Paradise Park

by Carolina Mac

  Bedtime. Now he’s being nice to her. I’ve got that bastard’s number.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LONNIE GEARED DOWN and wheeled the big rig through the gateway of Paradise Park at four thirty in the afternoon, loaded for bear and ready for a short run to Kingston the following morning. He backed in carefully next to his trailer, shut the engine down, opened the driver’s door and waited for Ted. “We better tidy up the trailer before April comes, Ted. Maybe she likes a guy that’s neat.”

  Ted yawned and stretched out to his full length in the sleeper behind Lonnie and said nothing. He had growled low in his throat and shown his teeth the first night he had encountered April at the door of her trailer and Lonnie knew his best friend didn’t like the new hot prospect. Ted didn’t have to like his girlfriends. He hadn’t liked one yet, but it would help if he wasn’t always trying to nip their asses when they were in range. Maybe April would grow on him. Probably not—Ted was a hard sell.

  “Shit, Ted, the lawn needs to be cut too. She’s gonna think I’m a goddam slacker. Her climbing ladders and painting houses like a fuckin whirlwind and me sittin on my ass drinking beer and watching the grass grow.”

  Lonnie unlocked the trailer, opened some windows, unleashed a cloud of Glade air freshener, cracked open a cold one and pulled the vacuum out of the closet. “Look at all this fuckin dog hair, Ted. What have you got to say about that?”

  Ted had no comment on the quantity of dog hair on the sofa. He positioned himself in front of his empty bowl and patiently waited while Lonnie vacuumed. He hated the vacuum almost as much as he hated every girl that Lonnie brought home, not that there had been many.

  Lonnie finished up and stowed the Hoover in the closet just as April knocked on the screen door. “Damn it, Ted, I wanted to grab a shower before she got here,” he whispered. Ted was crunching his kibbles and didn’t hear Lonnie lamenting his lack of freshness.

  “Hi, come on in.” Lonnie gave April his best smile.

  Without a salutation of any kind, she barged right past him into the living room and whipped her weapon of choice off her tool belt—an orange Lufkin tape measure. “Hold this end,” she snapped.

  Ted looked up from his dish and growled.

  Ted’s gonna be a problem.

  Lonnie held his end of the tape against the wall and watched April pull a pencil from behind her ear to jot down the measurements. In the unforgiving light of day, she wasn’t as pretty as he’d first thought. Her hair was a bit stringy and she didn’t have much of a figure. She was flat chested and on the skinny side of lower mediocre. Maybe she was lots of fun and that would make up for the definite deficiency in the looks department.

  She took her notebook over to the kitchen table and sat down frowning like she was in the throes of solving a nuclear fission equation.

  “Want a beer?” asked Lonnie trying to break the ice. And there was ice in the air. Polar. He could feel it in the tone of her voice and in her body language. She definitely didn’t like him much. He sat down across from her at the table and watched her scribbling down figures.

  “Don’t drink,” she mumbled as she kept her cold blue eyes on her calculator. “Hundred and forty-four square feet. Fill the holes and the cracks. Sanding. Gallon of primer, gallon of eggshell, two quarts of trim paint plus hourly.” She heaved a big sigh, “I can do it for three hundred.”

  “Three hundred bucks?” Lonnie was momentarily stunned. The room was small and didn’t need to be painted at all. The whole interior had been freshly painted by the previous owners six months ago before he moved in.

  “Want to think it over?” April stared at him like he was a lower life form. She wasn’t friendly at all. Not even nice to talk to. She never smiled. Did he want her hanging around messing up his trailer for a couple of days? Nope.

  “Yeah, thanks for the estimate. I’ll think it over.”

  April tossed the estimate on the table with her card, picked up her tape measure, clipped it to her belt and left without a word. She let the screen door slam on her way out.

  Ted gave a woof and jumped on the sofa.

  “You’re right, Ted. I didn’t like her either.”

  Lonnie opened another brew, feeling let down. He had entertained high hopes for April and him, but it was only a fantasy and he realized that he only wanted it badly because he was lonely. He wandered out onto his deck and plopped down in a chair. He stretched out his long legs and propped his boots up on the railing. He admired the leatherwork. Genuine hand-tooled cowboy boots from Texas—at least one of his dreams had come true. He lit up a smoke and felt instantly better relaxing with the afternoon sun warming him.

