Young Squatters (8 page)

“We are so lucky there are people out there who aren’t like us and want to share all of their details with the world.  If there weren’t, baby, we wouldn’t be in the situation we are in now, would we?”

Bradford had been so overjoyed when he had discovered Colin’s profiles, and she was over the moon when he had come up with the plan which had led them to this house.

“I’m so lucky to have you Bradford, and I won’t ever forget what you’ve done for us,” Harper had said to Bradford when their plan had started to take shape.

Now, here they were, in the home of their dreams, with only one angry man standing in their way.

“You haven’t got any fucking agreement!”  Nick slapped the tabletop, angry again.

“We do, sir.  I’m sorry.  Would you like to look at it again?” Bradford asked, the essence of politeness.

“We’ll see about that.  I swear, you kids are going to get fucked in the ass, both of you.  You messed with the wrong people, you hear me?  The wrong fucking people!”

Nick couldn’t stop his hands from trembling as he rose from the table, his head ready to explode with pain.  The pain was spreading downward, making his stomach flip flop with nausea.  And he was sure he had a full-blown migraine.  He was absolutely livid.  How dare these kids think they could come into their family home and pull one over him?

He had one thing these two didn’t, and that was a top lawyer.  He hadn’t gone through years of owning his own business without making a couple of connections with the top dogs in the city.  He knew when he spoke to Derek tomorrow, everything would be resolved and the two of them would be removed immediately from their house, hopefully to jail or juvenile court for fraud, which is right where they belonged.  He walked away from the table, trying to move slowly, squinting at the lights.

Harper couldn’t help but smile a little bit as she watched Nick walk away.  Her phone was on the table.  It looked innocent enough, but it had recorded the whole conversation.  Now he’d threatened them, and that
was
a crime, and she had it on the recorder.  Bradford bumped her shoulder with his, giving her a wink.  She wanted to giggle, but his look told her to stay quiet until they were out of hearing distance.

Nick stormed out of the room and went upstairs to the master bedroom, flipping off lights as he went.  Apparently the two delinquents had wanted to explore the entire house before he had arrived, and ended up turning on every single damn light in the area.

Nora was curled up on the bed, staring at the wall.  She was still dressed in her rumpled skirt and blouse.  Her hair hung in tangles on her shoulders.  She turned toward him.

“Ben took Clara and Colin.”

“Good,” Nick said, slamming the door behind him and taking off his tie, throwing it to the floor.  “Those fuckers aren’t going anywhere.”

She didn’t even bother to scold his language like she usually did.  She just turned back toward the wall.

He went to the dresser, searching for his key.  Although each of the doors to the rooms had separate locks, he had a master key to all of them.  Those kids wouldn’t be getting into any room he didn’t want them in, anytime soon.  The only places that were open were the basement, kitchen, and living room.  The rest would be locked down.  If they wanted to make their little home here for the night, so be it, but he wasn’t about to let them have full control of everything in the house. 

“I don’t feel safe in my own home,” Nora said, her voice cold.  “I never thought I would say that, Nick, and I can’t help but to blame you for all of this.  If you had come home right away like I told you, everything would have been sorted out by now! But instead I have to spend the night with two total strangers in my own home; do you know how that makes me feel?  Well, do you?”

She turned toward him again, the color rising in her cheeks as she stared at him with fury, her eyes watery with more tears.

“Look, how many times am I going to have to say I am sorry for not coming home sooner?” he asked, holding his hands out in an act of submission, not wanting to infuriate her any further.  “Just go to sleep, and I will resolve everything tomorrow.”

“Sleep,” she scoffed.  “Right.”

“Nora, I can’t do anything else right now.”

“You could have done something earlier, when I called you the first dozen times!” she snapped.  “We’re supposed to be a team, Nicholas! A team! That’s what this means,” she said, holding up her finger, the one which held the wedding band on it, “and that’s what this house means.”

“Nora, I’m
sorry
, okay?” Nick replied.  “They’re not going to try anything with us in the house, and I’m going to lock up everything I can, so try not to worry.  Everything will be fine, Nora.”

She got up, went into the bathroom, and closed the door.  He heard the shower turn on.

Nick knew his wife probably wouldn’t be able to get any sleep, but as long as she didn’t keep him awake, he didn’t care.  As he went through the halls, locking up their belongings and rooms, he couldn’t help but to feel angry with Nora, for not understanding that in all the time he’d been married to her, the one time he didn’t answer his phone all day had been in the face of a real crisis.  She didn’t understand how hard he worked for her, or for their family.  The house in essence had been from his own two hands, from his money.

