Watching Ember

by J B Reding

  “He should be at the house later today. I think your dad wants to have a welcome home party sometime soon. Nothing too big, though.” Nixon informs me without looking up from his phone.

  “Ha! I’ve heard that before.” Liz says, knowing all about these types of parties and how they’re never as small as they say they’ll be.

  “Not tonight, right?” I don’t think I could handle a party. Today has been exhausting. I think for all of us.

  “No, probably tomorrow night.” Nixon answers.

  It takes another twenty minutes before we’re pulling up to the looming wrought-iron gate of my dad’s mansion. It feels like forever since I’ve been back. Four years is a long time.

  As we enter the gates and ride along the winding driveway, I spot cameras along the perimeter. Cameras that weren’t there before. Sure, we had cameras, but not this far away from the house. I spot a few shadows in the trees as well. Armed guards, I’m sure. “What's with the heightened security?”

  “It’s just a precaution.” He says distractedly, still staring at his phone. And… there's that feeling of him hiding shit, again.

  “Hmm.” There's no point in giving him a response when he's not listening anway. Which is fine, I’ll get answers soon enough.

  We finally make it up to the classical style mansion. My dad’s taste is a little old school. We pull into the circular driveway out front, the fountain in the middle gleaming brightly. Nostalgia creeps up on me and my nose starts to burn as tears form in my eyes. I didn’t realize how much I missed this house till now.

  I step out of the car and swing my bag over my shoulder, making my way inside. I leave Liz to do her own thing, knowing this was more her home than hers ever was.

  I don’t bother with my other bags. I always get yelled at by the staff when I try to help. They’ll end up in my room eventually.

  “Daddy?” I yell out as I open the door.

  I venture around to the left of the grand marble staircase and down the hall towards his study. “Dad?” I knock.

  The door opens and I’m encased in a bear hug. “Sweetheart. It’s been too long.”

  I laugh. “I just saw you last month for my birthday.”

  My dad steps back and takes me by the shoulders. “Yes, and just within the last week you’ve been in more danger than I’d like. So, pardon me if I worry about my only child.”

  “I missed you, too. Now what’s this about a party?" I arch a brow. He knows I’m not a fan of the stuffy people he associates with.

  “Oh, it’s just a little something tomorrow night to welcome you home.” He smiles, waving a hand dismissively. I follow him into his study and plop down onto one of the high-back chairs in front of his desk. The pungent smell of cigars and the dark red walls brings back memories of doing homework on the couch against the wall, while he worked.

  “Are you sure it’s not so you can send a message to whoever's doing this?” He looks taken aback by my suggestion. I shake my head. “Dad, I know you tried to hide me from this life as much as you could. But it’s not really possible. I hear things and I learn things. I just want you to be honest with me.”

  He sighs. “In a way, yes, but I don’t want you to have to worry about that. There will be extra security, so hopefully everything will go smoothly. However, with the way things are playing out, I don’t want to take any chances, so be sure to keep your eyes open.” He smiles softly. “Now, tell me about how your exams went.”

  So, I tell him what he wants to hear.

  Nixon joins us at some point, and I can tell by the look on his face that something serious has happened. I give them the privacy they need and get up, rounding the desk to give my dad a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m gonna go find Liz. Wanna have dinner tonight?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. I’ll have Maggie prepare your favorites. Come and get me when you’re ready to eat.”

  I nod and walk out.

  I’m making my way towards the stairs when the front door burst open. Anton swaggers in, his light brown hair glowing in the sunlight. I run into his arms and squeal as he spins me around. He laughs, “God, I’ve missed you, bitch!”

  “I missed you, too, asshole!” I say when he sets me back down on my feet. If you didn't know any better, you would think Anton was gay. But he just likes to play it up so people underestimate him. “I think Liz and I are gonna jump in the pool and hang out till dinner, you wanna join us?”

  “Fuck yeah, I do! Can’t wait to see you in a bikini. Have your tits gotten bigger?” Anton asks, making grabby hands at said boobs.

  I laugh and push him away. “Stop it, perv!”

  “Anton.” A gruff voice scolds. I turn to see Nixon exiting the hallway with a frown on his face.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know, hands off.” Anton sulks, tucking his hands into his slacks.

  “I have a meeting in the city. I’ll be back by dinner.” He informs us, then walks out the front door and climbs into the back seat of a waiting Escalade.

  “Dude, since when does Nixon go to meetings without Dad?” I ask Anton while staring after the Escalade as it drives off.

  He laughs and answers vaguely. “You’ve been gone awhile, Em. Things have changed.”

  “So I’ve been told.” I roll my eyes.

  He laughs again and heads up the stairs. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  I trail behind him, only somewhat admiring his ass, he would be offended if I didn't. “Find out what?”

  The fucker keeps laughing but doesn’t say anything.

  I let it slide for now. But all the secrecy is starting to really piss me off.

  When we reach the second floor, Maddox is exiting one of the bedrooms. The bedroom that Liz just so happens to stay in while here. Something thunks against the door after he closes it.

  Five bucks says Liz threw something at him. Most likely a shoe.

