“Alright,” I said, overly loudly. “If you’re still here, and you’re still looking for trouble I’m—”
Mid-sentence I whirled, spinning into the room. Looking quickly in every direction at once, I held the baton that used to be a baseball bat out before me.
Nothing.
Carefully I checked my little bathroom, even drawing back the mildewed shower curtain where every serial killer in the world ever hid. Still nothing. The place was empty.
“Whew.”
My shoulders slumped in relief… and then I noticed it. It should’ve been obvious when I first came in, but I’d been preoccupied with other things. But now that I did see it? My heart sank.
“Awww…”
My bed was nothing but a box spring. My entire mattress was gone.
“MotherFUCKER.”
Dropping the baton I made my way into the kitchen, wondering if I would call the police. The irony of the situation made me laugh bitterly, as I opened the fridge to at least salvage the night with a few beers.
Only my beers were gone too.
I threw my head to the flaking ceiling and laughed.
“Perfect.”
I’d only had a six-pack, but at least it was my six-pack. And now it was someone else’s. Someone presumably enjoying it from the comfort of my own mattress, snuggled up beneath thirty-dollars’ worth of Walmart bedding.
What else did they take?
I glanced into the tiny living area to see my television was still there. Only it was cracked now, the frame broken. Someone had apparently destroyed it while trying to pull it off the wall.
“It’s a removable mount, jackass,” I sighed to no one in particular. “You pull the string behind it and lift. It’s not rocket science. It’s not like—”
CLINK.
A noise from over my shoulder caused me to whirl in panic. I spun around, gripping my weapon. Ready to defend the very last of my worldly possessions — the coffee maker maybe, if it was still there — while willing myself to feel anymore more than apathy and defeat.
Instead I saw the broken window, shattered inward. A ‘lakeside’ breeze had blown my threadbare curtains against the jagged glass, causing another shard to drop.
“Straw?” I laughed, and my laughter seemed almost maniacal. Rather than echo through the empty room, the swollen walls seemed to absorb the sound. “Meet camel’s back.”
Fishing my keys from my pocket, I left without even turning off the lights.
Three
BRYCE
“So uh… remember when you guys offered me the option of staying on the worksite?”
Karissa stretched her long arms, arching her slender back. As always she looked absolutely stunning; her bright, beautiful face framed by acres of shining blonde hair.
But it was her last sentence that sent a shiver of excitement bolting through me.
“Wait, what?”
“When you first hired me,” she reiterated, “all those months ago. You guys asked if I wanted to stay here. You said it would be a lot more convenient than driving back and forth, and it turns out you were right.”
Camden and I exchanged hopeful looks across the large, unfinished kitchen. Even Roderick, leaning against one of the framed-out countertops, raised an eyebrow.
“If the offer still stands, I’d like to—”
“Hell yeah it stands,” I jumped in. “You’re welcome to any of the rooms that you like. The finished ones anyway.”
I saw her pretty mouth break into a half-smile, as her gaze swung toward Camden. He set down his coffee and nodded.
“It would be great to have you here,” he said. “Another pair of eyes on the place.”
“That’s it, huh?” she chuckled. “Another pair of… eyes?”
I shrugged. “Well that, plus we can use the company. Since we moved back into the west wing, things have been kind of quiet.”
“And lonely,” Camden added.
“And lame,” I tagged on with a wink.
“Yeah, well it would just be temporary,” Karissa went on. “You know, until I found a new place.”
“What’s wrong with your old place?” asked Roderick.
He was still off to the side, still leaning at an angle as he looked back at us over the rim of his coffee mug. His eyes weren’t soft, or welcoming, and they certainly weren’t filled with excitement. Suddenly I got the impression he might blow the whole thing for us.
“Are you retracting your offer?” Karissa asked boldly.
“I never made an offer to begin with,” said Roderick. “That was Beavis and Butthead, here.”
He blew across the surface of his coffee and took another sip. The expression on his face was so smug I wanted to smack him.
“Alright,” Karissa shrugged. “No biggie. If you have a problem with me staying here, I can always—”
“I never said that either.”
“Said what?”
“That I have a problem with it.”
Karissa’s mouth had gone tight during their exchange. Now however, she let it curl back into a sly smile. “Oh. I see.”
“See what?” asked Roderick.
“You’re the one who likes to play games.”
He raised both eyebrows this time. “Games?”
“Yeah,” she continued. “The sarcasm game. Or maybe fun with semantics.” Kicking up both of her long, beautiful legs, she crossed her boots on the opposite chair.
“How exactly am I playing games?”
“Well either you want me to stay here or you don’t,” Karissa went on. “The others have already decided, but not you. You like to walk the middle road. If things work out, you never really opposed them. But if shit happens to go sideways, you get to play the ‘I told you so’ game. Either way, you win.”
“Maybe I just like to win,” Roderick shrugged.
“I’ll bet,” she said, eyeing him over. “Still, when it boils down to it? The ‘I told you so’ game is your favorite game of all.”
My mouth was already open in disbelief. I didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or cheer her on. It occurred to me I should probably do both.
“Am I right?” Karissa asked. “You can say it. We’re all friends here, so it’s not like you’re gonna hurt my feelings or—”
“Lawyer.”
Roderick’s answer was more of a question, really. It came with the squint of his two brown eyes.
“That your guess for the week?” Karissa asked, amused.
“It is.”
“Well then