As he passed the dining room, he realized the intruders had gone.  They had seemed to have taken up residence in the basement for now.  That would change tomorrow, when he got them thrown out.

Later that night, Nora lay on her side of the bed in the darkness, with all sorts of thoughts going through her mind.  Memories flashed through her thoughts like water flowing in and out as she drifted in and out of sleep.  Her parents were middle-class, hardworking citizens.  By the time she had met Nick, they had worked their way up from the bottom and lived comfortably.  Nick hadn’t had much money when she met him, but she knew he was a hard worker and wanted to give him a chance.  Her parents, especially her mother, had warned her against dating him, and even ultimately marrying him.

“A workaholic will always put you last,” she said, but back then Nora had been too stupid and too stubborn to listen to her.  “Honey, if you marry that man, you’ll never be happy, I guarantee it.”

“But once he gets enough money, he’ll stop working and we can have a family,” Nora had replied, her thoughts so wrapped up in the man who was Nicholas Donnelly, that she had no mind for logic.

Her mother had shaken her head sadly.  Even as she aged, she was always a good-looking woman who kept her blonde hair silky-smooth.  To the last of her days, in a nursing home diagnosed with dementia, Nora had always thought her mother kept herself in perfect condition, even inadvertently.

“A man like that will always hide in his work,” she had said.  “And who’s to say you’ll ever have enough money, dear?  Self-publishing—that can’t be a lucrative business, can’t it?  You need someone with more stability, someone who can handle their own.”

Nora tore herself away from the memory, feeling Nick crawl into bed beside her without saying a word or touching her, as was their custom.  They had gotten the money, all right, but at what cost?  He
had
always put her second, and he couldn’t handle his own—not his own house, not his own children, not even his own wardrobe half the time.

Yes, maybe her parents had been right all along about Nick; after all, how could he have allowed this situation to happen?

Their lawyer would resolve everything tomorrow, though, of that she was sure.  Within a half an hour, she had drifted into a peaceful dream with all thoughts of the day’s trauma gone out of her mind.

Nick woke up to a scream on the level below their room.  He jumped up, looking over to where Nora had slept all night.  Her blonde curls stuck up over the comforter, and she stirred slightly.  The scream hadn’t been from her.  But he knew he had heard it; surely he hadn’t dreamed up a sound like that.

“Nora,” he hissed, shaking her.

She groaned, oblivious of the chaos below.  He had always envied how well she slept; while he tossed and turned all night, she could sleep through anything, at any time, especially with the aid of her prescription sleeping pills that the doctor claimed she needed.  Good for her, he supposed.  Waking her up now would only invite her criticisms, and he’d had enough of those last night.

He drew on a bathrobe, grabbing his jackknife out of the drawer.  A hell of a way to wake up--to an ear-piercing scream. At least his migraine had subsided, after a night of sleeplessness and a hell of a lot of pain medication.  He slipped out of the room, carefully making his way down the stairs.  Only a little bit of natural light illuminated the hallway; it had to have been early in the morning, his alarm hadn’t even gone off yet.

“Who...who are you?” he heard Sarah’s voice say.  He recognized it; she had a very distinct, warm tone.  He had often noted the difference between her deeper voice and Nora’s high-pitched nagging.  “Why are you in this home?”

Nick relaxed, a little.  Of course he should have known Sarah would be here, on time early in the morning before the sun even came up.  He folded his knife and stuck it in his robe pocket, striding downstairs.

Bradford, the son of a bitch, sat at the dining room table with a newspaper, drinking coffee out of an unfamiliar mug.  Nick assumed he must have brought it with him along with the rest of his junk.  The girlfriend—the illegal fiancée—had not gotten up yet, apparently, which was fine with Nick.  The less he saw of the either of them, the better.  They would be gone soon, anyway.

“It’s okay, Sarah,” he said, even though he ate his words.  Everything was most certainly not okay.

“Bradford,” the boy said, standing up and offering his hand.

Sarah looked at Nick instead of shaking the hand.  “Who is he?” she asked.

Nick realized that she held a kitchen knife in one hand.  He almost started laughing.  Maybe he shouldn’t have intervened; she might have actually used it on this pesky young intruder.

“A squatter,” Nick said, “a squatter in a house that isn’t even supposed to be for rent.” 

He glared at Bradford as the boy launched into his previous explanation.  He had it so well-rehearsed that he didn’t even have to pause to think up new ideas.  Nick was impressed.  The boy must have really wanted this house, and was willing to do anything—except work—to get it.