  His beer was half gone and no longer cold when a black Nissan turned into the park and headed his way. The car pulled into the driveway of the trailer that was for sale next door and a tall, slim real estate agent stepped out. She opened up the empty trailer and Lonnie watched her through the window buzzing around inside. Five minutes later a black pickup with oversized tires, roll bars, running lights and tons of chrome pulled up and parked behind the Nissan.

  “Fuck, that’s a nice truck,” Lonnie said to Ted as his interest piqued. He watched the driver jump down from the chrome step side. “Holy hell, Ted. Look at that.”

  Ted raised his head and looked but he wasn’t looking half as hard as Lonnie was. Long black hair gone kind of wild, a body that her Toby Keith t-shirt couldn’t hide and her face—my God her face. What a looker. “Oh, shit, Ted, if she’s my new neighbor I’m gonna die happy.”

  Lonnie tore into the trailer, wrenched another beer from the fridge and resumed his post on the deck where he could watch the action. The girl spent some time inside the trailer with the agent, then the two of them toured around outside looking at the trees and flower beds. The agent indicated the property lines and was giving her the low-down on the park, waving her arms, pointing to things and the girl was nodding and taking it all in.

  “Please buy that trailer,” Lonnie said to no one in particular. Ted panted.

  The agent headed around the back and the girl headed his way. Lonnie sucked in a big breath. The girl walked right up on his deck and leaned on the railing. Lonnie was speechless as he gaped open-mouthed and inhaled the scent of her. She looked like she walked right off the page of a magazine and she smelled… like heaven must smell. She gave him a big smile and her violet eyes sparkled in the sun. His heart started to pound so loud he couldn’t hear what she was saying.

  “Hey cowboy, how do you like living here?”

  Her voice was husky and so sexy he almost came in his jeans. He was panting for breath when he finally spit out an answer. “Yep, been here six months and I love it. Me and Ted love it.”

  “Hey, Ted.” She dropped down on her knees and gave a startled Ted a huge hug around his neck. She kissed his nose and Ted licked her face. “I love your ears, Ted. You’re so beautiful.”

  Lonnie grinned. It was a fuckin miracle. Ted liked her.

  “I love a Red Bone hound,” she said and Lonnie thought those were the most beautiful words he had heard in a long time. She stood up and took a step towards Lonnie. He sucked in a breath wondering what the hell was wrong with him. A current zapped through his brain and he thought he might stroke out if she touched him.

  “I’m Grace.” She offered her hand and waited.

  “Lonnie Chandler,” he said with a grin. He took her hand in his and felt voltage run up his arm and into his shoulder. Warm and thick, like electric honey.

  The agent called to her from the other side of the property and she turned to leave.

  “I’m thinking of putting in an offer. Maybe we’ll be neighbors.” She smiled as she walked down the steps and Lonnie admired her tight black jeans from the rear view.

  “I hope so,” he said, and realized that he had never hoped for anything so much in his entire life.

  Ted looked up at him with sad brown eyes and Lonnie gave him the news. “I’m in love, Ted. I’m fuckin toast.”

&n
bsp; CHAPTER FOUR

  MARG WOKE WITH a start, hung over and out of focus. She squinted her eyes and took stock of the stark surroundings. The room was beige, the carpet stained and brown, the furnishings cheap and mismatched. She sucked in a huge breath as she sat on the side of the bed and realized she was in the trailer. Her eyes came to rest on the only familiar thing in the room—her Grandmother’s picture sitting on the old pine dresser. She smiled. The only personal possession she had left from her teen years. She had run from an abusive father and an absentee mother and her maternal grandmother had taken her in and raised her.

  Gary’s side of the bed was empty. She hadn’t heard him get up.

  Why did Gary have to be such an asshole?

  She used the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face and steeled herself against the inevitable. She had to have it out with him. She made the bed, folded the extra blanket and laid it carefully across the foot. Today she would unpack all the boxes and cook Gary a nice dinner. That would please him and put her back in his good books. Would it be enough?

