Outside the Fire

by Boyd Craven

  “This meeting is closed,” Jeff said standing up.

  “Is it true? Are you working with the developers to try to force Abbott to sell his land?”

  “I don’t answer to you, and you should watch your tone with me, son.”

  Matthew bristled at that and Jeff took a step back, away from him.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Let’s go,” Doug’s wife said, dragging on his arm until he finally started moving.

  “You’re off the council. We don’t need your help anymore,” Jeff told him.

  “Well, I hate to break the news to you, but you can’t throw me out. I’m elected same as all of you,” he said pointing to the other four. “And I think you,” he said, pointing the finger at Jeff, “need to think about that. This is our community and it seems like you think you run it. I think I’ll stick around a while, just to make sure things are fair.”

  “I’m the president of the HOA,” Jeff said, trying to keep an even voice.

  “For now,” Matthew said, “but if what those two said was true, and you’re working with the developers on some sort of scam, you’ll be lucky if you don’t find yourself out of an unpaid title and in jail. I’m going to give my brother a call and see what he thinks.”

  “Who’s your brother?” Another council member asked.

  “Bibb County’s prosecuting attorney,” Matthew said and started walking towards the door.

  He paused, looking at the soiled rug and stepped around it.

  “You know,” he said pulling his best Colombo impression, “I don’t know what stinks in here worse. The fact you didn’t refute the shenanigans when it was exposed, threatened to change the rules to suit your agenda, or this rug here. As far as I can tell, ‘Mister President,’” Matthew said making air quotes with his fingers, “somebody has a rug to clean, cuz I ain’t getting paid to do it.”

  They sat there for a while as Matthew left the building.

  “That didn’t go as planned,” Jeff muttered to himself, already wondering if the building had a carpet cleaner and whose job it was to clean up the stinky mess left behind.

  CHAPTER 7

  Steve had changed out of his dirty clothes and was warming up the grill with a cold beer in his hand. His little speech at the meeting felt like a win at first, but he realized too late, that he just made some folks probably double down on their dislike for him. Especially when he started making cracks about money. His guts twisted as he knew he shouldn’t have, especially with his job in a precarious position because of the global economy. While he waited, he played with his laptop and checked out the news.

  There was a tense standoff today with the Chinese, but no more shots fired and no more deaths. An informal cease-fire had been called for rescue operations. Internationally, stock prices were plunging, and the positive surge the US President saw when he was elected was being chipped away with the Euro tumbling in value as Greece looked like it was heading towards insolvency and fears of a new war with China.

  He normally avoided politics, but he was skimming an article on how the talking heads thought the President was going to react and what that might have on international trade with Asia.

  “Hello?” a voice called from the side of the house.

  Steve got up and walked around to the fence that separated the front yard to the backyard. A chain-link gate had been installed here, same as the one in the back of the property. Right away he could see it was somebody from the HOA council. He racked his memory for a minute, while a feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

  “Matthew?” he asked as he walked up to the fence.

  “Yeah, Matthew Fitzpatrick. Your wife told me you were back this a way.”

  “Yeah, you want to come back?” he asked, not sure what to make of things.

  “If you don’t mind. I’d like to talk about the meeting.”

  The dread in the pit of his stomach was a cold thing. It seemed it couldn’t get any worse, but somehow, it managed.

  “Sure,” Steve said popping the lock on the gate and pulling it open.

  “Thank you,” Matthew said and followed him back, both of them taking a patio chair to sit in.

  The smell of the grill warming up and old grease cooking hit both men, and Matthew’s stomach rumbled audibly. Steve grinned a little at that, reminding himself not to hate the man because he was associated with—

  “I think what they tried to do to you and Mr. Abbott is a crock of shit.”

  That got his attention.

  “The council didn’t know?” Steve asked, a little thunderstruck and curious.

  “I’m sure some of them did, but I didn’t. It took me by surprise. I know I fielded a couple of phone calls about the Jeep, but I could plainly see the muffler as I walked up to your driveway. There’s nothing to complain about.”

