Page 77 of Until Landon
“They’re slim. The guy may be dead. But it’s a place to start. First off, I need to run the number. See who owns it now.”
“You can do that online?” Bing asks.
“Yeah.”
“How about we have another beer?” Hunter says like it just occurred to him.
“That’s your decision. But if you do, no driving, okay?”
Let them make their own choices. Kim’s words pop up in my mind. Ha. Mothers know it all. But there’s only three bottles left, so I am not concerned.
“I’m going to bed. See you in the morning, guys. And thanks. Good job.”
There are a few grunts and a head nod, acknowledging the compliment. I don’t care. I am too tired for anything other than sleep, as I head for the stairs.
Each step feels like I’m climbing the last few feet to the summit. And I am wondering why I decided to be on the mountain anyway. Muscles and head ache in time with each other. Shit. Kim would be rubbing my shoulders if she were here. Or I would be rubbing her pussy. Bottom line, I would feel better than I do now.
So this is it. My house. Yep. An achievement. Uh huh. Instead, I feel like a kid who opened a disappointing Christmas present. I know what it should be, but this isn’t it. And the weird part is I can’t show the letdown. There is no mistaking the feeling though. This is supposed to be a high. Becoming a homeowner, achieving the American dream. The thing is, without her it just does not feel right. It is missing the soul.
Closing the bedroom door behind me, I give one glance at the bathroom and decide I don’t need to piss that bad. I want to look at the car info first. Shoes are kicked off, and clothes removed. They do not get picked up off the floor.
Shit. No sheets. They sit folded on the dresser, along with the blanket. Waiting for me to make the bed. Fuck me hard. Hey, this is my place. I can do whatever the hell I want. So I grab the folded blanket and a pillowcase. That’s all I need for the night.
It’s a quick job, and I am in bed in thirty seconds. Lights out. Ah. I begin scrolling the details of the owner transfer all those years ago. Adjusting the pillow, I get in my side position. I’ll just close my eyes for a minute.
Someone is knocking in my dream. The persistent sound annoys me. My eyes slowly open and I realize where I am. Time has passed. The room is pitch black, except for the lights on the lake. What time is it?
“Landon. Landon.”
“Yeah? Come in.” My voice is graveled with sleep.
The door swings open as I pull the blanket over my exposed ass. One leg out one in has its flaw.
“What?”
Hunter comes in carrying Bing’s iPad.
“What time is it?” I sound like an old fart.
“I don’t know. Around three maybe. We found the car!”
“What? Already?” I sit up and reach for the Pad. “Let me see.”
“It’s registered to a Mabel Augustus. Different last name, but the address is the same!”
Now I am awake.
“Maybe it’s the guy’s daughter. She could have inherited it,” I say.
“No. He didn’t have any kids. Plus we figured she was old. And we were right.”
Am I still dreaming?
“How do you know that?”
“The name, dude. Mabel.”
He sits on the edge of the bed and takes the iPad from my hands. There is a look on his face like he feels sorry for my complete lack of technological awareness. As if I am so far behind the times, there is little hope for me to survive. Thirty-five is way too young to feel like I do right now. Looking into the eyes of Sherlock Ripley, I’m taken to school.
