4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Grady
K elvin took a beer out of the cooler in what should have been my kitchen. “How do you expect people to vote for you when you don’t even have a house that works? Who doesn’t have a fridge?”
“To recap, I don’t expect people to vote for me. Or not many people.” I took a swig of my beer and hauled out one of the lawn chairs I’d bought that day for Kelvin to sit in. Flicking my wrist, the chair opened up and I pushed down in the middle so it wouldn’t collapse when Kelvin sat down.
“And lawn chairs in your house? This is the first and last planning meeting here if this is where I have to sit.” He took a sip of his beer and then held it away from his face so he could read the label. “And what is with this beer?”
“It’s Korean. Like my dog, Hite. I like it.”
“Hite is Korean?”
“Yep. Zeus is Greek.”
“Right. Yeah. I forgot you collected them along your travels.” He glanced at the two behemoths lying at my feet. “Seriously, though, when are you starting work on this place?” Kelvin picked at the label on his bottle as he took in the cracked walls and stained carpet in the living room. “You should have moved in with your mom.”
I took a long drink of my beer. “I’m thirty-four. Who the fuck moves back in with their mother at thirty-four?”
“Someone who can only afford a house that’ll cause headaches, asthma, and who knows what other respiratory illnesses.”
“You searched this up last night, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Google Doctor is good for some things. We’re very close.”
“Like developing a hypochondriac disorder?” I took another swig of beer and squinted at Kelvin. One of the things we’d had in common was a thirst for knowledge. Kelvin had excelled in high school in every subject. School hadn’t been as big of a deal to me, but I’d loved to read, anything and everything. “What about Google Dentist?”
“Utter bullshit.” Kelvin laughed. “Half of the crap on there is just plain wrong.”
Not surprising, and I grinned. The thing was, I could have afforded a better house. But there’d been something about this place, like the town itself, that had drawn me in. I’d come home for the anniversary of my dad’s death, and this house had been for sale. I’d toured through it with the real estate agent, and a feeling of rightness had seeped into my blood. Maybe the sensation that it was time I stayed, the desire to lay down roots, was simply nostalgia. This place, old man Whittaker’s house, had been the last handyman job I’d done before going to my audition nine years ago.
Everything after that had been a whirlwind, sweeping me up and carrying me off. I’d felt hopeful my last day here, like maybe there was more to life than this town and shitty-paying jobs. I chuckled to myself. Now, I was running for mayor. What was wrong with me? Did the town even pay a salary?
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? About how dumb all this is? Are we quitting? Maybe we should quit. Did you see Maggie already has signs up everywhere?” Kelvin heaved himself out of the lawn chair and went over to the curtainless windows to point across the road to the signs dotting my neighbors’ lawns. “Did you pick one of those slogans I sent you? We’re already behind schedule.”
“Take some deep breaths, Kelvin, or else I’m going to start hyperventilating for you. We’re fine. It’s been a week. The election isn’t until November. I don’t want to win. I want to make it harder for Maggie.”
“So far, your plan for making it harder seems to be doing nothing but walking your dogs and registering as an independent.”
“I like walking my dogs. It helps me think.”
“About what? You haven’t picked a slogan. You have no plan. No platform. Probably most of the town doesn’t even know you’re running.”
“I can’t put all my good ideas out there at once. Who would do that?” I gave Kelvin an amused look. Kelvin scowled. “Besides, I still have my real-life job that needs to get done. And you said I needed money for this campaign, so I took on some work I wouldn’t normally consider, much less complete.” I looked up at the ceiling. “Thinking is half the paycheck.”
“I wouldn’t want to stunt your intellectual process.” Kelvin’s voice dripped with skepticism. “But you made a promise to me I wouldn’t be embarrassed by being associated with your campaign.”
“I don’t care about the slogan or the platform or any of that stuff. Put down whatever sounds good to you. I can talk bullshit all day long. I’ve been doing it for years. The platform and slogan aren’t going to matter because I’m not going to win.” I stood and walked back to the cooler in the not-quite-a-kitchen and grabbed another beer. Hite and Zeus were close at my heels.
“Every day I wake up and remember I agreed to this, I want to stop being your friend.” Kelvin’s voice echoed around the empty house.
“That’s fine.” I walked back into the living room and passed Kelvin another beer. Kelvin didn’t mean it. We’d pulled all sorts of pranks in high school, and when I went to visit Kelvin in college before Center Stage , we’d spent many wild nights making choices worse than this. “But you’ll still be my campaign manager. That contract was binding.”
“At least tell me you’re going to show up at the Fourth of July parade and fireworks. We can announce your run for mayor there.”
“Sounds like a plan.” The cap of my bottle was being stubborn, and I put it on the edge of the window and leveraged it open. “That must make you happy. I used the word ‘plan’ in a sentence.”
“As long as our plans are the same.”
“Doubtful.” I tipped the beer back. “Fourth of July must be some sort of big PR deal for Maggie, right?”