  “That’s what I said,” Steve told him. “I mean, yeah, we had a three-fifty short block put in it, and there’s only so much you can muffle it when the body is so short. Not enough pipes for a huge muffler.”

  “How’d you manage to fit a Chevy motor into a Jeep?” Matthew asked, leaning forward.

  “I had Dave’s Garage do the restoration on it, and they put in the new drivetrain. I have a feeling that the Jeep and the meeting aren’t the only things you wanted to talk about though, is it?”

  “No,” Matthew said and paused as Angela and Amber came outside, holding a platter with burger patties made up.

  Both ladies were sniping at each other, but they were smiling. Amber stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who was sitting with her dad and gave him a shy wave.

  “Hi, Mr. Fitz,” she said, turning red.

  “Amber?” he asked.

  “Um…Matthew, this is my wife Angela, and you know my daughter Amber…?”

  “Yeah, she used to come over after school to help Junior when his Trig class was giving him problems. I didn’t know you were….well hello, little missy.”

  “Nice to see you again,” Angela said, breaking the awkward moment, “Would you like to stay for dinner? Get you a beer?”

  “Uh…beer, if it’s not a hassle?”

  “I got it,” Amber said and took off.

  “So uh…I take it Junior is Matt?” Steve asked.

  “Yeah. Wow, talk about a small world. I didn’t know.…this is too weird,” he concluded.

  “I’m lost here,” Steve admitted.

  “Matt is her guy friend,” Angela told her husband.

  Steve was getting close to understanding when Matthew smacked his forehead in a comical expression.

  “I see your daughter once or twice a week. She never drives the Jeep over. I didn’t know she was yours…the jeep…this is…wow. That HOA meeting is such a crock of shit. I didn’t know your daughter was Amber. I knew your wife looked familiar, but I always see you at the meetings. I didn’t put two and two—”

  “It’s ok, man,” Steve said putting a hand up.

  The conversation stopped when Amy came running out and jumped, wrapping her arms around Matthew’s waist.

  “There you are, little bug!” Matthew said.

  Steve turned to his wife, his eyebrows raised. She winked at him and started humming the twilight zone theme song, and they laughed. Steve realized how much of life with his family he was missing out on by being gone all the time.

  “Hi Mr. Fitz, I haven’t seen you in forever and ever and ever,” Amy said in a breathless voice as she let him go and pulled a chair out next to her dad.

  “She used to come over with Amber. It’s how I knew the kids weren’t up to monkey business,” he said. “Hey little one, you married the preacher’s boy yet?”

  “His heart’s been stolen away,” she said dramatically and turned to watch as Amber walked out with four beers.

  She set them down on the table in front of the men and turned to her mom. “Want me to grab you a glass of wine?”

  “Look at you, miss helpful. What are you up to?” Angela whispered into her ear.r />
  “Would it be ok if Matt and Mr. Fitzpatrick stay for dinner? I could cut and wash more salad, and I’ll eat hot dogs instead of burgers?”

  “If she’s having hotdogs, I want hot dogs!” Amy said excitedly.

  “Heathens,” Angela said to her daughter. “Yes to wine, yes if Mr. Fitzpatrick would like to stay for dinner, and yes to hot dogs,” she said to Amy.

  Amber disappeared again, and Steve turned to Amy.

  “Who’s stolen Joseph’s heart now?” he asked.

  “My sister,” Amy said giving them a pouty, dejected look.

  It was overdone, and when Matthew chuckled, she smiled.

  “Besides, my daddy won’t let me get married till I’m a grown up and forty-five years old.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Matthew said and took a beer and gave it a long pull from the bottle, “I’ll stay, if it’s no problem,” he said, “Amber is always bragging on your cooking, ma’am.”

  Angela smiled, pleased at that. Amber walked back out with a wine glass, bottle, and cork puller.

  “Would you give my son a call?” Matthew asked her. “Tell him where to come on over?”

