Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two (King, #6)

I thought I was alone until I spun around to find Doe looking up at me from the kitchen. She gasped, covering her hand with her mouth as she looked me up and down, taking in my shaved head and hair free face for the first time. When she realized she was staring she averted her gaze down to the messenger bag she was organizing on the counter and cleared her throat. “Um...do the clothes I brought you not fit?” She zipped up the bag and lifted her eyes to me, doing a better job of hiding her shock at my appearance, only her dilating pupils gave her true feelings away.

“I’m good,” I said, glancing down at my t-shirt and sweats. “I don’t need much. When did you guys remodel?” I asked taking in the new wood floors and fresh paint. Even the cabinets were the same but had been sanded and painted a bright white. “Looks like adults live here now,” I said.

“Which is funny because it’s overrun by kids,” Doe said with a smile. She pushed up the strap of her tank top that kept falling off her shoulder.

“Preppy, if you don’t like the color of the shirt or bow ties I can get you different colors, or you can come with me to pick out your own. There’s this new store called GENTS across the causeway with an entire wall of bowties, but it’s only open during the season so we’ll have to wait to go there when it’s open again in November. We might have to fight off some tourists for best pick of the new stuff they put out, but it could be fun.”

I shrugged. “Jeans would be good.”

“Remember when you bought me that dress for our ‘date?’” she asked, using air quotes when she said the word ‘date.’ “It fit perfectly and you didn’t even know my size. Shit, I didn’t even know my size. The skirt I was wearing was from the hooker ready section of goodwill and whatever hooker wore it before me had an ass that went on for days.” Doe lamented with a laugh. “That was a long time ago,” she added.

“To me that was yesterday,” I said.

The smile slowly fell from her face and she changed the subject. “Did you make a list of things you needed?” I loved that girl like a sister but the way she looked at me like I was a sad puppy dog with a broken leg was starting to piss me off.

“It’s on the counter.” I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer.

“What the fuck is this?” Doe asked, waving the list around in the air.

“You asked me to make you a list of the shit I wanted.”

“I meant like groceries,” Doe jutted out a hip.

“What do you think that is?” I popped open the beer on the corner of the counter and cringed, holding a hand over my right ear until the echoing faded. I cracked my jaw like I was popping my ears on an airplane but I knew that a little jaw popping wouldn’t be enough to cure me of my aversions to sound and light.

I was like a reverse Helen Keller.

I plopped on the couch and picked up the remote, clicking through channels.

Doe came to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the screen as she read back my list. “Blow, weed, the last three seasons of American Ninja Warrior, non-shitty beer, Johnny Walker, Jose Cuervo...” she stopped and crumpled the paper. “This isn’t a fucking shopping list, Preppy, it’s a list of felonies.” She threw the wad of paper at me and it bounced off my face, rolling onto the floor. “Give that kind of shit to King or Bear, in the meantime, if you need clothes, or food, or things like deodorant and toothpaste, then I’m your gal.”

“Why are you so pissed off at me?” I asked, taking my eyes from the TV to give her a questioning look.

“Because...I don’t fucking know!” She snapped, grabbing her bag from the counter and swung open the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“The kids are at school and the baby is with King in his studio so I’m going to the food store to get stuff for dinner, and then I’m going to Grace’s grave to lay fresh flowers and then pick up the kids and then tonight I have an appointment to tattoo an entire butt cheek with the face of a tiger. “You can come with me, you know. To Grace’s grave?”

“Nah, I’m good here,” I said, taking a swig of my beer and turning back around to the TV. “Wait, when did you start tattooing?” I called out but she was already gone.

The screen slammed shut and if the sound of her stomping down the steps indicated how she felt about my refusal to take her up on her offer to go to the cemetery, then Doe was most defiantly pissed the fuck off. It took a solid minute of covering my ears and rocking back and forth for those sounds to stop bouncing around in my head.

I rubbed my eyes. “Chicks,” I muttered, sitting back against the cushions.

“She kind of has a point there,” someone said. I turned my head to the hallway as a girl with long pinkish hair and a very big baby belly stepped out from the back door into the living room. She leaned against the wall next to the TV. “You haven’t gone to the cemetery since they told you about Grace. You should go with her sometime.”

“You mean since I found out about Grace,” I corrected her, unable to hide the bitterness from my voice. “No point. Just a box in the ground surrounded by other buried boxes in the ground. Never did make much sense to me to visit people who can’t talk back.”

“Did you know that Ray visits your grave while she’s there too? Brings you flowers and everything. Even since you’ve come back. She’s still been doing it. I don’t know if it’s out of habit or...”

“Or why?” I asked. “What exactly are you getting at oh wise pink one?”

“Or maybe she’s still visiting your grave because she feels like you haven’t really come back yet.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “That’s ridiculous, I’m right fucking here...wait, I have a grave?” I again lifted my feet onto the table and expected her to slide hers off to make room. No such luck. Oh she lifted her feet alright, but the second my heels came in contact with the table she rested them across my shins and sighed deeply. “That’s creepy as fuck...and kind of fucking cool.”

“Don’t you want to know who I am?” she asked.

“I was getting to that,” I lied, staring daggers at her offending feet resting across my legs. The girl gave me an eerie sense of deja-vu and although I was positive I didn’t know this her, I kind of felt like I knew about her.

“I’m Thia, Bear’s fiancé,” she offered. “But you can call me Ti if you want.” She patted her stomach and smiled. “This here is Trey. Well, Trey if it’s a boy, or Jackie Marie if it’s a girl.”

“Bear?” I asked, the mention of his name grating against my nerves. The fucker still hadn’t shown his face. “I don’t know a Bear. I mean, the name sounds vaguely familiar but I can’t quite picture him. Sounds ugly as fuck though.”

It would sound more familiar if he showed his fucking face and stopped avoiding me.

Thia rolled her eyes. “He’s giving you time, asshole. Take it as a gift because trust me, you fucking need it.”

“Time for what?” I asked, pushing her legs off of mine and sitting up so I could lean in and better glare at the stranger in front of me. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll find out.”