Kristen Ashley - Games of the Heart

Then he put the phone on the railing of the balcony, picked up the glass of bourbon also sitting on the railing, lifted it and threw it back.

Then he put the glass to the railing and trained his eyes back on the farm.

“Fuck, I’m such a fucking dick,” he whispered.

Then he grabbed his phone and the glass, turned around and walked back into his house to get more bourbon.

Tuesday, 9:49 a.m.

I got on the plane carrying a white bakery box filled with fresh Hilligoss donuts for Jerra and Hunter.

I’d turned in my rental by myself.

I didn’t look back after I got through security.

And after the plane leveled out, I couldn’t help but think I couldn’t wait to be home.

With her hands carrying the handles of a hamper filled with folded, clean clothes, Clarisse walked through the door at the top of the stairs that led from the basement to the living room. When she did, she saw No stretched out on the couch watching TV, his hand in a bag of microwave popcorn.

His eyes came to her, dropped down to the clothes she was carrying, he grinned his teasing grin and she knew he was about to say something that was going to tick her off.

“Penance or are you workin’ off the allowance you owe Dad?”

She stopped and stared at her brother.

It wasn’t either.

Something was wrong with Dad. She didn’t know what it was but whatever it was made him not right in a way Clarisse didn’t like. Since they came home from Mom’s last Sunday, he’d seemed sad or mad. She didn’t know which but it felt weirdly like a combination of both. What was weirder was that he didn’t seem mad at someone, he just seemed mad. And Clarisse thought it seemed almost like it was at himself.

Clarisse didn’t like it when her Dad was mad at her. What she did like was that when he got mad, he said it right away, explained it, doled out punishment and they moved on. This was unlike her Mom who could sit on being ticked about something for months. Clarisse figured she could do it even for years. Then she’d suddenly explode when it was least expected and it was never pretty. She didn’t only do that with Clarisse and No. When they were together, she did it to their Dad all the time.

So if their Dad was mad at one of them, he would say. And he wasn’t saying. And since Clarisse couldn’t talk to him about whatever was bothering him, she was doing the next best thing.

She was helping out.

On Monday, her Dad took a case that meant overtime. This meant for the last three days he didn’t get home before nine. Once they were in bed when he got home and she only knew he got home because he came in and kissed her temple like he always did when he got home way late.

And with Dad working so hard and being upset, someone had to look after things.

On this thought, her stare at her brother became a glare and she suggested acidly, “You could help out.”

His brows flew up. “With what?”

“It’s your turn to vacuum this week,” she reminded him.

“So, I’ll do it on Saturday.”

“You should do it now so it’ll be done when Dad gets home. And the dishwasher needs to be unloaded. I ran it when I got home from school.”

No studied her and she knew why. Usually they both had to be reminded to do their chores and sometimes they had to be reminded more than once. And also, neither of them did anything extra unless they were told. Like running the dishwasher.

“What’s your gig?” he finally asked, his eyes flicking back to the hamper before again coming to her face. “It’s not your week to do the laundry. It’s Dad’s.”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, I have. Something is up with Dad.”

His eyes grew more alert and she knew he’d noticed. Then again, they were both children of divorce and their parents’ marriage had gone from bad to really bad and stayed that way a while before it was over. They were unconsciously attuned to their parents’ moods like kids from happy homes were not. And when you learned something like that, unconscious or not, you never lost it.

She finished, “He’s workin’ late so I’m helpin’ out. You don’t wanna, fine. After I finish with the laundry, I’ll run the vacuum and I’ll unload the dishwasher.”

And with that, she turned on her foot, flounced out of the room and down the hall. She carried the clothes upstairs and put hers away. The ones that were No’s she just put on his bed. His room was a disaster, it wasn’t worth the effort and if he pulled his finger out, he could put his own clothes away.

She was walking back downstairs when she heard the vacuum go on and she grinned.

