“We’re so glad you decided to come,” Mr. Maddox said.
“I appreciate you having me, Mr. Maddox.”
He chuckled, flattening his palm over his belly like a pregnant woman fawning over her ripe baby bump. “It’s just Jim, kiddo. Come in out of the cold! We’ve had a mean cold snap this week.”
Trent held open the creaking screen door as we passed, and I stepped into their tiny home, the worn carpet and furniture an ode to the house from A Christmas Story. I half expected Ralphie to be standing at the top of the stairs in a pink bunny suit, and then smiled as I remembered watching that movie on numerous Thanksgiving evenings from my father’s lap, swaying as he belly laughed for over an hour.
I inhaled stale smoke and the smell of old carpet, feeling strangely at ease. We paused in the kitchen, watching a girl washing dishes at the sink dry her hands and reach her ink-covered arms for Tyler. He hugged her, and then she shook my hand. Her fingers were pruny from the sudsy water, but I could still make out the word baby doll across her knuckles. A diamond stud sparkled in her nose, and beneath the thick eyeliner, she was stunningly beautiful. Everything from her razored bob to her timid smile reminded me of Paige.
“This is Cami,” Trent said.
“Or Camille,” she said. “Whichever you prefer. Nice to meet you.”
“Cami belongs to Trent,” Abby said, pointing to the correct brother.
“Actually … I belong to her,” Trent said.
Camille lifted her shoulder, standing on the side of her foot. “I think I’ll keep him.”
“You better,” Trent said, winking at her.
Tyler cleared his throat. “Where are we sleeping?”
“I’ll take you,” Abby said.
She kissed her husband on the cheek, and then led us upstairs to a bedroom with a bunk bed and a dresser. Dusty frames with dirty boys and school pictures of Taylor and Tyler with oversized teeth and shaggy hair hung on the paneled walls. Baseball and football trophies crowded a bookshelf.
“Here you are,” Abby said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She perched her hands on her hips, taking one last glance around the room to make sure it was suitable before we settled in. “Clean sheets on the beds. Bathroom is down the hall, Ellie.”
“Thank you.”
“See you downstairs,” Abby said. “Cami and I are starting some of the food if you want to come down. Poker later.”
“Don’t play with her,” Tyler said, pointing at Abby.
“What? Does she cheat?” I asked.
“No, she’s a fucking hustler. She’ll take all your money.”
“Not all of it,” Abby said, glaring at him. “I give some of it back.”
Tyler grumbled something under his breath, and Abby left us alone, closing the door behind her. The room suddenly felt tiny, and I peeled off my coat.
“Ellie.”
“Yeah?”
“You look wound pretty tight.”
“I need a beer and a cigarette.”
He held out his soft pack and his lighter, walking a few steps to crack the window. I flicked the lighter and breathed in deep, holding in lungs full of smoke until I kneeled beside the window and exhaled.
Tyler lit his own, reaching behind the dresser and pulling out a small red bowl with cutouts on the rim.
“Secret ashtray?” I teased.
“Yeah. He never found it. We were pretty proud of that.”
“Rebels.”
Tyler took a drag and blew it out the window, looking down at his old neighborhood. “I beat the shit out of Paul Fitzgerald on that corner. And Levi … damn … I can’t remember his last name. Weird. I thought I’d remember those kids forever. Do you remember all of your childhood friends?”
“They’re mostly all still around. Some of them OD’d. Some of them committed suicide. The rest are around. I see them at charity galas now and then. Well … I used to … when I went to charity galas.”
“What is a charity gala, exactly?” Tyler asked.
We both laughed, and I shook my head, taking one last drag before mashing the end of my cigarette into Tyler’s secret ashtray. “An asshole magnet.”
“Well, it’s for a good cause, right?”
I snorted, and then stood, putting my pack on the lower bunk and opening the zipper. “Dibs,” I said, setting my things on the bed. When Tyler didn’t answer, I turned to catch him staring at me. “What?”
He shrugged. “It’s just cool … you being here.”
“Thanks for inviting me. I’m sorry for being a cranky bitch.” I swallowed, and my throat felt dry and tight. Jim seemed like a beer guy, and I hoped he would have a six-pack or two in the fridge downstairs. It was all I could do not to run down and yank open the door to find out.
I ran my fingers across the spines of the few books that stood next to his trophies.
“James and the Giant Peach?” I asked.
“Hey. That’s a damn good book.”
“Calling you a peach seems fitting now.”
“Shut it,” Tyler said, holding the ashtray out the window and turning it upside down to empty its contents. He pushed the windowsill down, latching it closed.