Chapter 7
Edison tossed me his keys and we were off. I’d nursed my last beer, so I was more than capable of driving us home. In the passenger seat of his truck, Edison was mostly quiet, occasionally reminding me to turn left or right.
“You know I’m from here. I don’t need directions to the Castle Farm.”
“You’ve been gone a long time. I don’t want you getting us lost.”
“I know Hume like the back of my hand. You could drop me off in the boonies and I’d find my way home like the family dog. Remember my dog Yeti Spaghetti? He was lost for weeks. We put up flyers. Daddy went out looking for him, even had some of the guys on the ranch help. But try as they might, they could not find that dog. And then a month later, here comes Yeti all matted and tangled a little worse for wear but no harm no foul.”
“And you’re just like Yeti.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Shit you could blindfold me, spin me around three times and point in the direction of a map and I guarantee you I’d be able to locate Hume every time.”
“Bullshit.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“No because you’re full of shit and alcohol.”
“Who’s driving whom, Miss Daisy? Because I know how to hold my liquor.”
“And I don’t?”
“Seeing how you are currently a passenger princess the answer would be no.”
“I haven’t had dinner. So I was drinking on a light stomach.”
“No, you’re a lightweight.”
“Oh you got jokes. Turn right at the stop sign.”
Slowing the car to a stop in front of the Castle now Birch Farm, I marveled at the sight. The house was the same but different. A modest two-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch. Stamped concrete replaced the dirt pathway. The facade was now a crisp white, not the dingy, peeling gray paint Mr. Castle preferred. Illuminated porch lights were like a beacon welcoming you home. Back in the day the house would disappear into the night sky and you couldn’t see the structure until you were practically right on top of it.
When we were kids, the farmhouse was considered haunted. Back then the vegetation was overgrown and there was a pile of old newspapers next to the front door. Sometimes Mr. Castle would be sitting on the porch, his one-eyed dog lying next to him. If you got too close walking past, he’d yell at you. One time he threw a rock, and it hit me on the arm. Dial turned around and cussed old Mr. Castle out. Claiming she was going to tell her dad and we were all going to come back and kick his ass. Dial didn’t snitch, but after that Mr. Castle never threw shit at us again, although he still read us for filth.
“Do you remember daring me to ring the doorbell?” I asked.
“I remember double dog daring you and you marching right up those steps and pressing the bell.”
“Yeah and when Mr. Castle answered the door with his pistol on his hip, I tripped down the stairs and you jumped in between us to defend me.”
Edison shrugged my praise of valor off. “Mr. Castle was scary to look at, but he was in Figs and Twine all the time. Nicest man you’ll ever meet.”
“Be that as it may I still thought you were so brave. He could have broken you in two.”
“And for you, I’d have let him.” Edison climbed out of the truck. He stumbled a bit on initial contact with the ground, but it appeared the air blowing on his face during the ride home had given him a second wind.
“I’m coming in,” I announced, slamming the truck door behind me.
“Are you asking or inviting yourself?”
Painting on a saccharine smile, I tried again. “Can I come in?”
“Uh-huh.” His gaze rested on me and the undeniable lust in his eyes sent shivers up my spine. Was the liquor the cause of this bold gaze or was this just all him?
Walking toward the house, I felt like that ten-year-old girl psyching myself up to ring the doorbell of the crotchetiest man in town. “Not going to lie, this is still kind of scary.”
“It’s muscle memory. For most of your life you’ve associated this place with the stories we spun about dead bodies and captured children. Shit, my first night sleeping here alone …”
“Yeah?”
“Nah, you’ll probably just tease me for my confession.”
Vigorously shaking my head, I disagreed. “I won’t. Cross my heart and hope to expire.”
He stopped on the porch, facing me. “My first night here when the lights were off and all you could hear was the wind aggravating the old wooden bones of the house, I couldn’t fall asleep. Every creak or howl left me on edge. I’d been in the basement, but had I really checked it thoroughly?”
I leaned in closer, hanging on his every word.
“I could swear I heard someone calling my name. Edison, Edison.” His tone was scratchy and hushed. “Not over and over again but frequently enough for me to know it wasn’t my imagination.”
“What did you do?” I asked breathlessly.
“I headed to the basement with my gun and a flashlight?”
“Why a flashlight?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you just turn the lights on?”
“Uhm, because the power hadn’t been cut on yet. Anyway, I went to the basement just to confirm I was alone. Sweeping the area, I didn’t find anything. I was at the foot of the steps and then I heard it again. Edison.” I grabbed his arm, moving us away from the front door. “I followed the sound, pushing aside boxes and random junk and there it was …”
My eyes splayed wide open. “What?”
