Braht
Earlier, when I pulled up to Hill House and saw Ash, my first reaction was, “What the hell?” But my second reaction was “Hell yes!”
I love it when she one-ups me. She gets all fiery. For a while there, I was worried that this Dwight/Dweeb situation was going to extinguish that light in her for good, but he hasn’t. And he won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.
So I’m actually glad she’s out with her friends tonight. Everyone deserves to hang out with their besties. I’ve got Tom when I need him and Bramly is always in the background.
I’m lounging at home when Ash texts me a picture of her and Sadie and Brynn. They look shiny and happy. So I text Ash a picture of me, in bed, wearing silk. All artists make difficult choices so I opt to crop out the gin and tonic and the crackling fire in favor of a close-up of my crotch.
That’s artistic, too.
I’m thinking luxurious, horny thoughts when I spy something out the window. It’s a tiny red light out there in the darkness.
The kind you see on a camera.
For a moment I don’t really react. I take another sip of my gin and tonic (it’s Plymouth gin, my favorite. Because cheap gin is a crime). I glance around the room, wondering if something in here could cause a reflection.
But no. Nothing of mine should be shining on the window. And anyway, I know what I’m seeing. There’s someone outside my bedroom window.
My heart rate doubles, but I set the drink carefully down on my nightstand (quarter sawn oak. A Stickley reproduction.) Then I ease myself out of bed and walk calmly to the door of my room.
Jumping out of the window won’t work this time, because I’m on the second floor. So I dart down my stairs, slide on my Guccis and exit hastily through the front door. As soon as I’m outside, I can hear him.
Footsteps running away, toward the back of my property.
Shit.
I give chase, but when I round the corner of the house, he’s already out of sight. So I reverse course, walking out to the quiet street instead. I live in a neighborhood with three- and four-stall garages. So unless someone’s having a party, there are rarely cars parked on the street.
And yet there’s an aging ’72 El Camino muscle car, the kind of car that’s like a mullet: business in the front, party in the back, parked three houses away.
I trot right over there, memorizing the license plate number on my way. I keep my head up because I don’t need this asshole surprising me in the dark. The streetlamp gives me just enough light to make out a camera case on the back seat.
Shit.
I stand there and look around for a while, waiting. That fucker is probably somewhere in the shadows watching me. And I’ve left my own house unattended.
So the only thing to do is go home and lock the door. Which I do. But then I get out my computer and Google private detectives.
Ash might not like me meddling. But she gave me the idea in the first place when she mentioned her friend Sadie.
I can’t sit here and do nothing. If I call the cops with a vague report that someone pointed a camera into my bedroom, there won’t be a thing they can do. They’re going to assume I’m paranoid.
A PI will care, though, because I’ll pay him to care.
The first guy I dial picks up on the first ring, too. “This is Hank Miller. How can I help you?” His voice sounds like life has kicked him around a bit, and then he turned around and sucker-punched life out. He scares me a little.
He’s perfect.
“Hi, Hank. I need to know if my girlfriend’s jackass of an ex-con ex-husband is stalking us, and why. I’m going to give you a name and a license plate number, for starters.”
There’s a pause. “This case isn’t about cheating?”
“Nope. Why?”
“They’re all about cheating. I get so tired of shooting pics of guys’ bare butts.”
Huh. “This case does not involve any bare butts,” I assure him. “But if it’s all the same to you, let’s get this license plate down on paper. I have some very good gin to drink.”
“I hear that,” he says and I can actually hear the ice clink in his glass.
An hour later I hear my garage door open. And a minute after that, Ash enters the kitchen looking disheartened. “Whatcha drinking?” she asks. “Actually, I don’t care what it is. But make mine a double.” She tosses her coat onto a stool and heads for the living room, then sits down heavily on the sofa.
“Rough night?” I ask while double-checking my home security system. And I’ve already shut all the drapes in the house. I can’t decide whether or not to spill my guts about spotting that camera outside. I’ll tell her everything I know, of course. It’s just that I won’t know more until the PI gets a chance to do his thing.
“The roughest. Poor Sadie.”
I sit down next to her and she puts her head on my shoulder. “Men are such assholes,” I say.
She chuckles. “You don’t have to be a traitor to your people.”
“Well. Men make up at least half the assholes on the planet. So it’s true no matter what.” I know quite a few of them, too. My father, for starters.
Ash doesn’t comment. She only snuggles closer.
I pull her into my arms and sigh. We’re both a little down. Obviously. That explains why we’re not tearing each other’s clothes off, and why my dick is, well, down.
I take a breath of her fruity scent and realize that this is nice, too. Very nice.
“Braht?”
“Hmm?” And, whoops. Spoke too soon. I chub up just from hearing her say my name in that breathy voice.
“My parents have invited us to the cottage for a couple of days.”
Oh. “When?”
“Tomorrow night. Mom says she wants us to spend time there once more before they close it down for the season. I’m on the fence. I should be showing the heck out of Hill House, but it would be good to get away. I could make excuses for you and go alone.”
“I’ll go,” I hear myself say.
She lifts her face to look at me. “Really? Because you could also sell the listing out from under me while I’m gone. I probably deserve it.”
“You probably do.” I put a finger on her nose. “But I’m not sure it matters. Dennie’s showing went really well. That young couple wants to tear it down.”
“That’s so tricky,” she protests.
“It is, unless you’re two married architects who can design a showy new home on the old one’s exact footprint.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh. Shit.”
“Yeah. I think we’ll have an offer by morning.”
She puts her head down on my shoulder again. “Fucking Dennie. He couldn’t sell an oasis to thirsty nomads.”
“Life is unfair. On the other hand, this means we can go have more cottage sex.” I give her a squeeze. “I have fond memories of that little bed.”
“You’ll have to go there as Hunter again,” she says to my neck. “That’s weird.”
Oh, Ash. You have no idea. “Wouldn’t you know? I’m already used to it.”