Sarah slowly put down the kitchen knife, eying Bradford warily.  She wasn’t about to let her guard down, Nick could see that much.

“Mr. Donnelly, I cannot work in these conditions.  I don’t even know who this young man is,” she said, pleading with him.

“Sarah, we don’t expect you to clean anything except the kitchen and living room today,” he explained.  “You needn’t worry about your safety,” he added, casting another death glare at Bradford, who had sat back down and read his newspaper.  “These
folks
wouldn’t dare try anything in someone else’s home.”

“It’s our home, too,” Bradford muttered, and Nick resisted the urge to smack his bowed head, the way his dad used to do to him if he had a smart mouth.

Sarah walked out of the kitchen, entering the living room.  Nick followed her.

“Mr. Donnelly,” she glanced over his shoulder to make sure Bradford wasn’t following her. “I
know
that boy!”

Nick cocked his head, intrigued.

“You know him?”

Sarah nodded, eyes wide.  “He was a friend of my son’s.  He’s a drug dealer!” she whispered, stumbling over her words to get them out of her mouth.

“A drug dealer, eh?” Nick said, his voice equally as quiet.  “That’s good to know, Sarah.  Anything else you can tell me about him?  We need him and his girlfriend and him out of our house, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Oh God, yes,” Sarah said, horrified.  “Mrs. Donnelly must be a wreck—and the children!” she gasped.

“The kids are fine, they’re safe at Belinda’s house,” Nick whispered.  “Sarah, what else do you know about him?”

“Only that he’s sold drugs to my son before.  He threw my son under the bus in a drug case and he ended up having to serve time.”

“And Bradford?”

“Bradford isn’t his real name.  It’s Peter, I think.  Peter Brandt.  He never got convicted.  He’s so good at fooling police.  That was in a different state, too.  I have no idea why he’s here, doing this to you.  Do you?”

Nick shrugged.  “I only know what you know.  I came home last night to find him and his supposedly pregnant girlfriend taking over our house.”

He explained the situation in detail to her.  He felt somewhat vindicated of what he had originally thought about Bradford--he truly was a low-life, trying to make a quick buck and getting a house without lifting a finger.

“I’m calling my lawyer today, Sarah.  You don’t think he recognized you?”

Sarah shook her head no.  “No, no, he couldn’t have.  I only saw his picture in my son’s case.  He never had to go to the trial.  I pray to God you get him out of here, Nick,” she said, putting her hand lightly on his arm, eyes searching his in sincerity.  “He’s a dangerous boy.  I don’t want anything to happen to your family.”

“I’ll do my best,” Nick said, patting her hand. 

***

Nora hung up the phone with a sigh after speaking with Clara, who was upset that Isaac had spilled apple juice on her outfit. She had slept well, thanks to a heavy dose of sleeping medication, but when she had awakened the world had stayed just as it had been, intruded upon by dishonest people.

By the time she had woken up, Nick had left for the day.  He had left her a note only to say that Sarah was in the house and to remember to lock their bedroom door before she left for work.  Nora wasn’t sure she wanted to go to work, until this problem was resolved.  Of that, Nick had been inexplicably vague.  He left no word as to whether he had called the lawyer, or was going to, or about anything.

She checked her cellphone, and then threw it back on the bed.  Tempted to crawl in after it, she resisted.  She had to be strong, for Colin and Clara.  She got dressed, taking her time, peeking out the window at the driveway below.  The squatters’ car still sat, untouched, from its position in front of the house.  She had parked her own car as far away as possible in the driveway, despite what the neighbors might have thought.  She didn’t want those kids breaking into her car, in addition to her house.

Her phone rang as she pulled on her pantyhose, frowning at the run that had formed on the calf.  She strode over to the bed, tugging at the blankets until the phone slid toward her.

“Hello?” she answered.  She hadn’t recognized the number that had popped up on her phone screen.

“Nora?  Oh, hello!” the voice on the other end said, sounding breezy.

“Who is this?” Nora asked, sincerely confused.

“Oh, silly! It’s Millie Parker, from next door,” the voice said.

“Oh, sorry, Millie,” Nora said, half-heartedly.  “I got a new phone recently and didn’t have a chance to add in my contacts yet.”

That wasn’t necessarily true.  In all honesty, Nora didn’t exactly like Millie Parker, especially after the rumor she had allegedly spread about Nora’s relationship with her boss, Alfred Jones, when she had first moved in.  The Parkers had lived in this neighborhood for four generations, and they didn’t always take kindly to strangers who moved in on their turf.  Although Millie had discovered the untruth of her words and tried to smooth things over with Nora multiple times, Nora had never really considered her anything but a mouthy, nosy gossip-minded woman.

