This is the same metal building that housed venders selling cow fur purses amongst other items on that first time Miranda and I came here. It was the first time I met Tyler.
And the first time I got drunk and put a cockroach in my mouth.
I suppress a shudder and vow never to recall that memory again. “Hello?” I call out into the massive empty metal building. My voice echoes slightly. The concrete floor has a maze of lines going every which way. It’s blue painter’s tape and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t there for the Cockroach Festival. To my right are stacks of boxes, some of them obviously Halloween decorations, like the life-sized mummy box and the fake casket, which, I hope is fake. Others are plastic tubs with lids, stacked six or seven high, all with Sherry’s name written on the side in permanent marker.
“Hello?” I call out again, feeling strangely out of place even though Sherry invited me here. There’s one other car in the parking lot. A side door opens and Sherry steps out of an office. At least I think it’s Sherry, because the person walking toward me is wearing an oversized rubber Frankenstein mask. She holds up her hands and walks in a jerky fashion, looking much more like a zombie than Frankenstein, but whatever. When she’s a few feet away, she pulls off her mask. “What do you think?” She turns it around and stares it, the rubbery face going all squishy in her hand. “Is this thing scary?”
“Not particularly,” I say. She sighs. “Yeah, I agree. It’s too cheesy. We’ll put it in the kid’s side.” She hurls it underhand and it soars over to the stacks of Halloween stuff, landing softly on top of a plastic tub. Then she claps her hands in front of her chest and beams. “Robin! I am so thrilled that you decided to help!”
I smile. “It’s no problem. I’m happy to help.”
“Would you like some coffee? It’s good. My son brought it for me the other day. It’s that fancy brand….what’s it called…” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and leads me toward the office door. “Oh! Starbucks. That’s it. Have you had Starbucks coffee, dear?”
I nod as we enter into a tiny office with a desk full of papers, filing cabinets that look a million years old, and one table with a coffee maker on it. An open bag of Starbucks brand coffee sits next to it. Sherry pours me a cup of coffee.
“So what’s on the agenda today?” I’m ready to get to work. In fact, I feel more energized today than I have since we left Houston. I’m not sure why, but I’m ready. I want to get sweaty and move stuff and set up stuff and work and help out the town. I want to be a part of this town and its silly festivals. If Grandpa were here, I’m sure he’d be doing the same thing.
“Robin!” Sherry says, slapping me on the shoulder. “What has gotten into you, girl? I’ve never seen you look this happy.”
I take a sip of coffee. It is pretty good. I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just happy to have something to do, I guess.”
Sherry’s eyes narrow at me. “I don’t know… there’s something different about you today…” Her face lights up like she’s just discovered the answer to whatever this mysterious thing is, but she doesn’t say anything. She just takes another sip of coffee.
“Why is there blue tape all over the floor?” I ask.
“You like that?” she asks, stepping back out of the office to admire the concrete floor. “I did that last night. It’s the floor plan for our haunted house.”
“I hope it’s not as confusing as it looks,” I say, squinting my eyes at the blue mess and trying to make sense of it.
“No worries. The tape is a life saver. We used it last year and it was a thousand times easier to set everything up when you knew where it was supposed to go.” She pats my arm again. Sherry really likes to touch people. “Let’s finish our coffee and by then the boys should be here and we’ll get started.”
“The boys?” I ask. She can’t possibly mean…
“We’re here!” a familiar voice echoes throughout the barn. “And we brought donuts!” another familiar voice calls out.
The good mood I’ve been in all morning suddenly raises to epic proportions as I step out of the office and see the two faces I’d hung out with all of yesterday afternoon.
“Well, look at that,” Tyler says to Marcus when I step into view. “I guess they’ll let anyone in here.”
I counter his cocky smile with one of my own. “I was thinking the same thing.”
A few older people who are about Sherry’s age arrive shortly after and we all get to work. The older people all have a job and know exactly what to do. Marcus and Tyler had set up the walls of the haunted house last year, so they’re put on wall duty again this year. I’m the only one without a predetermined job, and I would really, really like wall duty.
