The Line That Binds (6 page)

Gavin snagged a piece of pizza as soon as the box hit the counter. “Thanks,” he said, ignoring Dad’s latest moving-away-from-the-desert quip.

“No problem,” Dad replied with some deflation before he turned to me. “Don’t worry,” he added when he caught me staring down the pizza box like it was a human head instead of dinner. “I’m going out tomorrow to check up on some online job ads so I’ll go to the store and get everything we need before I come back.” His brow creased at my silence. “If you don’t trust me, make me a list.”

Trust you?
Right. I should trust you. Just like I trusted you to save our house? Or trusted you to protect the savings accounts from your lovely drug-addicted wife?
“I’ll make a list.”

I ignored his frown as I moved around him to get to the refrigerator. I didn’t really need to do an inventory. Everything we had was small enough to fit into the crammed car with us. It basically amounted to a box of cereal, a cooler of drinks, some chips, and trail mix. I usually shopped for the house so I knew he’d have his hands full tomorrow. Even though I’d love to see him stumble around while he searched for all the items on my list, I was sure he’d have no trouble navigating the small-town grocery store.

I grabbed a pen and paper from inside a drawer and started the list, thinking about the things we needed versus the things we’d love to have but could no longer afford. At least he was searching for a job right away. Well, of course he was. That’s all he knew. Even if we had the money for him to stay home, he’d search for a job anyway. Before he lost his all-mighty six-figure entertainment management position at The Illusion Hotel/Casino, he was never home. He was foreign to us. Being around him all of the time now was brand new, like a new person entered our family … a new person that couldn’t wait to get back to work to get away from us.

“Didn’t you talk to that Simone lady about working over at the event house?” I asked while turning the corner into the mud room, checking for additional cleaning supplies. Going by what I’d used from the upstairs storage closet, I’d need more soon. I planned to flip the house on its roof and shake it out tomorrow. Then I’d bleach it all, twice over.

“Oh, yes. I had quite a chat with Simone.” Dad’s voice was snippy.

I traveled back into the kitchen and leaned against the countertop near to the sink while he finished chewing a bite of pizza.

“She’s a piece of work. I tried to negotiate with her, but she wouldn’t entertain my ideas at all. She didn’t even offer me a part-time position. I don’t think she likes me much,” he said then took another bite of pizza and flipped though the local newspaper’s want ads.

“I doubt it’s just you,” I replied, staring at the well painting perched behind the square dining table. I stepped over to the painting─numbered twenty-four─pulled it off the wall then looked at the groundskeeper’s house through the double window. “I’m guessing no one really expected, or wanted us to move here.” Benjamin’s mannerisms were an indication of that, too. He was offish, but I was also naked so that could’ve had something to do with it.

“I suppose not,” Dad said, rubbing his hands together to rid them of pizza crumbs, effectively spreading the crumbs all over the counter I’d be cleaning tomorrow. “But I explained our situation to her when I arranged for us to move in. Even if she doesn’t like us being here, she didn’t have to be so discourteous. She didn’t even offer a tour. I had to troll around myself, after she basically kicked me out of her office over there in the event house, or whatever they call it.”

He was bothered by the whole ordeal. I’d watched him during all the low points─Mom’s addictions, Mom leaving, losing his job, losing the house─and usually he kept his feelings to himself, quietly wallowing in a cesspool of misery separate from the one Gavin and I struggled in alone. Either everything was wearing him down or he was opening up to us. If it was strictly the latter, the attempt was a little late. He should’ve opened up when we needed him the most, not now when he happened to be stuck sharing the same airspace with no job to run away to.

I grabbed a dish towel from the sink and wiped the counter in front of him, irritated by his lack of concern and emotion for the mess he’d created, both in life and with pizza. He lifted his arms and closed his green eyes in a squint, silently questioning me. I ignored him again and wiped up the rest of the counter.
One less thing to clean tomorrow.

“The event house is cool, Lila. You gotta go check it out,” Gavin said, without tearing his eyes off the game. “It has a huge ballroom and a big kitchen. One of the employees was spying on me so I couldn’t really explore anything else. I’m sure it’s got some more creepy crap just like this place.”

“Did you find the well?” I asked him, finally taking a slice of the pizza. I leaned against the sink and stared at the painting behind the dining table while I chewed. Its gray tones were weirdly captivating like all of the others, blending together in a way that made the painting hazy and surreal. The brush strokes of the surrounding trees were long and fluid, swirling around the well like invitations to peer inside. Thoroughly depressing invitations. I wondered if Aunt Janine had painted them or if she’d bought them all from some hack who took advantage of her illness.

“Nope,” Gavin replied before he stuffed the remainder of his pizza slice into his mouth.

“There’s a well?” Dad asked. He was partially paying attention to our conversation as he circled some ads inside of the local paper.

“There
has
to be one on this property,” I replied in a snarky tone.

He glanced up toward the painting and smiled. “Yes, you’d think there was. It does seem very odd to have all of the paintings without an actual well. Lucky for you, you’ll get to explore outside more on Monday.”

I turned to look at him. “What does that mean?”

He straightened up in his chair. “Well, Simone denied me a job, but she said you are to start working on Monday.”

“She denied you a job, but she gave me one?” I repeated, somewhat confused.

“Yes. I don’t think she has a choice about your employment since you’ll own this place soon enough. It’d be a major error on her part not to show you the ropes first. She does get to choose where you start, though.”

“And where’s that?” I asked, my mind already curious about the woman who had my father, the once assured and pompous casino entertainment manager, irritated.

“She said that any new owner would benefit greatly by learning the basics of the property, which means that you will start at an entry-level groundskeeper position after school on Monday.”

