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“Where are we?” I asked with wonder in my eyes.
“My safe house.”
“You have your own fucking safe house?” My jaw remained slack.
“Yeah, our family does a little more dangerous shit than yours,” he said. He leaned toward my chest, talking into my boobs. “Can you hear all that?”
I rolled my eyes and pushed him away. “You’re being childish.”
He parked the car and let Atheist out of the back seat. The dog took off along the rolling hills, looking like a little black bear the farther he ran. Massive trees surrounded us on all four sides and made me feel tiny in comparison. Weweretiny in comparison. Nestled within the woods was the house, buried behind the wall of trees. It truly was perfect.
“When were you here last?” I asked as he opened the big white door. The air felt stale inside, as if it had been empty for quite some time. The room welcomed the light of the open door, and I walked to the curtains and opened them, letting in more of it. Dust coated my hands, and I wiped it on my pants. The sunbeams streamed through the window, creating a rainbow of color on the tan hardwood floors.
“Last year? I think,” he said as he dropped our bags by the door. I looked back at him, and he brushed a hand through his dark hair.
I cocked an eyebrow. “Why were you here?”
“Not that I should tell you shit, but do you remember the Romano case?”
“The butchered double murder...” I gasped. “You?” Him? The Enzo I know wouldn’t have been so careless, leaving pieces of himself behind.”
“Not my best work. I got a little sloppy and had to lay low for a while.”
I furrowed my brow at him. “No one knows this is here?”
Enzo shook his head. “Not even Silvio knew about this house.”
I looked around the home. Aside from the thin dust coating some things, it was meticulous. The leather furniture wrapped around the room and faced a large television. I spotted the corner of a pool table in the middle room, and it sent a flood of memories through my mind.
The cold wood of the table against my bare skin.
“How do you keep anyone from finding this?”
“Fake everything.” A smirk crept onto his lips, as if he were proud of himself. He should have been. This was an accomplishment. To get a fucking house as a ghost was impressive.
I sat on the couch with a huff and stretched my legs. Atheist bounded into the open door and hopped onto the couch with muddy paws. “Oh, come on, Atheist!” I yelled as I tried to stop him from stepping on my clothes, but his wiggling body seemed more determined to leap onto my lap the harder I fought him off.
Enzo called to him, and he hopped off the couch and ran to his side, sitting obediently at his feet. His body still wiggled with excitement.
“You can have the room at the end of the hall. It’s got its own bathroom.” He gestured toward the door at the end of the long hallway. The walls were void of pictures or any signs of life. Not only was Enzo a ghost, so was the home. I found myself enjoying the serenity of the emptiness—a clean slate of memories.
I could get used to this.
I lifted my bag and headed toward the room. I opened the flimsy wooden door, and it squeaked on its hinges. The room seemed staged, like a house made up for a showing. Was it made up when he bought it? Did he even change a thing? A crisp purple-and-white paisley quilt lay on top of the large bed, tucked in on three of its sides. The side closest to the headboard was neatly folded over itself. I rubbed my hand along the glossy surface of the rich reddish-brown mahogany dresser.
“I’ll be back!” Enzo called from the living room. “I’m gonna go get groceries and shit.”
I didn’t call back to him. I just flopped onto the soft memory foam bed and let it absorb me into its center. Atheist ran in and looked at me, his tail wagging.
“No! Stay!”
He crouched down, his butt in the air.
“No, Atheist! It’s a white fucking bed!”
Atheist hesitated for only a moment before leaping onto the bed and leaving big brown footprints on the crisp white blanket. He had completely forgotten the injury he’d received not long ago, but the hair was still shorter in that area of his armpit.
“Your dad’s going to be mad!” I laughed as I patted his head. Why did a thing as simple as a dog muddying a blanket feel sonormalto me? Like I had been missing out on such normalcy. Maybe I had been.