Sherry shakes her head when I suggest it. “They’re fine with the walls. I need you over here.” She motions for me to follow her and I glance back at Tyler. He pokes out his bottom lip, giving me a sad little puppy face that is so stupid it’s actually adorable. I don’t make a face back at him. He doesn’t need to know that I feel the same way.
My first job is kind of insanely easy—pulling price tags and packaging materials off all of the new decorations and sorting them by placing them in the appropriate blue taped shape on the floor. Then when the walls are assembled, some look like theater backdrops and others are just PVC piping with black shiny vinyl sectioning off sections into walls, it actually looks like the beginnings of a haunted house. And it’s huge.
Marcus climbs up to the visible rafters in the ceiling and hangs various items from the joists. One is an empty plastic boulder on a rope that will be thrown down to the visitors, barely stopping in the air before crashing into them. It doesn’t seem very safe, but Marcus promises me that it is.
I’m stretching tons of black extension cords on rollers up and down all the aisles and duct taping them to the floor when Grandpa’s watch slides down my elbow and gets stuck on the roll of tape around my wrist. Seeing it jars me out of Halloween planning mode and back to reality, and I realize that for the first time since I’ve been in Salt Gap, hell for the first time in a long time, I am happy.
Really, really happy.
I press the tape against the concrete, smoothing out both sides with my fingers. Then I drag the extension cord out of the roller a few feet at a time and slide backwards, preparing to slap another piece of tape on it. Only my back presses against something, something warm, something moving. I jump, flailing backwards and trip over my roll of duct tape as it falls off my wrist.
Tyler’s hand grabs my elbow, gripping tightly to prevent me from falling. “Whoa,” he says, tiling his head as he lets me go. My wide eyes return to normal. It was just Tyler. It wasn’t a monster. I can’t believe I jumped like that. “It barely looks like a haunted house in here,” he says, lifting a massive sledge hammer covered in fake blood and cobwebs up over his shoulder, lumberjack style. “Why are you so jumpy?”
He pokes me in the stomach with his free hand. I roll my eyes. “I’m not jumpy. I was lost in thought.”
“I wasn’t looking or anything, but that hot pink thong you’re wearing was hanging out the back of your jeans just now.” He gives me this fake concerned face, and my hands instinctively slap against my back, feeling the waistband of my jeans. But of course, since I’m standing up now, I don’t feel anything. “Well if you weren’t looking, then it doesn’t matter,” I say, lifting my chin and turning around. My face flushes a deep red, so I bend down (carefully this time) and attempt to go back to taping down the extension cord, just so he won’t see me blushing.
He chuckles to himself and heads to the next area of the haunted house. “Hey, Robin,” he says. I look up but can’t see him. “Yeah?” I call back, wondering where he is. If these fake plastic walls weren’t up, we’d probably be very close to each other. There’s shuffling sounds to my left and then the distinct sound of metal on concrete as he probably sets down the sledgehammer. “You want to hang out tomorrow?” he asks. His words are softer than usual, almost hesitant.
“I promised Miranda we’d go shopping since it’s Sunday and she’s finally off work,” I call back, feeling weirdly relieved that I can’t see his face right now. “But maybe after?”
“Cool,” he says. I’ll bring dinner. I won’t bring a movie because you have tons of those already.”
“Do I get to pick which one we watch?”
I hear him sigh. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have a choice even if I said no.”
A smile hits me. One of those goofy, hard to contain smiles. “It’s like you’ve known me forever.”
Chapter 4
I wake up to the smell of bacon. Maple bacon. I roll over in bed, turning to face the window where the sun has just risen over the horizon. It’s Sunday, Miranda’s only day off work. I’m going to take her shopping—at least that’s what my personal plan has been since the beginning of the week. Miranda will probably whine about not wanting to be seen in public looking like a ‘fat sea cow’ and I’ll tell her she’s so not a fat sea cow and that she’s an adorable pregnant chick. Then she’ll sigh and stick out her tongue and begrudgingly agree to go with me.
