Author: CJ Birch
Category: Other
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“How much?” She removed her towel and bent over to towel-dry her hair.
“What?” He tried to laugh, but it fell flat.
Robin snapped up, her hair hitting her back with a loud slap. “Cut the shit, Jason. How much do you owe this time?”
“I don’t owe anything, I swear.” More crunching, then silence as he slurped something from a straw. “I just need a wee favor from the bestest big sister in the world.”
She sighed, but didn’t answer. This was classic Jason. Every couple of months he would come crawling to her for something. Money, a place to stay, a job. Anything he could mooch off her. He was a sweet kid and she loved him. In fact, he was probably the only person she’d ever loved. But he came with a large price tag, and one of these days she knew she wasn’t going to be able to afford it.
“I need you to put in a good word for me with Jamie’s crew.”
She closed her eyes. This would not end well. She could already see it. Her job sometimes led her to run in circles with the less savory denizens of Chicago. She had a reputation for being honest but ruthless, which led people to give her a certain amount of respect.
She grabbed her moisturizer and unscrewed the cap. “Why should I do that?” She scooped up a few fingers’ worth of cream and began applying it on her face, making sure to always stroke upward.
“I heard they have the inside—”
“I don’t want to hear it. I’m not going to help you get in with them. They’re dangerous. If you fuck up, they will kill you.”
“Who says I’m going to fuck up?”
“Jason, I’m serious.”
“So am I. I’m sick of being treated like the fuckup in this family. Why can’t you for once trust me? Huh? Why do you always got to assume I’m going to mess up?”
Because you always do. But she didn’t voice that thought. She sighed. What she was sick of the most was how easily she capitulated. She always gave in because it was easier than arguing.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll talk to Brian and see if Jamie is looking to add to his crew. But this is it. This is the last favor I ever do for you. Got it? And I want you to be care—”
“Thanks, sis.” He hung up before she could finish.
“Goddamnit.” He’d reeled her in again. She’d like to think of it as the one skill her brother had. But in truth, he got his way because she was a pushover.
* * *
The house was still as Elle entered. It had a stuffy feeling, like breathing air trapped in a box all day. The fridge kicked on, humming a low monotonous tone. She grabbed a beer on her way through the kitchen, slid the screen door open, and stepped out onto the back porch. She went to the edge, which overhung the ravine, and leaned over.
Years ago, when her parents had first built the deck, the trees hadn’t been so high and you could see all the way to Nelly’s ravine. Now you could barely see the edge of their property.
She popped the lid and threw the cap into a long-dead fern behind her. The first half was gone before she’d even had a chance to loosen her tie.
“Worst. Day. Ever.” She made a silent promise to herself to keep it together until the funeral. There were too many things to deal with before she could take the time to mourn a dead ex-boyfriend. She leaned her head back. The first star of the night blinked in the spreading indigo sky.
Back when she and Jessie were in high school, they used to sit out here all night watching the stars. If there’s one thing Turlough was good for, it was stargazing.
She could see him now, lying on one of the lounge chairs, tanned from a summer of playing shirtless football, one foot looped over the side, the other resting on Elle’s lounge.
“Will you still love me when I go off to college in the fall?” he’d asked.
He asked that a lot so she gave her standard response whenever she didn’t want to think about her answer. “Of course. Why would you even ask that?”
He shrugged. “Shit, I don’t know. Maybe some other guy will come along and one thing leads to another, you’re lonely, he’s hot.”
“You going off to college isn’t going to change anything. We’ll still talk on the phone. It’s not like you’re leaving for the whole year.”
He rolled over on his stomach and grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. “But what if I get lonely? Is it okay if I hook up with a hot football player?”
She laughed and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. Also a standard response.
He’d been a lot of firsts for her. The first boy she’d ever dated. The first boy she’d ever kissed. The first boy she’d ever slept with and a million other firsts that were important in those early years of discovery.