  Marg poured herself a coffee and ventured towards the door feeling ill-equipped to deal with Gary and his moods this early in the day. She peeked through the screen and saw him sitting on the deck in the morning sun with a coffee in his hand. He broke into a grin when he saw her come outside.

  “Well, well, well, Miss Margie. You sure turned it on for old Gary last night, didn’t you? Look at the effort you put into it when it was your last chance.” He shook his head and chuckled.

  “Stop it, Gary. We have to talk.”

  “We’re done talking. Remember what I told you?”

  Marg heaved a huge sigh and collapsed into one of the plastic deck chairs. “After breakfast, I’ll go to Sheila’s and see if she’s home.”

  “Good. You do that.”

  You’ll be sorry, Gary, I’ll make you sorry you ever fucked me over.

  Marg made it half way through the door when a huge rumble caused her to turn around and take a look. A big black Harley came through the back gate of the park and roared into the driveway.

  “Hey, bro, long time,” hollered the biker.

  Gary actually sprinted down from the porch and hugged the rider with enthusiasm. “Robbie, when did you get out?”

  “Yesterday.” The biker took off his helmet and hung it on the bars. “I’m a free man. Picked up my bike at my buddy’s house in Lindsay and couldn’t wait to see my big brother.”

  “Come on in. Marg was just gonna make breakfast.” Gary gave Marg a stony glare and she knew better than to protest if she had any hope of smoothing things over. She hurried into the kitchen and got busy. She whipped up ham and eggs and a mountain of toast and brewed a fresh pot of coffee, all the while thinking if the food was good and the service was better, Gary wouldn’t let her go.

  Why do you want to stay with him? You know what he’s like.

  “Thanks, Marg,” said Rob. “I’m Gary’s little brother.”

  “He’s a helluva lot bigger than me, but he’s younger,” said Gary with a chuckle.

  “And better looking,” said Rob. He punched Gary a good one in the shoulder.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Marg, thinking this was the bad dude Gary was always bragging about. Rob wasn’t hard to look at. Much younger and taller than Gary with long dark hair and big dark eyes. Marg tried to sneak a look at the tats on his neck and down his muscled-up arms.

  After breakfast, she cleared the table and did the dishes while Gary and his brother smoked on the deck and caught up. Wonder how long Rob had been in the slammer? She stuck her head out the screen door. “Want more coffee?”

  “No, we’re good. Why don’t you walk over and check out the Sheila situation?”

  Guess he hasn’t changed his mind. I’ll be better off.

  Marg nodded. “You’re a real prick, you know that, Gary?”

  Gary grinned and winked at her.

  Now that his bad-boy brother was here, he wouldn’t change his mind and let her stay. He would turn the trailer into party central and she would be a third wheel. She picked up a handful of Avon brochures and headed out.

  SHEILA SAT AT the kitchen table staring into a luke-warm cup of coffee. She waved a limp, skinny arm at Marg and motioned her in through the unlocked screen door. She pointed at a chair and Marg sat.

  Sheila was younger than Marg by a few years, but being younger didn’t automatically make her better looking. Sheila wasn’t under any illusions about her looks—the last time she passed a mirror she was a scrawny forty-seven-year-old with stringy brown hair and glasses. Wrinkles already eroded her face around her eyes and thin-lipped mouth.

  She taught school in town and thoroughly enjoyed the solitude of trailer life after long days in the classroom. Marg had worked as a lunch lady at the same public school for a while and they had remained friends after Marg was fired for smoking in the kitchen and passing out cigarettes and other favors to the grade eight boys.

  “You don’t look so hot, Marg. What’s up?”

  “Gary wants me to move out.”

  “You just moved to the park.” Sheila stared at Marg in disbelief as she poured her a coffee. “How could he possibly throw you out already?”

  “Says he’s tired of me.”

  “Can’t you spice it up a little?” Sheila chuckled, “Like I could give advice on that subject.”

  “Can I stay here a couple days until he misses me and wants me back? That always happens. It’s a pattern. Once he starts cooking for himself and the dirty dishes pile up, he’ll beg me to come back. I’m not worried.”

