The Simpatico Series Box Set (3 books in 1) Page 3

  “Wow,” Andrew exclaimed as he walked around the menagerie of playthings. “This must be where kids die and go to heaven,” he said.

  “What?” Fiona asked, her nose scrunched up from puzzlement.

  “I mean this is like a kid’s paradise, right?”

  “You have no idea,” Fiona said softly as she remembered with fondness what it was like growing up. “I still come in here sometimes but not as much, obviously.”

  “Did you have playmates, other kids to play with?” he asked.

  “Only what other people call imaginary ones,” Fiona replied. “These were all my friends,” she then added, her arm making a sweeping gesture.

  “Very impressive, that’s for sure,” Andrew said, clearly impressed.

  “I needed you to see this,” she said, still looking around with a smile on her face.

  “How so?” Andrew asked.

  “It’s important for you to know how much my father… how much my father cares for me; how much he tries to be a good father.”

  “Why is that? Why would I need to know…? I don’t understand,” Andrew said, trying to think it through.

  “My father is a good man,” Fiona said. “He may not fully understand me but he really does love me and he really does try very hard.”

  “I can see that… but why wouldn’t he? He’s your father, right?” Andrew asked, still not getting her point.

  “I just thought it was important for you to see this, that’s all,” Fiona said as she walked from the room. “Let’s get something to drink, you thirsty?”

  “Yeah,” Andrew answered, catching up with her on the stairs. “I could drink something, sure.” Walking to the kitchen, Andrew’s eyes drifted toward a room at the end of a hall which was several steps down, beneath the ground floor. “What’s down there?” he asked.

  “That’s the basement,” Fiona answered as she opened a fridge door. “I’m not allowed go in there. Cola or root beer?”

  “Oh, uh, root beer, thanks,” Andrew answered, his curiosity still aroused. “How come? Why aren’t you allowed in the basement?”

  “That’s my father’s… private space.”

  “Oh, cool. Like his den, his man cave or something?” Andrew asked as he opened a bottle of root beer.

  “Yeah, something like that,” Fiona answered. “Wanna sit on the swing set outside?”

  “Sure,” Andrew answered as he followed her out through a kitchen door.

  “Give me a push,” Fiona suggested when she sat on one of the swings.

  “It’s pretty out here,” Andrew remarked as he took in the expanse of the manicured lawn and lush landscaping. “You have like, permanent gardeners or people who just come by every week or whatever?”

  “There’s a couple of permanent staff, that does the handyman work, cleaning and gardening and stuff, but mostly people come and go, depending,” Fiona answered. “Are you going to push me or what?”

  “Yeah, yeah, of course,” Andrew answered, pushing the seat of the swing.

  “Just for a little bit and then you’ll have to go. Daddy might get home soon,” Fiona said. “Push harder!” she then said, enjoying the thrill of the ride.

  “Yeah, I have to go anyway,” Andrew said, now standing and pushing square behind her. “I’m meeting with the guys later, going to celebrate the end of finals.”

  “You’re going to go to every bar in town and get wasted is what you really mean, right?” Fiona teased.

  “Yeah, that too,” Andrew said and smiled.

  “Is this the best you can do? Push harder!” Fiona jeered and then let out a long wheeee when she went airborne once more.

  Andrew didn’t know what to think about his visit with Fiona. He didn’t really understand what she meant about her wanting to show him her house and the room that she spent most of her childhood in. Chicks are different than guys, he reckoned. They put meaning into stuff that guys have not much interest in; like what toys they played with as kids or how much their parents love them and stuff. He shrugged.

  As he parked his truck in the driveway of his mother’s tiny house, he wondered if Fiona was expecting a return invitation from him for her to come visit and check out his bedroom or whatever. Apart from his own room, there wouldn’t be much to show, he figured; just the front room and the kitchen.

  Maybe he could show her the framed pictures of him as a kid that his mother still kept propped up on the mantelpiece above the fake fireplace. They might prove how much his mother loved him or whatever. Chicks love old pictures and stuff and maybe he might introduce her to his mom, depending on his mom’s work schedule, of course.

