TannerI wipe my brow and look down at the scattered, broken power tools lying at my feet. This is the fourth time this has happened in the past month since we started framing. My guys sometimes keep their tools in one of the old outbuildings that survived the fire that destroyed the main house, but lately some strange stuff has been happening. I look up at Jose, my framer, who’s standing with his arms crossed a few feet away. He gives me a shrug. “You check the cameras?” I ask, motioning to the outbuilding–nothing more than a decaying shed that’s probably as old as my grandparents, who are well into their nineties. “Nothing. Not even a raccoon. And the padlock was still on the door.”I run my tongue along my lower teeth. Shit. I nudge one of the drills with my foot. It’s melted, literally. Like someone threw it into a fire. The yellow plastic is now a charred black, and the rest of the tools aren’t in any better shape. I had cameras installed around the property after the second
BaileyHelen and Robert’s house has always been bright and homey. It smells like roses as I step inside, breathing deeply. Helen’s wallpapered formal living room glistens–spotless and freshly dusted. The kitchen is on the other side of the foyer, as well as a dining room and small washroom. The layout is similar to the old Gregory house. All of the old houses were built like this–every room contained, connected by archways and built around a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase. But comparatively, Helen and Robert’s house is much smaller and cozier, as is their heavily wooded property. Helen pours glasses of sweet tea. “He’s upstairs in bed,” she sighs, sipping from her glass. “He’s still coming off the drugs. I was told he’d be woozy for a day or two.”“Is he on any pain medication?”“He has a nerve blocker in his chest right now. Robert doesn’t do well on the heavy duty pain killers they prescribed. They make him sick to his stomach.”“He might be al lright with something over t
TannerBailey sings to the radio over the sound of the faucet, her hands shielded by pink rubber gloves dotted with white daisies. Rain patters the windows in the kitchen as I set a few dishes down next to the sink, smiling down at my girlfriend. God, she’s beautiful, and I’m one lucky son-of-a-bitch to have her here. I came home from the job site today to find her in the kitchen up to her elbows in dinner preparations. Cornbread, mashed potatoes with gravy, breaded pork chops, and creamed spinach. I remember the first time I brought her back to my place. I’d offered to cook her dinner to try to impress her, but I only knew how to make spaghetti with sauce from a jar. So, we ate that, and steak. And the next night, at her old apartment, she made me some type of pasta dish with chicken that had me seeing stars and planning our future together. I count my blessings everyday, and she’s always at the very top of that list. “There’s plenty leftover if you’re still hungry.” She grins a
BaileyThe Wilson house is fairly small, snug, and full of memories. I love old houses like these. Every creak step and notch in the floorboards holds a memory, and for the Wilsons, that’s over three decades of marriage and cohabitation. I run my finger over the squeaky clean mantle above the seldom used fireplace. I’m sure it’s just for show. I can’t imagine needing a fire ever in a state like Louisiana, but I sure do like the idea of cozying up in front of a fireplace and reading a book on a cold, snowy winter night. I chuckle to myself at the thought of snow–having never seen it in real life–and go about my business. I’ve set up a little workstation in the study off the living room, which is nothing more than a desk, a crammed bookshelf, and a large safe that takes up most of the tiny room. Robert likes to hunt and fish, and it shows. I eye the boxes of bullets, thankful they’re covered in years’ worth of dust, as I sit down at the cluttered desk and search for Robert’s file in
TannerJose and the rest of the crew have been sitting around kicking rocks for days. That’s just how things go, but this house has been the bane of my existence all summer. Once we clear this inspection, work can start up again, but it’s taken weeks to even get to this point. I scan the behemoth of a house, finally able to see the shape taking form. It’ll be beautiful when it’s done, sure. I’ll make certain of that. While I’m not a fan of modern homes, I’ll leave my mark on this one as best I can. It’ll be the best damn modern home in all of Hahnville. Storm clouds funnel overhead as I walk around the house, checking the work we’ve done. It’s fully framed now, thank god. I’ve replaced every single fucking tool since we started building the foundation in the spring. Jake is finally off my ass about the schedule. It sounds like his wife is changing her tune about living here, which means he’s more involved in making this a home rather than a shell made of white and gray walls to sel
BaileyI sip a cocktail in a quiet restaurant a few blocks away from Bourbon Street. It’s a quiet Friday night because of the rain, but I don’t mind. Tanner leans back in his seat with an empty plate in front of him. That man can eat, that’s for sure. No one has ever complimented my cooking like he does, and tonight he’s already spoken to the chef of this little establishment twice, showering him with praise. I smile at the thought and slide my leg against his under the table. He opens one eye and smiles softly at me. “You look like you had a long day,” I tell him. He shrugs. “Yeah, well. It’s been a long week. You’ve been gone, I’ve been splitting time between the job site and my shift at the firehouse.”“Well, we’re home all weekend.” I grin. “I think staying in bed until Monday is just what the doctor ordered.”“That sounds like heaven,” he says, but his voice is wistful and withdrawn, like his mind is elsewhere. I’ve known Tanner for a year. I’ve known him to be steadfast, st
TannerI barely slept last night or the night before. Bailey and I spent our weekend holed up in my house navigating a sudden rift that has formed in our relationship. She barely looked in my direction all weekend. Even now, I can barely put into words what happened. One moment, we’d been having sex, and the next moment things got… hazy. Like I was standing outside of my body, watching, unable to stop the series of events unfolding in front of me as Bailey’s eyes rolled back in her head and she was just… out. Out, for several seconds, them came to, screaming and pointing a knife at me. I can’t put my guilt into words, so I’m not going to even try. What’s worse is the fact she spent the last two days trying to apologize to me. It’s safe to say my head isn’t screwed on right today. I step down off the foundation and onto the wide driveway at the old Gregory property and run my fingers through my hair before putting my cap back on. Jose walks into view with his toolbox hoisted over
BaileyI’ve been distracted all night, and it’s no wonder. It was actually Helen who told me about the fire. I hadn’t heard from Tanner all day, and suddenly Helen was dragging me into her living room where a video of Tanner bursting out of a burning building carrying an unconscious little girl was playing on a loop. When I called him, he sounded distracted. I get it, of course. It takes a certain kind of person to run into danger and save a life. But still…. He sounded off, withdrawn, and so I’ve felt a little off kilter all night. It’s 4:00 A.M., and I’m sitting in the cramped office downstairs preparing my notes for Helen to take to Robert’s doctor appointment later today. It’s been a quiet night. Robert hasn’t woken up a single time, and I’ve honestly just been twiddling my thumbs and trying to find something to do. He starts physical therapy this week, and once he’s back up on his feet enough to move around with the help of a walker, Helen wants me to switch to a day shift for