Scaredy Cat (8 page)

Chapter 14

It was a simple wood-framed house. There was a stump next to the driveway, and Blake assumed the tree that had fallen into the place had once stood there. Patches of grass grew where the boughs of a huge tree in the front yard allowed light, and where they didn’t, bright green moss covered the ground. On the front porch was a pair of old white metal chairs. At the end of the driveway was a building with French doors, and the sign above them read,
Scott’s Plumbing
. Quinn parked close to the side door of the house covered by a small metal awning that sheltered three cement steps.

“Give me a second, and I’ll unlock the door. You can run right in.”

Blake refused to allow panic to rule her. She was certain there were plenty of birds in the trees around Quinn’s place, but she wanted Quinn to be proud of her. She opened the door to the truck and stepped out. Instead of running, she took a deep breath, looked around, then walked over to where Quinn stood on the steps watching her.

“I’m impressed,” Quinn said with a smile. She opened the door and held it for Blake. “Welcome, brave lady.”

Blake stepped into the kitchen and felt like she’d been transported to the late fifties, maybe early sixties. The white Formica on the cabinets was yellowed with age and had what used to be gold flecks. The edges were framed in silver metal. A kitchen table with the same type of surface sat in the middle of the room and was surrounded by simple chairs with red plastic cushions.

“As you can see, I haven’t remodeled or modernized much. Dawn and Jacob don’t want me to. They say it’s like a museum where they can visit their past,” Quinn said with a sigh. “The only things I’ve done were tearing out the carpet and refinishing the wood floors. I’ve painted, too.”

“I like it,” Blake said. “The kitchen flooring also looks new.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a must do. The linoleum was gouged in places, so Jacob helped me tile it.” Quinn set the food on the table as Blake ran her fingers over the old porcelain sink.

“They don’t make them this deep anymore.”

“No,” Quinn said with a smile. “All three of us were bathed in that sink when we were babies. Jacob has the pictures. Do you want to see the rest of the house or eat first?”

Blake walked into the den. “The house.”

The furniture was modern, a couch and loveseat formed an L along one wall. A TV was on the other, and there were two chairs in front of the windows that looked out over the front yard. The walls like the one in the kitchen were stark white; the floors contrasted with their dark wood and colorful rugs. On a bookshelf was a framed black-and-white photo. Blake picked it up reverently and smiled at the image.

“How old were you when this was taken?”

Quinn moved in close and stared at it. “Dawn was nine, I was six, and Jacob was four.”

Jacob was crying, probably dismayed at having to sit still between his sisters who both had pigtails in their hair. The girls smiled brightly in their dresses. Quinn was missing two front teeth, and clutched in her small hand was a tiny truck. Blake put the picture back and glanced into the adjoining room through the archway. It was dominated by a long wooden table surrounded by matching chairs. The surface was covered with stacks of papers. In the corner was a china cabinet, which appeared to be empty.

“Don’t look in there,” Quinn said as she steered Blake by the shoulders toward the hallway. “That is all the junk that I need to move to the office and file away.” She flipped on a light in the first room to reveal an old claw-footed tub with a free-standing shower curtain rack surrounding it. The pedestal sink was stained, but the faucet looked new.

“This is all original, isn’t it?”

“The plumbing fixtures aren’t,” Quinn said as she flipped the light back off. “Now you know where the bathroom is. She turned on the light in another room; there was a full-sized bed and a bed stand, nothing else. “This is my guest room. As you can see, it isn’t very welcoming. I don’t want Dawn getting any ideas when she gets fed up with her husband and kids. She comes sometimes anyway, though.” Quinn crossed the hall and again turned on the light.

Blake stood in the doorway and gazed at the bedroom. Quinn’s queen-sized bed was covered with a light quilt, white with dark and light blue strips. A TV was mounted on the wall opposite the bed, and there was a tall chest of drawers in the corner. It was all very plain but tidy.

“You grew up in a two-bedroom house? Where did you all sleep?” Blake followed Quinn back to the kitchen.

“Dawn, Jacob, and I shared a bedroom until Jacob was around eight, then he started sleeping on the couch. Dad converted the garage then to a bedroom, and he and Mom used that, so Jacob could have his own room. When they built the bigger house, this place became the office.” Quinn opened the fridge. “I have soda, iced tea, and of course, water. What can I get for you?”

“I think I’ll have tea. I should try to blend in with the Southerners. It’s very sweet, isn’t it?”

“There is no other kind,” Quinn said with a laugh. “You can add water if it’s too much.”

