The Cleaner

by Kiersten Modglin

  “You’re going to smell like me now,” he said worriedly.

  “Is that a bad thing?” she asked. And it wasn’t. The cologne had a nice scent, though it wasn’t one she recognized. She ran her fingers over the glass skull on the lid.

  He pulled up to her house, putting the car in park just as the front porch light flicked on. “Here’s your stop.”

  “Did you want to walk me to the door?” she asked softly, hoping.

  “That’s not a good idea.” He shook his head. He wasn’t looking at her.

  “Why not?”

  He turned to her, staring her down. “Because, Reagan.” It shocked her to hear him using her name. She liked the way it sounded rolling off his tongue. “I told you…I’m a villain. And villains don’t get the princess.”

  * * *

  Gunner was awoken by a knock on his door. He rolled over, sitting up in bed. “Come in,” he called, still half asleep. The door cracked open and his mother peered in.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good morning.”

  “You got in after I was already asleep last night. I didn’t get to ask you how it went.”

  “It went fine,” he said, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

  “I can’t imagine that’s true,” she said, her arms crossed in front of her.

  “Yeah,” he said simply, “I guess you’re right.”

  “How did they take the news?”

  “They already knew. I didn’t have to break it to them.”

  She shook her head. “Bless their hearts. I’ll make them some food for you to take by later.”

  “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, mom.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to bother them.”

  She sighed, sitting down beside him on the bed. She moved a piece of hair from his eyes carefully. “Okay, Gunner, getting straight to the point. Did you see Reagan last night? Or are you planning to avoid her?”

  “I’m not planning to avoid anyone, but I don’t intend to see her anymore than I have to. I’m here for Holly’s funeral. I owe her that much.”

  “Because she was Reagan’s sister.”

  “Because she was a friend. I want to pay my respect.”

  “Gunner—”

  “Mom,” he said firmly, cutting her off before softening his tone. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I just really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fine,” she said, “but you will go over and drop off the casserole I’m going to make. I don’t care what’s going on between you and that girl—you aren’t going to be rude to her grieving family.”

  “Why do you care? You never cared about our relationship before,” he argued.

  “You know that’s not true.”

  He shrugged.

  “Either way, you’re going to take that casserole over. You two need to talk. No more arguing.”

  “Okay, fine,” he agreed begrudgingly.

  “So,” she said, her eyebrows raised. “Did you meet anyone new last night?”

  “New? Like who?”

  “Like…Nora?”

  “Nora?” he asked.

  His mother’s face grew worried. “It was late when you got there. She was probably already in bed. I just assumed she might’ve…told you,” she rambled on, not making any sense to him.

  “Hang on a second, who’s Nora?”

  “You should probably ask Reagan yourself.”

  “Mom,” he demanded, “who’s Nora?”

  She sighed heavily, patting his hand. “Nora is Reagan’s daughter, Gunner.” She paused, letting it sink in. “And, I’m assuming she’s yours too.”

  * * *

  Gunner stood in front of the door, his heart pounding once again. He pressed his finger into the doorbell, one he’d pressed so many times before. Gemma answered the door after a few moments, still in her nightgown. Her eyes were red and swollen, fresh tears filling them. She looked as though she hadn’t slept a wink.

  “Gunner?” she asked, confusion filling her face.

  He held out the casserole. “My mom wanted me to bring this over. She said to let her know if there’s anything at all she can do.”

  “Well, that was very kind of her,” she said, shock in her voice. “Your mother’s Misty, right? Misty Hodges? I think she and Scott were the same grade in school. For such a small town, it always shocks me the people I haven’t met. You think you know everyone.” She shrugged, wiping away a tear.

  “Yes, Hodges then. James now,” he informed her. “She doesn’t get out much.”

  “Right.” She nodded. “Well, that’s too bad. Anyway, tell her thank you from us. This is kind of her.” She took the dish from his hands carefully.

  Shifting in place, he frowned. “I’ll pass on the message.”

  When he didn’t turn to leave, Gemma set the casserole down on a nearby table and stepped back. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to see Reagan,” he said sheepishly, not moving.

  “She’s not here, Gunner. She’s at home.”

  “Home?”

  “She’s twenty-six years old. Surely you didn’t expect her to still be living here?” she said, her tone slow and understanding rather than harsh.

  He shook his head. “I guess you’re right. It’s strange to think of her living anywhere else.”

  “A lot has changed since you left. I’ll tell her you stopped by,” she said, moving to shut the door.

  He put his hand out, catching the wood. “Actually, I was hoping you could tell me where she lives.”

  She looked as though she were thinking about his request for a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea, Gunner.”

  “Please,” he begged, feeling uncomfortably exposed. Gunner James didn’t ask for things, didn’t need help from anyone.

  She looked to the ground. “You broke her heart,” she said simply. “You just…left. Her father and I watched her cry for weeks on end, waiting for you to come back.”

