Preppy, Part Three, The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater (King, #7) Page 10

  Kevin gave me what sounded like a golf clap. “Brilliant.”

  “It was hard, but somehow I made it through.” I reached into the box and pulled out the clear plastic bag holding my mother’s remains.

  “Should we open it and scatter her all around?” Kevin asked.

  I rolled my eyes and unceremoniously tossed the bag into the garbage below. “She doesn’t deserve that kind of effort,” I said. I was just about to toss the box over as well when something at the bottom caught my eye. A white envelope with SAMUEL written on the outside. I pulled it out. “What the fuck is that?” Kevin asked.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” I said. “Only one way to find out, right?” I tore it open and on the inside I found two cashier’s checks and a short note.

  Samuel,

  Here is everything your mother took from you over the years (money wise).

  If I could give you back everything else she robbed you of, I would.

  Instead, I’ve matched this amount and have made a donation to the center for abused women and children in your name to help others so they don’t have to suffer as you have.

  I thought I could save her.

  It turns out some people just aren’t worth saving.

  As her husband it is my job to set things to right again, so this is what I’m attempting to do.

  Do what you see fit with her ashes as I don’t want them in my home or in my life.

  There is no need to contact me again.

  You won’t find me.

  -Mitch Bateman

  PS- Your wife tells me you are now in contact with your brother. Please make sure you pass along what I’ve enclosed for him, as I have no means by which to contact him.

  I passed Kevin the note, which he quickly read and then the check made out to his name in the amount of fifty-five thousand dollars.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Kevin said, looking from the check to me like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “Yeah, holy fucking shit is right,” I said, glancing down at my own check which wasn’t for fifty-five thousand dollars. It was for two-hundred fifty-five thousand dollars.

  “Whoa,” Kevin said, looking over my shoulder. I folded the check and shoved it in my pocket, not liking the feeling of it crinkling as I walked back to the car, the stiff corners of the expensive paper poking me in the thigh.

  “Mom’s dead AND I’m rich?” Kevin started skipping. “This might be the best fucking day of my life!”

  We got in and I started the engine.

  “You know something, Preppy?” Kevin asked.

  “What?” I asked, pulling onto the main road.

  “I kind of like having a brother.”

  I leaned over and rustled his hair. “You know, Kevin, I kind of do too.”

  The water tower peeked out from the pine trees in the distance. The second big black cock in clear view. The salty air blew into the car and I inhaled it deeply, holding it inside my lungs as if it were the smoke from a joint. We drove passed the vasectomy billboard and then we came upon my favorite sign of them all, the WELCOME, NOW ENTERING LOGAN’S BEACH sign. I smiled like a preteen who’d just touched his first boob.

  “What do we do now?” Kevin asked.

  I grabbed him by the shoulder, giving him a hard squeeze.

  “Now we celebrate!” I shouted, feeling a weight lift off my chest. “Tell me kimosabe, what are your thoughts on strippers and blow?”

  “I think, yes,” Kevin answered, his face brightening.

  I turned the car to take us to King’s house where he and Bear were waiting for us in the tattoo shop for a pseudo bachelor party which meant locking ourselves away from women and children while we get shit faced and talk about all the dumb, yet fun, shit we’ve done.

  “Good. That’s what we’re going to do then. Strippers and blow.” I winked at Kevin and watched his smile fall when I added. “Minus the strippers.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Preppy

  The second we got to King’s house and parked, Ray met us over by the car. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Ray asked.

  “I’ll meet you inside,” Kevin said, heading into King’s shop.

  “Anything for you, kid,” I said, draping my arm over her shoulder. I guess you could say I was taking advantage since King wasn’t out here to growl at me.

  “I just wanted to say congratulations,” she said, but something about her smile seemed off.

  “Thanks,” I said as she looked to the ground. “That’s it?” I asked. “You came over just to say congratulations?” I prodded, knowing when something was on her mind.

  “No, that’s not it. It’s just that we haven’t really had the chance to talk much since, you know. Narnia,” she laughed nervously and fidgeted with her fingers. “I just wanted to tell you how much I missed you when you were gone. You were my best guy friend. I know we’ve all been busy with our own lives, kids and all, but I was kind of hoping, if it’s okay with Dre, that we could be best friends again because you’re here now, but I still miss you.”

  I wrapped Ray in a hug and kissed the top of her head. “You were my first girlfriend, you know. Well, friend that was a girl,” I corrected. “I know we haven’t had time to sit and talk about things, but I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that I never felt like you needed an explanation for things, well, that and the fact that King wants to murder me every time I look your way. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you. Ever. Fuck, in my mind we’ve never stopped being best friends.”

  “It’s me,” she said, wiping a tear off her cheek. “It’s these damn hormones. Your buddy King went and knocked me up again.”

  “Slipped one past the goalie did he?” I chuckled. “I thought your tits looked bigger.”

  She playfully slapped me on the shoulder.

  “I tell you what, how about one of these days after the kids are all in school I’ll come over and we’ll do lunch and have ourselves some girl talk.”