Her brother could be a pain. But they both were old enough to know what was going on when their parents got divorced. They also were old enough to know what was going on when their Dad got full custody of them. And they both wanted to live with their Dad. Mom’s apartment was small and even now when they were with her they had to share a room which sucked big time. First, because No talked under the covers to his many babes on his cell. Then, he talked in his sleep. It drove Clarisse insane.

She knew if he was in the mood, No would help out. They’d both do anything for Dad mainly because Dad proved he’d do anything for them.

Because the house wasn’t as big as their old one but it was still big and took forever to vacuum, feeling generous, Clarisse went to the kitchen and unloaded the dishwasher. Then she wiped down the countertops. Then she walked back downstairs and got the hamper loaded with the folded bundles of her Dad’s clothes and took it upstairs to his room.

When it was her turn to do the laundry, she always put her Dad’s clothes away. No would put the hamper on his bed but Clarisse put them away. This was because she liked spending time in her Dad’s room. It was big and roomy. It smelled like his aftershave. His bed was enormous and had gorgeous sheets and a beautiful comforter that had swirls of taupe, tan and chocolate. He had an awesome balcony leading off it with super comfy Adirondack chairs. Both the balcony and chairs she loved.

This was because she and her Dad would often kick back out there, talk, he’d tease her and he’d listen to whatever she had on her mind, him drinking a beer, Clarisse drinking a pop. She loved the view of the Holliday Farm across the way not only because the yellow farmhouse with its white curlicue woodwork was sweet but because Finley Holliday lived there and he was hot. And in the summer, if she was on the balcony, it was a good possibility she’d see Finley on a tractor. And if it was hot, which it often was in Indiana in the summer, there was an even better possibility she’d see him on the tractor without his shirt on. And seeing as he was seventeen and on the football team, Finley Holliday without his shirt on with a tan in the summer was a sight to see.

She hoped when she got married she had a room just like that. And she kinda hoped when she got married, she’d get married to a guy who looked a lot like Finley Holliday.

As she started shoving her Dad’s socks in his sock drawer she heard the vacuum closer and knew No had moved to vacuum the stairs.

That’s when she found them. Two books with girlie covers shoved in the back.

Her brows drew together. First, her Dad wasn’t girlie in any way. He and No were both total guys, through and through. Second, she’d put socks away in that drawer more than once and she’d never seen those books before.

Biting her lip and listening to the vacuum coming up the stairs, she looked to the opened double doors that led from her father’s room to the hall.

Then quickly, she snatched up one of the books. She opened it to a random page and froze, staring at a pretty picture drawn in pastel pencils across both pages. She’d never seen anything like it. It was colorful and she liked the swirly pattern. If it was bigger, to replace the vampire posters, she’d like all sorts of pictures like that framed and put up on the walls in her room.

Still, it was weird. Was her Dad drawing pretty, swirly pictures? That couldn’t be right.

She flipped to the front of the book and froze again.

There was a name and a date on the inside front cover.

Dusty Holliday and the year was years and years and years before.

Dusty.

Dusty Holliday. Holliday.

Dad’s babe.

Dad’s babe was a Holliday.

Clarisse cocked her head to the side as she felt something funny fluttering around her heart. Her Dad’s babe had given him her diaries from when she had to be a girl. Clarisse didn’t know what to think of this but it felt like she thought that was kind of sweet.

The vacuum went off and Clarisse knew that meant No was unplugging it downstairs so he could plug it in upstairs.

Quickly, she shoved the book back in the drawer and finished with his clothes. Then she hung out in her room while No finished vacuuming upstairs.

She knew he was done when he stuck his head in her door and asked, “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” she replied.

He did a hand gesture that was rude and if Dad saw it, he’d not be happy but he did it grinning so Clarisse knew No was just being a dork which No could be (often). Then he disappeared.

When he did, Clarisse immediately went to her door and listened. If No was in his room, even if he was doing his homework, he listened to music. If he wasn’t doing his homework, he’d be playing keyboard, guitar, banging on his drums or talking to one of his crew or one of his babes. She didn’t hear that. Just the TV coming from downstairs. This meant No was downstairs.