by Julie Hyzy
It was true that painting the high parts of the walls had been excruciating. The dark color didn’t cover in one coat and she’d painted the narrowest upper wall twice with the black paint before she’d been happy with it. She hadn’t even begun the ceiling, knowing that, owing to her short stature, she’d be required to stand near the top of the ladder and have to reach over her head for hours on end. She wasn’t looking forward to that part of it. The constant standing was already straining her back, and she hated being so high up on the ladder, feeling every moment as if she was going to lose her balance. She’d found herself pressing into her lower back with her left hand as she painted with her right, reminded, with a shudder, of the waddling woman from the doctors’ waiting room.
“All right,” she said, warning him with her voice. “You can help me for now. You owe me that, at least. But you do what I tell you, understand?”
Encouraged, he smiled. And in that brief flash of white, Annie caught a glimpse of the man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. It hit her like a blow to the stomach. Her breath caught in her throat. For just that second, his eyes had held a fleeting look of hope and promise, taking her by surprise. She couldn’t ever believe in him again, whether or not he assumed she did. Shaking her head, she returned the smile, wincing at his eager-eyed response. Those days were better left in memory.
She gestured with her head. “Come on up, I’ve already started.”
As they climbed the stairs, he spoke in a muted voice, “Wow. How’d you ever land a gig like this?”
He gave a low whistle as they passed through the hallway, rubbing his fingers over a large, multi-colored vase.
Just as they reached the playroom, a thought occurred to her and she turned. Gary stood one step below her and she pointed her finger in his face. “You touch anything in this house, anything that doesn’t belong to you or me, and you’re going to be out on your rear end before you can say ‘bail money.’ Do we understand each other?”
Realization dawned, “I’m not going to take anything. What do you think of me?”
She looked at him for a moment without speaking, then said, “You don’t want to know.”
* * * * *
Annie, wearing a navy blue Chicago Bears baseball cap to keep paint splatters from lodging in her hair, looked up with a measure of satisfaction. Expansive enough to handle a dark ceiling without overwhelming it, the part of the room Gary had completed looked almost space-like already and Annie nodded her head. While it would certainly need a some work, the painted night sky was just the thing little boys would get a kick out of. She would add glow-in-the-dark paint for stars and planets later. In the past couple hours Gary had made it almost halfway through. He’d started working immediately after she’d explained how she wanted the job done.
“Not bad,” she said, as he climbed down from the ladder.
Since she hadn’t brought a second hat, Gary’s face and hair had gotten flecked with black. Like dark freckles, they stood out from his cheeks, pink from the exertion of keeping his arm over his head for such an extended period of time.
“This is a lot of work,” he said in surprised voice, swiping his right arm across his forehead, making little black smears.
“You made pretty good time, so far.”
Gary looked up too. “It’s coming along.” Moving to the far corner of the room, he knelt and clanked the metal stir-stick around inside hid empty paint can. “We’re gonna need more paint.”
Stretching her arms to work out the kinks, Annie thought about that. She didn’t feel like heading out to the paint store just now. The dinosaurs were taking shape and it just didn’t feel like a good time to stop. She liked the way it looked, the unfinished shapes of the drawings standing out from the darkness of the background paint. Not only had Gary gotten a good portion of the ceiling done, he’d also finished the side walls above her horizon and around the roughed-in dinosaurs’ heads. Unpainted, several of the long-necked reptiles and their prehistoric counterparts stood out as white silhouettes in the black background, giving the room an eerie ambiance.
“What’s that one called?”
“Apatosaurus.”
“Never heard of it.”
“I put in a lot of different types in the picture, not just the typical T-Rex and all, because I’m hoping that the boys get interested and maybe learn something about them.”
“That’s my Annie, always thinking.”
She shrugged.
Gary sidled closer to her, making a move to put his arm around her waist, but then pulled himself back. “You’re going to make a great mother.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “Let’s go get some paint then, shall we?”