  “Sure, I guess so. What if he doesn’t?”

  “Doesn’t what?”

  “Want you back…ever.”

  “Then he’ll be sorry.”

  “In what way?”

  Marg pursed her lips and drummed her fingers on the table. “In a way he won’t be expecting.”

  Sheila shook her head. “You’re a case, Marg.”

  Marg finished her coffee and headed back to Gary’s to pack her clothes.

  HAROLD DEEGAN STOPPED beside Marg as she trudged back to her trailer and offered her a lift. She smiled, climbed aboard the golf cart and thanked him. When he let her out, she walked up the short driveway, stomped past Gary and Rob without speaking and went inside to pack.

  Harold made note of the big Harley motorcycle now parked in Gary’s driveway and filed it under possible trouble coming his way in the near future—for him and for the park. Tarnation, he was getting too old for this shite. He made his rounds—the tractor-trailer was gone for the day, Arthur Lyons was working on the pump in the well-house, and most of the non-retired residents were at work. Things seemed to be under control for the moment. Why did it feel like hell was about to unleash something ugly on him?

  He steered the cart down the driveway to Edgar Plimpton’s place. He hadn’t seen his old friend for ages and Edgar had promised him a bottle of this year’s dandelion wine when it was ready. He parked the cart, left his cane behind and limped his way towards the porch. With every passing year, the damned arthritis got worse. The so called ‘golden years’ weren’t worth a tinker’s damn.

  The first thing Harold noticed was Edgar’s little wooden trailer hitched to his pickup and it was full of papers and magazines that Mabel had been unable to part with over the years. He had known the Plimpton’s for the better part of his life and there was no two ways about it, Mabel was a hoarder. When that show first came on TV and Harold found out that hoarding was some kind of a freaky sickness, he felt sorry for Edgar. He watched Edgar carry another load out the door and toss it into the heaped-up trailer. “Hey, Harold. Didn’t hear you out here.”

  “Came to see if the wine had fermented yet. Is Mabel letting you get rid of this stuff?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s gone to her sister’s in Alberta for a month and I’m so sick of this crap—I thought I’d surprise her. She won’t know the place when she gets back.”

  “I didn’t
know she had family out west.”

  “A step-sister. Someone she grew up with but they’re not blood related.”

  “I don’t hear the dogs. She take them on the plane?”

  “I told her it was stupid and cost too much money, but she crated them in cat carriers and took them with her. It’s so bloody peaceful here without all that yapping.” Edgar grinned. “I’m in heaven.”

  Harold had known Edgar for forty years and one thing he knew for sure. Edgar was lying. Where in hell was Mabel? The feeling in the pit of his stomach worsened.

  Edgar motioned to him. “Come on in and I’ll get you a couple bottles.”

  Harold followed Edgar inside the trailer and glanced around the kitchen. Unbelievable. The countless times he had been in this very kitchen could not have prepared him for what he saw—or didn’t see. There was no mess, no junk, nothing that Mabel had carefully piled over the years. Gone. It was all gone. And so was Mabel.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LONNIE RETURNED FROM a four-day run to Arkansas. When he backed the truck into its designated spot next to his trailer, his eye caught a flash of red and his heart skipped a beat. SOLD. A red ‘Sold’ sign had been plastered across the ‘For Sale’ sign on the lawn next door.

  “I hope she bought it, Ted. My God, if someone else bought that trailer I think I’ll go blind.”

  Ted wore a look of alarm in the shotgun seat but managed to hold it together.

  “Wonder if she’ll move in at the end of the month? When’s the end of the month? Come on, move it, Ted. I have to get inside and see the fuckin calendar.” Lonnie ran around the cab of the truck, up the stairs and across the deck at top speed. Ted followed on Lonnie’s heels thinking running meant something exciting like hunting or chasing a rabbit. Ted bayed long and low inside the kitchen door and Lonnie burst out laughing as he stood breathless in front of the insurance calendar thumb-tacked to the wall. “Sunday’s the last day of the month, so the deal should close on Friday. Fuck me blind, Ted. Two more days.”