  “Oh, he knows where I live,” she said turning bright red, but she sat down at the end of the table.

  “I feel like there’s a secret life going on while I’m away at work sometimes,” Steve admitted.

  “Me too,” Matthew said. “It’s been me and Matty alone for a few years now. He’s old enough to stick around the house if I have to work late, but I always worry about him.”

  “Divorced?” Steve asked.

  “Widowed,” Matthew told him and took a long drink.

  “Sorry,” Steve said softly, standing up to grab the platter full of meat.

  “No worries,” Matthew told him. “It’s been a while, and we knew it was coming.”

  “Still.”

  He waved him off, “Need a hand?” he asked after a moment.

  “Naw, just going to grill these up. How you like yours?”

  Matt had stopped by a little bit after Dwight stopped over and the seven of them ate and talked. Angela was horrified by what her husband had done, now that she knew the reason his boots were near the back fence and he’d taken the hose to his old pair of blue jeans. They all talked about the HOA, the committee, and what felt to the Taylors and Abbott like the never-ending harassment. Both Amber and Matt kept Amy entertained, but when she rubbed her eyes and told them she was done, they both sat at the picnic table that sat off the patio on the grass alone.

  Dwight and Matthew got to talking, and, for a time, they both talked about being widowers and how hard it was raising kids. Steve and Angela just sat and listened for that part, seeing another new friendship form right in front of them.

  “What do you think about this Chinese thing?” Steve asked Matthew while the teenagers pretended to be invisible, not ten feet away.

  “It’s already a shooting match. I figure they built those islands to put bases and missiles on them. To make a claim they own all the land around the Philippines. Probably won’t be long till Taiwan gets pulled in. Could get ugly, or they might back down.”

  I don’t know,” Angela said. “I don’t love everything the new president is doing, but I do love that he took a hard line with China. They’ve been bullying everyone but us around for a while now.”

  “Yeah, all thanks to the former pres., the apologist in chief…Ooops,” Matthew said putting his beer down, “beers and politics aren’t the best of mixture.”

  “No more than clean carpets and pig shit,” Dwight said.

  Matt laughed at that and Amber looked at Dwight with a smirk. What her dad couldn’t get away with, her mom would never dare correct the cranky farmer, but she knew it was burning her mom up inside. She had to bite her cheek.

  “That was funny, now that I know what was going on,” Matthew said. “Let’s just see if they try to get me voted off the council. I’ll probably know more next week.”

  “I wish I could have seen their faces, especially Doug’s,” Steve admitted.

  “What’s your history with him?” Matthew asked curiously.

  “I don’t like him,” Steve told him simply.

  “I’ll tell you, since my husband is liable to develop Tourette’s if he has to tell the story,” Angela said.

  “There she goes,” Steve said, snagging empty beer bottles. “Want another one?”

  “Sure. Just one more, though. I have to walk home tonight, but I might just roll home after the food and company,” he said with a grin.

  “Yeah, I want to hear this one, and get me one too while yer up!” Dwight told him.

  Steve nodded and headed in.

  “It was the day we were moving in. The company Steve works for hired a moving service to bring us down from Ohio. We drove down and were half a day ahead of the moving trucks, so we stayed in Atlanta for a day while they unloaded the truck into the garage and put the bulk of the furniture in the rooms. Doug and his wife came down, being all nosey, wondering who the new neighbors were and then started complaining that the truck had run over some flowers they’d planted in the median when they had to back up.”

  “This is over some flowers?” Matthew asked, taking a beer from Steve as he came back out with three in his hand.

  “It’s not just the flowers,” Steve said walking over and handing a beer to Dwight before plopping in his own chair. “He pissed off the movers. We had to cut our trip short to get back there. They called the cops on the moving company and then threatened to call immigration on the guys.”

  “Hispanic?” Matthew asked.

  “Yeah, came from somewhere else…like five generations ago. Anyways, the manager was pissed at us for not being there to deal with Doug. We got stuck in traffic, and by the time I got there, the cops had shown up.”