  He wondered if his mother was home. It frustrated him, to never see his mom, but he knew that she frequently worked double shifts, often at night, to help cover his tuition and book fees. He hated to see her so tired all the time but he also felt irritated that she was so busy that she seemed disinterested in his life.

  “How was your day, sweetheart?” his mother asked when he walked into the kitchen.

  “It was good, thanks, mom,” he answered, looking on the stove to see if anything was cooking, which it wasn’t.

  “That’s good,” Angela replied as she ate some warmed-up leftover chili.

  “Yeah, I went over to see Fiona’s place; I should say, mansion,” Andrew said, still practically shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Oh, you have a new girlfriend? That’s pretty cool, huh?” Angela said as if trying to sound hip.

  “Yes, mom, I told you like a million times already. And she’s not a “new” girlfriend like I go through them every other week. I haven’t been with anyone since forever.”

  “Well, I still think that’s pretty cool. A boy your age needs to get out there and sow them oats, isn’t that right?” Angela asked.

  “Yes, mom, that’s exactly right,” Andrew agreed for the sake of it. “You should meet her, actually. I think you’d like her.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to be meeting your girlfriends, Andy. That’s your business,” she said, getting up from the table to rinse her bowl.

  “Yeah, but she’s not just a girlfriend. I think she may be the one,” Andrew said, blushing despite himself.

  “Well, I hope you make each other very happy, I really do,” Angela said, kissing him on the head as he bent down into the fridge to retrieve what’s left of the cheese.

  “I just thought that maybe you’d like to meet her, that’s all,” Andrew said as he stood back up and closed the refrigerator door. His mom had already left, however.

  When Simon parked his Jaguar in one of the parking garages on the estate, he thought it odd to see a baseball cap lying face down on the gravel outside. Knowing that all the staff had the day off, as he picked it up, he wondered who it might belong to. Dressed in an expensive suit, befitting his captain of industry status, and looking like he didn’t want to become contaminated, he held the well-worn cap by the tips of his fingers.

  Entering the house through the front door he looked and listened for any sign of his daughter. Placing his briefcase and the cap in his office, he climbed the stairs, looking to see if Fiona’s bedroom door was open, which it was. As he rapped lightly with his knuckles on the open door, he deduced from the loose clothes on her bed, chair and floor, that she was maybe showering or changing her clothes. “Fiona, sweetie,” he said as he entered her room.

  “I’m taking a bath, daddy,” Fiona called out from the en suite bathroom. “Did you need me for anything?”

  Scanning her room for anything out of place, Simon picked up her smart phone. “How was your day, sweetie?” he asked as he flicked through her texts and photos. “Did you go out anywhere?”

  “No, just stayed home. Can we talk later or is there something you need to talk about?” she asked.

  Flicking through photos of flowers and birds and insects, Simon came to a photo that got his interest: a photo of Andrew wearing his Angel’s baseball cap and making a goofy face to the camera. “I can’t seem to find
the book I was reading, thought you might have seen it around,” Simon said, stalling as he texted the photo to his own phone and then erased the sent text.

  “No, daddy, I haven’t seen any of your books lying around. Will we look for it later?”

  “Yeah, of course, sweetie,” he said, replacing her phone. “I should let you get on with your bath. I love you,” he said as he left.

  “Love you too, dad,” Fiona replied, a tone of relief sounding in her voice.

  In the fourth bar of their celebratory night out, Andrew, Bobby and Tony found a pool table that no one was using. “Cool, here’s a chance to win some of my money back,” Bobby said excitedly. “You guys suck at pool.”

  “I play better when I’m drunk,” Tony said. “Whose turn is it to get the beers?” he said, looking directly at Andrew.

  “I guess it’s me,” Andrew said, heading to the bar. “Same again, everybody?”

  “Yup,” Bobby said, racking up the pool balls.

  Beer after beer and game after game only proved Bobby right and Tony wrong: the two guys did suck at pool and Tony did not get any better the more that he drank; in fact, he got considerably worse.

