by A. I. Nasser
John waited for the truck to turn the corner and disappear behind the Green’s house before he turned to Eva. “What are you doing here?”
Eva smiled at him. “I wanted to apologize for leaving the way I did the other night,” she said. “I thought I could make it up to you sometime.”
I suggest making it up now. How about you, Johnny-boy?
John stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him, making sure their conversation remained outside.
“Listen, you don’t need to make up for anything,” he said quickly. “In fact, let’s forget that anything even happened, okay?”
“That’s going to be a little hard considering we both seemed to enjoy ourselves tremendously.”
John sighed, holding back his anger, her nonchalant attitude annoying him immensely. “I’m married, Eva. Do you know what that means? It means that what happened that night was a mistake, a very big mistake, and I really don’t want to talk about it. Ever.”
Eva smiled and leaned against the porch railing. “I don’t know, John,” she teased. “It didn’t seem like a mistake to me.”
“Of course not,” John hissed. “You obviously don’t get it, so my explaining it to you is useless. Just stay away from me, okay? Stay away from this house. Go home.”
Eva stared at him, her face quickly turning into a scowl. Their eyes were locked on each other for what seemed like an eternity, and before he could repeat himself, she turned around and walked away.
John quickly went back inside and locked the door behind him.
Chapter 10
That was stupid, Johnny-boy.
“Shut up,” John replied to the darkness around him.
He was sitting at his desk, his fingers tapping away as his thoughts raced. His protagonist was in the middle of one of the most gruesome scenes he had ever written, and he didn’t need any distractions. He needed to stay in the zone, lost in the bubble around him. He heard the racing of feet above him again, but this time, he didn’t flinch.
Let them run. Let them come.
He squinted as he dug deeper into emotions he had never tapped into before, letting everything unravel on the screen, his story slowly gaining a momentum of its own; a life of its own. Derrick was going to love this.
I don’t see what the problem is.
“Of course you don’t,” John whispered.
The voice was starting to get annoying, but try as he may, he couldn’t shut it up. In a way, he felt like it was half responsible for the sudden burst of energy he was experiencing, the race of ideas flooding through his head as his story materialized in front of him. He felt like he was a mere co-pilot, the flesh and bone needed to tell the story.
I hate to see a chance like this wasted. Don’t you remember how good it felt?
“I’m trying to forget how good it felt.”
John felt himself smile, amused at the fact that he was conducting a conversation with a disembodied pervert. Oh, if Derrick could see him now. It would probably explain the writing, the man quickly coming to terms with the fact that his best author had finally lost it.
You’re not crazy.
John knew that, but he also knew that this was the first time since he had started writing that he was completely aware of what was happening around him. Since the beginning, the whole thing had seemed like a trance, an out of body experience he had detached himself from. Tonight was different, though. Tonight he was completely here, fully in tune, the emotions racing through him both familiar and terrifying at the same time.
You know that there’s nothing dead in the walls, right?
“I know.”
So what are you going to do about it?
“What Hank told me to do.”
John could hear the scurrying of the rats in the attic grow more frantic the more he ignored them. If they could feel how little he cared at the moment, then they were probably pissed off. He barely heard the attic door opening and slamming shut outside the room, but this time he didn’t cower in a corner the way he had the night before.
That’s right. It’s not the first time. Not even the second time. They’ve been running around up there since you got here.
“The exterminator’s coming tomorrow.”
Those aren’t rats.
“Then we’re going to be in for one hell of a surprise, aren’t we?”
The attic door opened and slammed shut a few more times, the frequency increasing until the sound was like a constant drumbeat. John ignored it, his fingers flying across his keyboard, completely oblivious to the lights of the bathroom that were flickering on and off on their own. The sounds in the attic intensified, rattling above his head, begging for attention and receiving none. Soon the attic door sounded like a double bass that was deafening, and John felt the muscles in his body tense at the sheer amount of distractions that were threatening him.
“Shut up!”
His scream echoed in the empty house, and everything stopped abruptly.
John blinked twice, his trance broken, his breathing heavy as he felt a headache coming on and his temples throb. His fingers shook above the keyboard as the words on his screen swam in and out of focus.
Great. Now you scared them.
John flinched when he heard knocking at the front door. He looked at his watch, realized that it was well past midnight, and had a sinking feeling about who his visitor might be.
You know how I feel about this, but hey, it’s your call, Johnny-boy.
John waited, hoping whoever he thought was at his door would leave. When he heard the second series of knocks, he got out of his chair, turned on the lights and made his way downstairs. Rubbing the back of his neck, easing the tension that had built up there, he opened the door without checking to see who was outside.
He wasn’t surprised to see Eva Green, hands on her hips, clad in an overcoat that reached below her knees. She stared at him challengingly, both of them quiet, and then opened her coat to reveal the black lingerie she was wearing underneath.