In a tentative movement, Gary reached out and touched her arm. “I’ll go for the paint. That is, if you don’t mind me driving your car?”
His hand dropped as she stepped just out of reach, shaking her head, but he interrupted. “Listen, you could use a break. Let me go, and you can just sit for a while, okay? Don’t be pushing yourself so much. This project’ll get done.”
The idea of resting, if only for a half hour, was tempting. Searching his eyes for some sign of deceit, she tilted her head and cautioned him, “No funny business.”
He gave her a withering look, then asked, “How do I pay for this?”
Digging through her backpack, she came up with a small business card. “This is where I get my paint, and this . . .” she turned it over to show him the digits written on the back, “is my account number. Just tell them that you want it put on my bill.”
She wrote down quantities, colors, and finishes as Gary ran a comb through his hair. “Okay,” he said, grimacing as it snagged on dried paint flecks. “I’ll be right back.”
Annie had grabbed a clean drop cloth, ready to bunch it up and use it for a cushion to sit on, when she remembered.
“Wait a minute.”
He turned in the brightness of the open doorway, silhouetted just as Mr. DeChristopher had been the other day. She noted, almost absent-mindedly, that Gary was much shorter, and didn’t hold himself with the same precise carriage that the other man did. And what would he say if he knew the soon-to-be-ex-husband was here helping her paint his house? Annie would have to remember to tell Gina not to mention that small fact to him. Even though it shouldn’t be any big deal, she sensed that he would express strong disapproval.
She dug into her backpack again, pulling out the large clear acrylic keychain. “When you come back . . .” she started to hand it to him, then thought better of it and yanked it back.
He flipped his outstretched hand in a motion that asked, “What?”
Gripping it in her hand, she said, “Nothing.”
“What now?”
“Nothing. Listen, just ring the bell when you get back.”
Gary gave her a curious look before he started for the door, but said nothing.
“Let me walk you down. I have to reset the alarm anyway.”
Sometimes, Annie thought as she headed back up the stairs, I’m such a twit. I was about to give my client’s house key to a burglar. She rolled her eyes before getting back to work, correcting herself, Oh yeah, alleged burglar.
* * * * *
Gary wiped the perspiration from his face with the back of his hand as he drove. Even with all the windows down the car was hot. How did Annie stand it? Especially being pregnant. He’d heard how hard it was for women to carry in the summer, and the poor girl didn’t even have a cool car.
It was his fault, no doubt about it. He’d racked up the credit card bills and she’d bailed him out time and again. Finally, she’d taken steps to protect herself and kicked him out of the house. He didn’t blame her.
It felt good to be driving again, despite the sweat pouring into his eyes. When he’d taken the car for his short jaunt to the grocery store and back, it had been cool and he’d been on a mission to surprise Annie with breakfast. This drive was longer, more scenic, through the upper-class homes of
the far southwest suburbs. What did people do to afford homes like these?
The car coughed, sending a plume of dark smoke out behind him. Playing with the gas pedal, he managed to keep the engine from dying.
He’d make enough money to fix things. To improve her standard of living. His own too, of course. But mostly to make her proud.
They were having a baby. A baby. He’d have to buckle down now, there was no way around it. And, despite Annie’s protestations, he knew that they would be together. This pregnancy guaranteed it; it couldn’t have come at a better time.
Tapping on the steering wheel to the music while he waited for the light to change, he grinned, listening to the radio, some rocker singing about teaching his woman to listen. He bobbed his head with the beat and sang along.
He pulled into the paint store parking lot and got out, happy to stretch in the sun. Despite the powerful rays hitting him from above and reflecting up from the asphalt ground, it was much cooler than sitting in the hotbox he’d been driving.
Fifteen minutes later, paint cans loaded in the trunk, he headed back. Who were these people Annie worked for anyway? DeChristopher?