  “Hey, Mad.” Anton says, holding out his fist for Maddox. He keeps walking, not sparing us a glance. Anton chuckles knowingly.

  “Anton!” I complain. “You’re supposed to be my in. Why are you keeping things from me?”

  “Don’t you know men are dicks, Ember?” Liz asks, exiting her room.

  I raise my eyebrow. “Well, obviously—”

  “Hey! I take offense.” Anton whines.

  Liz and I roll our eyes.

  “What was Maddox doing in your room?” I ask, deciding to stop ignoring the elephant in the room.

  “Annoying the shit out of me. As always.” She brushes off.

  “Liz…” I start.

  “It's okay, Ember.” She opens the door to my room, a few doors down, and flings herself onto my immaculate bed. Anton takes a seat in the chair next to the window, which overlooks the backyard and pool. Yes, I have taken advantage of that when I used to live here and Nixon would swim laps.

  “Why are guys such pain in the asses?” Liz huffs, one arm thrown over her eyes.

  “Hey! Again, with the insults.” Anton protests, reaching behind him to pull a romance novel off my bookshelf. He throws it at her, hitting her in the stomach.

  She grunts. “Thanks for proving my point, dickwad.”

  I block out their banter as I look around my room. It’s exactly as I left it when I moved to California. Not a single thing out of place. My bags have been placed in the closet but left unpacked like I prefer.

  Wait a second.

  Where’s my backpack?

  Shit, did I leave it in the study?

  I walk out of the closet to find Anton and Liz still going at it with no end in sight. “Hey, dipshits! Have you seen my backpack?”

  “No.” They both answer.

  “Are we going swimming or not?” Anton asks.

  “Yeah, I just need to go check dad’s office real quick.”

  “He left right after Nixon. Got a text.” Anton says, waving his phone around. Which means the door is locked. Great.

  “I guess it can wait…” Not that I really have a choice. I sigh and walk back into m
y closet to change. When I come back out, Liz is gone, and Anton is sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Things are different now, Em.” So people keep telling me. “I can’t really tell you much. That’s Nixon’s place. But what I can tell you is that shit’s going to hit the fan, and soon.” With that cryptic shit, he leaves.

  ~***~

  We spend the rest of the daylight hours out by the pool. Everyone is in a solemn mood and in their heads. Both Liz and Anton are uncharacteristically quiet, which makes me a little worried, but not enough for me to get out of my own head. There are too many questions afflicting me.

  Where’s my bag? And why do I feel so much panic over not knowing where it is?

  What’s Nixon doing in the city? Why is he all of a sudden back to practically ignoring me? And why do I feel like I’m missing something big? Well, I know I am, fuckers are keeping shit from me and aren’t trying to hide it.

  But the most pressing question is: will he be present tomorrow night?

  My thoughts are cut off when one of the kitchen staff informs us that dinner will be ready in an hour. Liz and I get up from our lounge chairs while Anton stays reclined. I’m pretty sure he’s asleep. He hasn’t moved in quite a while. I kick his leg and he jolts up, magically producing his gun. Thankfully, he has enough sense to look before he shoots.

  “Where exactly we're you hiding that?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer.

  He just smirks. “What’s going on?”

  “Dinner will be ready in an hour, so we’re going to get changed. You coming?”

  “Do I get to watch you change?” He asks, wiggling his brows.

  I roll my eyes and walk off. I’m glad not everything is different. It’ll take an act of god for him to stop his man whore ways.

  I rush up the stairs and catch Liz right before she closes her door. “Are you sure you're okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine. It’s just being back in Atlanta. It brings up memories, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.” I mumble. God, do I know. “You wanna talk about it?”

  “One day. Just not right now.” She smiles sadly at me. I’ve known her long enough to know she needs time to work things out on her own. Our relationship has lasted this long because I’ve always given her the time and space she needs to do so.

  “I understand. See you at dinner?” Not that she really has a choice to be honest. It’s house rules. If dad was eating dinner, he wanted everyone to join him.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” She murmurs before shutting her door.

  I sigh. Looks like I’m not the only one struggling with being back.

  I’m about to enter my room when I hear the front door bang open. I rush to the top of the stairs, searching for my dad below. But all I find is Nixon with a scowl on his face.

  “What?” I ask, wondering why all I’ve seen since we’ve been back is him glowering. It seems to have become a permanent fixture ever since we’ve arrived home. I’ll admit his glare has gotten a lot scarier since I’ve been gone, though.

  He stops short, his eyes lifting from his phone to look at me. His eyes peruse down my body before snapping back up to my face and growling. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

  I shiver. God, I can feel the heat from his gaze all the way up here. I manage to squeak out a response. “A bikini?”

  “Put some clothes on. Now.” He demands, walking past the stairs and down the hall. I glance quickly down at my attire but don’t see anything wrong. I shake my head and rush down the stairs to follow him. “Where’s my dad? I need to get in the office.”

  “Why?” He asks, stopping abruptly, not bothering to turn around to look at me.

  Is it just me, or has he become even more of an asshole than before? I can't keep up with his mood swings.

  “I left my bag in there.” I stare at the back of his head, willing him to turn around and acknowledged me. “What’s going on with you?”