“You remember that kid that went missing when we were little?”
“Wait, are you saying Mr. Castle had a dead kid in the basement?” Edison’s serious expression broke and a rumbling laugh emerged. “Asshole,” I shouted while shoving and not so playfully punching him in the arm. “You’ve been fucking with me this entire time?”
“I’m sorry Fancy, you’re just so damn gullible.”
My brows curved upward. “Not cool.”
“I see you’re still ready to believe any and everything.”
Who the hell did he think he was? I wasn’t some naive country bumpkin.
“It’s not my fault I trust people and take them at their word. Shit words mean things, so when someone says they can’t imagine life without you or they love you, why wouldn’t you believe them? How the fuck are you supposed to know they’re full of shit and are telling every Tonya, Denise, and Harriet the same damn thing? I don’t want to live life thinking everyone’s running game.”
All humor vacated his face. “Hey, I was teasing. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
“You didn’t. My nerves are not that sensitive. Plus, I wasn’t talking about myself or any personal events I might be experiencing. I was just generalizing. A man’s word should be his bond. Say what you mean and mean what you say because when you say things, people will make life decisions based off of those words. And then next thing you know you have a condo in a city you hate, an overpriced car when all you wanted was a pink Jeep, and a whole fucking dog.”
“Hypothetically.”
“Of course.” I cleared my throat.
Edison leaned in, practically touching his forehead to mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, open the door.”
From the entryway I spied items too old and ornate for a twenty-nine-year-old man’s taste level. In the formal dining room, rows of old random trinkets and knickknacks were displayed neatly on the dining table. The room was lined four boxes high so you couldn’t see the aging wallpaper. I clutched my purse, eyeballing Edison. Was he an undercover hoarder? His truck was spotless and from the outside this former haunted house gave off quaint family friendly vibes.
“Shit, this is a lot of?—”
“Junk, you can say it. I’m going room by room trying to clear all Mr. Castle’s shit out.”
“If I were you I’d get a dumpster and just get to tossing. You could make a party of it. Invite a few friends, add some drinks and you have a cleaning crew.”
“Some of this stuff is sentimental and worth money. I bought the house and the items in it as is.” He pointed to a velvet portrait of Jimi Hendrix. “That monstrosity is worth a thousand dollars.”
I gasped, pushing him hard. “Shut up.”
Edison chuckled while bumping into a nearby doorjamb. “Yep, I’ve become a bit of an antique roadshow type guy. Initially I was going to hold an estate sale, get rid of all this shit in one shot. But then I found a vintage tea pot and sold it for five thousand dollars.”
“And you’ve been chasing that high ever since.” My eyes pinged from one hidden treasure to the other.
“Pretty much. I reached out to his daughter to let her know I thought her father got the raw end of the deal considering what I paid for the place. I offered her the five grand, but she refused.” Edison led me to the living room which was less cluttered than the parlor and hallway. “That didn’t sit right with me, so we came to an agreement that I’d give her half of the sales price on every item.”
“That’s very generous of you.” I tossed my purse on a high back velvet chair.
“Just seemed fair.”
“What are you going to do when it’s empty?”
“Renovate, make this place a proper home.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
“Luckily I’ve never been afraid of hard work and I’m good with my hands.”
“Are you going to do all the work yourself?”
“What I can. Anything else I’ll hire out.”
This house certainly had good bones. I’d watched tons of home renovation shows when Whiskey Wild was on the road. My favorite were the shows that restored older homes that had somehow been forgotten or neglected. The Castle house would make an interesting episode. “Do you know what you want the place to look like in the end?”
His face brightened. “What do you take me for? I have a whole vision board in one of the spare rooms.”
“For a few thousand more I bet you could have gotten a place that was move in ready.”
“Where’s the fun in that? I’m going to curate this home. When it’s done it’ll have the modern amenities while preserving the vintage charm.”
“How long will all that take?”
“I don’t have a timeline for it. I find when you rush shit, you end up settling. Sometimes it’s best to let shit marinate and develop its richness.”
This was also true of relationships. Take Chap and I for instance. He love bombed me. Answering my text and calls in record time. Spoiling me with fancy dinners and gifts from Hermes. When he introduced me to his stepmother, I was so appreciative I sucked his dick on the drive home. I was a fish out of water in LA looking for connection and community, and Chap opened doors to all that.
“Fancy?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you good?”
“Uh-huh. Why?”
“You just went away for a minute there.”
