Page 10 of Wreck Me

“I’m not involved in this anymore,” Monique said, sounding resolute.

Before heading off, Monique gave Nico a pile of newspapers. The paint on his suit was mostly dry, but he laid the papers over the car’s upholstery just in case. Then he drove back to the hotel suite he’d booked for the week he’d expected to be in LA, changed clothes, and called his brother.

“I screwed this up royally, bro. I am so sorry,” Vince said.

“It’s okay. We both did. I could have asked about the status of the house at any time in the last five years, and I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you put me in charge of it. You trusted me. I just…I never thought about squatters. I figured the roof would be falling in any day. Did you tell her you grew up in the house?”

Nico clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “No way. She’d think she had me over an even bigger barrel if she knew that.”

“Okay, but if we don't retain ownership, that crappy old house at the center of the parcel is going to require easements and access—complications buyers will run from. We’re screwed.”

“Not necessarily. If we can get her to leave the house, all she can do is sue for damages. We just need to stage some bulldozers nearby but out of sight and then entice her to step away for a bit.” And long enough, Nico thought to himself, for him to have a final search inside the place too.

“Smashy, smashy, bye bye housie?” Vince said. There was a loudthwackthrough the phone.

“What was that?” Nico said.

“Just filleting a pretty little fish I caught. Which gives me an idea—how old is this woman?”

“A few years younger than me, I’m guessing. Why?”

“Because you should get her to fall in love with you. Take her out on dates, each one a little longer than the last until she’s gone long enough for…”Thwack. “…goodbye family homestead.”

“She’d rather drink a weed killer cocktail than spend another minute with me.”

“Naw, c’mon. No woman can resist when you heap on the charm. I’ve seen it a million times. You got this.”

“Vince, I am telling you, you did not meet this woman. Neither of us would ever date the other in a million years.” Aloud squelching sound made Nico grimace. He did not see the appeal of cleaning a fish.

“She that ugly?”

“Well, no. She’s kinda cute. But, personality-wise, it’s like she never matured past the terrible twos. An evening with her would be sheer misery, and I’m not doing it once, let alone multiple times.”

“Okay, so what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to putherin such sheer misery she runs off screaming. But I’m going to need help.”

“Say the word!”

“I’ll send you instructions.”

5

Vaguely hungry as it neared dinner time, Ginny stared half-heartedly into her kitchen cupboard. It offered a box of crackers, a bag of dried apple rings, and some instant oats. Her small fridge and freezer weren’t much better. She wished she could do a grocery run but was terrified to leave her house. With a dude that evil, it could be the last time she ever saw it. She pulled out the crackers, then stood there holding the box unopened in her hand as she stared off into space.

This was basically how her entire afternoon had gone since Nico the Evil Capitalist and her sister, the Unexpectedly Traitorous Capitalist Appeaser, had left. Just as she’d convinced herself to start the next to-do’s on her list, she’d descended into an emotional panic that she could lose the house completely. When her mind wasn’t distracted from that, she was coming up with zingers she wished she’d said to them and picturing their faces in the aftermath. Zingers, like hindsight, were 20-20.

She’d just placed a stale cracker on her tongue like she was partaking in private communion when her doorbell rang. Was he back with the police or something?

Padding the few steps between her kitchen and her front door, she peered out the glass to see her sister and brother-in-law beaming in at her.

Grant held up a large glass dish covered with foil. “Hungry for lasagna?”

Dumbstruck by their sudden appearance, especially given that she’d never told them where she lived, Ginny opened the door. “Monique told you where I am?”

“It was more of a rant than a telling,” Grant said. He squeezed past her in the narrow entryway and headed straight for the kitchen. “Cute place! Very you.”

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