They’d met in detention Elle’s first day of high school. She’d shown up fifteen minutes early, thinking it would buy her points. She’d sat by herself in the empty classroom for the first thirteen minutes, worried she’d mixed up the classrooms. Then he strutted in, all swagger, dropped his backpack on the ground, and took the seat next to her. She’d gotten a whiff of outside and cigarettes and the fruity fragrance from the Jolly Rancher he was sucking on. She’d noticed him earlier in the hallway arguing with one of the science teachers. He didn’t think it fair that he’d been kicked out of class for showing up ten minutes late.
“What’re you in for?” he asked Elle, his stare intent like he was trying to memorize every part of her face, skin, and hair.
She shrugged, blushing. His smile got even brighter, which just made her blush deeper.
He leaned back, cupping his head in his hands, propping his feet on the desk, his eyes never leaving Elle’s face. “Well, if you’re wondering what I’m doing here, I told Withers he’d probably get more chicks if he kept his head up his ass instead of leaving it on his neck.”
Elle laughed. “The guy’s a serious dick.”
If possible, his smile got bigger at the sound of her laugh. “No kidding.”
Jessie stuck his hand out. “I’m Jessie.”
Elle paused, looking at it, surprised at how formal he was. But she took his hand and said, “I’m Elle.” It was warm and smooth. He had long, strong fingers that curled around her hand as if they’d taken possession of it.
“No talking. And get your feet off the desk.” They both turned to see the science teacher Jessie had been fighting with earlier march up the aisle to the front of the classroom.
“What’re you doing later? Want to come to the Maverty house? A bunch of us are meeting up later,” Jessie whispered. Elle nodded, feeling a warmth of acceptance spread from the pit of her stomach to her fingertips. And that was it. That was all it had taken for Jessie Forrester to woo Elle Ashley. The truth was, she’d liked him because he liked her. He was the first boy to ever notice her, and at fourteen, that was everything.
Elle downed the last of her beer, thoughts of a shower pushing everything else out. When she stepped back into the house, EJ was standing in the kitchen, rooting through one of the cupboards. He glanced at her as if she were a potted plant. He began arranging a large bowl and jug of milk on the counter. Elle had almost passed him when he spoke.
“So thanks to you, I’m not graduating.” He shook a giant box of Cap’n Crunch over the bowl.
Elle sighed. “I’m going to have a shower first, then we can have a go.”
EJ slammed the milk jug down. Silky liquid arched through the spout and splashed onto the counter. “You had no right to butt in!”
“I’m sick of cleaning up your crap, EJ. I was told you wouldn’t graduate if you missed any more school. You had no choice but to take detention.” She yanked her tie over her head, threw it onto the nearest chair, and strode into the cramped kitchen, matching EJ’s defiant stare.
“But I’m not graduating.” He shoved the jug back in the fridge. “I’m stuck in summer school.”
“And that’s my fault?” Elle pushed a cloth from the sink into EJ’s hand. “Put your big girl panties on and take some goddamned responsibility for your actions. Why
were you even breaking into Randy Pritchard’s trunk in the first place? Stealing? You’re better than that.”
“We weren’t stealing. We were just getting back what was ours. Dan’s. Randy stole Dan’s pump from the party. We were just looking for it. That’s all. Like I’d want to steal moldy jock straps.”
“Did you find it?”
The heat and effort of scrubbing graffiti off the walls had melded EJ’s shirt to his torso. His mop of hair hung limp, framing the scowl on his face in a red wreath. Nearly a half foot shorter, Elle glared up at him, the flush in her face matching his.
“Well?”
He shook his head. “Must have stashed it somewhere else.”
“And that justifies breaking into someone’s vehicle?”
“Mr. Withers totally overreacted. He hates me. And that’s your fault. Why’d you have to be such a bitch in high school?” He threw the cloth back at her and stomped off to his room. The dishes sitting in the dish rack smacked together as he slammed his door shut. Within seconds, the heavy metal sounds of Slayer were screaming through the house.
