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Still never would have guessed it.
“I’m Trista,” I said. “This is Memphis.”
He scoffed at her name. “Memphis? And you call him Jersey? He got mixed up in some weird shit once he got out.”
“I feel like that’s putting it mildly,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Kyle.”
Of course it fucking was.
Nothing in the world could’ve prevented the crazed laugh that burst out of me.
No wonder Jersey reacted like a lunatic when I gasped and moaned that fucking name just to mess with him.
“That’s funny?” He asked.
“It is. It really is,” I said quickly. “Lead the way, Mr. Groundskeeper.”
Because no fucking way could I ever call him his actual name now.
He glared at me for a good few seconds before he turned to take us through the house.
“I never imagined he’d be bringing girls here,” Kyle said while he walked. “He’s got his own stash of clothes and personal shit in his room, but he never told me to keep anything for women.”
“So, we need to get our own tampons. I hear you,” Memphis concluded with a giggle. He didn’t turn around or even pause, but just the word brought a bright red flush up the back of Kyle’s neck while he continued on his way. He pointed out different areas of the mostly open concept house as we walked by them. A massive, perfectly white kitchen with black countertops everywhere, a living room with a huge fireplace and the biggest TV I’d ever seen in my life mounted across the room from a sectional, a bathroom, a pantry, all these things that felt entirely too domestic, too calm and too ordinary, to be meant for Jersey. He stopped outside a closed door.
“This one is his room,” he said and pushed the door open. Memphis and I both froze right where we were in that hallway. Memphis looked like she was in physical pain when she forced herself to look at me.
“You can have it,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m not staying in his room,” she said quickly. “And if he were here, wouldn’t you be staying in there with him?”
Kyle chuckled. “Glad that answered that question. Had no fucking clue how to ask which one of you it was. Or if it was both of you. He never seemed like the kind of man who shared, but I don’t know that any man in his right mind would turn that down either. Come on. There’s an office and another bedroom on this floor. Two other bedrooms and one that he mostly just uses for storage upstairs.”
Memphis opted to take the other bedroom on the first floor, and neither of us worked up the nerve to venture into Jersey’s room or his office. We followed Kyle back to the kitchen when he was done showing us the house.
“There are a couple of cleaning ladies who come by every other week on Tuesdays,” he said. “Do you want me to have them keep coming out, or are you two taking care of the place now?”
“I think we’ll do it,” Memphis said quickly. “As little traffic in and out of here as possible is best for now.”
Kyle nodded. “I take care of the outside. He rents the fields to a farmer from a couple towns over, but they don’t set foot on this part of the property, so they won’t bother you. I’ve got a dog who stays out in the guesthouse with me. She has free run of the place so be nice to her. I’ll get the garage open if you want to bring his car around back.”
I followed him back out the door and went to the car while he motioned for me to follow the driveway around to the back of the house.
The man actually owned fucking farmland. New Jersey. Jersey had cornfields and barns.
What was this place?
I parked Persephone in the bay where Kyle had opened the overhead door of a detached three car garage. I got out to look at another Challenger. One that was nearly the opposite of the one that I’d become much too familiar with. Where Persephone was mostly black with hints of purple. The other was a deep purple with a black hood and black stripes down either side.
“Hades,” Kyle said, stopping to stand next to me.
I laughed out loud. Jersey and his names.
Hades and Persephone