“Are you a licensed plumber?” Blake asked as she stared out the kitchen window.

Quinn glanced at her oddly for a second. “I am, so is Jacob.”

“Did you have to go to school for that?”

“We did, and I hated it. The course was heavy in math and building codes, which is mind-numbingly boring. I don’t use a third of what I was taught. I can read blueprints, though.”

“It’s a male-dominated career. Was it hard to fit in with your classmates? Did they resent you being there?”

“It’s not as male as it used to be,” Quinn said as she raked the food onto plates. “There were five women in my class. Several of them went on to be pipe fitters in the industrial sector. They make the big bucks. But Jacob and I knew we were destined to work in the family business because that’s how Dad wanted it. I preferred to be a teacher, but that didn’t pan out.”

“Why?” Blake turned and leaned against the counter.

“Jacob was kind of socially awkward then, and he didn’t want to go to school alone. I figured I’d get my license, work for a while, then go back to school. I’d have to pay for it anyway since Dad would only finance plumbing school. And then, I grew complacent. It was fun to work with my brother.”

“Why did you want to teach?”

Quinn looked at Blake. “Are you just making conversation, or am I being interviewed?”

Blake pursed her lips and shrugged. “Maybe both.”

“I wanted to teach because I struggled in school, especially in math. I’m the type that needs to work something out on my own, and that takes a while. My teachers just expected me to pick it up after they explained the concept. My brain didn’t work that way, and I was always several steps behind. Fortunately for me, my grandmother knew that, and she would work with me because my dad was the same way. I spent many a night at her kitchen table going over math problems. They’re called problems for a reason,” Quinn said with a groan.

Blake smiled. “You’re the type that never reads directions.”

“Exactly, but you do, don’t you?”

“Every last word, sometimes twice before I even attempt to put something together. The difference between us, though, is you probably get it right, and I end up calling someone to do it for me.”

“Well…I do tend to have parts left over. You probably shouldn’t get too close to the bookshelf in the den.” Quinn pulled out a chair. “Sit and relax.”

“So you wanted to teach math?”

“Hell no.” Quinn opened the fridge again and pulled out the ketchup. “Physical education. I wanted to coach softball. I figured I could at least make kids feel good about themselves like my coach did with me.”

“What do you wear when you work?”

Quinn laughed as though she thought the question strange. “Mostly jeans and work shirts, but when we have to crawl under a house, we wear water-resistant coveralls. Tell me about this book you’ve been feverishly working on.”

“I’m a little stymied at the moment…my main character has gone silent.”

Quinn sat and opened up all the dipping sauces. “Male or female?”

Blake found that she didn’t want to tell Quinn about what she was writing, especially since she was using her as a main character. Quinn, who she would rename later, was taking Blake in a direction she’d never gone before. She also rarely wrote in first person. The story felt more personal and bordered on romantic.

“I have a plumber in my story, that’s why I was asking questions.”

“The one I read some of?”

Blake shook her head as she nibbled a shrimp. “This is altogether different… Hot damn, this is spicy. Do you people have to put pepper in everything?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Quinn pointed to one of the sauces. “Dip it in that, it’ll dull the heat. What’s the premise?”

“It’s about a woman who is haunted by things…scary things.”

Quinn chomped on a shrimp, then swallowed. “She’s possessed?”

“No. Well, not in the typical sense.”

As Blake tried to explain, she realized that it was almost autobiographical. Some fears were good and kept most people from doing things that would be deadly, then there were others that served no beneficial purpose other than robbing someone of the joy of living. Blake had used her own name for that character, and she would change that later, too. Quinn’s character was a hero of sorts, the ardent friend who stood at Blake’s side.

“I might have to read this one. I’m trying to work up the courage to read your other books. Jacob’s wife has them all. Tonya is a huge fan of yours.”

“I’m flattered,” Blake said shyly.

“That has to be a rush, to know that someone
loves
what you do. I’m tickled pink when someone does a happy dance over a new sewer line or faucet,” Quinn said. “But to have real fans must be an ego boost.”

“It is,” Blake agreed with a nod. “When I get fan mail, I feel like the queen of the world, but it’s also humbling. When I reread some of my books after they’ve been published, I get so pissed at myself. There was so much I should’ve done differently. My mind was so busy tying up every loose end, poring over every finite detail, I missed looking at the bigger picture. My books could be better, every last one of them. I’m never satisfied with the finished product. I’ve never held one and said this is perfect. But then, people praise me for them, and I wonder why.”