And then we’ll have an awesome day. Because I am just a tiny bit tired of hanging out in town for the last week and I would really love to get out of here and see some unfamiliar faces in unfamiliar stores.
I pull off my plush daisy printed comforter and sit up in bed. That’s when I realize that smelling maple bacon on a Sunday morning is more than a little unusual. Miranda doesn’t ever cook. Sometimes she microwaves, but that’s about it. Also, we don’t have maple bacon. The diner has it, and the smell floating under my bedroom door almost smells exactly like it.
Someone laughs. And then someone else laughs. I jump out of bed, feeling oddly exposed, even though my bedroom door is shut and I’m fully dressed in pajama bottoms and a tank top. But why is she here?
Why is Elizabeth here?
I check my cell phone, no new messages, and then carefully open my door and peek through the crack that shows into the hallway. But of course I don’t see anything because the kitchen is not in view. I give myself a look over in the mirror, although I’m not sure why. It’s not like I need to impress Miranda or Elizabeth. But if she’s here, then that means anyone could be here. The whole freaking town could be in my living room right now, uninvited by me.
“There she is,” Miranda says sarcastically when I enter the kitchen with the fakest of fake cheery morning smiles on my face.
“Hey,” I say. Miranda and Elizabeth are both in pajamas, Elizabeth with her blonde hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head that actually looks adorable. Ugh. I hate when she’s adorable. Her boobs are bigger than mine and perkier. But she’s wearing a bra with her tank top and I’m not, so I really shouldn’t compare. But I do anyway.
“What are you guys doing?” I ask, again in my cheery tone.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Miranda says. She pours pancake batter onto a hot griddle and Elizabeth tends to a frying pan of bacon. “We’re making breakfast.”
“Oh, be nice,” Elizabeth says, nudging my niece on the arm. “I hope you like the diner’s bacon, because I stole a pound of it last night.” She turns around and winks at me.
I take a seat on a barstool and watch the scene going on in my own kitchen. “Sorry I slept so late,” I say, tapping my fingers on the countertop, feeling weirdly awkward in my own home. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“I saw her drinking coffee on the porch this morning and I invited her over,” Miranda says. “Firstly because we’re friends but secondly because I knew she had that bacon.”
“I knew I was being used!” Elizabeth laughs and swats Miranda’s hand when she tries to steal a piece of bacon off the plate that’s piled high with cooked strips of it.
Miranda finishes the pancakes and then stacks up three plates with pancakes and bacon. We sit down to eat—well, I’m already sitting—and I try to pretend that this is normal and not weird. “So how do you like your apartment?” I ask.
“It’s amazing. I love the wood floors. Tyler did such a great job. I remember these places when we were teenagers and they were ugly as hell inside,” she says, making a gross face at the memory.
“Did you know who lived in them?” Miranda asks, followed by, “Oh my god, did someone die in here?”
“No,” Elizabeth assures her. “Well…I don’t think so. They’ve been abandoned for a while. We just played in them as kids. It was one of the only places to get away from people.”
Away from people? The bacon rolls around in my stomach. I do not want to think about Tyler and Elizabeth playing in these duplexes. Teenagers don’t play. For all I know, the two of them probably made out in the room where I currently sleep each night. Gross. I set my fork down after only one pancake. There’s no way I can eat anymore right now.
“If you’ve known Tyler that long, he shouldn’t even charge you rent,” Miranda says. Elizabeth laughs. “He’s not. He won’t let me pay no matter how hard I try to. He’s so annoying sometimes.”
Okay, now I’m really going to be sick. Beautiful sweet Elizabeth doesn’t have to pay rent. Well. Good for her. That’s so very great for her.
The sound of tires screeching around a corner makes all of us stop talking. Our street is home to just us, so speeding drivers isn’t something we’re used to. The tires squeal once more and then Elizabeth drops her fork. “Oh no.”