  “He’s staying in town.” He says, ignoring my other question. He continues to stride down the hall, past my dad’s office and towards the security room.

  “What? Why? We were supposed to have dinner?” Dad has never skipped out on dinner, especially when I just got home.

  “It's canceled. Something came up.” He answers distractedly, arriving at the security room.

  “What? What is going on?” I ask as he puts in the code.

  He opens the door and walks in, ignoring me.

  “Nixon!” I harden my voice and follow behind him.

  “I’m trying to do something, Ember. Go put some fucking clothes on.” He growls.

  What the fuck crawled up his ass?

  “Just tell me what’s going on with my dad and I’ll leave you alone.” I plead to his back, starting to worry something serious has happened and they're keeping it from me. Just like they always do.

  He lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ember, everything is fine. He should be back before the party tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” I murmur as he persists with not looking at me. I let out a frustrated breath as I trudge back down the hall. As I pass my dad’s office, I try the handle just to see and, sure enough, it’s locked. I could ask Nixon to unlock it. But he won’t. Not only because he’s apparently annoyed with me for some reason but also because he would never betray my father like that.

  I make my way back upstairs and knock on Liz’s door. No answer. I call out to tell her dinner’s canceled and head into my room.

  A feeling of immense loneliness has clouded over me. My dad going MIA, Nixon back to ignoring me, and Liz not answering.

  I thought coming home would solve issues, not make shit worse. I need a nap. Naps always help.

  7. The Devil’s Hour

  I wake with a start. The night light in the corner providing enough light to let me know I’m alone. Even if I didn’t feel like it a moment ago. Something woke me up, after all.

  I look at my phone to check the time.

  Three a.m.

  Well, shit. I guess even with the time difference, I’m forever bound to wake up durning the devil's hour. But even so, I didn’t mean to sleep that long.

  I swing my legs over the bed and head towards my private bathroom.

  When I come back out, I notice my backpack sitting in the chair next to my bed.

  I roll my eyes.

  Has to be Nixon.

  Why couldn’t he have just given it to me when I mentioned it, instead of being a dick? It’s like we’ve reverted to how it was before I left, and it's getting really fucking old. I thought maybe we had moved passed this when we were back in Cali. Apparently not.

  I'm sick of him always being the one in control when it comes to our relationship.

  Which gives me an idea… I’m not the only one who's always up at three in the morning. It's why it was a time we always shared, back before his dad died and everything changed.

  I slip some shorts on under my tank top, then tiptoe down the hallway to the stairs. When I get to the bottom, I turn right into the main dining room and slip through the door leading to the kitchen, only to come to a complete stop.

  The light from the refrigerator illuminates the dark kitchen. The refrigerator Nixon is currently searching through.

  Shirtless.

  My mouth goes dry as I get a look at his back tattoo, a tattoo that was not there the last time I saw him shirtless. Warmth pools in my lower belly as his muscles ripple when he shifts and reaches for the gun laying on the counter next to him.“It’s just me.” I say as he slams the fridge shut, cutting off the only light, besides the small one over the stove. His face now shrouded in shadows; a halo of light cast around his frame making him look other worldly.

  “Should have known.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. He leaves the gun where it lays and takes a step towards me. “What are you doing up?”

  I ignore his question, as he usually does mine, and ask one of my own.

  “When did you get the tattoo?”
/>
  “A few months after you left.”

  I love how transparent he always is when we're under the cover of night. As if we’re the only two in existence, so it's okay if he answers my questions and is open with me.

  “Why didn’t you just give me my bag earlier when you knew I was looking for it? Or wait ‘till morning instead of being a creeper and coming into my room while I was asleep?”

  “I didn’t see it until I went into the study to grab some stuff.” He says crossing his arms as he leans against the counter. I follow suit and stand across from him.

  “What stuff? Why are you going into Dad’s office when he’s not here?” I question. Nixon would never have done that before. I think it’s about damn time I find out what's going on around here.

  He sighs, scrubbing his hands against his face.

  “No more avoiding shit, Nixon. Just tell me what's going on.” I urge. Is it so wrong to want to know what’s happening around you? It's not like I'm asking the secrets of the business.

  “Ember, can we talk about it tomorrow? It's late and I know you will have a lot of questions.”

  “No, Nixon. Because we both know you will keep putting it off until someone slips, or I find out for myself. Do you really want me to find out from anyone but you?”

  “No.” He grunts, staring at the floor, his shoulders slumped. And for a second, he reminds me of the boy he used to be, the one who would worry about the smallest things. It makes me sad for him, that this thing is so difficult for him. He used to tell me anything and everything. We would stay up late and share our dreams and secrets.

  “What happened to us, Nixon? We used to be so close. And now, sometimes, I look at you and I don’t even know who you are.” I say taking a step closer to him, shaking my head. “I hate it.”

  “That's why this is so hard. Who I am with you interferes with who I must be. I don’t know how to combine the two. It's killing me slowly, having the two things I want most in life, but am unable to figure out how to fit them together.” He stops himself like he realizes he's said too much. But I don’t think he's said enough.