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m officially broke,” Tony declared having lost yet another twenty bucks to Bobby. “You’re the luckiest pool player I’ve ever seen, no doubt about it.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it, asswad. The only difference between you and me is you hit whatever ball you think you can pocket. I play strategy. I think ahead. What am I going to play after I pot this ball; where’s the cue ball going to end up? You don’t have strategy, you don’t win games, simple as that.”

  “Yeah, you’re a friggin’ genius, Bobby,” Tony said facetiously. “That’s why you have to repeat your end-of-terms every time.”

  “Exams don’t count, obviously,” Bobby said, lining up another shot. “Just because you have a good memory doesn’t mean you’re smart, does it? Ten bucks says I make this shot. Cue ball off the rail, ten in the side pocket,” he said, pointing the route with his pool cue.

  “No way you’re going to make that shot. Ten bucks says you don’t,” Tony said.

  “Do you even have ten bucks?” Bobby asked.

  “I’m good for it, you know that. It’s academic anyway; you couldn’t put that ten in the side pocket even if you hit it straight,” Tony insisted.

  “Yeah? Well, watch me,” Bobby said, lining up the shot. Hitting the bank too hard, the cue ball flew off the pool table. It crashed into a collection of beer bottles which the bartender Frank was reaching down to pick up.

  “That’s it, fellas, you’re cut off,” Frank said, looking down at the mess he now had to clean up.

  “That was a total accident, dude. I wasn’t aiming that at you, I swear,” Bobby said.

  “Makes no difference; you guys are wasted,” Frank said, dropping a rag on the floor to contain the flow of spilt beer. “I can’t serve you anymore tonight guys, sorry.”

  “Ten bucks,” Tony said, his hand extended to Bobby.

  “Thanks to you that ten bucks is your contribution to the twelve pack we need to buy on the way back to my place,” Bobby said as he put away the pool cue.

  “What do you mean thanks to me, like I made you trash the place?” Tony argued.

  “I didn’t trash the place, asswad. You were giving me the juju vibes with your mind, I could feel it,” Bobby replied. “I told you before about that bad juju shit you always do.”

  “No, I wasn’t! And even if I was, there’s no way something like that would stand up in a court of law. What would you say to the judge, I screwed up because he was giving me the evil eye, your honor?” Tony said.

  “You’re just a sore loser, admit it,” Bobby said as he grabbed his jacket.

  “Coming from the world’s sorest loser, that’s saying a lot,” Tony scoffed. “What’s the expression? The pot calling the kettle black?” he asked Andrew.

  “Something like that, yeah,” Andrew said disinterestedly.

  “I want that ten bucks, Bobby,” Tony insisted as the three of them made their way out of the bar.

  Simon entered the basement room at the bottom of the ground-level stairs. Its walls adorned with occult symbolism and Egyptian hieroglyphs, it had the look and feel of a room dedicated to the devotion and invocation of ancient deities. Acting and expressing appropriate respect and reverence, he approached a stone altar and lit some candles which sat upon its marble surface.

  Bobby sat behind the wheel of his two-door pickup truck and turned up the volume of the heavy metal music. Andrew sat in the passenger seat and scrunched over closer to Bobby when Tony returned from the liquor store with the beer. “You got light beer, asswad?” Tony asked.

  “It was on sale, dipshit, and it has just as much alcohol content as anything else. Get drunk, not fat, dude,” Tony responded.

  “Watching your figure, Cinderella?” Bobby teased.

  “Just drive, fatso,” Tony said.

  “I’m not fat, mofo. Most of what you think is fat is muscle and if you want a demonstration, I can take you, any time, any place,” Bobby scoffed.

  “Yeah, like that would prove anything. You’ve so much fat, you wouldn’t even feel my punches, dude,” Tony said.

  “I wouldn’t feel your punches because you don’t know how to fight is why,” Bobby replied.

  “Yes, I do. I just choose not to. I’m not a punk; I use my head instead of my fists,” Tony answered.

  “You don’t use your fists because you fight like a girl. I bet you think like a girl too, admit it,” Bobby jeered back.

  “Do not,” Tony said, hoping for an end to the jabbering.

  “I’m not fat, am I, Andy?” Bobby asked.

