She strained to hear the voices below. Was there an argument? Had Mrs. Kremer changed her mind? It sounded like maybe Ben was pleading.
Or quarrelling.
***
Ben reached the bottom of the staircase and pushed the door open. The old woman had come out of the master bedroom. He knocked on the bathroom door, waited. The toilet flushed and she immediately opened the door. He spied the counter behind her and wondered how many of the cosmetics were now in her bulging purse.
It didn’t matter.
“Listen, Ken, I really gotta go. You know?”
“It’s Ben and we have a deal. If you want your money . . . if you don’t want to walk ten miles in a snowstorm, then you’ll do like we agreed.” He tried to look angry, pulled the money out of his pocket, and peeled off another bill. This time she was quick enough to grab it and it did disappear down her blouse.
“Fine. Just hurry up. What’s her name? Melissa? Melanie?”
“It’s Megan and all you have to do is welcome her and tell her that I’ll take care of all the details and . . . that you’re too busy to sweat the small stuff. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“And then you’re gonna forget that you were ever here.”
She made a zippered motion across her lips and winked at him. Ben gently pushed her toward the living room. “Sit. I’ll bring her down.”
He waited until she was seated. She crossed her legs and wiggled her foot. Ben picked up on her impatience. It was Friday night. She’d already missed happy hour. And it was at least a half an hour’s drive in this snowstorm, or longer, back to the bar.
He cut through the dining room and went into the kitchen to grab Megan’s bag. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked softly at her door before nudging it open.
“Hey, it’s me, the bell boy.”
Megan leaped up from the low bed as he entered. He dropped her bag next to the closet. “If you want, you can come down and meet Mrs. Kremer now. I have to drive her to a meeting in like five minutes. You can put your stuff away while I’m gone and then I can drive you home.”
Ben moved toward the door. Megan unzipped the bag and dumped the contents onto the closet floor. “Done. You don’t have to drive me. It’s only a couple blocks back to where I work and my friend’s dad is going to pick me up after my shift.” She rolled the bag up and followed him out the door and down the stairs.
“Mrs. Kremer, this is Megan. Megan, Mrs. Kremer.”
The woman acted more nervous. Ben eyed her sharply, raised a brow, and gave the tiniest jerk of his head. She understood and rose from the chair, held out a hand, and spoke more slowly, “How do you do, Megan. Welcome to . . . to this home.” She glanced at Ben, trying to remember her lines. “You are welcome to stay as long as you need to.” She dropped Megan’s hand and reached for her purse. “Ben will take care of the details. I’m very busy and I must leave now. Oh, I forgot something in the bedroom.”
Ben was shocked. The woman wasn’t sticking to the plan. What was she going to do? Steal some worthless object she had discovered in the bedroom? Time was running out; she was ruining things. He had to get her out of here before Chuck returned.
He looked at Megan. “Well, you heard her. I’m the detail guy. Just show up tomorrow with twenty-five bucks and you’re in the club.” He tried his most innocent laugh and she bought it.
“Thanks, do I get a key or anything?” She looked at him with clearer eyes than before. They drew him in and he found it hard to look away.
“Yup,” he motioned for her to follow and they went to the kitchen where he pulled a key off a nail near the door. He waited until she finished putting on her boots and coat and then he handed her the key and her bag.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Are you sure you don’t want a ride?”
“No, I’m fine with walking.” She gave him a little wave and scooted out the door.
Ben watched for a long five seconds and then he rushed to the master bedroom.
Chapter 2
Chuck stomped the snow off his boots before opening the side door. He walked in and listened. Huh, no TV. Cori always left the TV on. She said it kept the burglars away.
He pulled off his boots and set them on top of an old pair, letting the snow melt into Adam’s boots. Adam wouldn’t mind.
“Honey, I’m home,” he yelled just for fun. No one would be here yet. He was always the first one back since they had shortened his hours at the corner video store. People were renting DVD’s through the mail or streaming them online; it was only a matter of time until the store closed. He already had his applications in at McDonald’s and two other restaurants. People in this community still went out to eat. A lot.