Kelvin’s nod was slow to come.
“We’ll announce my candidacy and use the celebration to launch our first political move.”
“And what’ll that be?”
“No idea.” I shrugged. “But I’m sure I’ll figure it out on my next walk.” I reached down and scratched both dogs idly.
“One last thing,” Kelvin said. “Once we announce, you’re going to need people to help organize things—distribution of signs, word of mouth PR, maybe run a few ads.”
“I’ve been gone for nine years.” Kelvin was the only person I’d stayed friends with. Any time I came back to Little Falls, which hadn’t been very often, I’d slipped into town for a day or a weekend with my mom, a quick beer with Kelvin, and then I’d disappear again. Being here had filled me with complicated feelings, ones I didn’t want to examine too closely.
“There must be some people,” Kelvin said, but I could tell by the look on his face both of us knew that wasn’t true. “Maybe play your famous card?”
“I’ll find some.” I made a circling motion with my beer. “I’ll round them up.”
“Okay, good. Look, I gotta get going.” Kelvin passed his second unopened beer back. “I’ve got a date in Utica tonight.”
“A date?”
“Yeah, this guy I met on a dating app. We’ve been chatting for a while, so I’m hoping dinner goes well.”
At the mention of Utica, I thought of at least one person I could convince to help with my campaign. ‘Campaign’ sent a chill across my heart. Why was I doing this? Why couldn’t I let it go as Kelvin had suggested? Maggie hadn’t paid any price for what had happened to Trent. Being inconvenienced a few times during a local election was minuscule in comparison. I could do this.
“All right, man. Good luck tonight. I’ll catch you later.”
As soon as Kelvin was out the door, I hooked my two dogs to their leashes and decided to take a long walk. Eight o’clock at night was prime thinking time. A brisk wind ruffled my hair and stirred up the fur on the backs of the dogs as I wandered down tree-lined streets. I’d covered almost every neighborhood in town at some point in the last couple of weeks. Kelvin was right—I did a lot of walking. So many areas of the town had become run-down. Shockingly so. Little Falls needed something to jump-start it back to its former glory.
In my mind, this town had always been small but full of life. Now, it was tired and beat-up. Perhaps if I’d stayed, that was how I’d feel too. Was it possible to make a life here? I’d never been able to settle anywhere for more than a year since I’d left. Something in me kept pushing me forward, away, on to the next thing.
Without realizing it, I’d ended up in Maggie’s parents’ neighborhood. I’d avoided this area of town thus far. Her parents were small-town royalty, her mother a lawyer and her father a doctor. There were few families who could compare. This was the most expensive part of town with bigger lots, bigger houses, and bigger opportunities.
Out on the front lawn, Maggie and her father, Jim, were talking and laughing. At the corner of the street, I hovered with Hite and Zeus, and they whined, eager to continue. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the scene playing out in front of me. Behind the pair was a massive wooden sign emblazoned with, Margaret Sullivan for Mayor–Building our Future, Together. It looked a little weathered. Jim patted the corner, and Maggie laughed again, shaking her head. They hugged, and Maggie’s sigh was almost audible from where I stood.
Watching them together was a muscle memory. If I closed my eyes, I could remember what a hug from a dad felt like. Every day since my father had died, I’d missed him. My feelings toward Maggie were questionable, but a part of me had loved Jim Sullivan for years.
As our family doctor, Jim had been in my life for as long as I could remember. When my father died in a drunk driving accident, Jim had been the doctor at the hospital to give us the news that my father wasn’t going to wake up. While my brother and mother had been saying goodbye to our comatose father, Jim had sat in the waiting room with me. Even now, years later, the words Jim said to me that day felt as fresh, as new as when they first hovered between us.
“Losing a parent is awful,” he’d said. “It’ll be awful for a long time, maybe forever. We never quite get over the loss. But someday, maybe when you’re a parent, it’ll make you love your kids a little harder. Or at least it did with me. Out of the darkness, there’s a bright spot, even if we can’t see it yet. If you ever need to talk, I’ve been there. I know what it’s like. And I’m always happy to listen.”
We had talked a lot over the years, in the office, on the street, while I was cleaning Jim’s gutters, but never about my dad. The topic had been too big, too impossible to broach even with someone as warm and approachable as Jim. Watching him with Maggie made my chest ache for that bond, the closeness, lost in an instant.
Back when Trent and Maggie had been dating, if that was even what had been going on, I had been jealous of the time Trent got to spend time with Maggie’s family. Jealousy evaporated the night Trent was arrested. Before I’d gotten the phone call, Maggie had declared ‘It’s not what you think’ about her relationship with my younger brother. In my mind, if they hadn’t been dating, Maggie wouldn’t have been mixed up in my brother’s dirty deals.
Truthfully, her as the mastermind made more sense than them dating. Trent as the muscle. Maggie as the brains.
