She realized at that moment that there was much she still didn’t know about her housemates. So many questions she had suddenly to ask. They were obviously ahead of her in university since she hadn’t run into any of them except Kelley at school.
Careful to cover up the canvases, Becky then made her way into the kitchen to search out a snack. The kitchen was situated at the very back of the house, facing the backyard. The table was positioned by the window. The appliances weren’t new but they weren’t old either. The countertop was made of stainless steel. An odd choice for the Victorian kitchen, but given the fact that this was the House of Goths, it seemed appropriate. Finding nothing of interest in the cupboards other than a collection of mismatched and mostly chipped ceramic mugs and plates, various glasses of all shapes and sizes, Becky moved to the fridge.
She sighed, finding nothing but a nearly empty carton of milk, some ketchup packets, and a very sad looking apple in one of the compartments. She looked around the counter and found the sliced bread they’d had for breakfast. Unfortunately, there were only the two end pieces left. Taking them, she proceeded to place them in the toaster. With no butter or margarine left, she’d have to eat them dry.
As she chewed on the uninspiring meal, she glanced out the back window. The backyard was quite large with some tall trees and green grass, mostly unkept and overlong. There was a wooden picnic table with a soggy looking sun umbrella stuck into the middle of it. Over to the side, she could see a long driveway that must come up from the street, leading up to a separate old fashion garage or carriage house, ornate wooden doors and all.
It was dusk and the house suddenly turned quite dark. Wondering where the boys had gone, she turned her attention to the garage again. She hadn’t seen much of them all day except for this morning. Although she’d had her run-ins with Dorian and Crispin, she hadn’t yet talked to Kelley. She wanted to thank him properly for his part in letting her stay here.
As the last bit of daylight faded away, she noticed a faint light glowing from inside the garage. Could they be in there? Curious, she dropped the uneaten portion of toast and made her way towards the back door. Directly attached to the kitchen was a mudroom, a handy if not rustic powder room, a washer and dryer, and from what she could tell, a stairway that led down to what could only be a basement.
Once outside, she startled at the sound of the rickety old storm door slamming behind her. Suddenly frightened at how dark it had gotten, she tugged her sleeves down over her hands and gingerly made her way towards the old carriage house. She noticed then that there were three vehicles in the driveway. A navy blue van, a grey VW Beetle, and a black vintage sports car.
Approaching the structure, she could hear voices amidst music of some sort, muffled sounds of drumbeats and the unmistakable sound of a screaming electric guitar. To the side of the large carriage house, she found a door. Pressing her ear against it, she heard singing, then swearing, followed by the sound of someone kicking something made of tin, more shouting and then suddenly the sound of fast approaching footsteps.
“Fuck this shit! I can’t sing and play guitar at the same time.”
Before she could register what had happened, the door was suddenly jerked open, causing her to fall forward and crash right into Crispin’s unmistakable form.
“What the fuck?” he gasped, catching her before she fell backwards with the force of the impact.
“S-sorry,” she said, wide-eyed, looking into the unrelenting glare of his angry grey eyes.
“Not as sorry as I am,” he hissed, firmly moving her aside before taking off into the dark.
“Damn…” Dorian said, throwing his drumsticks to the floor. “We’re getting nowhere.”
“Never mind all that now,” Kell said, carefully pulling his bass guitar strap over his head and placing the instrument down in its stand. “We’ll figure something out.”
“I don’t know anymore,” Dorian said, standing up and making his way out the door, too upset to acknowledge Becky.
“S-sorry,” she said again when it was just her and Kelley left in the garage. She’d gone and done it now, she thought with a desolate sigh. She’d interrupted their practice. Surely, he was regretting his decision to let her stay.
Becky watched him through her lashes as he turned towards her and placed his hands on his trim hips. The man was truly mesmerizing. He was dressed in head-to-toe black, dark pinstriped trousers and tall military style boots. Despite the chill in the air, he wore only a thin black cotton t-shirt, and leather bands adorned his wrists. His long hair, highlighted with those devilish red streaks, cloaked his broad shoulders like a dark shroud.
He stared back at her with an expression that conveyed something akin to not quite knowing what to do with her. His features were hardened yet his eyes, his fathomless black eyes, held nothing but concern in their bottomless depths.
“Love, what are you doing out here?” he asked, making his way towards her.
This had to stop, he thought to himself. He had avoided her all day. Yet it did nothing to abate his growing fondness for this curious little creature before him. Even now, he couldn’t get the image of her shaky little form out of his head as he’d laid her in his bed that one night while he tended to her bedsheets. It had been hell’s temptation not to crawl in after her. Then when he’d dressed her in his very own shirt, she’d looked so… so his for the taking. Lord, this had to stop.
“I saw the light from the kitchen,” she said with an apologetic shrug. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “We were done, anyway.”