“Obviously, they disagree with you. How much of your personality actually goes into what you write?”

“More than I like to admit. My villains or evil entities are everything that makes me uncomfortable, frightened, or angry. In my earlier books, my protagonists, my heroes were pieces of me or what I’d like to be. Lately, it’s more of just me, flawed, often irrational, but unlike me, my characters go through an evolution, and in the end, they’re better for it.”

Quinn swallowed down her last piece of shrimp. “The other day, I went to the nursing home to drop off my mother’s laundry, and this old woman met me at the door like she always does. She made me laugh because she said ‘revolution’ made our tails drop off. She meant evolution, I’m sure. I think you’re changing, Blake, but I wouldn’t call it evolution because that just happens. What’s going on in your life right now is revolution because you are actively fighting for change. I admire you for that.”

Blake hoped she could remember what Quinn had just said exactly the way she worded it because it made an impact on her heart and would fit nicely in her book. “That means a lot to me, thank you.”

Chapter 15

Quinn tried not to squirm as tension stiffened her neck while she watched the video on her TV. She’d borrowed two DVDs from Jacob, movies that he claimed were the least frightening of Blake’s renderings. She strongly disagreed. She thought it’d be easier to watch them with Blake, and she was wrong, even with Blake’s commentary.

“I didn’t write that, they embellished,” she said as one of the characters made a crude joke during a tense scene. “They take a lot of liberties, cut and splice to condense it all down to an hour and forty-five minutes.”

“Yeah…I hear that a lot about movies adapted from books. The books are always better.” Quinn sounded nonchalant, but she wanted to stand on her couch and scream at Blake,
What the hell is wrong with you? From what part of the underworld did you get your demented imagination?
“But this is good, really good,” she said calmly instead. The corner of her mouth quivered as a dark and ominous black figure hovered just inches above the face of a sleeping woman.

“That’s mine,” Blake said as she pointed to the TV. “I got the idea from a nightmare.” She tilted her head to the side. “It doesn’t seem quite as scary.”

“Is this the first time you’ve watched this movie?”

“This is the first time I’ve watched this one. I don’t usually watch them for the same reason I don’t read my books anymore, I’m not happy. In my book, Selene is dreaming this as it happens, not half awake and humping the covers as the entity seduces her.”

“Pfft, yeah, they totally missed that,” Quinn said with a wave of her hand. “Do you mind…if we play a video game after this, so I won’t have to go to sleep with these images in my brain?”

“This isn’t scary, it’s stupid,” Blake said, shaking her head.

“You’re not spooked at all?” Quinn asked incredulously.

“No, I can’t get past the women’s breasts flopping out of their shirts at every turn. It’s frickin’ winter, the guys are in coats and sweaters, and the women are all in what could pass for swimwear. It’s dumb, it’s sexist, and it pisses me off.”

Quinn gladly took that as a signal to hit stop on her remote. “I take it you don’t have any creative control.”

“None, I’m not Stephen King.” Blake sighed. “It’s all about the money. I
have
to make it to keep doing what I do.”

“Have you ever wanted to write in another genre?”

“Sure, I’d like to write comedy or a satire, but that’s not what my publisher or my agent and most importantly my audience wants. They want horror. One doesn’t bite the hand that feeds her.”

Quinn tossed the remote aside. “Hey, do you like to dance?”

Blake stared at her warily. “Um…no.”

*******

Quinn ducked Blake’s flailing arms and laughed. Music blared from the speakers. Blake was transfixed as she watched the screen, and with the Wii nunchuck in her hand, she tried to emulate what she was seeing. She waved her hands back and forth, then stopped and humped the air, then tried to do some sort of scissor motion with her feet. Quinn laughed hysterically.

“You’re killing me,” she wheezed as Blake put her arms up and looked very much like an ape as she twirled in a circle.

“I’ve got more points than you. They must not take into account full body motion,” Blake said as she worked up a sweat and showed no signs of giving up.

“Twerk it, Blake, twerk it.”

“What does that mean? I’ve heard the term, but I have no idea what that is.”

Quinn turned her back, stuck her ass out, and swiveled and bounced her butt at the same time.

“Oh, my God, I can’t do that, it’s nasty, and I’d pull something. Wait—don’t stop. Your butt looks like it has a mind of its own. How do you do that?”

Quinn spun around. “Arch your back.” Blake did, but she looked like she’d thrown something out. “Relax a little and just let your booty bounce.”

“I keep asking myself why I want to do this, and it throws off my rhythm.”