  “I’d really like that, Prep,” Ray said. “But let’s make it breakfast. You can cook for me.”

  “Oh yeah? I think I can manage that. Any special reason for the breakfast request.”

  She put her hands in her back pockets and took a few steps backward toward the house. She looked at me with glassy eyes, some of the lingering sadness from earlier seemed to have lifted. “Because pancakes.”

  ****

  After a few hours we left Kevin passed out on the floor of King’s tattoo studio and followed through with our amazing idea to row to Motherfucker Island at five a.m., which was fine with me. I’d done enough blow to be awake for at least a month. “I’m glad I’m so high. If I wasn’t, I’d probably feel how drunk I am,” I slurred.

  We were sitting on the shore of MFI. Our pant legs rolled up to our knees, our feet bare. Passing a joint and a bottle of Jack between the three of us. Somehow the conversation switched from thinking of a nickname for Kevin to the night I ‘died’.

  “All I remember is that when the bullets started flying I just kept thinking about Ray and needing to get to her. Bear, you’re like a fucking human wall, and Preppy you’re always so fucking quick. I just never thought anything would happen to you guys,” King said. “I think about that night a lot. What I could have done differently. How it all went so wrong. I can’t wrap my brain around it.”

  I shrugged and avoided making eye contact with King by fishing out my zippo from the inside pocket of my blazer all the while feeling the intensity of his eyes on me. “I don’t think about it much any more. It’s not like we can change it. What’s the point?”

  Bear cocked his head to the side and ignored my philosophy on not lingering on the past. “Come to think of it, you were behind King when it all started to go down, but then you moved in front of him until he barged into that store room where Isaac had Ray.”

  “None of that shit matters now. Guess I just wasn’t as quick as you thought ‘cause I obviously didn’t get out of the way fast enough,”
I said, whistling while I lit a cigarette.

  Bear and King exchanged a knowing look. “What?” I asked, smoke coming out in puffs as I spoke.

  King shook his head. Bear smiled. “Nothing, Preppy,” King said, patting me on the back and giving me a short squeeze on my shoulder. I passed King the joint. “Not a damn thing.”

  “Good,” I said, looking out over the water on the lights of the town. The town I loved. The town where I lived with my family. My girl. My son. “Now can we get fucking high or what?”

  “You mean higher?” Bear asked. “I’ll be awake until next Christmas after tonight.”

  Bear and King changed the subject and soon we were all laughing about some dumb shit we did as teenagers.

  Thank fucking God.

  They didn’t need to know what really happened that night. I’d never admit it anyway. If the roles had been reversed I knew they would do the same thing for me.

  Nobody needed to know I took that bullet for King.

  That’s just what family does. They protect one another.

  At least, that’s what THIS family does.

  “Anyone want to make a gator run?” I suggested.

  “No,” King groaned.

  “Fuck you,” Bear said.

  But when their eyes met mine they told me a different answer. Within seconds we were all racing toward the water, splashing through gator-infested waters like the idiots we were.

  When we were safe on shore, breathing heavily, I looked over to my friends and we all broke out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Bear was still going when King leaned behind him and tugged on my arm to get my attention. “Thanks, Prep.”

  I didn’t know if he meant for taking the bullet for him or for the excellent blow I provided for the evening, but either way I nodded and we went back to the debauchery at hand.

  Because that’s what family does.

  We live for one another.

  We die for one another.

  “Wanna go again?” Bear asked. The three of us didn’t hesitate, racing back into the water, pushing each other over in the process.

  We act like complete fucking idiots with one another.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dre

  “It’s great to see you again, Andrea,” East said, enthusiastically shaking my hand.

  “You can just call me Dre. The only person who calls me Andrea is my dad,” I replied.

  “I was so glad to hear from you last week. Hopefully we can find you exactly what you’re looking for.” He smiled warmly, revealing two bright white perfect rows of what I would bet were veneers.

  “I’m ready to find out,” I responded nervously.

  East had come by the house earlier in the week and dropped a list of available homes in the area that were in need of renovation. Of the fifteen or so on the list I’d only asked to see one. The second I saw the picture and read the description something about it spoke to me.

  Which was why I found myself standing in the driveway of that house with East, the realtor who’d also assisted with the sale of Mirna’s house, about to go inside and check out the possible first project of for my new venture. Preppy had dubbed it Dre’s Digs, a complete home renovation and design service focusing on reusing and recycling furniture and fixtures.

  “Will your husband be joining us?” East asked as I surveyed the yard and street.

  “I don’t think so,” I smiled. “Last night his friends threw him a bachelor party so chances are they’re either sleeping or still up to no good.” I almost laughed out loud as I recalled Preppy’s middle of the night phone call to slur ‘I love you’ into the phone while Bear, King, and Kevin threw stuff at him in the background, eventually taking his phone away.

  “His bachelor party? I thought you two were already married. I’m sorry, I’ve been calling him your husband this entire time,” East said, sincerely as if the error were his.

  “No. We are married. It’s a long story,” I answered. “A really long story.”