Emily had made spaghetti again which they had all eaten right after school. Cori grumbled that there was too much garlic, which was a logical complaint for Cori since she looked like a vampire half the time. The garlic was probably killing her. Ben complimented Emily’s cooking, as usual. Chuck ate his portion without complaint or compliment and then dished up another plateful for Adam. Adam rarely ate with the others. It was too much bother.
Chuck checked the fridge. Yes! Nobody had touched Adam’s plate, especially not the never-present Mrs. Kremer. He had grown fonder and fonder of that woman; she was so rarely seen though he often heard regular sounds from her room. She was like clock-work listening to the news in her bedroom every night at eleven. Did she only come out to meet new tenants? She had impressed him when he came here last September. The word ‘cougar’ came to mind. He didn’t see her again until Cori showed up at Halloween, such an appropriate time for a ghoul. Ben had said they were getting another new girl this weekend. Maybe Mrs. Kremer would take a meal with them then. He was scheduled to cook tomorrow. He always signed up for Saturdays because most Saturdays everyone else had other plans.
Chuck took the plastic off the plate and reheated the spaghetti in the microwave. He set the plate and a drink on a tray and headed to the basement. He was to the bottom of the steps when he heard Ben’s car rumble to a stop outside.
***
Ben saw the fresh tracks in the snow. They were tracks from large boots, undoubtedly made by Chuck, or by his equally tall twin brother Adam. Identical twins. Ben smiled to himself. He wasn’t fooled. The girls claimed they couldn’t tell the difference. They said if it wasn’t for Chuck slicking his hair back and Adam letting his hair fly loose beneath that stupid Fedora he always wore, even inside the house, that they would never be able to tell which was which. But Ben could tell and he suspected that they could, too.
Chuck was always slamming Cori. He denigrated her Gothic style, insulted her about her black-lined eyes, teased her about her clothes. But what he said never matched what he did. He followed her like a puppy, did her bidding, waited on her.
Adam, on the other hand, totally ignored her.
Ben closed the door quickly against the blowing snow. He set his boots next to two wet pairs. It looked like both Adam and Chuck had been outside. He could hear music coming from the basement. That would be Chuck; Adam always used an ipod.
He hung his coat up and then pulled a small bag out of one of the pockets. He had gone to the hardware for some locks. He wasn’t sure what would work best, but he had a couple types of padlock, combination and key, as well as a slide and bolt lock for Megan’s door. He had done the same for Emily when she arrived last fall. That little extra sense of security unquestionably soothed girls who were frightened. He didn’t offer a lock to Cori, though, but then nobody would be stupid enough to open her door.
Ben set the locks down and decided to do a little special cleaning while he had the chance. He took several sheets of paper towels and the squirt bottle of cleaner and headed to the master bedroom. He wiped down the surfaces where he thought the lady from the bar might have left a fingerprint. He checked the timer on the clock radio and the one on the lamp, then he left the room, pushing in the door lock on his way out. The bathroom go
t a quick once over; he didn’t want to make it too clean or Emily might notice and be suspicious. After all, Mrs. Kremer never cleaned anything.
He pulled a small bottle of perfume out of his pocket and set it next to the hand lotion. That old woman, the dumbest Mrs. Kremer yet, thought she could steal from them. Well, she got what was coming to her, nothing more, nothing less.
He tossed out the paper towels and found that the garbage was almost overflowing. He grunted, more than a little pissed. It looked like he was the only one who would take the trash bags to the curb. He crushed the stuff down as much as he could. He acted as the father in this dysfunctional household and he was only seventeen. Sometimes he thought that this whole big plan was more trouble than it was worth. Then he remembered what was locked in the freezer chest downstairs. His treasure. That was motivation enough to stick it out.
His real father had done two tours in Iraq. If he had inherited anything from him it was a sense of duty. Ben would get the job done.