  “I’m sorry, Gemma—”

  “I don’t know what happened between the two of you. And frankly, it's none of my business now, but Reagan has worked hard to get where she’s at now. Happy. She has a good life, Gunner. Please, please don’t take that away from her.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, hoping she believed how much he meant it. It had been a mistake to come there. He backed away in retreat, his head down. “I won’t be bothering you again.”

  As he made his way down the short sidewalk toward his car, he heard her voice. “The old Cameron house.” He turned back around, his head cocked. “My parents left it to her when they died.”

  He nodded, feeling hope fill him. “Thank you,” he called to her, bowing his head.

  “You didn’t hear it from me.” She stared at him firmly, a warning.

  “Hear what?” He grinned, climbing into his car and pulling away.

  * * *

  Reagan opened her locker, the familiar red envelope fluttering to the floor and causing her heart to skip a beat. She bent down, picking up the invitation and unsealing it, her pulse racing. On the inside, she’d written a simple note: Go to prom with me? Over the question, he’d written his answer in thick, black marker. A single word: No.

  Her heart sank. She crushed the letter, tossing it and the envelope into the nearest garbage can and darted down the hallway. She pushed open the door, moving in between the crowd of students on her way to her car. She was unlocking it when she caught a glimpse of him, walking slowly toward his own car, seemingly lost in thought.

  She raced up to him. “Who the hell do you think you are saying no to me?” she half-joked.

  He blinked out of his trance, a confident grin on his face. “I’m Gunner James, haven’t we met?”

  “Gunner, go to prom with me,” she propositioned him again.

  “No fucking way.” He shook his head, resting a hand on the hood of his car as they reached it.<
br />
  “Why not?” she demanded indignantly.

  He looked down at himself, holding his hands up. “What about me screams ‘cheap suits and flowers’ to you?”

  “You go to parties all the time.”

  “Parties aren’t prom, Reagan.”

  “So, you honestly won’t go with me?”

  He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  She huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, what would you rather us do that night then?”

  “What?”

  “If we skip prom, what are we doing instead?”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me and you.”

  “Reagan, no.” He lowered his brow, speaking slowly as if she were a child. “There is no me and you.”

  “Yes, I know. You’ve told me.”

  “Because—”

  “Because I’m a princess and you’re not,” she repeated his words, her eyes rolling.

  “Not even in the prettiest dress and crown.” A smile spread across his lips.

  “So, I’m converting,” she said plainly.

  “Do what?”

  “I’m converting. To…villain, or whatever. I’m whatever you are.”

  He sighed. “Not possible.”

  “You’re being difficult.”

  “I’m being realistic.”

  “Don’t you like me?” she asked, adrenaline coursing through her.

  Seemingly caught off-guard, he stammered. “That—that’s not the point.”

  “So, you do then. And I like you,” she told him boldly.

  He pressed his lips together. “You don’t know me.”

  “And you don’t know me. But, we can fix that pretty easily,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  “It’s not going to work, Reagan, okay?” he said, his words sharp. His tone stung her as she realized she wasn’t going to win.

  “Fine,” she said sternly, crossing her arms and storming away. She listened carefully, waiting for him to call out to her, but he didn’t. Instead, she heard his car rev up and his tires screech and she knew he was gone.

  * * *

  The next week after school, Reagan caught up with Holly, surprised to see her walking with a familiar face.

  “Holly!” she called.

  Her sister turned around to face her. “Yeah?” she asked.

  “What are you doing? Do you two need a ride? You’re Gia, right?” she introduced herself to the girl. “Reagan.”

  “Yeah, I know who you are,” the girl said shyly. “I usually just walk. I’ll catch up with you later, Holly.” She waved at them both, turning to walk the opposite direction.

  “What was that about?” Holly asked her once Gia was out of earshot.

  “That was Gia James, right?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Are you two friends? I’ve never seen you with her.”

  “We’re working together on a project for chemistry. What’s going on with you? Why the sudden interest in my social life?”

  “No reason,” Reagan lied, “I’m friends with her brother.”

  Holly’s jaw dropped. “Gavin? Since when? He’s seriously hot.”

  “No,” Reagan said, waving her arm. “Not freaky twin brother. I’m friends with Gunner.”

  Holly crinkled her nose as if she’d smelled something bad. “Oh, ew.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Reagan snapped defensively.

  “I could understand Gavin—like I said, hot. But Gunner is…creepy. And bad news.”

  “He is not,” she said firmly. “He’s really sweet.”

  Holly shook her head. “There is nothing about that boy that says sweet. He looks like he needs a shower. And I know he needs a truancy officer. And probably an STD test.”

  “You’re being dramatic, you just don’t know him like I do,” Reagan told her.

  Holly shrugged. “Whatever you say. Just be careful. That family is seriously messed up.”

  “Meaning what?” Reagan sensed the dark tone in her voice.

  She shook her head, glancing at her quickly and then back down. She spoke softly, though no one was around. “I don’t know anything for sure.”

  “But you suspect?”

  “Gia comes to school with bruises. A lot of bruises. Gavin sometimes too.”

