by Lindsey Hart
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe it’s a little weird.” Leanne sighs. She sounds exhausted and done. With me.
“Only a true asshole, one who is hiding something, would refuse to come over and help someone deal with a spider. It’s just not right. He isn’t neighborly.”
“You’re a complete stranger. You went over to his house in the middle of the night, raving like a crazy person about spiders. You probably scared him.”
“Very funny,” I hiss.
“It wasn’t supposed to be.” There’s a shuffling sound on the other end, something muffled, then a door creaking, and then water running. Except, I know it’s not water running.
“Are you seriously taking a pee right now while you’re on the phone with me?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Leanne sounds offended. “You called and woke me up. I had to go!”
“I’m trying to tell you something serious here, and you go to the bathroom!”
“I’m done now,” she informs me, clearly annoyed. I hear more muffling and shuffling noises and then a sigh. “Okay, I’m back in the bedroom. Go ahead. Give me your crazy theory.”
“I just think the guy is weird. He’s totally off. Who wraps their living room in plastic? Who never leaves the house? Who always goes out wearing a hoodie, a hat, and sunglasses like they don’t want anyone to recognize them? Who stays awake all night? Who—who won’t freaking help someone with a spider problem for like, two minutes?”
Leanne kindly doesn’t go over the whole I’m a stranger and probably appeared totally crazy thing again. Instead, she sighs hard into the phone to make sure I know what she thinks about all this ranting first thing in the morning. I’ve had six cups of coffee. I realize Leanne hasn’t had any, but seriously, if she phoned me to tell me about a harrowing middle of the night experience and a crazy dude who is quite possibly chopping people up in his living room, I’d be a little more interested and a heck of a lot less skeptical.
I think.
“Well, if he’s doing something sketchy in there, then you need proof,” Leanne surprises me by saying. “Like, hard evidence. You can’t call the cops or go to the police in secret or to anyone with just a theory about plastic in a living room. You need to take things seriously. Install some cameras pointed at this house. Keep an eye on things. Maybe even dig through his trash for evidence. I don’t know. I doubt there’s anything to worry about, but if you think there is, then you need to be more careful.”
“If I think there is?”
“You know you kind of tend to have an overactive imagination. Real-life isn’t like the stories you write.”
“I know that!” I can’t keep the hurt out of my voice.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” Leanne says, a new edge to her tone. “Seriously, I’m just saying that sometimes things have a logical explanation.”
“And sometimes they don’t.”
“And sometimes they do.”
“And sometimes they don’t.”
“Lu-Anne!” Leanne snaps. “We’re not five years old here. If you think something’s up, you need evidence. And you need to be careful. Don’t go outside after dark. Don’t ever go over there again. Cameras. That’s your best bet. Please be safe. Use your head. You shouldn’t go marching over to the house of someone you don’t even know in the middle of the night. You’re lucky you weren’t chopped up.”
“I’m sure he only chops up people who cross him.” I don’t dare go into my mob/underworld theory with Leanne. She doesn’t have the patience for it at the moment. Maybe I shouldn’t have called to wake her up, but I just couldn’t wait. She’s lucky she didn’t get a call at four in the morning when I was seriously freaking out and having a meltdown. No, I waited until I calmed down.
“Stop. Seriously. Proof first, and then we can continue this conversation. Black clothing and strange sleeping patterns don’t count either.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I please go back to bed now? You do realize it’s Tuesday morning and I have class all day?”
“Yeah. But I also know you’d need to be up getting ready soon. And there’s nothing bad in getting up a little earlier.”
“Sometimes I wonder why we’re even friends.” But she said it with a light, teasing tone.
“Love you too,” I snap back, also in a lighter tone.
I hang up, set my phone down on the island, and gulp back the rest of the disgusting coffee. It tastes like an old sock was boiled in there instead of coffee grounds. Gross.
Because I have nothing else to do, I make a fresh pot. I take my new, steaming, not-so-gym-socky mug of coffee and sit down at the table with my phone, a notepad, and a pen.
Installing some cameras around the house for my own safety, as well as for a little after-hours spying, isn’t such a bad idea. If Leanne wants proof, I’ll get her proof. I’m 99.999999999% sure something sketchy is going down in my neighbor’s house.
I’m past caring that he’s hot as shit. I mean, literally. No, not literally. Shit isn’t hot unless you pile it in a bag on someone’s doorstep and light it on fire. Okay, I think I’m seriously sleep-deprived. Thanks a lot, you stupid spider.
My new goal for today is to find the spider and get rid of it, so I can sleep peacefully tonight, and take down my neighbor before he has a chance to make use of all that plastic plastered in his living room.
And right. Travel articles. Because I have deadlines and have to make a living.
But first, cameras.
Then the spider.
Then maybe I can relax long enough to think about doing some writing.
CHAPTER 6
Wade
I roll into some godforsaken little pub in the rougher part of downtown at just after seven. Rob is already there. I spot him and head over to the table he’s reserved for us. He chose well. It’s backed into a tight corner, and he’s left the shadowy seat for me. No one else would want to sit there, but it’s obviously perfect.
