Authors: Wylie Kinson
“What’s going—” Ellis began to ask in a whisper, but Simon’s tightened grip warning her to be silent.
They watched two men get out of the truck. Ellis noticed that the larger man, a flat-nosed goon in a muscle shirt, had a visible bulge in the small of his back. He would be perfectly cast as Thug Number One in a mob movie. Thug’s buddy, the driver, was a short, wiry man. They looked familiar…
She knew the little guy. It was Jim! Why was Simon hiding and shushing her when one of his employees was here? She’d run into Jim a number of times in the house, most recently when he stopped by one evening to pick up some tools he’d left behind.
Ellis’ Spidey sense finally kicked in. She needed to tell Simon. Her back was still firmly held against him so she stood on her tiptoes and turned her head, motioning for his ear.
“It’s Jim,” she said in the quietest possible whisper.
She felt Simon’s nod against her hair.
“Here last night too,” she breathed against his ear.
He pulled his head back for a moment, as if in thought, before he dropped his ear back to her lips.
“Came after midnight. Surprised I was here. Said he forgot tools.” After each phrase, Simon gave her a little squeeze indicating that he understood. “Came in alone—Thug stayed in car. I recognize his silhouette.” She could feel Simon nodding his head. “He’s got a gun.”
“What was that?” Jim said, stopping in mid-stride. While Ellis was talking, the trespassers had dropped the tailgate and laid out some sheets of blue tarp.
“I didn’t hear nothin’. You’re being paranoid,” Thug said.
Jim looked around, squinting into the moonlit yard. He scanned the grounds, passing right over Ellis and Simon huddled in the shadows.
“Probably just the wind.”
“What am I looking for?” Thug asked, shining his flashlight over the stacked boxes of tiles resting on pallets.
“M7,” Jim replied.
Ellis stiffened, knowing exactly what the code meant. The “M” indicated main floor and “7” was the number assigned to her bathroom. What did they want with her stuff?
Simon, reading her mind, squeezed her lightly and whispered, “Just watch and try to remember everything we’re seeing.”
“You got the hammer?” Jim asked.
“Nah, don’t need one.”
They watched in silence as Thug and Jim lifted three cardboard boxes of her precious Tuscan Sun tiles and threw them hard onto the ground, one after the other. She could hear the muffled shatter of the ceramic tiles. They picked up each box and put them back randomly among the other untouched boxes.
“Any more?”
“No. She said no more than three.”
Ellis knew exactly what “she” was up to. One box of shattered tiles wouldn’t hinder the job. They always ordered about ten percent more tiles than needed to make up for waste, off-cuts, etc. But three boxes meant that there was no way the installers could finish the job without a reorder. Why would someone want to sabotage her bathroom?
“What a waste, man,” Thug said. “Why couldn’t we just take them?”
“She said we could take other stuff, but she wanted the M7s smashed.”
“Yeah, but we could have sold these dude.”
“Don’t be greedy,” Jim said and they both burst out laughing at some private joke.
Ellis and Simon watched as the truck was loaded with odd boxes of supplies. Thug and Jim were careful not to take much of any one item. The morning crew wouldn’t even be aware that there was a theft. They took lumber, a ladder and a selection of miscellaneous hardware, just enough to cause delays and have a few folks scratching their heads thinking “now where did I leave that” or “I must have miscalculated the order”.
“Let’s do the inside,” Jim said, standing back and surveying their hoard.
They hopped in the truck and drove around to the front.
As soon as the tail lights rounded the eastern corner of the house, Simon grabbed her by the hand. “Come on. We’ve got to get in the back door before they get in the front.”
They took off at a run toward the back door. Ellis struggled to keep pace with Simon’s long-legged stride. He flung the back door open, pausing only for a split second to listen for the position of the two men, who had not yet entered the house.
“Stay here,” Simon instructed.
Like hell
, thought Ellis, following closely behind Simon as he ran toward the foyer. He needed to turn on the alarm so the thieves wouldn’t be tipped off to their presence. He got to the numbered pad just as the thugs were slamming the doors of the truck outside.
Four, eight, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, forty-five—
“Two!” Ellis hissed. “Forty-two!”
“Damn it!” He stole a glance through the sidelights and saw them coming up the porch steps.
Four, eight, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, forty-two, ON. The digital display read “alarm enabled”.
The key slid into the lock, trapping Simon and Ellis in the foyer. They had no time to run across the endless front hall back to the kitchen. As Simon was judging the distance to the west hall, Ellis pulled him toward the coat closet near to the front door. It was a risky move, going toward the entrance instead of away from it, and they ducked in just as Jim swung the front door open. The alarm beeped in two-second intervals, warning the entrants to punch in the alarm code within thirty seconds. Simon heard them fumbling at the keypad inches away from the closet.
“Where to, man?” Thug asked.
“Just gimme a sec. I gotta think,” Jim said as the keypad continued to beep. “Four, eight…” He continued until the beeping stopped.
They could hear Thug’s heavy footsteps retreat across the hall then back again.
“Jim, there’s a light on down there,” he said quietly.
Ellis froze. Thug must have looked down the west wing hall and seen the office lights on. They would know she was here. She found Simon’s hand in the empty darkness of the cramped two-by-four enclosure and squeezed, communicating both apology for leaving the light on and fear.