  “Ah, well we all have a few of those, don’t we,” East said.

  “Understatement of the year. So, tell me, what are the yearly taxes?” I asked.

  East rattled off some numbers from the print out in his hand. I nodded. It added up with what other similarly valued homes in the area were paying.

  “Let’s go on inside,” East said. I followed him to the front door. “As you already know, the house is two stories and about eighteen hundred square feet of living space,” he said, rattling off facts from the listing as I followed him up the cracked driveway. “It’s very cozy on the inside. It has a lot of potential though, just needs some love.”

  “So what you’re saying is that it’s small, shitty, and needs to be overhauled?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at East.

  He laughed and shook his index finger at me. “Ah, you speak realtor.” He turned a key into the lock. I took a step back from the door to inspect the front again while he grumbled about not being able to get the door open.

  The house looked just like it had in the picture. Moldy yellow siding. Overgrown landscaping. Missing shingles. Broken windows.

  Fix me. It called out to me.

  So far it was perfect.

  “It was built in nineteen twenty-one and back in its glory days was probably owned by a wealthy family and used often as a place to entertain and impress,” East said, finally getting the door to open by pushing his shoulder against it. I ducked under a spider web and followed him into the main living area. “The Ford/Edison estates aren’t too far from here so chances are whoever built this place originally hosted them here.”

  “Unfortunately, she isn’t doing much impressing anymore,” I said, trying not to show on the outside what I was feeling on the inside because if I did I’d be jumping up and down saying ‘I’LL TAKE IT YESSSS!!!’ She might not ever be a place for the rich to entertain, but I knew I could make her not just beautiful again, but functional, and even affordable for the right family if I paid extra attention to my costs and did most of the work myself.

  “I have to make sure that the bones are still in good shape,” I said “Wrinkles and sags are worthless repairs if they are set on top of broken bones.”

  “Ah, so you have done this before,” East said.

  “Nope, that’s actually something my grandmother used to say, although I was pretty sure she was talking about something else entirely, I feel like it applies here.”

  The trim around the doors and baseboards were all original and only needed a good sanding and painting. The flooring consisted of stained shag carpet and torn laminate floor tiles, the kind that stick to the ground like big stickers. However, when I tugged at a corner of the carpet my eyes landed on a beautiful sight. The original hardwood floors. They’d seen better days but to me it was like finding gold at the end of the rainbow.

  The electrical wiring was another story. So old and out of code, it ran outside of the crumbling plaster walls, which also needed to be replaced. Also, the plumbing was virtually non-existent. Since the house had been vacant for over seven years, anything of value had been stolen long ago, including its copper piping.

  “It’s on a full two acres which is rare in this area, most lots are only a quarter of an acre,” East informed me as we descended the stairs having just saw the three smaller bedrooms and single bathroom on the second story. The master was on the main level, but would need to be gutted and completely replaced. “There is plenty of room for a nice big deck in the back, even a pool depending on who you plan on marketing to,” he added. “Families may not want that, but vacationers or second homes wouldn’t buy it unless it had one. Plus, it’s the only Victorian style house left in the area that hasn’t already been bought and refinished so there is a market for this style home once it’s been renovated. I mean these days all the new ones are stucco square boxes that look like they came straight from a house factory. I just came from a new development in Harper’s Ridge and let me tell you, they want a million bucks for shine c
overed shit.” East covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m so sorry for my language.”

  I laughed. “Trust me, no need to apologize.”

  I ran my hand along the dusty banister, revealing hints of it’s original deep cherry finish. I didn’t want to just remodel this house. I wanted to bring it to life. It didn’t need changing, it needed CPR so it could breathe again.

  It was going to be a difficult task, considering all the work that needed to be done, but I was up for it. Excitement surged inside me, but I kept my composure. “I’ll need a full inspection report of course. I can’t see the roof so I’ll need a professional to assess that for me so my offer will be contingent on it not needing to be completely replaced down to the trusses, amongst other things.” East took notes on his smartphone as I spoke.

  “Of course,” he said, nodding and tapping one last button before shoving his phone back in his pocket. “You are a natural at this.”

  “That is yet to be determined,” I said, “but I guess we’ll find out.”

  “What did you do before you decided to do start renovating and flipping homes?” he asked. We were in the backyard, which was piled with garbage carelessly tossed over the fence throughout the years.

  “I was in school,” I said, almost tripping over a rusted bicycle with no wheels. “Before that I spent a whole lot of time making mistakes.”

  “Well, Jesus forgives our sins, it’s us sinners that usually have a hard time forgetting,” East said. I wasn’t surprised that he was a man of faith. The ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ sticker on his bumper and the ‘Christ is my Superstar’ rubber bracelet he wore were kind of giveaways.

  I pushed on the back panel of the wooden fence to test its stability when the entire six panels attached to it all fell to the ground. It failed.

  “I grew up in the church. Lost my way for a while, but eventually found my way back. If you and your husband ever want to come by and check it out I could sponsor a visit for you. Ministries of Christ, over on Bayshore Drive,” East said kindly.