The Real Werewives of Vampire County

Page 43

“I’ll think about it.” He stripped off his shirt. The dim light leaking through the open drapes skimmed over the swell of his shoulders, highlighting them while keeping his face masked in darkness. “That happens to be one of my faults, you know.”
“What is?”
“I hold grudges. For a long time.”
I figuratively stepped into his shoes. They weren’t very comfortable. “I guess I can’t blame you in this case. I don’t know how I’d react if you thought I’d killed someone.”
The sound of a zipper being opened—ziiiip—cut through the silence. The sloughing of material followed. And after that, a heavy male sigh. “Okay. I forgive you.” He dove onto the bed, landing next to me, the force of his landing sending me bouncing up into the air. A shrill little squeak burst from my mouth just as he caught me midair and wrestled me onto my back.
“That wasn’t such a long time,” I said, running my hands down the sides of his torso. His body was to-die-for beautiful. I couldn’t keep my hands off.
“I guess the definition of ‘long’ is relative. Now, how about we start over? You’ve just moved in and we’re both insanely happy ... and horny.”
“Oh yes, we are.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, and kissed him.
CHAPTER 5
The rolled-up flier, printed on neon green paper, was rubber-banded to our front door the next morning. I found it when I went out to check the mailbox.
Figuring it was an advertisement for lawn cutting, I shoved it in my pocket and continued my trek to the end of the driveway. Lindsay came stomping outside just as I was yanking open the mailbox. She let the huge cardboard box she was carrying fall to the ground. It landed with a dull rattle.
Intrigued, I waved, donned a cheery smile—which wasn’t such a hard thing to do after last night—and said, “Having a yard sale?”
It was Tuesday. The day after a holiday. The first day of school. Seemed like the most unlikely day to have a yard sale, but whatever.
“No. I’m not selling this stuff. I’m giving it away.” She nudged the box with her foot. “I’ve got some good things in here. Come on over and take a look.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “There’s more inside, too.”
In my book, free was another word for junk. But I was curious. “Okay.” I headed across the street and peered into the box while Lindsay headed into the house.
The carton was full of electronics. A Nikon digital camera and an Apple iPad were on top. They couldn’t work. Right? Nobody would give away something that nice. When Lindsay came staggering out with the second box, I held up the two items that had caught my eye. “What’s wrong with these?”
She grunted. “Not a thing.” She dropped the second box next to the first.
“Nothing? They work?”
“They’re practically new. Both have a factory warranty. I think we’ve had the camera for only three months.”
“Really?” My bullshit meter was screaming at full volume, but what did I have to lose by taking them? I tucked my new treasures into the crook of my arm and dug back into the box, in search of more goodies. “If they work, why are you giving them away?”
“Because I just found out the bastard is cheating on me.”
“Ohhhh.” Now, things were starting to make sense. I gently set the items back in the box. I wasn’t about to take something that wasn’t Lindsay’s to give away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She planted her hands on her hips and glared out at the street. “It’s better I found out now, rather than later. Sure wish I’d had the guts to do this sooner. The bastard’s been cheating on me for over two fucking years. Two years.” She dug the camera out and shoved it into my hands. “Take it. Please. He won’t give a damn. It’ll give him an excuse to go buy the latest and greatest model. After all, that’s what he likes to do best—trade up.” Then, to my surprise she snatched it back, set it in the box, and hauled the whole carton into her arms. Before I realized what she was doing, she shoved it into my arms. “As a matter of fact, take all this stuff. The camera’s cords and lenses and manual are in there. Same with the iPad’s accessories.”
“I can’t—”
“Sure you can.” She gave me a little push.
“No, really. I have a camera. And I don’t read much. I doubt I’ll have any use for the iPad... .” My voice trailed off.
Lindsay clapped her hands over her face.
While I stood there holding the box, trying to think of what to say, she was slowly sinking. Not because she was standing in quicksand or anything, but because she’d gone semi-boneless and was crumpling to the ground. Some strange sound—a ... burble?—came from behind her hands.
Shit, she was crying.
If there was anything I couldn’t handle, it was the sight of a grown adult crying.
“Okay,” I said, “if it means that much to you, I’ll take the stuff.”
She didn’t stop crying.
I bent over her. “I said, I’ll take the box.”
She cried harder.
“Isn’t that what you want?” I asked.
“Take it all,” she said between sobs. “Everything.”
“Okay. I’ll take everything. But only if you stop crying.”
She stopped.
Great.
Wonderful.
Just nifty.
Now, I was stuck with two boxes of stuff that belonged to someone else. I wondered if I might find a way to get it all back to him, whoever he was.
She blinked red, watery eyes up at me. “Thanks.” She snuffled, dragged her hand across her face.
“You’re ... welcome?” I motioned to Jon’s house—my house. “I guess I’ll take this box over and come back for the second one.”
Making a full recovery, Lindsay scrambled to her feet. “I’ll help. There are about ten more boxes in the house.”
Ten? Did I actually agree to take more than two?
Stomping across the lawn, she said over her shoulder, “I want it all out before my kids get home from school. They’re not going to take this well.” Turning to face me, she blinked a few more times. “They liked the bastard. They loved him. He’s the only father they’ve known.” Jerking around, she ran into her house and slammed the door.
We had all fifteen—she’d underestimated—loaded into the garage within an hour. Right about the time Lindsay was stacking the last box in place, Joshua came racing into the garage.
He skidded to a stop. “What’s all this?”
“Just some old things Lindsay wanted to get rid of,” I said. Hoping to distract him, I asked, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“We had a half day.”
“I better get home,” Lindsay said. “Carson and Avery will be home soon. Thanks, Christine. I owe you one.”
“No problem,” I said to her back.
Josh flipped open the top box. “Oh cool! An iPad! Can I keep it?”
I slapped the flap down. “No. It’s not ours.”
“But—”
“I’m giving all this stuff back to its rightful owner. As soon as I can figure out how to do that. I don’t even know who it belongs to.”
“Maybe I can help.” He dug deeper into the box. “I recognize this camera. It’s Matt’s stuff. He took pictures at our block party with it.”
“Did you know Matt?” I asked, marveling at the number of words Josh had actually spoken today. To me. It was an all-time record. Could he be getting used to me already?
“Sure. Everyone knows Matt. He’s okay.” Josh dropped the camera back into the box. “If you want to know how to find him, I bet Mrs. Ross could tell you.” He motioned toward Erica’s house. “I saw her talking to him sometimes.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Remembering I’d forgotten to get the mail, I headed back down the driveway. The mailbox was packed full. Most of it was advertising. I dumped it all, and the rolled-up flier, on the table in the foyer.
“Anything for me?” Josh asked, coming in through the garage.
I hadn’t sorted the mail yet. “I don’t know. Are you expecting something?”
“You never know.” He shrugged, grabbing the flier and unrolling it. “Oh, look at this, Mrs. Wahlen’s dog is missing again.”
“Mrs. Wahlen’s dog?” I echoed, peering at the printed flier. The photo was black-and-white and grainy, but there was no question. That was the thing that had bitten me last night. “That’s what that was? A dog?”
“Skippy’s creepy-looking. And mean,” Josh said. “Everyone in the neighborhood hates him.”
“That’s not very nice.” Now I was feeling bad, knowing I’d killed some lady’s beloved pet. Kind of. After all, he was mean. Josh said so. Hopefully hiding the guilty look on my face, I went back to sorting the mail.