When I pull out the seat and sit down heavily, Rob’s brows shoot up. He looks the same as always—short dark hair, dark eyes, dark brows, and olive skin that tans a dark bronze in the summer from his work framing buildings outdoors. Or supervising now, as it was. The guy doesn’t need to workout. He gets enough exercise on the job. He’s sporting his usual black t-shirt and jeans combo.
“The beard is a nice touch.” He does his best to smother his grin.
“Shut up,” I growl.
The fake beard itches like it’s filled with fleas. The thing might have been made of shaved off animal fur for all I know. My mom, of all people, sent it in the mail. I can’t tell if she thought it would actually be useful or if she just wanted to have herself a good laugh. Whatever the reason, I glued the thing on following the instructions. I’m wearing my normal black ensemble, but I pulled the hoodie away from my ball cap before walking into the pub.
“Caught a cab here?”
“Yeah. I ditched my car a ten minutes’ walk from my parent’s place. I’ll cab back and try to get in through the alley.”
“I’ve driven by a few times this week. It looks like the media all gave up and went home a few weeks ago. I haven’t seen anything suspicious in forever.”
“I wish they’d forget about me that easily.”
A young blonde kid with curly hair and blue eyes who doesn’t look old enough to even know what a beer is, let alone be serving them, comes around. Rob orders two of something on tap. I stay silent. I don’t actually care what it is. Rob has the same taste. As long as it’s pale and cold, I’m good.
That’s exactly what the kid plunks down on the beat-up wood table a few minutes later. I take a second to admire the tall pint glass. The bubbles rise from the bottom of the glass to the foam on the top, and at the sight of it, my mouth waters. It was hot out. The cab I took didn’t have air-conditioning on, and no amount of cranking down the windows helped. The evening is disgustingly humid even though the sun has lost its full force.
“So?”
Rob sips at his beer. “You got my package?”
“No. What package?” I blink in confusion.
“Nothing.” Rob shakes his head, but there’s a mischievous smirk tugging at his mouth, which tells me it is definitely not nothing.
I can’t imagine what he would have mailed me. I don’t think I want to know. Knowing him, it’s probably some prank thing that will be terrible but will also cheer me up. Rob has a sick sense of humor, but we’ve been friends for so long that some of it has rubbed off on me.
“You want to tell me what’s been going on lately?”
“Other than starting renovations on the place to keep myself sane, not much.” I gulp back a few sips of beer. It’s ice-cold and makes my teeth hurt. Nothing ever tasted better. I do think about Lu-Anne’s crazy midnight visit the night before, and I decide against my better judgment to tell Rob about it. I know he’ll get a kick out of it, and just sitting here for hours without a thing to say is pathetically boring. “Actually, I have this neighbor. I thought she was alright, but she showed up in the middle of the night, beating down my door like she was inches away from being murdered.”
“Seriously?” Rob’s brows shoot up. “Why?”
“She said there was a spider in her bed. She wanted me to kill it.”
Rob nearly spits out the beer he just chugged back. “Lord,” he laughs as he swipes the back of his hand across his lips. “A spider?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, maybe she’s deathly afraid of spiders.”
“Obviously.”
Rob eyes me for a second. His eyes light up knowingly. “So, she was hot. That’s the part you’re not telling me.”
“She’s okay.” I gulp down some more beer just so I don’t have to keep talking about it, but Rob knows me better than that. He won’t ask me again, but he’s reading into that statement a truck ton more than I want him to.
“She’s more than okay.” He sets his beer down hard. “That’s good. A little distraction out there isn’t a bad thing.”
“That’s the last thing on my mind.”
“Why not make friends with her? Get to know her? That spider is probably the only excitement you have seen so far or are going to see if you don’t put yourself out there. Which I’m going to guess you didn’t do.”
“No, I didn’t go over there and look for my crazy neighbor’s crazy spider. It was the middle of the night. She said it was in her bed.”
“Hooo,” Rob whistles. “That seems like an invitation to get to know her to me.”
“She looked spooked. I think there really was a spider, though I thought maybe there was something else. I accidentally checked her out since she was wearing skimpy pajamas. I couldn’t help it, and she got pretty pissed, so that canceled out the notion.”
“You should apologize for not killing it. Buy her a spider trap or something.”
“I’m not sure those exist.”
“Bug spray?”
“Maybe. No. Wait. No. Definitely not. I’m only there until this shitstorm with the media blows over, and I can get my life back. Getting involved with someone would not be helpful.”
“No?” Rob downs the rest of his beer and sets his glass at the edge of the table, a not so subtle hint to the server that he’d like a refill.
“No.” I let my eyes wander the place. Every other table is full. The pub is small, but there are probably twenty other tables and a bar area. The place is filled up with the usual pub décor. Flatscreen TVs and sports memorabilia. “Did you turn down a menu already?”
“No. The server guy never brought one.”
“Take it easy. It looks like everyone else called in sick. He’s just trying to keep up.”