“So, you’re in a band?” She took in her surroundings. The space was amazing. Dorian’s extensive drum kit took up most of it. The walls were covered in carpet for soundproofing purposes, she dared to guess. Wooden crates used as stools were strewn around in front of the band’s playing area. Taking a wide circle around Kelley, she made her way towards one of them and sat down. “This is where you practise?” she said, looking from him to his bass guitar.
“Yes.” He suppressed a smile at her enthusiasm.
“Play something for me,” she said, pointing at his big black bass. The sound of his slow approaching footsteps on the wooden floor, both frightened and thrilled her at the same time.
“Becky…” He loomed over her, hands on his slender hips. “I play bass.”
“So… play for me,” she insisted, obviously clueless to his meaning. Becky could think of nothing more exciting than to be front and centre, watching him play that incredibly sexy instrument.
He rolled his head back and took a deep calming breath. Here he was, doing just fine all alone. He was the toughest, meanest looking Goth around. Everyone steered clear of him, and he liked it that way. Then the one day he chooses to be gallant, to show his human side, he finds himself somehow beholden to this silly little squeak of a girl who just won’t leave him be.
“Perhaps another time,” he said, steeling himself against the obvious disappointed reflected back on her sweet little face. Whatever this was, it had to stop. If they were to reside in the same house for the remainder of the school year, nothing could happen between them. Nothing!
“Okay,” she said, finally getting the hint. Sliding off the crate, she wiped at her bottom and waited awkwardly while he powered everything down, turned off the overhead lightbulb, and led her out of the garage. She waited just outside the door as he locked it up.
He turned then, guiding her ahead of him, his hand at the small of her back. It did something to his insides, the realization of how little and vulnerable she truly was. “I don’t like the thought of you walking around out here in the dark,” he quietly confessed.
The very idea that she had somehow wound up on his front porch the other night without any thought to her safety still rankled him.
“Oh… well, me neither,” she said, liking the feel of his warm hand on her back.
“Next time, wait for me.” He paused awk
wardly. “Or one of the other guys to walk with you,” he said, clearing his throat, correcting himself.
“Okay, but sometimes it’s hard,” she said with a frown, barely visible in the moonlight. “I can’t always have you at my beck and call. As much as I’d like that.”
“No, I suppose not,” he said, furrowing his brow as they reached the house. “Still, you should be more careful.”
“Well, at least, I’m safer here than at the dorms,” she said with a reassuring smile.
“Yes…” his voice nearly broke. Here she would stay, safe and sound for as long as she needed. He sighed deeply as she stepped inside. Lord, he was lost already.
***
Becky hesitated when she stepped into the kitchen and found Crispin and Dorian standing there, leaning up against the counter, both with dour expressions on their faces. When Kell followed her in, he nearly crashed into her. He cast her a questioning glance.
She didn’t know why she hesitated, but suddenly finding herself surrounded by all three of them in the dimly lit kitchen, unnerved her.
“Seems we have a bit of a rodent infestation on our hands,” Crispin said, flicking the half eaten portion of toast on the table.
“Oh, sorry that would be me,” she said, bravely stepping forward.
Crispin barely contained his grin at the contriteness in her posture. As much as he would rather be rid of her, he couldn’t deny that she entertained him greatly. “Silly little twit,” he admonished. “Food’s expensive, you know. You shouldn’t waste it.”
Averting her eyes from everyone, Becky nodded and reached for the toast and brought to her mouth. Not that she wanted to eat the stale, tasteless piece of bread, but she would do it to please them.
“Knock it off, Crisp,” Kell scoffed, snatching the toast from her hand before she could take a bite.
“You’re such a fucking bully, Crispin.” Dorian chuckled guiltily. “Picking on little girls… You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I guess we forgot about dinner,” Kell said with a sigh, chucking the dry piece of toast into the trash bin. A sudden pang of guilt struck him at the thought of her rummaging through the nearly empty cupboards. Groceries were his responsibility.
When it was only he and the guys, it hadn’t worried him too much if they were occasionally out of this or that. Having Becky here changed that. His slacking was suddenly no longer acceptable to him. First thing tomorrow, he’d go out and grab some supplies.
“Right, pizza?” Dorian suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” Kell said, glancing apologetically at Becky. “That okay with you, love?”
“Yeah…” she said with a polite nod. Pizza sounded wonderful, actually. So wonderful in fact, that her belly agreed, growling rather loudly, causing the male members of the room to burst out laughing.
Dorian reached for his cell phone and punched in the number.
“Get extra cheese, for our ravenous little dormouse, here,” Crispin snickered, not resisting a ruffle of her unruly hair before sauntering out of the room.
Chapter 6
In the days that followed, life around the House of Goths became pleasantly comfortable for Becky. While for the most part, the guys came and went without bothering to say hello or goodbye, at least, at breakfast, and dinner time, they would gather around long enough to touch base.
Certain rules were established too. For example, strict bathroom etiquette was put into place first. Simple really, when the door was open, it was available. When it was shut, one would have to knock first before entering. Becky was ever grateful for that rule in particular.