“You still think it was a mistake?” she asked, her eyes daring him to look away, the smirk on her face dangerously enticing.
John swept her into his arms, slammed the door shut and carried her upstairs.
***
June Summers was locking up when Hank pulled up in front of her store. She waved at him as he leaned over and opened the passenger door, waiting as she rechecked the locks and climbed in next to him.
“Thanks for driving me home, Hank,” she said, rubbing her hands together for warmth.
“No problem,” Hank said, shifting gears and pulling out. “Can’t let you walk home this time’a night.”
“That’s sweet,” she mumbled. She checked her purse to make sure she hadn’t forgotten the keys in the door the way she recently had become accustomed to doing, and sat back comfortably, closing her eyes. It had been a slow day.
“Did I tell you that I was at the Dean house today?” Hank asked.
June was suddenly wide awake. Intrigued, she raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
“That writer fellow of yours, the one you said was stayin’ there,” Hank explained. “He came into my store yesterday talkin’ about a stench in his basement. Went there today, damn place smells like dead bodies rottin’ away. I ain’t got a clue how he’s holdin’ up in there.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” June said. “Remember last year? You couldn’t drive by that house without smelling the rot.”
“That’s just it, there ain’t nothing rotten there,” Hank said. “The basement’s clean. Couldn’t tell what was causin’ the smell.”
“Insulation?”
Hank nodded. “Told him to get rid of it. Dunno if he’s gonna do it.”
“It would be a waste of money if he did,” June said, looking out the window as they made their way out of the town center and onto the road towards her house.
“Told him to sell it to the Greens, said he didn’t know who owned it,” Hank said.
June nodded thoughtfully. “Don’t worry yourself about that. They’ll badger him about it soon enough.”
“I guess they’ve already started,” Hank smiled. “Saw Miss Eva there when I was leavin’. Seemed like they’ve run into each other before.”
June stared hard at Hank, and he frowned in confusion when he saw the look she gave him.
“What?”
“Don’t you go spreading rumors, Hank Pollard,” June warned. “That’s a married man, there. Don’t go talking about things you’re not sure of.”
“I ain’t sayin’ anythin’, June,” Hank said. “Just said I saw her there.”
“That’s already saying too much,” June berated. “You know David Green as much as anyone else in town. You know what he would do if he thought for a second something was going on between his daughter and John.”
“Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Hank said. “I only told you anyway.”
“Let’s keep it at that, right?”
Hank nodded, and they both fell silent for the rest of the drive.
***
John felt like a million dollars when he woke up.
There was no guilt this time, only a deep satisfaction that had lingered since the night before. He had stayed awake this time as Eva got dressed and left. Standing at his bedroom window, shades slightly drawn, invisible in the darkness, he had watched her race back to her house and sneak in through the back. He had lain in bed for a good ten minutes with a smile on his face before falling asleep peacefully.
Whistling to himself, he danced a little as he waited for the water to boil, completely forgetting about the smell coming from the basement, his mind free and rested. He had checked on his writing, happy with the progress he had made so far, and questioned whether or not to send what he had to Derrick.
Derrick could wait. Right now we’re celebrating!
“That we are, my friend,” John sang. “That we are!”
He filled his mug with coffee, lighting a cigarette as he moved to the music in his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good, this alive, and he was going to cherish the moment as much as possible.
You never know how long the good times last, right, Johnny-boy?
John Krik couldn’t agree more.
He took his coffee and made his way upstairs, his cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth as ash dropped onto the hardwood floor. He was anticipating the next bout of writing, the next roll. He was really feeling how his story was coming together, the plot intertwining within itself to form a web of events that he knew would look absolutely beautiful when it was done. He felt like an artist, painting a canvas in what seemed to be random lines, and only he knew what the final image would look like.
His next bestseller was going to be massive.
John set his mug down and opened his laptop, slumping into his chair and readying himself for the rush.
Let’s get to work, Johnny-boy.
“Yes, please,” John said out loud, putting out his cigarette and immediately lighting another one.
He was about to start when he was stopped by knocking at the door. Frowning, he tried to remember if he should have been expecting someone. Had he called Grace or Hank? He clearly remembered postponing the exterminators for a few more days, feeling no rush to solve either the problem in the basement or the nest of rats upstairs.
Ignore it.
The knocking came again, and this time John decided not to listen to the voice in his head. He made his way downstairs, pulling on a shirt as he quickly put out his cigarette. When he opened the door, his heart stopped.
“Surprise!”
Karen threw her hands up in the air, her smile wide as she posed in front of her husband. She was wearing her travel pants, and two suitcases stood idly at her side.
“Karen?”
“Wow, John, don’t be so happy to see me,” she rolled her eyes.