He went into the living room and flicked the TV on. He was tired; this had been a harder day than most. He drove himself and Emily to school; he stayed awake for all of his classes – no nap in social studies or English – and then he took Emily to work. He made his usual stop-over at his mom and step-dad’s house, messed up his room a little, threw some clothes in the laundry, took some food from the pantry and, of course, checked on his mom. She was usually drunk by 3:00 p.m. but she would remember his kiss, might even remember that he told her he aced his Chemistry test. Then he had driven over the county line and staked out a bar and waited for the right Mrs. Kremer. The next four hours had been very stressful. But he couldn’t relax yet. If he fell asleep now how would Emily get home?
“Hey! Bennyboy!” Cori roughly shook Ben’s shoulder. “Hey, wake up. Aren’t you supposed to get Emily?”
Ben opened his lids to see Cori’s raccoon-like eyes inches from his face. A new piercing on her brow looked swollen.
She gave him one more shake. “Not like I care or nothin’, but the roads are pretty bad.”
She straightened up and turned. He saw that she was wearing her army boots and tracking snow on the carpet. Her clothes reeked of smoke. She turned off the TV and headed for the second floor door. “’Night, Mrs. Kremer.” When there was no answer she mumbled, “Bitch,” and trooped up the stairs.
Ben felt dazed. He slapped his face a couple of times and pulled out his cell phone to check the time. “Holy sh–.” He sent Emily a text: he was on his way, the roads were bad.
Fully awake now, he marveled at Cori’s uncharacteristic gesture.
***
“Sorry, Em,” he said as she slid into the front seat.
Emily gave him a quick sweet look, swallowing her smile before it turned too wide. She buckled her seatbelt and looked down at her lap. “Thanks for picking me up.”
Ben laughed. They had this conversation every day. She thanked him for the ride to school, to work, home again. Always shy, always patient. Her face was exactly the pale color Cori tried to get when she smeared on her vampire make-up.
Ben stole a glance. Emily’s hair was a bit stringy and falling forward, hiding her straight nose and flat cheekbones. She would never be a beauty contestant. But Emily’s strengths were math, cooking, and patience. She didn’t need to be beautiful. She was fine the way she was. He could count on her. If he were the dad in their strange family then Emily was the mom, Cori the rebellious teen, and Chuck the crazy uncle. What would Megan be?
Ben slowed the car as he neared a busy intersection. There was too much traffic in this town, even this late at night. He had to make a left turn and the visibility with all of the blowing snow was diminishing rapidly.
“That car’s not stopping,” Emily warned. She was right. An SUV slid through, its driver on the phone. Ben waited through the yellow light, the red, and then cautiously advanced on a green arrow.
“Thanks, Em, you can back-seat drive anytime.”
He thought he heard a faint hum of agreement. She said so little, so rarely, that he was quite surprised that she had given him that warning. Perhaps she was finally warming up to him. They hadn’t had the best start; he made her cry on her first night staying at the house. He tried to make it up to her every day. She was his favorite project. Emily reminded him of his first pet, a puppy his father had let him pick out when he was six. Ben had chosen the runt of the litter, a scared pathetic little pup that had been his best friend for years . . . until his step-father ran it over.
“Did she come over?” Emily’s voice was so light it sounded far away.
“Who? Oh, the new girl? Yeah, her name is Megan and she left some of her stuff in her room. She’s gonna move in tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Kremer?”
“Yup, she was there for the meet and greet. You missed her again. She had to go . . . on a business trip or something.” Ben hated lying to Emily most of all. Her innocence was so raw; she had been hurt so much when her mom lost her house and the family turned to public assistance. And then when her mom and brother went missing, well . . . He wished there was a real Mrs. Kremer who could give her, give them all, the mothering they needed.
“Was she nice?”
“Mrs. Kremer? Oh, you mean Megan.” He put his blinker on for the last turn down their street. “Yeah, she seemed nice. More like you than like Cori, for sure.” Emily turned her face toward the window and let herself smile. Ben caught the reflection in the glass and realized that he had inadvertently complimented her. He’d have to try to sneak in other words of praise.