“Are you okay, dear?” Millie asked.  “We saw that strange car in your driveway and we thought we’d check up on you.”

Today, Nora felt grateful that at least somebody had noticed the strange car in their driveway. 

“Oh, Millie,” she said, sighing and sitting down on her bed.  She had to vent to someone, and Nick wasn’t around.

She began the horrible story.

***

Pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Harper had smelled those smells plenty of times when she had walked to the supermarket to restock Bradford’s fridge on occasion.  They usually came from the restaurant near the store.  She had watched people walk in and out of the place numerous times, wondering what they held in their little “to go” boxes or what they had to eat that morning.  She had only been to a restaurant a handful of times, when she was little.  After a while her mom decided that fast food suited them better, so they would often find themselves in the drive-through where one of her mother’s boyfriends or friends worked, getting some fries, a burger, or something else.

Nothing could compare to the syrupy smells of breakfast in the morning, she decided.  She knew she dreamed it; there wouldn’t be any breakfast smells in reality, but she intended to take full advantage of her unconscious mind.

“Would madam like to come into the dining room, please?  Breakfast is served.”

Harper opened her eyes.  That voice hadn’t come from inside her head.  She laughed as she saw Bradford standing there in the basement bedroom door, with his posture of that of a waiter in a restaurant.  All he really needed was the colored vest or uniform and he would have made a fine waiter.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.  His eyes clouded over.  He didn’t much like to be laughed at, especially with his past.  Bradford could remember returning home to find his dad drunk on the big used chair they had owned.  His dad would pick at him relentlessly, making fun of his clothes, his hair, his very existence.

“What do you think you are?” his dad used to say, taking another sip of beer.  “Going around wearing fancy clothes and sunglasses!”  Then he would laugh, slapping his meaty leg with a palm.  “You’re a laugh, boy.  A laugh.”

Bradford couldn’t see what Harper found so funny about him cooking her breakfast.  Harper tried to give him a reassuring grin.

“I’m sorry, you just look like a waiter in a restaurant, babe, with your pose.”

Bradford saw the funny side of it and the young couple laughed for a few moments before Bradford suddenly remembered the food he had set out which would be getting cold.  He held out his hand for Harper.

“Now come on babe, after all my hours slaving in the kitchen, we don’t want to let all my efforts go to waste with the food getting cold.”

Harper quickly jumped out of bed and had to admit she did feel very hungry, so was looking forward to having a hearty breakfast Bradford had prepared for her.  He grabbed her hand and kissed her cheek sweetly.  She felt so lucky to have him; she knew if she hadn’t ever met him, her life would have never begun.  Living with her mother had been hell, but she wouldn’t have known anything different if she hadn’t met the love of her life.  They had come such a long way; she wouldn’t have given it up for anything in the world.

“I could get used to this every morning, my love,” Harper said to Bradford with a cheeky grin on her face before going to the dining room to start eating her breakfast.

He followed her down the hall, pinching her shoulder lightly.

“It’s your turn tomorrow, babe, so I’ll be expecting it to reach my high standards of today’s breakfast.”

Harper turned around and grinned.

“I haven’t tasted yours yet, so don’t go getting too cocky,” she said, without any malice.  She would never challenge his authority, in any situation, great or small.  He had already proven himself countless times to her.

Bradford loved the banter the two of them had between them; it was one of the things that had attracted him to Harper when they first met; that, and the fact that she relied on him for everything. He had fallen for her innocence, despite being exposed to so many problems through her mother, she had never really experienced any sort of life outside her own little-girl world.  He would never corrupt her, never steer her in the wrong direction.  Together they could mold her into the perfect girlfriend, the perfect wife, and ultimately the perfect mother.  Then they would both have what they always wanted--a loving family, a beautiful home, and the world at their feet.

He had girlfriends in the past who had all gone along with everything he said and not had any personality as far as he was concerned.  He loved Harper with all of his heart, and was so pleased to see her so happy in their new home.  With him in charge, her future was bright.  He would do anything to keep her safe, untouched, and the beautiful young woman she had always been.

They would live and create, in perfect bliss.

***

When Nora finally gained the courage to come down the stairs, after she had listened through the door for a good hour as the two intruders laughed and chatted their way through what seemed to be breakfast from the clatter of forks and plates, she found the kitchen in pure disarray.