Quinn was laughing so hard she went down on her knees and clutched her stomach. “You look…you look like you’re trying to sit on something hot. Relax.”

“I feel so dirty,” Blake said with a growl as she gyrated. “How do I look? Am I nasty?”

Quinn was completely vapor locked, her mouth was wide open, but no sound was coming out. Tears streamed from her eyes. Blake was pretty sure she’d never master twerking, but she was bound and determined to try. She put her hands on her knees and tried to bounce her ass with the fast pace of the music, but she looked more like a jockey without a horse. She laughed along with Quinn until she finally dropped on all fours heaving.

“Oh, my God,” Quinn said as she caught her breath and wiped her eyes. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be in traction tomorrow, but at least one of us got something out of it.”

“You’re really funny when you let your hair down.”

Blake stretched out on the floor and picked up a photo from the bottom shelf of the bookcase and brushed the dust from it. “Who is this?”

Quinn cleared her throat as she gazed at it. “My ex. I thought I’d thrown away all her pictures. I guess that one fell out of something.”

“The breakup was bitter?” Blake asked as she handed it to Quinn.

“She was ‘the one that got away.’” Quinn tore the picture in little strips and set the pile on the coffee table. “It’s best that I don’t have anything around that reminds me of her.”

“How long has it been?”

“Let’s see.” Quinn stared up at the ceiling. “Dad died in 2006, and I met her a year later. Almost five years.”

Blake folded her legs Indian style. “That’s a long time. No one has come along since?”

“I’ve dated. Actually, I have plans to spend this weekend with a girl I’ve been seeing who works on an oil rig as a medic. She’s coming off her thirty-day shift. We’re just casual, so it’s not going to amount to anything. She’s from Alabama and plans to go back there once she makes enough money. She’s got a lot of debt from a previous relationship that she’s trying to pay off. The rig thing pays really well, but Lilly says she doesn’t want to do that kind of thing for the rest of her life.” Quinn toyed with a frayed area in the leg of her jeans. “I’m good with the noncommittal arrangement. I’m just not in that place yet where you have to be to have something meaningful. What about you?”

“I have an ex, too, and when I get my shit together, I’m going to win her back,” Blake said with conviction.

Quinn met her gaze. “I hope that works out for you.”

“Me too,” Blake said with a nod and looked away. “I need to get my hair colored again. Is there a hairdresser you’d recommend?”

Blake’s abrupt subject change meant that part of their conversation was over. Quinn accepted the cue, though she had some questions she figured would always remain unanswered. She wanted to know how Blake managed to date and still hide in her apartment. She couldn’t imagine Blake being intimate. She seemed too closed off, and Quinn could not see Blake allowing herself to be vulnerable in that regard.

“There are only two in this dinky town that I’d suggest. Trina McKnight’s shop is in a trailer off a dirt road, and if you saw the place, you probably wouldn’t let her touch your head. She’s good, though, and she does my sister’s hair. Dawn is one of her faithful customers. She was a blonde when she was a kid, but now her natural color is just as red as mine and Jacob’s. Trina does an amazing job bleaching it, and I think Dawn’s hair looks really great.”

“It does,” Blake agreed with a nod. “Would you be willing to take me to see Trina if I can get an appointment?”

“You will easily and yes.” Quinn sat up straighter and shifted her weight to her hip. “Would you take off your hat?”

“I put it on while my hair was wet. I’m sure there’s a train wreck beneath it.”

“Just let me see.”

Blake exhaled through her nostrils, making them flare. “Okay,” she said as she pulled the cap from her head and ruffled her locks with her fingers.

Quinn got up on her knees and studied her roots. “From what I can see, your natural color is a pretty shade of brown. May I be honest?”

“No.” Blake put the cap back on her head. “Okay, yes.”

“That black hair makes you look harsh. I think it makes your face look pale. Maybe you should have Trina strip the color out of it instead of dyeing it again.”

“I may do that.” Blake looked up at the clock. “I hate to cut the evening short, but I should get home and get to work.”

“Did I offend you?” Quinn asked, her face etched with concern.

“No, you didn’t. I appreciate the honestly. That’s what friends do, right? We tell each other the truth.”

“Right,” Quinn said with a relieved smile.

“Good and you should know that if you ever get tired of plumbing, you could be a stripper, judging by the way you shake your ass.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Quinn said with a laugh as she got up.

“I wasn’t joking.”

*******

“Here we are.” Quinn pulled into the driveway of Blake’s house. “I’m glad you came over. I had a great… What’s wrong with you?”