  “No. No, you’re not fat,” Andrew answered tactfully. “Could maybe lose a few pounds but you’re not fat-fat, no.”

  “Let’s go, dude,” Tony urged. “I’m tired looking at this ugly parking lot already.”

  As they pulled out onto the street, an oncoming car had to swerve to avoid colliding with them. Andrew checked out Bobby’s reaction to the near-miss but he didn’t seem to have even noticed.

  Simon placed Andrew’s baseball cap on the altar, then found Andrew’s photo on his smart phone and placed it into the baseball cap. He placed a brass object upon it which looked like a mix of triangles and a circle and an equal-arm cross. He opened an old medieval-looking book and with due reverence began reading aloud a chant in some archaic language.

  Even though he’d had just as many beers as his buddies, not for the first time Andrew felt like he was the sober one of the group. He looked carefully ahead as Bobby took the truck off of the main road and onto a sparsely-lit narrow road that led up into the Hollywood hills. “I thought we were going back to your place, Bobby?” he asked.

  “It’s way too early to go home, bro. Besides, have you seen that moon?” Bobby answered. The moon looked full and a few soft baby clouds drifted before it making the sky look dramatic. “We should park up on Mulholland and howl at the moon for shits and giggles, what do you say, Tony?”

  By way of answering in the affirmative, Tony howled like a wolf, which made Bobby laugh. “That’s what I’m talking about, Wolfman Tone!” Bobby said, before he himself joined in. Taking a tight turn, the front left wheel briefly mounted the curb.

  “You okay to drive, Bobby?” Andrew asked.

  “What’s wrong, lover-boy? Getting nervous?” Bobby teased in reply.

  “Yeah man, watch the road,” Tony faked concern and then continued howling.

  “This is my truck and I drive it how I please…” Bobby said. Taking another winding turn he had to swerve to avoid an oncoming car. Screeching to a complete stop, the truck stared straight into a foliage-covered ditch. Beyond that was a cliff face with a huge drop into a wide gulley below. “Maybe you should drive,” he then said to Andrew. “These turns are making me nauseous.”

  “Hey, if you have to puke, sit by the window,” Tony said. “I don’t
care that you own the truck, take your puking outside!”

  With intense concentration, Simon continued to read aloud the chant.

  While Bobby went round to the other door and got in beside Tony, Andrew got behind the wheel and adjusted the rear view mirror. Slowly he drove the truck up the winding road being careful on the sharp turns. “I need a beer,” Bobby said, ripping open the twelve pack of beer by his feet. “Who else needs a beer?”

  “I definitely need a beer,” Tony answered.

  As Bobby opened a beer, foam spurted and spilled from the opening. “Here, you have this one,” Bobby said, passing it to Tony who moved his legs quickly to dodge the spilling foam.

  “Mind the new jeans, dickwad,” Tony chided.

  “This one’s yours, Andy,” Bobby said as he opened another. “Wasn’t forgetting about ya.”

  “I’m good,” Andrew replied, keeping his focus on the road. “Wait till we get off the road.”

  “Have a beer, bro. You’re so uptight it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies,” Bobby insisted.

  “Yeah, dude, who shoved a stick up your ass tonight?” Tony agreed.

  “You know what your problem is, Andy-boy?” Bobby asked. “You got so friggin’ sensible, you don’t have any more fun. Ever since you met that loony chick you’ve become a grade-A pain in the ass, do you know that?”

  “Yeah, Andy, what’s up with that?” Tony asked. “You used to be the head case and Bobby was the quiet one,” he joked.

  “Give him a beer,” Bobby said as he handed Tony a newly-opened can. “We’re your best buddies, Andy. We’ve got your back, bro; isn’t that right, dipshit?” he asked Tony.

  “Get real, guys. I’m not going to have a beer while I’m driving,” Andrew said, refusing to take the proffered drink.

  “Take the beer, dude and chill,” Bobby urged.

  “Yeah, take the beer while it’s still chill, dude,” Tony joked again, pushing the can into Andrew’s face.

  “Take it away, Tony, seriously,” Andrew warned.