  Reagan gasped. “Oh, no.” She covered her mouth in disbelief.

  “Like I said, I have no way of knowing for sure.”

  “We have to tell someone, Holly,” Reagan said, a sick feeling washing over her.

  “I’m not getting involved. Gia hasn’t told me anything herself and Gavin is a big guy. I’m sure he can take care of himself. I only told you so you’d be careful. I don’t know what Gunner could be capable of.”

  “He’d never hurt me,” she dismissed the idea quickly.

  “Whatever you say. I’m just warning you...be careful.”

  “Okay,” Reagan said, “well thanks. I will.”

  Holly nodded. “Now, are you still offering me a ride?”

  “Sure,” Reagan agreed, lost in her own troubled thoughts.

  * * *

  Reagan sat in her bedroom, listening to her stereo. Okay, in truth, her music was turned down so low she could hardly hear it. Instead, she was trying desperately to listen to the muffled voices in the next room. She pressed her ear to the wall she shared with Holly.

  They were laughing, their voices low. What on Earth could they be talking about? She knew Holly must be in heaven, both Gia and Gavin had been in her room for over an hour and Holly’s high-pitched flirting laugh had been on full display for at least half of that.

  Suddenly her door opened, causing her to jump. Gunner stood in her doorway, his face as red as she felt her own becoming.

  “Oh, shit. Sorry,” he said, covering his mouth.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, increasingly aware that he was in her bedroom.

  “I’m here to pick up my brother and sister. Your mom said second door on the right.” He looked back out into the hall, counting.

  “She must not have been counting the linen closet. Holly’s room is the next one.”

  “Oh, okay,” he said, beginning to leave.

  “Gunner, wait!” she called out to him.

  He stopped. “Yeah?”

  She looked him over, trying to spot any bruises he might have. It had been a while since she’d seen him and Holly’s words were still fresh on her mind. To her relief, she didn’t find any. “I, um, I got you something.” She hopped off the bed, walking to her closet. She dug to the back, pulling out a hanger and revealing the tuxedo her father had helped her pick out.

  He stared at it, his face firm. “What’s that?”

  “It’s, um, well…my dad said you could have it. Borrow it. Whatever. It’s yours if you want it. We guessed at your size.” She stared at the tux, her body shaking with nervousness.

  He shut the door. “Do you think I can’t afford to buy my own?” he asked, his tone defensive.

  “I didn’t want that to be the reason we didn’t go.”

  “I work two jobs, Reagan. I don’t need your family’s money.”

  “Fine then,” she said, laying the hanger on the bed. “You don’t have to take it. It was just an offer.”

  “What did you tell your father?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “About why you were buying that for me.”

  She lowered her eyebrows in confusion. “I asked him if we could get you one when we went shopping for my dress.”

  “But why? I mean you obviously didn’t tell him you were planning to go with me,” he scoffed. His voice was hard and tough, though his eyes had a hint of vulnerability.

  “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, crossing her arms.

  “Because…because I’m me,” he said, as if that were enough explanation.

  “What’s wrong with being you?” She took a step toward him.

  “You mean your parents are actually okay with you going to prom w
ith the town screw up?” He laughed cautiously.

  “Gunner…I don’t think of you that way. You shouldn’t talk like that.”

  “And why not? We both know my family is a smudge on this town’s map.”

  “I don’t care what your family is. I care about you.”

  He shook his head. “Your father is president of a bank, Reagan. Mine is president of a bar stool at Richie’s. We come from different worlds.”

  She grimaced. “I am not my family.” She took another step toward him, placing a careful hand on his chest. He didn’t move away, his eyes locked on hers. “And you are not yours.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “You said you liked me.”

  “It doesn’t matter how I feel, Reagan.”

  “It matters to me.”

  “I just…I can’t. We can’t.” He stepped back, causing her hand to fall from his chest.

  “Why?” she demanded. “I want to know why.”

  “You’re…you. You’re Reagan Orrick. Untouchable. You need to be with someone who is…like you.”

  She pulled his hand to her face, his skin burning hers. “I am not untouchable. And I am not looking for anyone like me. I want you, Gunner. Why can’t you just accept that?”

  His expression warmed slightly, a small smile on his lips. His thumb caressed her cheekbone. “You aren’t used to being told no, are you?”

  “Nope,” she told him honestly.

  He shook his head. “I’m not making any promises to be who you want me to be.”

  “You already are.”

  His eyes grew dark. “I’m serious, Reagan. You think you know me because you’ve seen me in a few of my better moments, but that doesn’t make me good. You don’t know the real me. And I won’t apologize for who I am.”

  She leaned forward on a whim and pressed her lips to his cheek. He froze, his body rigid. When she pulled away, she locked her eyes with his once more. “I don’t want you to be anyone else. I want to know you.”

  He was silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, he spoke. “I won’t wear that tux. I don’t need a handout. I can buy one for myself.”

  “You’ll go?” she squealed, clasping her hands in front of her chest. Her smile grew wide.