“Of course,” I said, shaking my head. I could schedule, prioritize, and possibly book events using minimal brain cells, yet I get to go outside and mow the grass and plant some flowers, things I’d never done before.

Gavin laughed toward the screen of his game, but I knew the hack-’em-up game he was playing wasn’t a comedy. “Lila’s gotta get her hands dirty,” he mumbled ever so softly.

“I’m sure they have some work gloves,” Dad reassured me with a hesitant smile.

They both knew I leaned toward the obsessive/compulsive whenever cleanliness and order were involved. This would be a new concept, though. I’d never worked outdoors. That was one of the perks of living in a golf club community; they did all of the yard maintenance.

“Sounds fine,” I said to shut them both up.
At least I’ll have a job.

Harper seized my dreams last night. She twisted into every fiber of my brain, and I woke with the clearest image I’d had of her in a long time. Three years had passed in a quick blink, stealing most of my thoughts of her along the way. The few physical pictures I had of her had already changed my mind’s depiction, replacing most of the candid memories with a few generic images. I was losing her, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But after some dreams, she’d come back for a while, visiting like she’d never left, canceling the stale pictures and recalling a lost reality. This morning, I could almost smell her coconut shampoo, taste her cherry lip balm, and feel the heat from her face, radiating so much life whenever her lips were pressed to mine.

I rolled out of bed and raked my hands over my face. The dream left my head spinning, as they usually did, bringing back all of the good as well as everything I’d rather forget. It drained me then forced me to stare into the pile of shit that had taken the place of my heart. I was relieved it was Sunday so I didn’t have to face the first day of school like this. Not that my investment in school took much effort, but I did favor having a clear head while I coasted through the motions.

Morning light bled through the navy blue sheet tacked above my bedroom window, tinting the room with an under-the-sea glow, though I’d rather it portray the darkest depths of the ocean by fully blocking out the rays instead. One of these days I’d actually invest in some black-out curtains so I could sleep until noon whenever the hell I wanted.

I grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of work jeans from the closet, kicked yesterday’s dirty clothes into the laundry pile while I dressed, then picked up the empty beer bottles I’d used as a sedative last night and tossed them in the trash. The house was perfectly silent when I left the bedroom. Days were continuously filled with movement, and at night the old house settled, but in the mornings everything was at rest. That particular silence was the only benefit to being up this early, especially on Sundays. Stockton Estate reset Sunday mornings, jumping back to its simple beginnings.

No movement came from Pop’s room so I started a pot of coffee for him and blended my morning protein shake, realizing that tomorrow I’d finally have my wire removed and I’d be able to chew greasy burgers again soon. I leaned against the counter, staring through the window above the sink as I took a long pull of breakfast through a straw. The main house was all dark, shadowed by the rising sun as it climbed the roof above the house’s southern wall. LJ’s windows reflected the pale morning sky and I wondered if she was awake somewhere behind them. Our official introduction yesterday wasn’t exactly the way I’d planned. Who was I kidding? I hadn’t really planned on an introduction at all. My plan was to ignore that family for as long as I could, but Pop changed all that.

LJ surprised me, though. I was ready for her to scream at me for showing up like some wacko in her bathroom while she sat naked in a tub full of bubbles. But she didn’t. That’s why I stayed. Her behavior hit me with enough curiosity to keep me from walking out. My accidental intrusion did rattle her, though, and her fierce green eyes searched me more than they had at Janine’s will reading, yet she seemed as curious as I was. When she got testy, I tested back. It was a risk I was willing to take because honestly I wasn’t sure what else to do.

The only thing I was sure of was Stockton Estate. This was home, and that was my main concern. So, I would try to be her friend, as Pop instructed, but on my own terms. Protecting her from some curse and finding the reason Janine brought them here would take backseats to ensuring none of the employees got canned for any evil reason a haughty new owner could come up with. I’d be damned if I’d let her inherit this place and rip our family apart in order to fill her closets with more designer clothes.

Pop was still MIA when I finished my liquid breakfast so I walked outside to check the grounds. Technically, I was usually off on weekends, though living here meant Pop and I were constantly on call. I never minded because I didn’t have much else going on. And the extra pay never hurt.

The sun crested the eastern tree line when I stepped outside. Its rays were growing stronger, penetrating the fog that hovered over the damp grass. I pressed my fingers into the wet soil between the multi-colored lilies in the side garden. I was confident yesterday’s PVC repair worked even though I wouldn’t be positive until the ground dried from last night’s rain.

I walked around to the front of the event house as Simone’s black sedan turned into the main driveway and around to the employee parking lot. A minute later, Simone turned the corner of the building with her leather satchel tucked under an arm. The pinstripe pants she wore this morning hid the stilt-like platform heels she normally sported in order to fake an average height. Without them, she was less than five feet. Her height and thin build, combined with her choppy brown hair, caused her to be mistaken for a little boy the year she started as manager. Another employee came up from behind her and didn’t recognize her in casual clothes. He accused her “little punk ass” of trespassing. When she turned around, he transformed into a blathering mess and crumbled under the assault from her domineering mouth.

I was there, and made the mistake of laughing.

She threatened to end my paid chores and slapped me with an extra critical evaluation of my work. I spent the next three days perfecting my mowing skills. At ten years old, I felt her critical eye was too harsh. So the following week, I mowed the shape of a middle finger outside of her office window, which Pop ordered me to fix the next day. Since then we’d shared an unspoken truce: I mowed without patterns and she left me alone. I think Janine might’ve had something to do with Simone’s side of it. Simone also skipped wearing casual clothes around Stockton Estate, and had been strutting heels every workday for the last seven years.