Annie had admonished him to park on the street, and as he did so, he saw Mrs. DeChristopher alighting from a large gold-colored Lincoln. She’d seemed so nice this morning, almost as though she wanted him and Annie to get back together. He liked her. Two little boys scampered into the backyard, which by the look of it, was outfitted with a large colorful playground and separately fenced in-ground pool.
Gary was about to get out of the car when he noticed the driver getting out of the Lincoln. Mrs. DeChristopher had called out to him this morning. Timothy. Didn’t Annie say the husband’s name was Richard? Must be the gofer. And what a pansy name.
But this guy was big. A gorilla in a white shirt and dress pants, he looked hot and uncomfortable. His biceps appeared ready to burst through the taut white fabric of his sleeves at any moment. His left arm encircled a flat, brown, rectangular package. Gary thought it might have been one of those oversized coffee table books, but he could tell by the way the big man carried it that it didn’t have much weight. His firm grip on the package and the way he held it close to his side lent Gary to believe that it was something of great importance.
This guy was a goon, no doubt about it. Even though he’d never met this Timothy, Gary had seen his type before. He looked more like a secret service agent than a member of the family. On a hunch, Gary waited.
Several minutes later Timothy emerged, empty-handed, got back in the car and drove off.
Gary wondered about that package.
Chapter Eleven
“Crowded today,” Gary said.
Annie pulled up to the DeChristopher home, surprised at the number of cars parked up and down the street. Balloons attached to a nearby mailbox and one of those blow-up jumping trampolines set up in a backyard told Annie that some rich little kid was celebrating a birthday today. She found a spot far down the block, squeezing her small car between two luxury SUVs.
“Gina said she’d be out when we got here. She’s getting her hair and nails done for some fancy black-tie dinner tonight,” Annie said, reaching across the small car’s interior to grab the house key from her glove compartment, wondering what sculptured nail design Gina would choose today, “but I always ring the bell a few times first, just in case.”
Gary moved his knees out of the way and nodded.
“And when you’re done with the ceiling, you can quit tagging along, okay?”
“Is that the thanks I get for all my help?”
She sighed, staring straight ahead. It was cooler today, thank goodness, and Annie rolled up her window, wincing at the high-pitched scraping sound it made as it jerked upward. She motioned for Gary to do the same on his side. “I’m taking your help as a down payment on the room and board you and Pete owe me.”
“You could afford to be a little nicer to him. He’s been on his best behavior since he moved in.”
She rolled her eyes. “That man is a pig,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
“You know Annie, you’ve been up on your high and mighty horse ever since you started this business of your own. Like you don’t need no one. And yet, here I am, helping you out, and all I’m asking for is a temporary place to stay for me and a friend of mine.” Staring out, his gaze seemed focused far beyond the windshield as he shook his head. “You don’t have to make us feel so . . . small, you know.”
With both hands on the steering wheel, Annie looked out over the hood of the car. Was she doing that? It was possible. Maybe she was being too hard on Gary. Maybe he . . .
“Wait a minute,” she said in an angry voice.
“What?” Gary looked confused.
“Don’t even go there, buster. I’m not going to start feeling guilty. Not when I’ve been tired and pregnant and working to try to make my place in this world, only to have you butt into my life, screwing it up, literally mind you, bringing that scum of a friend with you. Don’t even try to make me feel guilty, because I don’t. And I won’t.” Her voice had risen, loud to her own ears, in the small car. The pressure that had been building over the past few days was near its boiling point and she could feel heat rising from her chest, reddening her face.
“Annie, hang on—”
“I will not hang on. Every time I turn around, you’re there making my life difficult. And I’ve had it, do you understand?” She crossed her arms over the steering wheel and rested her head against them.
“I’m sorry, Annie.”
Without lifting her head, she said, “I just want to make it on my own, Gary. And you guys,” her throaty laugh sounded as heavy as it felt, “you guys were not part of the deal. I’m forging my way here, too, and if I’m hurting your feelings, I apologize.” She sat back to look at him. “It’s simple, really. Just move out.”