John smiled and reached out for his wife, taking her into his arms and hugging her tight.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that this is completely unexpected,” he said, kissing her.
“Hence, surprise,” she said.
John held her at arm’s length and looked at her, taking her all in, unable to believe she was actually there. “What are you doing here?”
“For starters,” she said, “waiting to come in.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” John said, pulling her inside before grabbing her bags.
He watched his wife’s eyes grow wide as she took in the interior of the house, obviously impressed.
“Why the hell were you upset?” she asked. “This place is beautiful!”
“You should have been here when I first walked in,” John smiled. “You wouldn’t be saying that.”
What the hell are you doing? Why is she here?
John quickly shook his head and wrapped his arm around Karen’s waist as he walked her into the living room. She was clearly in love, and he found her admiration amusing.
“Where did Derrick find this place?” she asked.
Get her out of here!
“So, are you here for the weekend?” John asked, ignoring the demands of his subconscious.
“Actually, longer,” Karen said, slumping down onto the couch and throwing her legs up as she admired the fabric. “Took two weeks off work.”
“What about Dylan?”
“With Jody,” Karen replied. “You know she’s been begging me to let him stay with her for a while.”
John smiled as he sat down on the chair opposite her. “I’m flattered, but why take time off? You can’t possibly miss me that much.”
Karen looked at him for a minute too long, enough for John to know that something was wrong.
“Derrick called,” she said. “He sent me your manuscript. At first, I was surprised you hadn’t sent it to me first. After I read it, I kind of understood why.”
John nodded, already knowing what she was going to say. Karen was never a fan of the grotesque. “Are you here to bring me back to the rainbows and butterflies?” he asked with a grin.
Karen smiled and shook her head. “I’m here to make sure the darkness doesn’t tempt you with cookies.”
She’s going to ruin everything! What if she finds out about Eva?
John smiled at his wife.
For now, he would have to make the best of it.
Chapter 11
John woke up to the sweet smell of fresh coffee and bacon.
Stretching beneath the sheets, he opened his eyes slowly, letting the room swim into focus as he yawned loud enough to let Karen know he was awake. It was a little game between the two of them, and since she had come, he had quickly fallen back into his old habits.
Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he waited for his mind to clear, and he slowly made his way to the bathroom. The lights didn’t flicker when he turned them on, and the water flowed as clear as crystal out of the faucet.
Things had changed for the better since Karen had arrived.
It had been a little awkward at first, both he and the house getting used to the fact that a woman had taken over and was bombarding them with her feminine touch. The color of the furniture seemed brighter, the electricity was stable and the lights stopped blowing out, and for the past week the smell from the basement had disappeared completely.
John remembered the first time he had walked into the kitchen, the day after she had arrived, and noticed that the towels he had put under the door to ward off the smell were gone.
“Why did you have towels there?” she had asked, clad in an oversized t-shirt while scrubbing away at the refrigerator.
“There was a smell coming up from the basement,” he had said matter-of-factly, confused as to why the stench had not stunk up the house already.
“What smell?”
She had actually gone down to the basement, fiddled with the boiler to stop the brown water from ever returning, and had aired out the humidity. He had been impressed,
and a part of him was curious as to why she had succeeded where he had failed miserably. But he had quickly shrugged it away, happy that he did not have to breathe through his mouth every time he had to go into the kitchen.
Karen had quickly turned the whole place around, and the house finally felt like people actually lived in it. It was beyond him how her presence was enough to bring a different light to the place, but it pleased him, and he had quickly forgotten his initial reservations about her being there. Even Eva Green had disappeared completely, saving him the awkward need to introduce his wife to the girl he had cheated on her with. Twice.
The rest of his few acquaintances were a different story.
June Summers had fallen in love with Karen the minute she had laid eyes on her, both women hitting it off immediately when John took his wife to the market to stock up. June was quick to praise him in front of Karen, and his wife was quick to warn her that he was a charmer and wordsmith. Needless to say, John hadn’t needed to drive Karen into town any longer; she had quickly made herself at home.
That was the thing about Karen; she got along with everyone. Even when Gina Andrews had come to help with another round of cleaning, the old woman hadn’t seemed to mind Karen at all. She hadn’t said more than a few words to John, but she had talked her heart out while working side by side with his wife. He had begun to wonder why he had agreed to come out here alone in the first place.
John reached for the towel by the sink, dried his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked better, less disheveled, more himself. He had begun sporting the beginnings of a beard, something he had never done before despite Karen’s undying attempts to coax him into it.
His writing was taking a good hit, though, the past week giving him nothing more than a few thousand words, much less than he had written when he had been alone. When Derrick called, John had assured him that it was just a dip, but the story was still coming, albeit slower. His editor hadn’t seemed too upset, though, discussing John’s overall well-being more than he did his writing.
It freaked him out. Derrick had never cared about that before.