Secondly, no below the waist nudity was allowed for all parties involved. Boxers were permitted but briefs were not. Crispin had suggested that to be fair, Hello Kitty pyjamas, should be included in the what not to wear list.
His ridiculous request was quickly stricken down by Becky’s protests. Confused at the silly suggestion, and further perplexed by the fits of laughter from all three guys, Becky could only frown. She would never understand their adverse repulsion at such a benign creature.
Thirdly, everyone was responsible for looking after their own messes such as dishes, laundry, and general all around cleanliness.
Fourthly, groceries and household supplies were to be put on a list located on the refrigerator door for Kell to purchase with the money collected from rent. Everything else of a more personal nature was to be purchased by the individual.
Lastly, a special rule was put in place, specifically for Becky which both shocked and angered her. After much protest on her part it was unanimously agreed upon by all three male members of the jury, including a very reluctant Crispin, that she was not permitted outside after dark without the accompaniment of, at least, one of her housemates!
Given that is was October and already dark by 5 PM, Becky didn’t know how that could possibly work. Be that as it may, she was vehemently informed by a very serious Kelley that it was the one rule that would make or break her deal to reside at the House of Goths!
That was all, really, as far as rules went. Becky was once again grateful for that. She didn’t want to be looked upon as a party pooper. After all, this was the House of Goths, first and foremost. She was just happy to be allowed to stay.
Thankfully, Becky was allocated a small corner of the turreted art studio for her to use. Kelley was good enough to bring up a spare easel from the basement for her.
“Thank you, that’ll be just perfect,” she said, excitedly hovering around him as he set it up next to his easel by the window.
“You sure?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes, just perfect!” She enthusiastically patted him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Kelley.”
He stiffened slightly at the sound of his name on her voice. He really wished she would stop calling him that. It never ceased to cause him to die a little inside. At the same time, he reluctantly realized that he would miss it if she did. “Right, you’re welcome then.” He smirked, playfully chucking her under the chin with his finger.
She found herself spending most of her free time in that room, painting and drawing away. Sometimes, Kell and the others would join her, doing their thing. Mostly they worked quietly. Other times, music blared loudly, usually when Crispin decided to join them.
She learned quickly not to react to Crispin’s outbursts of frustration at himself, which happened quite often. He would be working away on some painting and all of a sudden, lose it, throwing his brush at his canvas in a huff, and stalking away.
“Such a drama queen,” Dorian would say, while working diligently on his graphic comic book illustrations.
Becky was impressed with all of their individual skills, if not a tad confused by some of the subject matter.
While her subjects consisted mostly of imaginary fantasy landscapes, Kelley’s veered towards the dark side, mostly macabre scenes like those of Edward Munch. Crispin’s paintings ranged from expressionistic to the abstract.
“We should have an open house! A gallery showing, right here of all of work,” Becky declared, after completing a particularly successful work of art. A painting, depicting a fairy surrounded by three very handsome woodland elves.
“What the fuck is that?” Crispin scoffed, coming around her easel, pointing at the painting.
“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
All three Goths gathered around, staring at her latest creation.
“Is that supposed to be… us?” Crispin asked incredulously, gesturing towards the elves.
“No…” Becky said, turning a bright shade of red. Okay, maybe she had captured their likenesses, but that didn’t mean anything. Not really.
“Leave her be,” Kell said, hiding his smile. Could this girl be any sillier? She’d obviously painted herself into the image as the fairy princess, and surrounded herself with her adoring subjects, each of them offering her a particular gift.
“Is that you?” Crispin asked, studying the fairy closely. “You forgo
t the whiskers and the little round ears,” he teased her mercilessly.
She frowned, fuming with indignation. “Perhaps, I forgot your horns, too!” she shouted, scrambling from the room.
“Ouch…” Crispin gasped, mockingly clutching his chest. “Now that was hurtful.”
“You can be such an ass.” Dorian chuckled, returning to his drawing.
Steeling herself against any further teasing, Becky returned to the room a little while later, resolved to not let them get to her. Let them make fun. She was there to paint, and she was not going to let Crispin intimidate her.
She should have guessed by the strained silence in the room, that something was up. They were being awfully quiet and none would make direct eye contact with her. Only when she turned towards her painting did she discover that some scoundrel, Crispin, no doubt, by the way he was snickering, had painted cartoonish whiskers and little round ears on the fairy in her painting.
“Oh, you!” she huffed, glaring at him in particular. “You think this is funny?” All three of them gave into fits of laughter. At first, she could only frown and shake her head at them. But even she had to admit that it was a funny harmless prank. “Silly boys,” she said with a reluctant smile.
***
One evening after a distressing call from her grandmother’s retirement home, Becky paced nervously in her room. Granny had fallen ill with a similar case of the flu that Becky just had. Apparently many of the home’s elderly residents had come down with the same affliction. That meant the home was in quarantine.
This was very distressing for Becky. She wanted nothing more than to rush to her granny’s side but even that wasn’t possible, given the circumstances.
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