  “The funny thing is,” Angela picked up where her husband left off, “when the cops looked at the tire tracks that went over the flower bed, they were too small to have been a semi-trailer.”

  “What’s even funnier, Doug started insisting that they fine the moving company for blocking the flow of traffic.”

  “You live in a dead end cul de sac,” Matthew said, chuckling.

  “And they don’t live on this road. Yeah, I know.” Steve said and took a long pull from his beer, “It’s lunacy. I guess Professor Toodles is friends with the neighbors and both had a conniption when they saw my gun case being moved inside. Granted, my guns weren’t in the safe, they were packed in locked cases. But OH NO, GUNS!”

  “This is the south. We clutch to our bible, our guns, and glory, don’t cha remember that? Obama thought—”

  “And now we’re back to politics,” Amber said, making Matt snicker.

  Dwight stuck his tongue out at her, and she busted up.

  “And I’m the one who’s been drinking,” Steve said and upended his bottle, killing it.

  “Anyways, the Wilson’s next door complained about that at the first meeting: the guns,” Angela said.

  “I remember that, it was right before I was voted on as treasurer,” Matthew said. “Hey, who’s that?” He pointed with his bottle.

  Steve and Angela looked up to where he was pointing and they saw a face in the window of the Wilson’s upstairs. It was gone with a swish of the curtains.

  “That’s Billy, he’s the local creeper,” Amber said.

  “Shhh,” Angela shushed. “They might hear you.”

  “Well, it’s not like he’s stopped being creepy and watching us all the time.”

  “What’s he do, anyway?” Steve asked his daughter.

  “I don’t know. He’s old, but still lives with his parents. Lame,” Amber finished.

  “I think he’s nineteen,” Angela said.

  “He talks like he’s a west coast surfer,” Steve told him. “I think he plays video games and makes YouTube videos or something. Matt, you ever run across him at school when he was there?”

  Matt sat up straight, and in th
e twilight of evening, he turned a little red as he realized that he’d have to talk to Amber’s dad—something he’d been avoiding all night.

  “He was quiet. They had lived in another city before they moved here, so I’ve only known of him. He was two grades ahead of me. We uh…older kids at school don’t normally hang out with freshmen and sophomores.”

  “Unless it’s you and me,” Amber said sweetly and took his hand.

  Matt’s head looked like it was about to explode and he quickly pulled his hand away as Matthew and Steve cracked up, only making it worse. Matt was a senior now.

  “Any creeper stories?” Angela asked.

  “Not really, just that he was quiet,” Matt said, trying not to meet Steve’s gaze.

  In truth, Steve knew his daughter was playing a game. It wasn’t father versus her guy friend she liked, but more like she was playing everyone at once. She was gauging Matt’s interest in her and checking to see if her dad was going to pull out guns and blow him away.

  “I wish we could have a fire pit,” Amber said, suddenly changing the subject.

  “We can!” Dwight said standing up quickly, almost coming back down as he wobbled from his four beers.

  “How?” Steve asked.

  “Well, you got yourself a gate that opens up so you can come visit me now. Drag a hose out back and we’ll dig you a mighty fine fire pit using the front loader on my little tractor. I bet that’ll piss ‘em off.”

  Angela burst into feminine giggles, and then covered her mouth as if to hold them in.

  “Maybe once in a while, I have a feeling we won’t be needing any more trouble,” Steve told him.

  “Up to you, my friend.”

  “Mom,” Amy said walking outside, “I want to watch Deadpool, we have it on demand—”

  “No,” Both parents chorused as one.

  Dwight grinned. “Young miss, can I beg a favor from you?”

  Amber turned to him and grinned. “Sure thing, Uncle Dewey.”

  “I’m about ready to head in, but I think I might have had one too many,” Dwight said and then downed the rest of his bottle and benched into a closed fist. “Nope, now I’ve had too much.”