“Nope I’m right here on this very nice Persian area rug.”
“Do you want water or something?”
“Water’s good.” Edison disappeared into the kitchen, and I continued to admire Mr. Castle’s life in his collection of odds and ends. Scanning the room, I landed on crates of records. “Are these your records?” I yelled.
“Nope, old man Castle’s,” Edison called back.
“Well let’s see what he was into.” I flipped through the stack, pulling out some gems, smirking when I found Ray Charles. Removing the album from the sleeve, I opened the record player that was as tall and wide as a long dresser. When the needle connected with the vinyl, the room was filled with sharp piano keys as “I Believe To My Soul” began to play. Upon reentering the room, Edison found me swaying my hips back and forth. “You going to make me dance alone?”
He placed the two glasses of water on coasters and crossed the room to meet me. Mirroring my two-step, his eyes were locked on to my face. Edison slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. His feet stepped back and then to the side, leading me across the scant empty space on the living room floor. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, turning my brain off.
My skin freckled with goosebumps when his fingers found a patch of bare flesh near my waistband. Opening my eyes, I looked up and immediately met the steady intensity of his cognac gaze. He was waiting for permission. For me to give him the green light to bend me over the couch cushions and fuck me senseless. And I wanted to let him. Maybe I wasn’t as sober as I thought. If I just lifted to my tiptoes and dusted his lips with mine, Edison would take care of the rest. Stripping me naked, kissing every inch, and giving me a proper dick lashing.
Get your lick back.
Twisting out of his grasp. I reached for my water, drinking in big gulps. “Let’s play a game. You have to guess the artist based on three-word clues.”
“Really?”
“Yes, who doesn’t love games?” It was one in the morning and my mother’s words were haunting me. “Ain’t nothing open after midnight in Hume but legs.” Was that why I’d invited myself inside so I could let him inside?
“I don’t.”
“We’re playing. I’ll go first.”
“Okay.” He dropped to the couch.
“First up … the queen of country.”
“That’s four words.”
“Just guess.”
He rubbed his eyes. “The queen of country. Is this some vain attempt to get me to say you?”
I tossed a nearby Beanie Baby at his head.
He caught it and chided me. “Hey, that’s worth seventy-five dollars.”
“That thing is worth seventy-five dollars?”
“Yep.” He tossed the space themed bear in the air. “And Castle has hundreds of them.”
“Who in their right mind would want a Beanie Baby in this day and age?”
“You’d be surprised of the amount of people willing to purchase useless shit.”
“Stop stalling and answer. We’re still playing … queen of country.”
“Could it be the great Billie Preston?”
I displayed the record, jumping up and down in delight. “That was an easy one. Are you ready for round two?”
“There’s a round two.”
“Yes, it’s a game and games have rounds, or quarter, halves, sections even.” I went to a crate tucked in the corner and flipped through, looking for a hard one. I couldn’t help but giggle when I came across this unexpected album. “City of Compton.” I did my best not to sing the words because then it would be a dead giveaway.
Edison stood and his gold chain peeked out from the collar of his T-shirt. I can’t explain why the sight of the modest gold rope chain around his neck excited me, but it did. My mind flashed to images of his chain dangling in my face while he fucked me.
“I know damn well he doesn’t have a Tupac album in that stack.” He pulled the record from my hand in surprise.
While Edison examined the back of the record, I examined him. I don’t know where all this pent-up sexual energy was coming from, but it was loud and persistent. Just stick your tongue in his mouth. Or better yet drop to your knees and let him know you’re with the shits. I just know it’s thick and heavy, I just know it.
I reached under his T-shirt to tug on the loop of his jeans. “Edison?”
“Yep?” His eyes finally moved from the record to me, pinging across the longing desire in my face.
He dropped the record and in one seamless motion grabbed my right leg, hoisting me into his arms. My thighs tightened around his waist. When his lips found mine, the kisses were frantic and unexpected. Neither of us had planned for this, but we both appeared eager to make this our new reality. We sunk to the couch with me straddling him, never breaking contact. His hands were everywhere, my neck, my breast, my hair.
Edison’s kisses slowed as he pulled back to take stock of my reaction. “What the fuck?” he whispered before going in for round two. We laughed between kisses. As my hips floated over his lap, I felt him come to life underneath me. The impressive bulge made the movement of my hips accelerate. Edison pulled off my shirt, plunging his face into my breast. His mouth suckled and teased as his teeth gently clamped down on my nipple.
If I didn’t reel this in now, I would devour this man and beg for seconds. “Edison, slow down.” I panted, breathless from the kissing and my mind rolling over the possibility of us.
