False Impressions

by Terri Thayer

  “Drugs have not been an issue,” Yost said. He’d succeeded in scaring the natives.

  “What about the meth house that exploded last winter?” April said, not quite loud enough to be heard by Yost. A woman close to her reared back and shot her a look. Rocky smiled, full of teeth.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Rocky said. She’d heard enough.

  “Outside?” April asked hopefully.

  “Have you forgotten its five degrees out?” Mitch said, putting an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “You’ll freeze your cute little California butt off.”

  “That’s true.” She had forgotten. It was going to take more than one winter for her to forget that going outside was not an option for several months unless there were skis strapped to her feet and down enveloping her body. And, quite possibly, earmuffs.

  “We can go in the basement,” Rocky whispered. “There’s a huge rec room downstairs.”

  April followed Rocky, trying to sneak away without Yost noticing. He wouldn’t be above heckling her like a comedian calling out to a bathroom-goer. People parted reluctantly, craning over their heads to see the next slide. A big-haired woman grumbled as Mitch stepped on her foot. Finally they saw the carpeted set of stairs leading from the kitchen to the lower level.

  The threesome clambered down the steps as if someone were after them.

  The stairs ended at a wall covered in blue denim. They turned the corner and went down three more steps. April couldn’t believe her eyes. The room was filled with guys.

  “Wow,” April said. “So this is where all the men got to.”

  “I didn’t get the memo,” Mitch said. “This is unbelievable.”

  They stopped in place, overwhelmed by the space. To say the rec room was decorated in a sports theme was like saying the Taj Mahal was ornate. Every sport was represented. There were pennants from Penn State strung prayer-flag style from the ceiling. The walls were painted in Yankee blue and white pinstripes. A Philadelphia Eagles helmet had been made into a lamp. Hockey jerseys were framed like precious art.

  They heard the crack from the pool table before they noticed it. Mitch practically skipped into the room. “What an awesome man cave,” Mitch said admiringly.

  “Maybe we should start doing team logo stamps,” Rocky said, her head swiveling.

  “Thanks, but no.” April shuddered. There was probably money to be made, but she didn’t want to be the one making stamps like that. There was no room for creativity in that world.

  April’s eye roamed over the velour pit sofa, the gigantic television that was playing a pregame show, sound muted. The neon lines of the jukebox played across the ceiling. An antique Pong arcade game stood in one corner, the ball bouncing mesmerizingly across the screen.

  The effect was the design equivalent of a dog whistle, a décor appreciated only by the male gender.

  Rocky nudged her, pointing with her chin. Across the room, an old-fashioned pine bar with a tufted, nail-headed red pleather front had empty bar stools. A kegerator was barely visible through a thicket of men holding beer steins. Mary Lou would never allow that upstairs.

  “No wonder Yost has a captive audience,” April said. They made their way across the room. Mitch tripped over his feet as he tried to take it all in.

  They sat at the bar, catching their breath. No one was bartending, so they helped themselves to glasses of wine from the open bottle.

  Rocky grabbed a pool cue from the rack on the wall and sashayed over to the pool table. “I’ve got winner,” she said to the two guys playing.

  “You can play now,” one of them said, checking Rocky out thoroughly. She grinned at his perusal. He was young for her and married, judging by the ring on his finger, but that wouldn’t stop her from flirting.

  The other bowed with a flourish. “By all means, break,” he said as the married guy racked up a new game. Rocky grinned and put a ten-dollar bill on the table’s edge.

  “Winner takes all,” she said, wriggling herself into position. Most of the men in the room stopped to take notice of her butt. She stayed there longer than she needed to, then stroked the cue.

  “Think there’s any unattached men in the room?” April whispered to Mitch.

  “Let’s hope so,” he said.

  April and Mitch were on an active hunt for a boyfriend for Rocky. She was spending too much of their time with them. April looked around. She hadn’t been single long enough to develop any instincts for who was married and who was not, but she looked for wedding bands and well-pressed shirts.

