped her get set up with an apartment and social assistance. After that, she’d come by every once in a while to chat. I’d taken over as principal by then, and I remember sitting in here with the both of you. She’d bounce you on her knee and you’d laugh.” Wendy chuckles.

  Meanwhile, my mouth gapes. I had no idea Wendy and my mother had a connection. She’s never mentioned it, not while I was a student here, and not since running into each other that day at the 7-Eleven.Is this why Wendy offered me a job?

  “Honestly, I was waiting for the day I’d hear through the grapevine that Dottie was stripping or selling herself on a street corner to make ends meet, so when she told me she wanted to go to school to become a hairstylist, I was ecstatic. I coached her until she passed the GED and then I helped her apply for a government grant to pay for the schooling.” She smiles sadly. “She looked like she was turning over a new leaf.”

  My students must be filtering into the class. I need to get back, but I’m curious. “What’d you say to her after that mess with Peter Rhodes?”

  “To stop sleeping with married men.” Wendy gives me an exasperated look. “And that I was extremely disappointed in her.”

  That makes me chuckle. “She would not have loved that.” Dottie has never appreciated being scolded.

  “No. And honestly, chastising a twenty-eight-year-old woman to close her legs is not on my list of enjoyable activities. Neither is having to tell a mother to start acting like one and put her daughter’s needs ahead of her own.”

  “She didn’t really do a good job of that.”

  “No, she didn’t.” Wendy shakes her head. “But looking at you now, she must have done something right. Anyway, she stopped coming here, but I heard that whatever she had going on with Peter Rhodes was over and his wife was taking him back.” Her lips purse. “Having dealt with the both of them, and with Penelope, I’m not sure that was the right call either. But, that’s the thing about life—we each have our own to live, with all the regrets and mistakes that go along with it.”

  “That we do.” And going forward, mine will have to be without a man I was falling desperately in love with. Maybe one day down the road, we can revisit it. Third time’s the charm, or something like that. I don’t have much hope things will change, though.

  I ease from my chair. “I should get back.”

  Just as I reach for the door handle, Wendy calls out, “You’re not at all like her.”

  I turn to find Wendy smiling at me. “I know.” But finally, it’s nice to hear that someone else in Polson Falls recognizes it too.

  I shiver against the cold as I stand at Shane’s front door, my arms aching beneath the weight of Cody’s textbooks. I carried them the two blocks home, my heart pounding in my throat the entire time. And now I’ve stood here for a full two minutes, contemplating whether I should just leave them in a pile on the mat.

  Instead, I knock.

  Approaching footfalls sound a moment before the door creaks open.

  I sigh at the sight of Shane standing in his doorway, casually pushing a hand through his messy hair. I’ve never been able to choose which version I like more—the gelled waves or the silken mop when he lets his hair air-dry after a shower. It’s the latter now.

  “Hey.” He licks his lips nervously.

  “Penelope asked that I send some homework for Cody,” I say by way of greeting. “I’m going to set up some assignments for him in Google Classroom, if he has a computer at home?”

  “Yeah, Pen and Travis bought him a laptop last Christmas.” He smooths a hand over the back of his neck, pulling his T-shirt tight across his chest.

  I can’t help but admire his arms. Do men always look even better after you’ve broken up with them? I’ve never cared enough to notice before. “Okay, well, I’ll pull that all together for him tonight.” I’ve got nothing better to do, besides consoling Justine while she shifts between sobbing and plotting murder. “There’s also a card tucked into his math textbook. All the kids in the class signed it.”

  Shane’s face brightens. “He’ll love that.”

  I hesitate, not wanting to linger but not wanting to leave. “How is he?”

  “Whiny.” He smirks. “The crutches are way less cool than he was thinking they’d be. Wait till he gets his real cast.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be covered in signatures in no time. I’ll make sure to have an extra-thick marker in class.”

  An unbearable stretch of awkward silence hangs between us.

  “Do you want to come in?” Shane asks, at the same time I say, “I should go.”

  “Scar—”

  “We’re doing the right thing.” I set my jaw. Seeing him is a thousand times harder than I anticipated. I need to leave now, before I cave.

  “I know we are. Cody comes first, and we have to do what’s best for him. There’s too much baggage that comes with us.” His sighs reluctantly. “You were right. You’re always right. I’m not going to try to change your mind.”

  He’s saying all the right things. So why do they feel like all the wrong things?

  I struggle to clear the emotion suddenly clogging my throat. “I need to get home. Justine’s staying with me for a while.”

  “Here.” He leans forward to collect the books from my grasp, his hands and arms grazing mine, sending electricity coursing through my limbs and inciting an ache deep within my bones.

  I inhale the scent of him, feeling his penetrating gaze as he studies me from only inches away. He’s always been so adept at withering my resolve, and he knows it. It would take nothing for him to do so now, and then we’d be right back where we started.