With that thought at the forefront of my mind, I headed toward Maggie and her father. They broke apart at my approach, and Jim smiled, but there was a strain at the edges I hadn’t seen before. Around town, I’d experienced many moments like this since I’d returned, where time had taken its toll on someone, and I could see it stamped all over their face, their body, in the color of their hair. Sometimes the change was so great I didn’t recognize them. Jim had aged, but there was still a dignified air to his aging, his hair still mostly dark, his face still largely unlined, as though time had decided to be gentle with him.
“Grady Castillo!” Jim came forward with his hand outstretched. “Maggie tells me you’re running for mayor against her. May the best woman win.”
I couldn’t hold back a grin, even as I focused on Maggie with her arms crossed tight around her. Hite and Zeus strained on the leash, eager to get to Jim or Maggie. Once Jim shook my hand, he crouched down and ruffled the dogs’ fur.
“Beautiful beasts,” Jim murmured as I scanned Maggie, who was studiously avoiding my gaze.
“Nice sign, Maggie May.”
“Thank you.” A fa?ade draped over her as she loosened her arms and wandered over to crouch beside her father. “I’ve loved all your signs around town too. What’s your slogan again? I can’t quite remember. I’ve read your campaign platform somewhere, right? My father would love to make an informed choice, if you could give him your spiel.” Her fingers massaged Hite’s neck before she looked up at me, a wicked gleam in her brown eyes.
I smothered a grin at her obvious attempt to get under my skin. “I’m not a seasoned politician like you, Mags. I’m taking my time putting together something memorable.”
She pursed her lips and tried to stifle a laugh. Whatever. Her laughter was fine. She had no idea what I was doing. Needling her was my goal, not winning the election. If she was stewing over any aspect of this race, that was a win.
“Still,” she hedged. “There must have been something about the town that pushed you to run. To make you feel like you’d be good for the residents of Little Falls as their leader after having been absent from everyone’s lives for so long.”
I clenched my jaw. There she went again with that absentee nonsense. I’d come home whenever I was needed.
“Now, Margaret.” Jim rose. “We’re not getting into a political debate on the sidewalk. Did you want to come in? Coffee? We have a little shitpoo in there, but she’s fairly well behaved, at least with other dogs.”
“Dad, it’s shih-poo.”
“Yes, well, it shits and poos wherever it wants. If I didn’t love your mother so much, it would have gotten a one-way ticket to the vet years ago. How hard is it to housetrain a dog?” Jim gave my two an appraising look. “Unusual-looking dogs. What are they?”
“Strays I picked up on my travels.” I smiled, and I ruffled their soft fur on instinct.
Jim looked me in the eyes. “Takes a lot of commitment to cart two large dogs around from country to country.”
“Not cheap, either.” I enjoyed their company and their enthusiasm for any person, any environment. While you might have to win over people, you rarely had to win over a dog. I tightened my grip on the leashes when Maggie rose, and the dogs strained toward her. “Worth it, though.”
“A constant captive audience,” Maggie mumbled and flashed me a sardonic smile.
“Loyal. Trustworthy. A dog doesn’t lie.”
Maggie flushed, and I felt a surge of satisfaction.
“Coffee?” Jim asked even as his gaze shifted between me and Maggie. His jaw hardened for the briefest moment.
“Not tonight,” I said. “I should get home. I’ve got some work to do.” The words left my lips before I could reconsider.
“Oh.” Maggie perked up. “You’ve got a job?”
A slow smile spread across my face. “I’m sure you looked at my candidate information. My job was listed there.”
Her cheeks rosy, Maggie didn’t deny the accusation. “Musician.”
“Yep.”
“Another album coming out?” Jim asked, a slight frown creasing his brow. “That first one was such a hit.”
And more than one song blatantly about your daughter. Had Jim never realized? Noticed the subtle references? He’d probably heard more of my songs on the radio than he realized.
“No new album for me,” I said. “Just odds and ends I still do for people I know.”
“Well,” Jim said, “like the rest of the town, I was pretty proud of you when you won Center Stage .”
My heart sank at the realization that screwing with Maggie’s mayor race might damage my relationship with Jim. A loss I hadn’t considered. I’d always been this way. Dive headfirst into something and then assess the fallout. Unfortunately, Trent had also been like that. After our dad died, we’d run wild around the town for a couple years. Grief stamped us all in different ways. In some respects, I was amazed the people of Little Falls had voted for me the first time. Now, in theory, I was asking them to do it again.
“The experience definitely opened a lot of doors for me. It was nice catching up with you, Jim.” I stepped around them and started down the street. Not far down the sidewalk, I stopped and turned back. “Oh, and Maggie May—I’ll see you at the Fourth of July celebrations. I have a good feeling about them this year.”
Maggie smirked and crossed her arms. “I have a good feeling about everything that’s going to happen between now and November. Campaigns are so much fun. Let me know when you start yours.”
I laughed and turned around, my brain ticking through all the ideas circling. A sense of competition had been lit in me by the smug look on her face. If these ideas starting to form were any indication, she might wish she hadn’t looked at me with such certainty.