“Aye, aye, Captain.”
With a salute and me giving Damien the finger, I made my way down the hall to the front door, which was now covered in black garbage bags taped securely down. A note scribbled in blue chalk on the drywall read:
I’m sorry you got caught in the exorcism.
XO – TJ
“Thank you!” I yelled to the house.
A meek chorus of unlikely ghost giggles yelled back, “You’re welcome.”
I left for the rest of the day, asking myself for the hundredth time why I was doing this in the first place. I knew why I was doing it and not because I had been conned or sweet-talked, though on day one I might have disagreed. I did it because I couldn’t let anyone take advantage of my best friend and that was the story I was sticking with.
The problem I had to deal with now was my burgeoning feelings for her. I had a lot of shit, no pun intended, to deal with, and I didn’t know if I could handle it. It might be better for all of us involved if I pulled back, let the project finish and then go back to the way things were before this all started. Taylor Jane had made it pretty clear she wanted to flip this house and win the contest and prove herself to everyone. That was fine but what about everything else? What would I be left with if she left, moved on, got her own television show of some kind? I’d be here, with a handful of phone ass shots from Damien, but it wouldn’t be with her, and I didn’t know what my topsy-turvy heart thought of all of that.
14
Taylor Jane
Since the unholy shit storm, Hunter had been quieter than usual and scarce from the house. He missed our morning meetings where I went over the day’s projects and made updated notes on our progress. He thanked me for the new boots that arrived two days later from Amazon Prime, but otherwise it was silent on the home front.
Oh, he got everything done, but I felt like he either came really early or stayed late beyond everyone else to avoid me. It was frustrating, and I missed the typical banter between my best friend and me. I thought we might cross that threshold that had been dividing us all these years, but we were even farther away than before. The slow burn of want was stoking a nice little fire in my heart, but it was likely to burn out of control. Today, I decided I was done with his little temper tantrum.
I didn’t want to be a nice girl. I had a lot of not so nice thoughts and most of them centered on Hunter minus most of his clothes and the tight-fitting, good-looking jeans he wore every day, which both surprised and scared me a little. Since we were all committing so much to this project I figured we could use a bit of an ice breaker. Demolition was coming soon and with it who knows what kind of trials and difficulties. I had a really tight budget to manage and a number of rules to follow for submitting this house to the show on the HomeTV network. I decided a pre-housewarming party was not only necessary, but would help ease any tensions coming our way.
I looked for the perfect co-conspirator hunched over a set of pipes he was welding together. “Hey, Damien, can you help me unscrew that door off its hinges?”
He didn’t even question me, which was classic Damien. “Sure thing, what are we doing with it?” He whipped out a screw driver from his belt and twirled it in his hand.
I was surprised he still had his original eyes left in his head with all his reckless behavior.
“Well, I need it for the party tonight.”
“Ah, what party?”
“The one we’re having to celebrate halfsies.”
“Halfsies? That’s a thing now?”
“Yup, we’re halfway done with the project, so party time.”
He pointed to the door. “Thing looks pretty old, you sure it’s going to hold up? Seems a bit disrespectful for an old broad like this.” He eyed the door like a drinking game aficionado.
I bet he knew where I could find the perfect sawhorses to balance them on to.
“It’s an original door, but these grooves in the side tell me it’s been taken down before and likely survived worse.”
“Original door, huh? And we’re just gonna drink beer on it like a bunch of co-eds?”
“Yup, door probably came with the house a hundred years ago. It looks like a seasoned resident.”
“I wonder how the ghosts of renovations past will feel about it.” He murmured letting his hand pet the wood frame in reverence.
“See that candle on the mantle?” I shrugged over to a light blue and silver glitter carved candle. I bought it from the witchcraft and candy store in town called Bewitched. It was supposed to calm the spirits, and so far everything had been much better. No poop sludge, no woodland creatures, and no injuries on site unless you counted male egos the size of California.
“And how does Hunter the Carpenter feel about this little shindig, especially after the shit-monster attacked him?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”