Rob’s face relaxes. He’s a good guy. He’s always been a nice guy. He’s the kind of guy who would seriously give you his last remaining dollar if he knew you needed it, even if he needed it more. I never had any siblings, but Rob is definitely my brother from another mother if you want to get downright cheesy.
“It’s been a year since Julia broke your heart,” Rob says softly, not letting the hot neighbor thing go for a second. He’ll take pity on our server but not on me. “Maybe you should get back in the saddle. Or have someone get back in yours. However that goes.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” I drain the rest of my beer, which is just a few swallows. Now I wish I had a refill, so I’d have something to do with my hands and a distraction from Rob’s overly direct questions. “I’m wearing a fake beard. I think I have bigger problems. I don’t want to make anything worse than it already is.”
Rob scoffs at that. He arranges his hands into stacked fists on the tabletop. He does that often, but I’m not sure why. I’ve never seen anyone else do it that I can ever remember. “The entire world would give just about anything to have your problems.”
I must look pretty ornery because Rob sighs. He gives me a sympathetic look, and just then, our server comes around with two fresh beers we didn’t even have to ask for and sets them down. He looks frazzled but manages a polite smile before whisking away our empty glasses.
“Kid’s a keeper,” Rob says, glancing behind him for a minute. “Anyway.” He turns back to face me. “If you don’t want to get laid, that’s your business. I’ll help you out with whatever else I can. As for the rest, you’ll get it figured out. Things will start to make sense again.”
I grasp my condensing pint glass in my hand, letting the cold beads of moisture run all over my palm. Under the glass, a circle of water gets bigger and bigger. I pretend to be totally absorbed in it.
“I just want to go back to doing construction. I made good money. I had a decent place and a nice enough car. I liked the work. It was hard and whatever, but it was satisfying. The guys working with me on our crew always did a good job. They worked hard, which is rare.”
“It’s even rarer to find someone satisfied with what they have.” Rob raises his glass a few inches in a toast to me. “You’re a good man, Wade. It’s probably why your grandpa left you all that money when he bit it.”
“Stop,” I hiss, but there isn’t any real annoyance behind it. The pub is so loud that I know no one will overhear what we’re saying. “My grandfather didn’t even know who I was. He met me once when I was five. I barely even remember, and I’m sure I left even less of an impression on him.”
“You don’t know that.” Rob drains half his glass but holds onto it. “Maybe he had someone report back to him. Hired someone to spy on you or something. You never know with rich people.”
“Christ. In that case, I feel even more pressure to do something with the money. Something good.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You never liked anyone to know it, but you’re smart. And you’re a good guy. Just for the record, Julia was a bitch. She didn’t deserve you. You were way too nice. So, don’t be afraid to go rescuing damsels in distress from monstrous sized spiders. It might work out one of these times.”
“Or it might blow up in my face, and my exile to suburbia will be for nothing.”
“You’re renovating an already nice house,” Rob says casually, but he gives me a direct look. His dark eyes fix on my face. “You could always give it to a friend in need if you want to bail and become a hermit in the most remote region of the world.”
“You’re an ass.”
“I hear the Arctic is nice this time of year.”
“You want a house? Pick one out. The suburbs aren’t for you.”
“No? Maybe I’ll find a wife who wants the white picket fence deal and a couple of kids.”
“Rob. You’re thirty-two.”
“So?”
“You haven’t had a serious girlfriend in your entire life.”
“There’s lots of time for that,” he scoffs. He drains the rest of his beer and looks like he’s going to go for mine, but I snatch it out of the way. “I could really use some chicken wings.”
“Right. Next time the kid comes around, ask if we can get some. And
order six beers at a time so you won’t run out.”
“Wade, this is my one night out a month until you decide to come around again. We’re both cabbing it, and I have a thousand sick days I haven’t used. I think I’m entitled to work on the hangover from hell. Anyway, two more beers and a couple of baskets of wings, and I’m good. I can’t keep up the pace. You know me. I’ve been your sober wingman for the better part of a decade and a half. I have to put you in a cab and make sure you get back to your parent’s house tonight so your mom can ask you if you have enough clean socks and underwear up there in suburbia.”
I know I’m probably red, but at least I can hide behind my beer. Rob just tips his head back and laughs until I reluctantly join him. It feels good. It feels good to laugh and be here amongst the living again. To be out of the house and enjoying life.
Rob’s right. I will get my shit figured out. I can’t remain in exile forever.
He’s also right about my mom. A few hours later, when I slip through the backyard and in through the back door, my parents greet me with big hugs. The first thing my mom asks about is, of course, my underwear situation.
CHAPTER 7
Lu-Anne
I step back a few feet on the deck, studying just one of my newly installed cameras. I take another step back and nearly crash right into the barbeque. Thankfully, I catch myself before I get a grill in the butt. I let out a satisfied sigh when I look at the cameras.
I don’t have a lot of extra money. Okay, scratch that, I have pretty much none, but I found a company that was willing to install a couple of cameras as part of their own neighborhood security system for free. The cameras I can personally access came with a monthly fee. It’s not cheap, but it’s not that expensive either, and I’ll probably only need them for a few months. Maybe even a month. I can’t see the guy not slipping up.