  Only this time, I’d be angry with myself.

  Thankfully, he steps back, freeing my sore arms to fall by my sides.

  “If you ever need anything at all, any help around the house …” He lets his words drift.

  “I’ll give my friendly neighbor a call.” I back away, swallowing back the tears that threaten.

  His broad chest rises with his inhale. With one last, longing look, he disappears into his house.

  That night, it’s Justine’s turn to offer her shoulder.

  I cry on it for hours.

  Thirty

  “Smartfood or Lay’s BBQ?” Justine alternates between bags, waving each in the air, a questioning look on her face.

  “Both?”

  She cocks her head, as if the thought never crossed her mind, and then proceeds to tear both bags open. “Okay, so I ordered that new Hemsworth movie, but we’re watching The Bachelor first.”

  I groan. “So I can listen to you yell at the TV for an hour?”

  “Hey! Men are all lecherous, lying assholes and th
ese women need to be told,” she snaps, indignant. It’s been a week since Bill came out of his cheater’s closet. Justine is still hiding out at my house, scrubbing my baseboards while cursing at the skilled tradesmen over the phone for having penises while she’s placing them in jobs.

  I glance at the clock. It’s eleven on Friday night. I’m exhausted after an arduous week of teaching when all I wanted to do was stay in my bed. We’re both in sweatpants, hair piled high, with no intention of venturing out into the world until Sunday. I’ve promised to go back with her to our old apartment so she doesn’t have to face walking in there alone. Bill has already moved out, but has “so generously” agreed to pay his half of the rent for the next two months while she either finds a new roommate or another place altogether.

  I sigh. “Fine.” At least if she’s cursing at the TV, she’s not crying over what her duplicitous ex-boyfriend might be doing.

  My phone rings from its spot on the counter.

  Justine checks the screen. And grimaces. “Do you want to answer that? It’s him,” she snarls through a mouthful of popcorn.

  My stomach flutters. “Him, who? Shane?”

  She nods.

  I’ve found myself still keeping track of Shane’s schedule, so I know he’s working tonight. What does he want?

  “Yes or no?” She dangles my phone in the air in front of me. “My vote is no, by the way. Death to all dicks.”

  I snatch it from her grasp. Justine’s in extreme man-hating mode, which makes her more irrational than usual. Besides, not answering will drive me nuts all night. “Hello?”

  “Scar! You there?” he hollers. Sirens and shouts blare in the background.

  “Yeah.” I frown. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Do you know where Dottie is?”

  “Probably at the bar. Why?”

  “’Cause Brillcourt’s burning to the ground!”

  “So, I’m not even allowed to go in there to get a few things?”

  I don’t miss the hint of desperation in my mother’s voice as she huddles in her spot, watching her home for the past thirty-odd years burn as if it were made of matchsticks and soaked in gasoline.

  “Mom, it’s still on fire.” Black smoke billows into the night sky and my nostrils curl with the acrid smell of twelve apartments disintegrating. They’ve hauled every available fire engine and firefighter in the county here, and it’s still not enough.

  “I know, but …” She clutches the top of the silk floral robe she threw on in her haste to escape. I assume she’s trying to ward off the cold. Lord knows it’s not for modesty.

  That my mother was home on a Friday night and sober enough to react to the smoke alarms was a shock. Almost as big as the shock of the panic that engulfed me when Justine and I arrived and saw the entire building in flames, not knowing where she was.

  I was terrified for her.

  And when I spotted her standing on the sidewalk half a block away with this gray-haired man—none other than Chief Cassidy, I learned by way of introduction—my relief was genuine and overwhelming.

  “This is not going to be a quick cleanup, Dottie,” he says gently, regarding the mess before him. “And from the looks of it, there isn’t going to be much to salvage. If anything.”

  I wait for her quick retort, her playful banter laced with sexual innuendo, but she merely nods and strokes her hair off her face, a discreet attempt to fix herself. I can’t recall the last time I saw her without a full face of makeup and dressed to impress. In this moment, she looks like any other ordinary mom, frightened and cold and in shock.

  A burst of flames flares on the south side of the building, and a round of shouts call out as firefighters rush to deal with it.

  I worry my lip, searching the hulking bodies in yellow gear for a specific firefighter, but it’s impossible to identify any of them. “There’s no one still stuck inside, is there?”

  “Last report was that everyone’s out,” Chief Cassidy confirms.

  “So, your guys … none of them are going in there, right?”

  He offers me a kind smile, as if he suspects there’s one in particular that I’m asking about. “We’ll get it under control from outside. None of them are risking their lives for this old place.”

  I nod my thanks to him as another overwhelming wave of relief washes over me. Shane’s chosen career path seems exponentially more dangerous now than it did when I pictured him rescuing animals and helping the elderly. If anything happened to him tonight …

  My stomach turns with just the thought.

  Beside me, Justine’s teeth chatter.

