The Straight Crimes (6 page)

SIX

C
hilling rain fell steadily against the window. Its melancholy song gently tapped across the glass and woke Harper from a light sleep, reminding her of her solitude. She was so depressed that she didn’t care that her birthday was only one day away.

Harper sauntered to her pastel pink chair and faced the vanity mirror. Poor thing, she thought while staring at her reflection. She felt pathetic, heartbroken, and consumed with fear.

Insecurities haunted her like never before. Studying each flaw, Harper wondered if she’d wake the following morning magically transformed into the epitome of perfection, absolved of her poor choices and emancipated from her doubts.

She squeezed her breasts together and puckered her lips, trying to see her potential as a woman. After a few moments, she surrendered and let her chest fall back to its inadequacy. She had no idea what Nik saw in her.

Again, Nik. He was on her mind incessantly. It was maddening. No matter what she did, he found someway to be at the forefront of her thoughts.

It was time to clear her head.

Harper slipped out of her pajamas into a fuchsia jumper and matching sandals. As she reached for her white belt to fasten over it, she noticed her necklace lying beside her hair brush.

It was a sterling silver chain with a heart-shaped locket that Mindi bought for Harper on her sixteenth birthday. Although it wasn’t extravagant by any means, it was the only thoughtful thing Mindi ever gave her.

Harper carefully draped it around her bare neck. She ran her fingers across it and admired the way it caught the light, glimmering against her chest. There was something haunting about it that left her entranced. The feeling couldn’t be ignored, but she decided to wear it anyway.

She feverishly hunted through the mountains of clothes across her bedroom floor, searching for her jacket, but the only thing she found was Nik's bright-yellow hoodie.

The delicious after scent of his cologne was embedded in the fabric, clinging on with intensity, equivalent to the desire burning inside her soul for him.

The slightest trace of Nik’s enticing masculinity made her knees buckle and her body grow inexplicably weak. It renewed her hunger for him, causing her stomach to ache like it’d been pounded with a sledgehammer.

Against her better judgment, Harper threw it into her oversized purse and left her bedroom.

"Happy bird-day, Pookie Wookie." Mindi’s disheveled hair covered her face as she stumbled to her feet, throwing her arms around Harper. She struggled to maintain her composure, along with any lingering shred of sobriety.

"Thanks, Mama, but it ain’t ‘til tomorrow.”

"No it ain’t.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Mindi wiped her mouth and threw her hands over her head. “Well ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ early, is there? At least I never forget.”

"’Course not,” Harper lied. It’d happened twice before.

"I was plannin’ to get you somethin’, but I’ve lost my head lately. I just didn't get a chance."

Aside from the necklace, she imagined the usual dollar store present from Mindi and huffed. "That's fine. I don't need anything. I ain’t a little girl."

"What kind of mama would I be if forgot ‘bout my baby?" Mindi stubbed her knee against the table while reaching for her purse. Then she emptied it across the coffee table and shuffled through its contents. "Here ya go darlin', celebrate early." Mindi shoved the crumbled bill into her pocket.

“No, Mama.”

“For Christ’s sake, just hurry up and take it. I’ve got a jillion things to do before work."

Harper turned her back from Mindi, and muttered, “You’re actually goin’ to work?"

"Of course, darlin’.”

"Really?"

Mindi threw her hand on her hip. "Why do ya sound so damn surprised? I’m always workin’.”

“We ain’t goin’ there now.”

“What are you sayin’?”

Harper folded her arms. “C’mon, we both know that ain’t true.”

“Yeah it is.”

“Mama, you’re lyin’.”

“Don’t sass-talk me, girl. You seem to forget that I’m in charge ‘round here.”

"You’re gonna screw us over again.”

"I don’t see why I gotta deal with this shit every day. It’s bad enough I gotta take it from Faye, but I ain’t takin’ it from my kid too."

"Fine, forget it.”

"I don’t know what’s gotten into you. Just ‘cause you’re gonna be eighteen you think you know everything now?”

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah, but that's what you're thinkin’, ain't it?”

"You want everyone to believe you’re a saint, but you can’t fool me. I know you’ve been shootin’ up.”

“You’re a damn liar!” she roared.

Harper grabbed Mindi by the wrists. “Really, Mama, look at your frickin’ arms and all those fresh marks.”

“These ain’t fresh—”

“I’m so sick of this. I’ve spent half my life in a car movin’ from Louisiana to Michigan ‘cause of you. I’ve paid for every one of your mistakes, but I’ve always kept my mouth shut ‘til now. I’m done. If you mess this up, I swear I’ll never forgive you. My life’s here, and I ain’t about to give that up for anything. I’d rather die than move back to Fire Brush with you.”

"I ought to wear you out, girl, speakin’ to me like that.”

"Why, ‘cause I’m tellin’ the truth?”

"No, ‘cause you’re so damn disrespectful I can’t stand it.”

"But the way you treat Auntie 
is
 respectful?”

"You think she’s perfect, don’t ya? Well you ain’t seen how nasty she can be. Faye’s always been lookin’ down her nose at me.”

“All she’s tried to do is help, but you’re too selfish to see that.”

“Don't go talkin’ 'bout things between Faye and me. That ain’t any of your damn business.”

“I’ve lived and breathed the drama between y’all my entire life. Don’t try tellin’ me that it ain’t my business.”

Mindi gasped. “Y’all just love makin’ up stories ‘bout how awful I am, don’t ya?”

“Oh please, your reputation speaks for itself. Why don't you actually go to work instead of lyin’ about it? Maybe you could really pitch in around here, so I don’t have to keep coverin’ for you with Auntie. The only person you're convincin’ is yourself.”