Elle didn’t even debate it. She ripped his door open and slammed her foot down on the power bar connected to his computer. The silence was absolute. A voluminous void. They stared at each other, panting like two bellows trying to stoke the same fire from different angles.
When Elle’s breathing settled she said, “Where is all this anger coming from? You need to sit down and seriously think about why you’re not graduating. And it has nothing to do with how Mr. Withers feels about me.” She sank onto EJ’s rumpled bed. EJ’s room, with its curtains drawn and dank smells, resembled a cramped cave. The dust on the hardwood floor had recruited hair and formed armies. “He’s a bitter, bitter man and his dislike of you has nothing to do with me. He hates us because of Dad.” There was a mug on EJ’s nightstand with mold so old the spoors had elected their first mayor. From the walls, the demented masks of Slipknot stared back.
“Dad? What did Dad do?”
Elle grabbed hold of EJ’s arm and pulled him onto the bed beside her. Sitting, she still had to look up at him. He waited, skeptical.
“My first day of high school he walked up to me and said, ‘So you’re the oldest Ashley spawn.’ And gave me detention.”
“What for?”
“He said I was dressed like a ‘loose woman.’”
“Were you?”
She shrugged. “Probably not on my very first day. It doesn’t matter, though. He had it out for us the moment we entered that school. I was valedictorian, but the guy treated me like I cheated on every exam.”
EJ kicked a discarded shirt across the floor to lie within the boundaries of his hamper. “But why? What did Dad do that made him hate us so bad?”
“Dad beat Withers out of the school superintendent job. What can I say? The guy can hold a grudge.” The corner of her mouth curled into a smirk.
“Then how come he didn’t get the job when Dad died?”
“Because there was a better candidate. And I’m sure he was rotten to Mr. Buchannon’s kids too.”
EJ glared at Elle. His eyes darkened. “Well, you sure didn’t help matters.” He shot off the bed and opened the door wider. “Get out.”
Elle stood and moved to the door. Before leaving, she turned to EJ. “You sure as shit aren’t helping by hanging around with Dan. It’s like he came along and you sank to his level, which I can tell you isn’t very high.”
“Whatever.” He slammed the door. It hit Elle in the shoulder and bounced back. He pushed with all his strength until he heard the latch catch. He flopped back onto his bed. He clasped his hands behind his head, glaring at the stains on his ceiling. Ten minutes later he heard the shower in the hall spring to life.
Neither one had wanted to take over their parents’ room. It sat like a museum, untouched, leaving EJ and Elle to share the only other bathroom in the house.
As he dozed, EJ heard two loud raps at his window. He sat up, confused, just as Dan pulled himself up and through the window.
“Doesn’t your sister ever complain about your room?” Dan eased himself off the ledge.
EJ shrugged. “How can she? Hers is almost as bad. What was wrong with the front door?”
Dan plopped himself down on EJ’s desk chair, the only surface not overflowing with clothes. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you sanitize your hands before entering.” The other night wasn’t the first time Dan had ridden in the back of the sheriff’s cruiser.
EJ fell back onto his bed, pushing the twisted sheets aside. “That’s just for show. Can we talk about something besides my sister?”
Dan swiveled in the chair, his excitement practically gushing from him. “Did you hear what happened today?”
EJ shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood to talk. But Dan couldn’t contain himself. He was practically bouncing on the chair. As Dan told him about the body the sheriff’s office had found earlier that day, EJ passed from excitement to dread. His eyes instinctively went to the bathroom where they could still hear the shower going. That explained the beer. He propped himself up on his bed.
“Who was it?”
Dan shrugged. “I don’t know. Heard my parents talking about it. Said it was some football stud from back in the day. Won a scholarship to Georgia Tech.”
And like that, EJ’s mood shifted from dread to guilt. “They didn’t say a name or anything?”
“No. Come on, let’s go check it out. They probably still have the tape up.”
“Was he a local? Did they say if he lived near here?”