  She saw Kit’s husband. He was dressed in a fisherman’s knit pullover with neatly pressed jeans. His hair was swooped up in the front with gel. April left Mitch watching his sister play pool and went over to say hi.

  She slowed as she got closer, realizing she was interrupting a conversation about guns.

  April had forgotten what a staple a gun cabinet was in a Pennsylvania home. Lovingly made of the finest hardwoods, decorated with brass hardware and leaded glass, the locked cabinet had a permanent home in many living rooms, like a breakfront or hutch. Logan had this one open and was showing another guy about his age a pair of pearl-handled small revolvers.

  He pointed one down at the floor and said, “You never know what kind of whackos you’ll meet out at a property. Mary Lou has had to run off more than one squatter. She told this one guy she would shoot him. First in the right one, then the left one . . .”

  He stopped when he saw April approach. “Don’t worry; they’re not loaded.”

  She took a step closer, and he offered her one of the guns to hold. She picked one from his upturned palm. It was lightweight. And pretty. A vine design twined around the barrel.

  “Twenty-two?” she asked. Ed had taught her to use a gun as soon as she’d turned thirteen. She’d been to a range in Marin a few times when she lived in California, but not for several years.

  “Yeah, girly guns,” Logan said disparagingly. “If she ever shot this, that mother-of-pearl on the handle would crack.”

  He opened the cabinet and put away the guns in their wooden case and set it back on the shelf. He took out a shotgun.

  “My new pump action,” he said, laying the gun lovingly in his friend’s arms, who grunted in admiration. “Just got it.”

  “Looks expensive,” April said, wondering how he’d afforded it with new twins.

  “My wife’s telling me I have to leave it here when we move into the new place,” Logan said with the exasperation of a newlywed unused to compromise. “She doesn’t want any guns in the house.” He took it from his friend and locked the gun cabinet, using a key on a chain heavy with keys. His friend wandered off after offering to bring Logan a refill. Logan refused.

  April asked, “How long have you and Kit been together?” He must have always been interested in guns.

  “Off and on, since high school.”

  She could ask him about Mary Lou’s brother. There was no chance down here of Mary Lou overhearing and getting the wrong idea. “So did you know Kit’s uncle? The one who died?”

  Logan shrugged. “J.B.? Sure I knew him. I spent most of my senior year of high school in this house. He was living here back then.”

  Kit was twenty-one, so that was about four years ago.

  “Didn’t he work?” April asked. She kept an eye on the steps for signs of Mary Lou. She didn’t want her to know she was asking about her brother, but this was her chance to find out.

  “Off and on. He was working at the lumberyard for a while. Then at a gas station. He was good with motorcycles, not much else. He never had much of a career or anything. Mary Lou kept him busy. She always has odd jobs to do at her houses. Ripping out old carpet, putting down new stuff. Shoveling the walks in the winter, keeping the lawn green in the summer. I do the odd jobs for her now.”

  A roar went up from the pool table. Mitch called her over. “Rocky’s run the table.”

  She walked over. April raised her eyebrows at Rocky’s success. “Why
doesn’t that surprise me?” she said.

  Logan joined them. “Rocky is pretty coordinated,” Logan said. “She beat me at Donkey Kong the last time we had a party here.”

  April said, raising her voice, “She has a major advantage. She’s old enough to have been around for the original game.”

  “I heard that,” Rocky said, mock threatening her with a pool cue. “Rack ’em,” she said to her brother.

  “I’m not playing you,” Mitch said. “I like to keep my money.”

  “I know, brother, I know.” She made a challenge to the room, but no one was willing to take her on, so Rocky played by herself, methodically sending the balls into the pockets.

  The sound on the TV suddenly came up, with the familiar music that meant the game was about to begin. A popcorn machine had been started, and the pervasive smell filled the air. This was about to become a serious football-viewing venue. April wanted to get out before the coin toss.

  Mitch came over and kissed her neck, his eyes on the TV.

  “You want to watch this?” she asked.

  “I don’t have to,” he said, straining to hear the announcer. “It’s the Steelers.”