The fear in her voice makes me jump off the barstool and dash to the front door. Elizabeth is on my heels, sending her berry perfume scent all over me. We peek out of the front window. A beat up four door Camry parks in her driveway. “Shit.” Elizabeth’s hand covers her mouth. “Oh my god. I wish he would go away.” She’s whispering. When I look over at her, there are tears in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” I ask her. “Were you expecting him?”
She shakes her head. “No, but he’s been calling my phone all morning.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and sure enough, the screen lights up with an incoming call from him right now. Only instead of his name, which I think is Robert, the caller ID says DON’T ANSWER.
“Don’t answer it,” Miranda says. She shoves an entire piece of bacon in her mouth. “What?” she mumbles. “I’m hungry.”
“I’m not answering,” Elizabeth says. “I don’t want to talk to him. He only gets crazy like this when he’s been drinking.” She leans against the wall. “Maybe he’ll just go away.”
Right as she says this, his car door opens and he climbs out, wearing jeans and a white undershirt. He stalks across her driveway and stomps up the porch steps. Elizabeth gasps.
He knocks on the door—no, not knocks. He pounds. His fist slams a few times on her door and then he jerks his head and spits on the porch, his bottom lip protruding from a wad of chewing tobacco. “I know you’re in there,” he calls out. “Your car is here. Where the hell else would you be? OPEN UP, ELIZABETH.” He beats on the door again.
I reach up and twist the deadbolt on my own door, ensuring that our front door is locked. I look to Miranda and point to the back door. She nods and rushes to make sure it’s locked as well. “Is your door locked?” I whisper to Elizabeth. She nods. “Force of habit. Glad I locked it though. My keys are on the couch.”
As if thinking the same thing, Robert twists the doorknob and shakes, rattling the wall so hard we can feel it on our side of the duplex. He yells some more and then assaults the bottom of her front door with one disgruntled kick. Elizabeth’s entire body shudders in fear. I really am glad she got away from a man like that. Now if only she could get rid of him for real.
I place a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” I tell her, trying to sound comforting. “He’ll go away soon.”
“OPEN THE FUCK UP,” he shouts into the door. It almost sounds like he’s shouting into my door. I peek out again just to make sure that he isn’t. The pounding and kicking continues until I’m certain he won’t stop until he’s broken inside her apartment.
&n
bsp; Chapter 5
“What a lunatic,” Miranda says. “Aunt Robin, where’s your phone?” She finds it on the bay windowsill before I can answer her. “Good idea,” I say, jumping when Robert yells again. “The cops can take care of this.”
Miranda shakes her head and puts the phone to her ear. She sits on the bay windowsill and leans against the glass to get better reception. I haven’t yet told her that my new service gets much better reception than the old one. I also haven’t given her the special surprise I bought for her, but right now isn’t the time. “Not the cops. Have you seen the cops in this town? They’re like a hundred years old.”
“Then who are you calling?”
“Hey Tyler,” she says into the phone. My heart makes this nervous leap as she continues. “It’s Miranda. We, um, have a situation here.” While she explains what’s going on, I try to comfort a now panicky Elizabeth. She’s biting her fingernails and pacing my living room, looking nervously out of the window every time Robert beats on her door. It’s been at least five minutes and I can’t believe he hasn’t given up yet.
“What if he comes here?” she whispers.
“We’ll hide you in the closet or something and I’ll pretend you aren’t here.”
Miranda walks up, shoving my phone in my hands. “There’s a text for you. From earlier.” She gives me a look with some kind of deeper meaning that I don’t quite understand. Then she looks at Elizabeth. “I hope he does knock on our door. I’ll tell him some hot businessman from the city came here, a lawyer or something, and he whisked you away in his arms, and that you finally found a man worthy of dating. Then I’ll tell him and his stupid wifebeater shirts to go to hell.”
A Little Like Destiny (Robin & Tyler #3) Page 3