There was a time when praise was all he heard from his mom and his dad. Not like now. Dad dead; mom drunk; step-dad hated.
***
Emily hurried from the car to the house and tried to slip out of her shoes and coat quickly, hoping to get out of the cramped entry before she was forced to share the small space with Ben. Being fourteen inches apart in the car several times a day was almost too much. She smelled him, breathed in the delicious scent of his cologne. She had bought it for him for their meager Christmas exchange and he had worn it every day since.
Ben came in as she hopped up a step to the kitchen.
“Em, your pants are soaked. We really need to find you some boots.”
She only nodded and turned away. Her socks were wet, too, and she left a damp trail across the worn linoleum, the long frayed hems of her black pants mopping the dirty floor. She was saving up for boots . . . again. Perhaps, she thought, if she chose something more feminine than army boots this time, Cori wouldn’t take them.
Emily paused at the door to the staircase and listened to the newscaster’s voice as it filtered through Mrs. Kremer’s door. For the seventy-third night in a row she wished it was her mom in there listening to the radio. She wished the door would open and loving arms would enfold her. She wished . . .
The radio broke off mid-sentence and out went the soft glow beneath the door taking away that strip of hope. Good night, Mrs. Kremer. Emily only thought the words. She closed the staircase door and fingered the hook and latch. The one time she dared to lock it Cori screamed a tirade. It was all right, though, for Cori to lock Emily out. Maybe the new girl would stand up to Cori’s outbursts.
Maybe the new girl would be equally as bad.
With shoulders slumped and hair hanging forward, Emily crept past Cori’s door and went into the bathroom. It was a mess. Obviously her housemate dyed her hair black again and left streaks of color on the sink and spots of water across the mirror. A pile of wet towels sat in the old tub. She softly closed the door and locked it.
A few minutes later, after she was sure the sound of the toilet flushing had not brought forth an angry sleeping bear, Emily eased open the door and sneaked into the new girl’s room.
Cori had been here. Two heaps of clothes were mounded to the right and left as if Cori had emptied the closet by tossing things over one shoulder and then the other. What would she have taken? Probably nothing, Emily thought, based on the st
yle and quality of what was here. The new girl, this Megan, wasn’t into any particular fashion, at least not one that Cori would steal.
Emily started putting the clothes on the old wire hangers and folding the more personal items, which she placed in the top drawer of the dresser. Then she took the sheets and blankets and made up the bed.
A door slammed and she froze. She didn’t relax until she heard Cori tramp down the stairs. Emily left Megan’s room and went to her own where she could see down to the street. Cori’s latest conquest had pulled up to the curb, anxious for a late-night date in a snowstorm. Nothing stopped Cori’s love life. Emily could just imagine what this one looked like – spiked hair, piercings, tattoos, mean eyes, meaner hands and no doubt five or six years older.
She pulled back from the window when she saw Cori trudging down the driveway, coat open, wet hair swirling and freezing. Maybe she’d catch her death.
***
Ben heard the TV switch back on and then the whoosh of the kitchen door closing. Then there was a knock at his door.
“Ben. I need you to move your car so I can get out.”
Ben opened his door to see Chuck standing there, all six foot two of him, head close to the low basement ceiling, hair combed back, looking eager and fresh.
“Chuck,” Ben started, “man, you can’t go following her in a snowstorm.”
“She might need me. You know what kind of guys she goes out with. That dude could leave her stranded somewhere.”
Ben huffed. “Do you have gas?” It was the question he always asked and Chuck’s answer four times out of five was no.
It was no different this time. Chuck slumped and mumbled his response. Chuck would buy a couple of gallons of gas and then Adam would use the car, returning it to its spot with the needle on empty. Chuck walked to his job at the video store, walked to the alternative school, walked downtown, but Adam drove everywhere.
Ben felt sorry for him, knew what he was going to ask next, and spoke first, “Sorry, I can’t help you. I have to be at the rink before midnight. But I’ll keep an eye out for her along the way. Okay?”
Sheltered Page 2