  “You can,” April said. “I’m going to go see if Mary Lou needs help.”

  “I’ll be up in a while,” Mitch said. April laughed. She didn’t believe him. When she was ready to go home, she’d have to drag him out. He’d already followed Logan to an empty spot on the couch with a direct view of the TV. Not that there was any place in the room without a view of the TV.

  Rocky downed a shot and raised the glass to April as she left the room.

  Upstairs, Yost had thankfully finished his lecture on staying safe in Aldenville. April, for one, felt so much safer knowing he was on the job.

  She joined Mary Lou and Deana in the kitchen. “What can I do?”

  “I’m out of forks,” Mary Lou said. “Everyone seems to be using two at a time. Is it too much to ask that people hang on to their forks for dessert?”

  Deana and April looked at each other. “Probably,” they said in unison.

  Mary Lou smiled. “You’re right. That was a little crazy.”

  “Everything okay?” April asked as Mary Lou handed her a pile of silverware to dry. “You seem out of sorts.”

  “I’m fine,” Mary Lou said.

  Deana caught April’s eye and shook her head slightly. She was washing a glass plate that had held crudités. A pile of cream puffs was waiting to go on it. Mary Lou, opening a cupboard and the refrigerator simultaneously, grabbed a pile of paper doilies, indicating they should go on first. Deana complied.

  Mary Lou went out of the room carrying a plate of deviled eggs and a basket of pretzels.

  “What’s up?” April said as she disappeared. “What’s with the evil eye?”

  “Were you going to ask Mary Lou about her brother?”

  April popped a slice of jicama into her mouth. “Jeez, no. I’m just concerned about her. She and Kit are fighting. She bought a house for them that Kit’s not crazy about.”

  Deana said, “She probably just wants the best for her grandchildren.”

  “Sounds to me like she needs to back off and let the kids find their way.”

  “I guess it’s easier for those of us without children to see the right thing to do.”

  April looked at Deana and saw the sadness in her friend’s stance. She knew that Mark and Deana had been trying to get pregnant for months now.

  April put an arm around her friend. “Is it hard to see Kit and Logan, so young, with twins?”

  Deana dried her hands. “I don’t begrudge them, you understand.”

  “I get it.” April said, her voice catching. Deana deserved babies, lots of them, and it did seem unfair that she wasn’t getting pregnant as easily as she wanted. She and Mark were settled, making a good income at jobs that they loved. Their home had plenty of bedrooms waiting to be filled. Logan and Kit were living on the edge of poverty. Kit had a two-year degree in medical transcription from Penn State Lynwood but hadn’t worked for nearly a year. April was sure Logan didn’t make much. She did know that if it hadn’t been for the foreclosure Mary Lou found them, they wouldn’t be getting a house at all.

  “I wonder if we waited too long,” she said quietly. Mark, big and silent, appeared in the doorway. He seemed to know exactly when his wife was in need of a hug.

  April smiled at the sight of the two of them. Mark didn’t say much. He just took the dish towel from her hand and pulled her into his chest.

  “You two will make pretty babies,” April said. “How many, six?”

  “At least,” Mark said over Deana’s head. She giggled.

  “Pretty and smart,” April said. “Girls, so that Mark can be all wrapped around their fingers and I can teach them how to carve stamps and flirt with boys.”

  “They won’t be allowed boys until they’re thirty-one,” Mark said.

  “If my parents followed that rule, you and I would never have married,” Deana said. She gave him a push and went back to filling the plate with desserts. April put the silverware into the special holder Mary Lou had set out.

  Deana offered Mark a cream puff. He ate it off her fingers, smacking his lips. She grinned at him and handed him the full plate with instructions to put it on the dining room table. She washed her hands again.

  April said, “You’re just tired. You need a vacation. You and Mark need a week off. Can you take one?”

  “That would be nice. I thought Dad was coming up for a few days next week to give us a break, but he’s stuck in Florida. A bridge tournament. Mark and I will go to the city for an overnight or something.”