  “It’s going to be a long night. There’s no point in you girls standing outside. Go on home.” He pats my mother’s shoulder. It’s a friendly gesture, but not one a man who had a sordid tryst with the town harlot would give. Maybe Shane’s right and nothing beyond dinner happened that night. “You have somewhere warm to go, don’t you?”

  “You know me, Griff. I’ll always find somewhere warm to sleep.” She offers him a weak smile. It’s nowhere near the usual Cheshire Cat grin she uses when she delivers a line like that.

  And the truth is, it’s all an act. I’m not sure she has anywhere to go.

  I sigh with resignation. “She’s coming home with me.”

  The big blue pickup sits idly in the driveway as I walk past after school. Long gone are the days of catching Shane outside, tinkering with his ’67 Impala or pushing the mower. The car hasn’t left the protection of his garage since late October, and the lawn is now coated in an inch of fresh snow.

  Still, my chest aches every time I pass my neighbor’s house.

  Cody has been back to school for several weeks now, struggling to maneuver around on his crutches but adept at collecting signatures on his casts. The drama from that night hasn’t seemed to affect his spirits, though.

  Sometimes, when my students are busy with their tasks and my attention wanders out the window, I’ll turn back to find him watching me curiously from beneath his thick fringe of lashes, through familiar whiskey-colored eyes. And sometimes I get the distinct impression he wants to venture to my desk to strike up a conversation, but isn’t sure how. Or perhaps he’s been told not to. Either way, it’s probably for the best. He doesn’t need to hear about how much I miss his father.

  The smell of apple pie envelops me as I step through my front door, escaping the blustering, early-December afternoon. I’m not foolish enough to think anyone around here would bake an actual pie. It’s just a candle. Still, it’s a welcoming scent, and it reminds me that I don’t live alone anymore.

  I unwittingly claimed two roommates in the span of a week. One, I could survive living with in a four-by-four-foot cardboard box. The other, I may end up in a six-by-nine-foot prison cell for murder if she doesn’t move out soon.

  Justine only went back to Newark to collect more clothes and give notice for the apartment. She’s also quit her job, though she’s agreed to stay on remotely until her uncle finds a replacement. Meanwhile, she’s been scouring the want ads for careers in this area. She’s serious about moving to Polson Falls, and reclaiming the tiny main-floor bedroom once my mother leaves.

  Which is, thankfully, on the fifteenth of this month when Dottie gets her new apartment across town. They suspect the fire at Brillcourt was started by a space heater and allowed to grow due to a faulty smoke-alarm system. The building has since been condemned, unsafe to step inside, due to be demolished after years of neglect. Nothing of my mother’s belongings was salvageable, which has brought her much distress. Her wardrobe was something she prized and, according to her cries of frustration, not easy to replace. She’s been scouring the internet for her favorite animal-print stilettos to no avail.

  I set my purse on the front hallway table just as a male grunt sounds from somewhere in the house.

  “Hello?” I call out warily, my voice carrying an edge.

  There’s no answer.

  Elite Cuts is closed on Mondays; both Justine’s and
my mother’s cars are outside. Justine is probably up in my room, working.

  I hear a thump, followed by another male grunt. It’s coming from the kitchen.

  My anger overwhelms my better judgment as I charge in, bracing myself for a reenactment of the Christmas pageant closet of horrors, or something equally jaw-dropping. “I told you, no bringing any—” I stutter over the sight, “—men home.”

  Justine and Mom are in the middle of my kitchen, arms crossed at their chests, heads cocked as they hover over the man sprawled on my floor. Both wear admiring smiles.

  I’d recognize that body anywhere.

  My heart races. “What’s going on?”

  “There was a leak,” Justine murmurs absently. “So I called Scarlet’s Sexy Neighbor.”

  Shane’s abs strain as he pulls his head out from beneath the kitchen sink and sits up. “Hey, Scar.” He brushes the back of his hand against his forehead, leaving a streak of dirt behind. “I patched it, but you really need to get someone to lay new pipe in here.”

  “Are you offering to lay some pipe for Scarlet?” Justine’s eyebrow arches playfully.

  I shake my head at my best friend. At least she’s finally showing signs of her old jaw-dropping self. “Thanks. You didn’t need to come and do that, though.”

  “I don’t mind.” He reaches for the rag on the floor next to my mother’s leopard-print-slippered foot.

  “Well, you’ve certainly saved us,” Dottie purrs, stroking his ego. “We had no idea how to fix this.”

  “By dialing a plumber,” I say dryly, in no mood for her damsel-in-distress act.

  Justine gives my mom an elbow and a wide-eyed look. “Isn’t it our turn to get groceries this week?”

  “Huh? Oh, right. Yes. It is.” My mom plays into it. “We’ll be gone for at least an hour.” She takes a long, leisurely, head-to-toe look at Shane. “More likely two.”