“You stay here,” Jim ordered. “It’s probably just Goldilocks.”
Who?
Simon squeezed her hand reassuringly while they waited. If the situation wasn’t so horrible, Ellis might have enjoyed the closeness. His strong callused hand spread warmth through her every fiber. She could hear his low shallow breaths and it somehow calmed her frantically beating heart.
“No sign of Goldilocks tonight,” Jim said, returning. “She must have left the light on.”
“Who’s Goldilocks?”
“That chick from last night.”
“Think she suspected?”
“Nah. She’s whacked, man. You know what she said to me when I asked her what she was doin’ here so late? She says ‘watching paint dry’. How fucked-up is that? I mean, shit, get a life. Get fuckin’ laid or somethin’!” Jim said, laughing wickedly.
“She was hot,” Thug offered. “I’d do her,”
“How the hell would you know? You were in the car.”
“I saw her when she came out on the porch to watch you leave. But why you callin’ her Goldilocks, man? She ain’t blonde.” Their voices drifted in and out as they began to walk away from the closet. Their footsteps on the stairs rang through the hall. Ellis pressed her ear to the door but wished she hadn’t. Their conversation echoed loudly from the upper landing.
“No, but she’s got Goldilocks tits. You know—not too big, not too small, but juuuuuust right!”
Simon’s palm connected with her mouth just before Ellis could start swearing. He knew the comment wouldn’t be appreciated and reacted as soon as he anticipated Jim’s comment. Quite frankly, he agreed with the assessment but—
Ouch!
She bit his hand! Could she read his mind?
“I could barely breathe,” she hissed into the blackness. “Your hands are too big.”
“I’d say they’re juuuuuust right.”
Ellis could hear the smirk in his voice. Pigs, all of them. She was about to share her views when Simon asked, “Where is your car?”
“Around the side,” Ellis said. Realizing Simon would be wondering why, she added, “I’ll explain later.”
“Did you know what was going down?” Simon asked. “Is that why you’re here?”
“No. I came back to do some work. What’s going on?”
“Too many odd things happening,” he explained. “I decided to stake out the place. I thought maybe it was kids making mischief. Never expected…”
Ellis could visualize Simon shaking his head, upset at the fact that one of his own men was stealing from him, not to mention the designers.
They couldn’t hear any sounds from the front hall, so Simon opened the door a crack and looked out. From his vantage point he could see the entire front hall and up the stairs onto the balcony landing. Jim and Thug hadn’t turned on any lights but Simon could see the arcing beam of Thug’s flashlight coming from an upstairs bedroom.
Simon froze when Jim appeared on the landing. He pulled the door slightly but didn’t dare close it lest Jim hear the click.
They remained as still as possible, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. Through the slight gap in the door, they listening to Thug and Jim walk in and out of rooms, picking through the site, discussing what would bring a better price, the kitchen cabinet hardware or the brushed nickel bathroom faucets.
“Just take a few of those, man! We can’t make it obvious! It’s got to look like someone made a mistake counting or whatever. Duh!” Jim said.
He was obviously the brains behind this charade.
“You got that stuff we’re supposed to put in the glue?” Jim asked.
“Yeah. What does it do, anyway?”
“Messes with the chemical structure. When it dries, the wallpaper will fall off. You go do that while I scope out the kitchen.”
Ellis waited for the footsteps to fade before she whispered, “Simon?”
Simon turned toward her and pulled her in close so she wouldn’t have to talk so loudly. “Hmmm?”
The temperature in the closet rose as his hard chest pressed against her breasts, and it felt just right. She longed to run her fingers up his abdomen, feel his heart beat beneath her palms. She stood on tiptoe, her body sliding against his. How easy would it be to simply kiss him…to take that luscious lower lip she’d been fantasizing about between her teeth…to reach down and caress the bulge she felt against her tummy? She gave her head a little shake. How could she be horny at a time like this? She rested her cheek against his and whispered in his ear, “This closet is unhappy.”
He rubbed his hands protectively up her arms and felt her shiver.
Poor kid must be pretty scared
, Simon thought. Thug had a gun and they were talking about her in a base and demeaning way.
“They won’t be here much longer,” he reassured. “You’re doing great, darlin’. Just hold on to me.”
Ellis’ arm exploded into goose bumps at his touch. He had no idea what he was doing to her. She was trying to explain something to him and he was distracting her, again, with lascivious thoughts.
“No, I’m talking about—” She stopped at the sound of footsteps approaching.
“Hold this bag,” Jim said.
Thug grunted and heaved a clanking bag over his shoulder. “You’re pretty strong for a little dude,” he muttered. “Forget somethin’?”
Jim, halfway up the stairs, replied, “Our cash. She said she’d leave it upstairs in a secret spot.”
Ellis and Simon held their breath as Thug stood in the foyer, inches away from the closet door. Through the slight crack, they saw his face as he registered the fact that there was a door in front of him. His meaty hand reached for the knob. Simon pushed his body against Ellis’, pinning her deep in the corner, shielding her from what may come.
The door started to swing open when Thug turned his attention to Jim, who came bounding down the stairs.
“That bitch!” Jim spit. “She shorted us, man.”