“Yep.” He backed off a bit, his hands still roaming.
“You’re drunk and I feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” I said.
He chuckled, grabbing hold of my ass so I could feel every inch of him. “Shit … use me.”
“Okay.” Rubbing my finger across his lips, I went in for more kisses. I was tired of thinking and ready for an out-of-body experience. Since commitment meant nothing, I was well with in my rights to fuck whoever I wanted. Chap already was. I was just catching up. But did I want to get up to speed with Edison as my tour guide? He didn’t deserve revenge sex. Sex with Edison always seemed like a sacred act. Which is why we’d never done it. Growing up it was clear he liked me, and I didn’t want to give him false hope.
“I have a boyfriend, ex-boyfriend … it’s complicated,” I blurted out.
All movements stalled and Edison’s eyes were clear as the night sky. He removed me from his lap, leaning back into the couch cushions.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned that sooner.”
“Yeah, you should have… it’s okay.” He rubbed his forehead. I reached for his face, caressing his cheek. He quickly grabbed my hand and returned it to my lap. “Probably best you don’t stroke my cheek while my dick is pressing through my jeans.”
I nodded in agreement. “Do you want me to help you with that?”
His eyes grew wide.
“Oh my God, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just going to change up the imagery. Remember Ms. Applegate with the gold teeth and tangled wig. Think about her and I bet you that hard on will disappear.”
“You should probably go. Away from here. Take my truck. I’ll swing by in the morning and pick it up.”
My face fell, disappointed that he was asking me to leave. But I deserved it. If my senses hadn’t kicked in, I would have fucked Edison, which would be wrong. Right? Chap was technically my boyfriend. But if you asked Chap, apparently, we were in an open relationship. Because he fucked another woman behind my back … until it was right in front of my face.
“Yep, that makes sense.” I stood, heading for the front door.
“I’d walk you out but?—”
“It’s totally fine. Get well soon.” Edison flashed me a crisp middle finger. I mean it was the straightest finger in the history of middle fingers. Scooping up his keys, I headed out.
In his car on the way home. I ran through the turn of events. Why did I have to open my big mouth? Don’t get me wrong, I was hoping to open my mouth tonight, but I was looking to have Edison’s dick inside it, not my foot. Who were we kidding? This wasn’t the first time Chap cheated; this was just his first time getting caught. He didn’t deserve me or my loyalty, and he didn’t deserve Whiskey Wild.
My phone rang, so I pulled over to the side of the road. Chap had been calling and texting me for most of the night. If he wanted to talk, I’d give an him earful. “Look here you stupid son of a bitch. You must think I’m an idiot. How long have you been fucking around on me? ‘I love you Fancy. You’re the only one for me. You make me want to be a better man.’ Hmm. The next time I see you I’m kicking you square in the balls. YOU FUCKING ASSWIPE.”
“Fancy?” A meek voice broke through on the other end.
“Who is this?”
“It’s Moniece.”
I facepalmed into my hand. “I’m sorry.” I was saying that a lot tonight.
“I totally understand.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to give you a heads up that I’m heading your way. I have some paperwork for you to sign.”
“Can’t that wait? You don’t need to catch a flight to Tennessee just for me.”
“No, it can’t wait. I also wanted to talk to you about a private matter.”
I didn’t have the bandwidth to take on much. Between Chap, the pending tour, the implosion of my entire life, and Edison, I was at capacity. “Are you quitting? Because I’d be lost without you. Just name your price.”
“I’m not quitting. We can circle back on the salary a little later. But we need to talk.”
“About?”
“I’d rather talk in person.”
That was fine, I guess. The last time Moniece came to Hume she was overwhelmed by the country of it all. Asking where the coffeehouse and Target were. And pretending to be okay with the smells. “Have you spoken to Darla?”
“Briefly. She’s back in LA. Has she not called you?”
“Uhm … no … but I’m sure she’s probably just trying to give me some space.”
“Maybe. Anyway, I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Sounds good.”
I stuffed the phone into my purse before turning back onto the road. Normally, Darla and I talked via text or in person like twelve times a day. I hadn’t heard from her since rushing off the tour bus. Last I saw she was reading Chap the riot act. But not calling to check on me was unusual. Maybe she stayed away to avoid delivering a big fat I told you so. She never liked me getting together with Chap. She warned me about mixing business with pleasure and I was too lovestruck to listen.
When I pulled up to my parents’ house, I shot off a message to Darla.
Fancy: Are we okay?