  She straightened her shoulders and smiled brightly at her friend. The tears in Deana’s eyes stayed there, willed not to fall.

  “We’ll be okay. I’m starting a new yoga class. That’ll help.”

  April saw the opportunity to lighten the conversation. “Help what? With the relaxation or is this about some sexual positions I don’t want to know about? Like in order to get pregnant, you’ll have to be able to put your legs over your head.”

  Deana giggled. April knew she could get her to laugh outright if she kept going. She grabbed the heel of her foot and twisted it around her back, shifting to her left hand and grimacing wildly. She leaned against the counter so she didn’t fall.

  Deana howled with laughter. Her eyes danced as her gaze shifted to the doorway. Mark was back, the empty platter in his hand. His eyes were wide.

  April said, “Deana was just telling me about some of the sexual positions you two have to utilize to get pregnant.”

  “I wasn’t!” Deana said, although she was laughing.

  Mark didn’t miss a beat. “Did you tell her about the one where I have to hang onto the ceiling fan? First I have to grab her like this . . .”

  Mark pulled Deana onto his shoulder and picked her up, caveman style. She gasped for air, and wriggled.

  “And then what?” April said, egging Mark on. She knew Deana wouldn’t really protest; she was having a good time.

  “That’s enough, you two,” Deana said. She let out a yelp as Mark deposited her on the kitchen counter. He pretended to mash on her, snuffling into her neck like a rutting elephant. April’s side hurt from laughing.

  “Looks like all the fun is going on in the kitchen,” a snarky voice said from the doorway. April wheeled to see Yost filling the space.

  Deana jumped down and pulled on her shirt, which had come untucked from her jeans. Leave it to Yost to spoil the mood.

  Mark was undaunted. He pulled himself up on the counter and laid a hand on Deana’s thigh. Her breathing calmed, and she leaned into Mark’s legs.

  “Just showing April how we old married couples keep it spicy,” Mark said.

  Deana hiccupped. April giggled again. Yost frowned, getting the fact that he didn’t belong.

  April said, “Did you get everyone equipped with mace and stun guns? Tell them to triple lock their doors and get a b
urglary alarm system? When are you running the next gun safety class?” she asked.

  “Would you like a lesson?” Yost said. “I could take you out to the range, and we could fire off a few rounds.” He made his offer sound dirty.

  April looked from Mark to Deana. Suddenly, their play felt over-the-top and slightly ridiculous. Sexual, not just innocent fun. Yost made everything he touched turn unseemly.

  “I’m sure the newcomers appreciated your view of life here,” Deana said. She didn’t like Yost, but as she was the newest deputy coroner, she did have to deal with him. Deana believed that everyone had a little good in them, if they just had a chance to shine.

  “Unless they turn tail and leave the neighborhood,” April said.

  “Well, as long as Mary Lou gets the business, right?” Yost replied snidely. “Sell them the house on the way in and sell the house when they leave. Isn’t that how real estate works?”

  April said, “Is that why you don’t mind a house explosion or two? Keeps the local Realtors happy?”

  Her heart sank as she saw Mary Lou stop, just outside the door. She was carrying a pile of dirty plates. She stared at April, her mouth hanging slightly open as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

  April felt ashamed. She always let Yost push her buttons.

  “Mary Lou, I didn’t mean you.” She searched for an explanation. “I’ve heard meth is a problem.”

  “Not around here,” Yost said. “Maybe back in Californication where you come from.”

  April felt her face flush. “What about the explosion last year? Wasn’t that because of someone making methamphetamine?”

  Mary Lou’s face froze with her hostess smile in place. Her eyes darkened. She glared at April.

  Rocky and Mitch had come up from the basement and stepped into the already crowded kitchen. April saw Peter, Mary Lou’s husband, behind her.

  Deana leaned in and whispered in April’s ear, “Maybe you should dial it down a notch.”

  “Why? If there’s meth around, shouldn’t people know? What about it, Officer Yost,” she said, raising her voice so all could hear her. This sanctimonious prick.