“I forgot to turn on the lights.” Blake fidgeted and made no move to get out of the truck.

“Blake, you can—”

“No! Don’t tell me I have to go in there! Not like that.”

“I’ll walk you to the door, we’ll flip on the living room light, then you can do the rest. This is your next hurdle. You’re gonna have to sleep on the porch if you can’t—”

Quinn fell silent when Blake turned and looked at her with eyes big and watery. “Don’t ask this of me, I’m begging you. Just…just walk in with me and turn on the lights, look everything over,” Blake said, her jaw quivering.

It stunned Quinn to see Blake that terrified, but she truly was. Her tiny body shook from head to toe, and her knuckles were white where she held on to the door handle. “Why does the dark scare you so much?”

“I promise that I’ll explain if you go with me, please, Quinn.”

“Okay,” Quinn said when Blake looked like she was going to seriously cry. She hopped out of the truck, ran around to Blake’s side, and opened the door. “Give me your hand. I won’t let it go until you feel better.”

Blake’s grip was like iron as she squeezed Quinn’s hand on the walk to the porch. The keys in her other hand shook so violently that she could not manage the lock. Quinn took them from her, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. Then she flipped on the porch light and the one in the living room.

“Let’s go to the kitchen first,” Quinn said as she tugged Blake along. She switched on the hall light on the way. Once the kitchen and porch were lit up and pantry checked, they moved to the spare room, which was empty. Quinn checked the closet in there, too. After every corner of Blake’s bedroom and the master bath were illuminated, Quinn checked behind the shower curtain, under the bed, and the closet. It was all clear—no masked villains, no ghosts.

“You missed the bathroom in the hallway,” Blake said as she began to calm. Quinn inspected it, too, and pulled the shower curtain way back to show Blake it was clear.

“Come sit down.” Quinn towed Blake to the couch where they sat. She released Blake’s hand and stared at her curiously. “Tell me your story.”

Blake stared at something on the wall, her blue eyes still watery. “I’ve always been afraid of the dark. My imagination runs rampant, especially when I can’t see anything.” She licked her lips. “I was nine, and Dani and I had been fighting all day because the weather was rainy, and she’d been trapped inside with me. It was early spring, but where we were living was still chilly. Dani and I had chores, and one of them was to bring in firewood. Dad came home that evening, and we were still bickering. He sent us out to get wood. I remember Dani opening the big wooden box. It was almost empty, and I had to climb halfway in to get a hand on the logs. She shoved me, then closed the lid. It was black as pitch.”

Blake looked down at her hands. “I think that’s why she gets so frustrated with me now because she’s admitted that she’s always felt guilty for doing that. She knows that memory adds to my anxieties. She was furious with me that day because I’d broken a toy of hers, so she slipped the lock through the latch and hid behind the tool shed. Mom was on the phone, she didn’t realize how long we’d been gone. I have no idea what Dad was doing, but I stayed in that box for what felt like a long time.”

Blake put the palms of her hands to her head. “I heard voices, and somewhere deep inside of me, I knew they weren’t real. I knew it was my imagination just running wild. I just couldn’t calm down enough to rationalize. I screamed and pounded on that box. I clawed at the lid. I was so hysterical by the time my dad found me that I didn’t realize that a spider had bitten me.” Blake pulled up her pants leg and put her finger in the indention on the side of her calf. “It was a brown recluse.”

“Oh, my God!” Quinn said with disgust. “Jacob was bitten by one of those on his stomach. It was horrible. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I want to beat the shit out of your sister right now.”

“She’s got some scars from that incident, too,” Blake said as she smoothed out her pants leg. “You just can’t see hers. I guess that’s one of the reasons we aren’t very close. She’s never stopped reliving that day, and every time she sees me, she’s reminded of it.”

Quinn took Blake’s hand again and sandwiched it in between her own. “I’m so sorry. I was being a bitch when we were in the truck because I was trying to push you to conquer this fear. I’d have never done that had I known.”

Blake swallowed hard. “Eventually, I’ll have to face that fear, too, but that’s last on the list.”

“Don’t think I’d dream of putting you in a box.”

“Don’t think for a second that I’d let you,” Blake said seriously.

“Are you okay now?”

“I’ll get there eventually.” Blake’s reply didn’t sound too certain.

“Okay, this is what we’ll do. You go sit at your computer and channel some of this tension into your writing. I’m going to stretch out on your couch. If I snore, throw something at me.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Blake said, but her smile said,
I wish you would
.