Dan deflated a little at the lack of enthusiasm his news had spurred. “Fuck, man, what’s your problem? He wasn’t a local, they said he lived in Chicago.” He nudged EJ in the arm, but EJ wasn’t paying attention anymore. All his focus was on the sound of the shower running in the next room.
He hadn’t been very old when they broke up, but they’d been dating for as long as EJ could remember. It was Jessie who’d always stuck up for him, against bullies, his parents, Elle. It was like having an older caring brother for a while. Jessie had even come back for the funeral. He tried reconciling with Elle after the accident, but she shut him out. Her anger and grief were absolute. He sometimes wondered what had happened to make Elle hate Jessie so much. But he knew better than to ask. If she’d wanted anyone to know she would’ve said.
He wanted Dan to leave. To stop talking and laughing like this was some great thing. All he wanted right now was to shut the world out and curl up into his memories. The world was better and safer in the abstract of his own thoughts. But a tiny part of him wanted to crawl into Elle’s arms and have her tell him everything was going to be okay, even though he knew she didn’t believe that anymore. He didn’t either, really, but it would ease his guilt.
Chapter Eight
Elle heard the clinking of metal against metal as she approached the morgue located in the basement of the sheriff’s office. She dragged her feet, prolonging her progress. She willed the autopsy to be over and a sheet to be covering Jessie’s open body before she arrived.
A little after ten now, Elle’s day had started with the soft click of EJ leaving the house before seven. The stealth was more disruptive than if he’d slammed the door. A quick run hadn’t cleared her mind, nor had the scalding shower after.
Her first stop at the Collards’ B&B to square off against Sandy had brought a bubble of pressure to her chest, the unmistakable sign of her heartburn returning for another bout.
Elle pulled the cruiser up behind a blue Jetta. She spied Sandy, bent over her azaleas, or what was left of them, wiping perspiration from her brow. There were pink petals strewn across the dark mulch surrounding her hedges. Someone had ripped the plants out of the ground and left them to die. New plants in black plastic containers sat along the edge.
Elle sighed as she stepped out of her cruiser. She could hear the indignant huff all the way up the drive as Sandy, covered in earth from her garden, strode toward her, her t
rowel grasped like a knife.
“I hope you’ve come to do something about this.” She pointed to the mess behind her. “I came out yesterday morning to find my garden murdered.” To Sandy, her garden was her life. She mothered and pampered it the way some people did their children. Lacking kids of their own, Sandy and Travis Collard put all their energies into their bed-and-breakfast.
“I’ve actually come about your hedges. Mr. Rutherford was up to see me yesterday.” Elle shut the car door. She meant to keep the impatience out of her voice, but her sleepless night was losing the battle for her.
“That man’s nerve. My hedges are fine. I had them trimmed last week.” She ripped off her gloves, revealing pink nails to match her azaleas. “That man will find anything to complain about.”
“It gives him pleasure.” Elle nudged the cuff of her shirt to check the time without being obvious. Case began his autopsy at eight. She planned to catch him as he finished.
“Pleasure?” Sandy scowled. “What could possibly be pleasurable about complaining?” Behind her, towering above her three-story bed-and-breakfast, was the forest. The trees dappled the roof and parts of the yard with shade, and shook in the morning breeze.
Elle suppressed a smile. “It makes him feel useful.” She walked over to the garden and bent to inspect the destruction. There were a few footprints in the dirt, but they were small and thin, likely Sandy’s. Someone had definitely ripped the plants up on purpose. Most likely teenagers out for a night of what passed for fun in Turlough. She picked up one of the gnarled plants. It smelled of earthworms and deep soil, an ancient bouquet that reminded Elle of home and safety.
She threw the plant onto a pile and wiped her hands together, dislodging any dirt. “Stop by the office if you’d like to file an official complaint. I can’t promise we’ll be able to do much.” She stood, brushing her pants straight, glad to be wearing a fresh uniform. “I’ll put Stan on it. He can ask around. See if anyone saw something.”