The bright sun on the dark car was bringing up the interior’s temperature again.
“We’re working on it.”
“Pete isn’t,” she said, her voice sounding snappish again. “All he does is sit in that damn vibrating chair all day and complain about how his giant TV doesn’t fit in my house and so he’s stuck watching my little set.” She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. Trying to fix a bland expression on her face, she said, “You mentioned something about having a job lined up?”
Gary’s quick nod and cautious look let her know that she probably shouldn’t have blown off his big news earlier. He’d started to tell her something about it this morning, but she knew the man was facing burglary charges from his last place of business. No one in his right mind would want to hire him. Sighing, she realized that this was not the time, nor the place, to bring that up. Better to keep the subject neutral. With an attempt at softening the indifference in her eyes, she asked, “How’s that looking?”
“Great,” he said. “Really great. I told you I knew a guy who could help me as long as I got off that charge, right?” Gary wiggled in the passenger seat, his words tumbling over each other in his hurry to get them out. “My court date is a week from Wednesday. The lawyer says he thinks he can get me off on a Motion to Suppress.”
“What does that mean?” Annie wiped the perspiration from her brow with the fingers of her left hand and considered rolling the squeaky window back down. She was about to open the door to get some air when Gary answered her.
“It means, he says, that some evidence they conjured up won’t be able to be admitted in the trial. And without that evidence, they got nothing.” His smile widened.
“Conjured up.”
“Yeah. Not guilty, remember?”
“So you said in court. But is that the truth?” The car’s stuffiness was starting to get to her. Not expecting an answer, Annie grabbed the door handle and opened it. The cooler air rushed in.
“Annie,” he said, and when she turned she was surprised by the earnestness on his face, “I made a mistake. I admit that. But I swear, if I get o
ff on this, I’m not gonna ever get caught making that kind of mistake again.”
She pursed her lips, processing his words. Then bit her tongue to keep from replying. “Let’s go.”
They rang the doorbell four times before letting themselves in with the key. Annie motioned Gary in quickly, then shut the front door. Moving to the access panel, she opened it and inputted the code to disarm, then reactivate, the burglar alarm now that the door was closed again. The little green light blinked on to tell her she’d been successful.
Turning to go up the steps, she eyed Gary. “You weren’t watching me, were you?”
“Watching what?”
“The access code.”
Gary shook his head. “Nah.”
As they rounded the top of the first flight of steps, Gary walked over to one of the open bedrooms. “Whoa,” he said, his head shaking with disbelief. “Look at the stuff in these rooms.”
“Stay out of them.”
“I’m not going past the doorways, see?” He gestured down to the tips of his blue gym shoes, still safely outside the bedroom. “It’s just that,” his shoulders dropped as his voice took on a wistful tone, “Annie, you deserve a place like this.”
“Puh-lease,” she said, tugging at his arm, “let’s not go there. Come on, I’ve got lots to get done today.”
“Hang on.” The door to Mr. DeChristopher’s study was ajar, and Gary nudged it wider with his left hand. It opened without a sound. “Who is this guy anyway?”
“Why?” Annie moved closer to see what had captured his attention.
“Look at this room. It’s like a museum or somethin’.”
Annie’s curiosity got the better of her. She peered around the corner, even while chastising Gary. “You shouldn’t be prying into other people’s lives, you know.” Then, “Wow.”
As opposed to the cool unfussy elegance of rest of the house, this room was jammed to the teeth with an assortment of artwork, sculpture, and antiques. So profuse was the collection that it startled Annie when she stepped in. At first glance, she thought it might be a storage room for all the knick-knacks that didn’t have a place elsewhere, but within moments recognized some semblance of order. Other than the enormous antique desk, which stood out in stark uncluttered beauty near the back window of the room, every surface was covered, whether it was the walls with paintings, or the shelves with works of art. Crowded, yes, but each and every item had a place.
