Junkyard Dog(9)

“What are their names?” I ask.

“Chipper and Cricket.”

“That’s right. I remember you saying they have stupid names.”

The twins look at me and then their mother. She waves her hand as if telling them to ignore me. They return to their work.

“Their father picked their names.”

“You should have insisted on better names.”

“Having unique names makes us unique. Wouldn’t you agree, Angus?” she asks, emphasizing my name.

I swear her daughter snickers and sounds exactly like her mother. I should hate knowing there are two of them in the world, but I don’t. The world is a stupid place full of morons. Having more than one of Candy makes me hopeful for humankind.

“Come to my office.”

Candy follows me immediately. I know she thinks I’ll put my foot down about having the kids in the office. She’s ready for my rage, so I give her something else. She isn’t the only sneaky person in the room.

“Have you found a place to live yet?”

“No. I’m still looking around. I don’t know dick about White Horse.”

I open my address book and find a number for her. After writing it on a slip of paper, I hand her the information.

“This realtor handles my rental properties. I have a few empty places on the north side. That’s where you’ll want to live if you want your weird kids going to good schools. The east side has good schools too, but the people there are arrogant f*ckers. You won’t fit in as a single mom with a stripper name. The south is too close to Hickory Creek, and that place is a shithole. The west side is too close to Common Bend, and the schools are full of junkies’ kids.”

Candy looks over the number and then nods. Her gaze is soft and appreciative. I drink in her attention and feel like a junkie myself.

“You can pick whatever empty house I have available.”

“What’s the rent like?” she asks, still watching me with a warm expression.

I think about kissing her. If my lips taste hers, I know I’ll devour her whole. Based on her expression, I don’t think she’d stop me. Then I remember her kids in the next f*cking room and realize I’m going home alone again tonight.

“No rent,” I say, finally answering her. “Just get your kids into a real school, so they don’t end up being f*cking morons like most people in this town.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Sitting in my chair, I lean back and frown at her. “I don’t have to do much of f*cking anything.”

“No, but that’s because you’re scary and rich. This gesture is you being nice. You don’t need to do that.”

“I went through a shitf*ck of assistants before I ended up with those temp broads. If giving you a rental house keeps you happy and I don’t need to learn a new moron’s name, it’s no skin off my ass.”

Candy smiles at me, but the warmth in her eyes is gone. She’s in smartass mode again.

“This is like the end of one of those Scrooge movies where the mean man gets all sweet and syrupy about humanity.”

“Go away,” I say, but I’m f*cking smiling because her teasing doesn’t piss me off the way most things do.

Candy bats her eyes at me and then spins around and leaves the room. I hear her rounding up the twins and checking the backdoors. Soon her car starts and she disappears down the road toward the hotel she currently calls home. I imagine her moving into a house and getting settled into White Horse. Keeping Candy happy means making me happy and me being happy is all that really matters in life.





SEVEN - CANDY


Hayes’s realtor Janice shows us three houses on the north side of White Horse before we arrive at the red brick box-style home. I don’t think much of the flat front exterior. Despite its lack of hominess, the place feels safe. Strong, unassuming, ready to withstand chaos. Sort of like Hayes’s office.

When we left the hotel this morning, the twins were thrilled to look for a house. Now they’re tired and bored. The first house interested them, but the yard was tiny, and Chipper said the bedrooms smelled evil. When Cricket asked what evil smelled like, he said her butt. Things went downhill from there.

By the time we see the brick box, they’re ready to live anywhere.

“Nothing feels like home,” Chipper whines after the third house.

I don’t know what home feels like. Since I left home at eighteen, I’ve lived in apartments and the Eddison family’s guest house. I don’t know what I’m looking for in this rental besides three bedrooms, a decent backyard, and enough space in the house for us not to step on each other. My standards are low, yet I still can’t find anything that fits until we drive up to the brick box.

The inside of the house is painted a sunny, pale yellow. The floors alternate between plush carpet and shiny wood. Something about the house reminds me of Hayes. Not the yellow, of course, but the place’s no-nonsense flow. The tall ceilings remind me of him too. The house isn’t fancy but has good bones. Like with Hayes, I’m attracted to something at the house’s core.

“I like it,” I tell Chipper and Cricket while we stand upstairs.

“It feels like a home,” Chipper says.

“The bedrooms are small,” Cricket mumbles and then adds, “We’re used to sharing a room. Having two will be good.”