9. Caleb
Caleb
I get out at the small two-bedroom house, wincing as I slam my door a little too hard.
Brady glances over at me but doesn’t say a word as we walk across the yard.
The lawn is bare and could use some grass seed.
There are weeds growing up the side of the house too, and the cement of the walkway is busted.
It also needs a new roof. I’ll take care of that though.
That’s what I need to focus on. My to-do list for what I hope to be my new rental place.
What I don’t need to be focusing on is whatever took place between Casey and Derek in that storage room. I don’t get what she even sees in him. He doesn’t seem like the fuck hard and play hard type she normally goes for.
And I suppose that’s my answer.
“It needs some work, man. I can see that already, and we haven’t even gone inside,” Brady comments, surveying the busted screen door.
“Mr. Culliver says if I take the place on, I can stay rent-free until the repairs are finished,” I explain, and Brady nods.
“Not bad. You would at least get two months. Maybe three.”
I unlock the door, and the moment I push it open, the smell of cat shit assaults us. “Fuck!”
Brady coughs and covers his nose. “Apparently, someone else was living here before. Maybe you could pay Jade to get some of her friends to come clean it up. Lilly might not mind helping either.”
“No,” I answer sternly. “If I ask Jade, then she’ll ask Casey, and I’ll never hear the fucking end of it.”
“Casey probably wouldn’t help anyway,” Brady says, then adds, “She’ll be busy this afternoon anyway. I’m sure the professor will be keeping her very happy .”
I glare at him and his innuendo, then head into the house now that the door has been open a couple of minutes.
The smell is still awful, but I don’t see any sign of cats still living in the home.
That’s a good thing. I’m not a cat person.
Well, only one kind, and it’s not the pussy that walks around on four legs and meows.
“What do you think she really meant anyway?” Brady asks, finally being brave enough to come inside.
“Who?” I pretend not to know what he’s talking about.
“Casey,” he laughs. “I mean, what the hell did she mean by him getting dirty? That damn professor wouldn’t be dirty if he fell in a pile of shit.”
“Don’t know and don’t care, Brady,” I clip, unable to hide the sliver of anger from my tone. “It’s not my business what they do.”
“ Dirty. I can’t even imagine him saying the word cock or pussy, for that matter,” Brady laughs and strolls into the kitchen. “He’s probably an English professor and would use the proper words for it. ‘Let me stick my penis into your vagina, please, Casey.’ Don’t you think?”
I burst out laughing, shaking my head. I know for a fact that Casey loves dirty talk and would bet my left nut that the professor doesn’t do it for her. Not like me.
I quickly push those thoughts out of my head and stop reminiscing on the things I used to say to her. It’s going to take me some time to earn her trust back. Get her to give me another chance.
Until then, this place is my focus. I look down at the shit stains on the carpet and how desperately the walls need to be repainted. The smell in the house is becoming nauseating. I motion for Brady to follow me outside.
“Maybe Lilly and Avery can help us clean it, but not Jade. I don’t want her telling Casey anything about this place.”
Brady shrugs. “This is Hollis, though. She’s bound to find out eventually.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she will,” I agree.
And maybe one day she’ll trust me enough for us to call it ours.