“Girl, you’ve got it all wrong—”

“Aren’t you tired of lyin’ to everyone? I have to hear it every day and I’m exhausted, but I can’t even imagine how wore out you’ve gotta be from tryin’ to keep all those lies straight in your head.”

Mindi pursed her lips together and looked down at her feet. “I’m doin’ the best I can. I wish y’all could see that, but you don’t. It’d be nice if someone believed me.”

Harper groaned.

“And for the last time, I ain’t skippin’ work. I swear to God, himself.”

She rolled her eyes again. “You’re impossible. I ain’t listenin’ anymore.”

“Well fine, get the hell out. I don’t need you hangin’ around here, makin’ me feel like shit.” Mindi's face immediately grew expressionless. She sunk into the chair and began fishing around for her cigarettes.

“Bye Mama.” Harper threw her pink bag over her shoulder and stormed out of the house.

The chilling wetness of the rain cooled Harper’s fuming skin as if to extinguish the burning fire of her boiling flesh. No one could set her off more than Mindi.

Harper trudged down Hunter Road and passed the Old Winter Cemetery, sifting through her pocket with one hand while holding Nik's hoodie over her head. She tried to keep dry while searching for the cash from Mindi.

She straightened out the crinkled bill and held it to the gray sky.

“Damn!” she shouted in disbelief.

Mindi, in her drunkenness, inadvertently handed Harper a one hundred dollar bill.

She considered returning the money until the disastrous image of Mindi, wasting it on another bender, eclipsed her morality.

Instead, she decided to do something she’d been thinking about since the night of the carnival, something that may help make sense of her confusion. She decided she was going to have a reading with the psychic.

Harper made her way there in no time. As she stood on the property line of Brielle's historic home, her blood ran cold. It was as if her feet were planted in cement, stopping dead in her tracks.

The rain began to fall heavier. Her wet hair blew in the wind while she slowly whispered the words on a weathered sign that read: ‘Alvarado House, Est. 1891.’

Every window of the tall, Victorian-style home was covered in black bars with heavy curtains drawn. Two ominous gargoyle statues sat at opposite ends of the high-pointed rooftop. They appeared to be staring at Harper as if they were about to swoop down and attack.

As she approached, apprehension slithered through her body, thick as the distinct smell of soaked wood emanating from the foreboding forest behind the estate. Her body was completely drenched and her heartbeat slowly strummed with her uneven breaths.

The front doorsteps were battered and the gray paint had mostly chipped away. The porch itself was wide and long, stretching around the corner of the house. It was nearly empty, aside from two old wooden rocking chairs that slowly swayed with the breeze.

Before Harper had an opportunity to knock on the front door, it slowly cracked open on its own. She stiffened her back, and cautiously made her way inside.

“Hello?” her drowned echo vanished into the drafty room.

No one answered back.

The house was as cold as death, worse than the damp chill outside. As she exhaled, she could see her breath in the air.

In the front window was a grand piano with three tall candles atop it, lined with cob webs.

A round table was positioned in the middle of the room with a heavy cloth draped to the floor. Harper cautiously stepped forward and ran her fingers along the black fabric. Its soft velvet smelled like a dingy attic.

Over the fireplace, a sharp battle ax was valorously displayed as if to boast—or taunt. Whatever its purpose, she found it incredibly unsettling.

“You finally came,” a hushed voice called from the darkness of the long, dreary hallway.

Harper gasped. She turned and saw a black shadow slinking towards her. Along with it were the soft glow of candlelight and the click-clack of footsteps across the wooden floorboards.

“Don’t be frightened. The power has been going on and off all morning.” The dark figure stopped at the foot of the grand staircase. She ran her hands through the long, brown curls, cascading down her side.

The woman was exceptionally tall, wearing tight, black jeans and an oversized matching blouse that shrouded her frail waist. It wasn’t how Harper imagined she’d look.

"Are you the psychic?”

The woman offered her hand. “Yes, darling, I’m Brielle.”

She extended her hand. “Harper—”

“I know.”

She reluctantly returned the gesture. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

Brielle’s pure white skin let off a haunting glow that mesmerized Harper. She couldn’t take her eyes off the captivating stranger.

"So, you knew I was comin’?"

"I knew you'd come, eventually. Now please, have a seat."

The rickety chair appeared to be pulled out for her from the table. However, Harper had seen it pushed in just moments earlier. A troubled feeling suddenly washed over her.

Brielle sat directly across the table. Her discerning gaze burned as if she could see directly into Harper’s mind.

The psychic slowly parted her lips, letting out a heavy breath. Then she revealed an oversized tarot deck and began shuffling the pile.

Harper cleared her throat and nervously spun the ends of her side ponytail around her fingers. She was astounded by the woman’s precision as she handled the cards.

Without making eye contact, Brielle whispered, "What a beautiful necklace."

"Thank you." Harper smiled, running her fingers across the heart-shaped pendant.

"It’s strangely familiar, as if I’ve seen it before.”

“Oh, you’ve seen one like it?”

“No, that very same one you’re wearing. It’s just a question of where. I’m having so many visions right now that I can’t place it in time or space.” Her ice blue eyes widened as she looked into Harper’s. “Wait a moment, I see it now, but someone else is wearing it, another woman. Had you lost it at some point?”

“Never, and no one’s ever worn it besides me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I see.” Despite her absolute certainty over the charm, Brielle sensed Harper’s skepticism and digressed.

She gently placed the tarot cards in front of her. "Cut the deck for me, love."

Harper quickly obeyed.