Page 17 of Property of Anchor

She heard me.I knew she did.But instead of snapping back, she just huffed again and started walking.

I fell in beside her, but my eyes drifted ahead to Pearl and Bert.She gestured toward the haunted house as she talked, and her braid swung behind her like a pendulum.Bert nodded at something she said, but I wasn’t listening to their words.I was watching the way she moved.The way she smiled when she talked.The way her hand fluttered in the air like she could already see the paint going on the boards.

She was staying.That part I liked.But I hadn’t calculated Bernice into the equation.Not exactly a cockblock, but close enough.And she was watching me like a hawk.Still, if Pearl was staying here for the duration of the job, it gave me plenty of time to figure out what this thing was between us.If anything.

We reached the edge of the haunted house clearing, and Pearl slowed.She turned back slightly to check on Bernice and me.

“You two good back there?”she called, her voice teasing.

Bernice rolled her eyes.“Keep your eyes forward.We’re just admiring the back of your head.”

“Still think this job is just about slapping on some color?”I asked, stepping up next to her.

She tilted her head, eyes scanning the tall, jagged silhouette of the haunted house in front of us.“No,” she said softly.“Now I think it’s the kind of job that could eat you alive… in the best way.”

I nodded.“Welcome to Skull Island, doll.”

Chapter Eight

Pearl

Anchor and his guys had peeled off not long after giving us the run of the place, back to wherever it was they met and talked in secret grunts and intense stares.Probably doing important club things.Or leaning against their bikes and looking like they were in the middle of a gritty photo shoot.

I stood with my hands on my hips, and my eyes scanned the haunted house façade again.It was still intimidating in the daylight, though less terrifying and more rundown.The chipping paint, crooked shutters, and fake mold along the roofline gave it charm, in the same way a three-legged taxidermy cat might.

“You’re gonna have your hands full,” Jake muttered, stepping up beside me.

“Speak for yourself,” I shot back with a grin.“You’re painting that whole south wall, remember?”

Jake snorted.“Right.Forgot I agreed to a death sentence.”

Brian wandered over with a clipboard in hand and adjusted his ball cap.“It’s not that bad.Structurally sound, at least.”

“Because that’s what matters in a haunted house,” Molly added, smirking.“People don’t care if it’s haunted, as long as the shingles don’t fall on their heads.”

Dad stood a few paces away, hands in his pockets, watching us with a quiet smile.

“You okay with us starting without you barking orders, old man?”I asked, teasing.

He shrugged.“I’m not the creative lead this time.This one’s all you, Pearl.You’ve got the vision.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but hearing it still hit a little different every time.Dad had built Brush Masters from the ground up, one house and building at a time.For him to step back and let me run a job this size was a big deal.Maybe even bigger than I’d let myself realize.

I looked around at the crew again.Jake and Brian were arguing about scaffolding already, Molly was snapping photos for reference, and Bernice… well, Bernice was perched on a crate like some kind of wise, retired owl.

At eighty years old, she’d been painting longer than the rest of us had been alive.She didn’t move fast, but when she painted, it was like watching someone write poetry with a brush.

“This place gives me the willies,” Molly said as she pushed her sunglasses on top of her head.“And those guys with the bikes?I don’t know, Pearl.They kinda scare me.”

“They kinda scare everyone,” Jake said.“But they’re also probably the reason no one messes with this place.”

“Or disappeared into the lake,” Brian added, too cheerfully.

I gave them a look.“Guys.Focus.”

“Oh, we’re focused,” Jake said, nudging Brian.“We’re focused on not getting shanked by a dude named Skull.”

“They’re not going to shank anyone,” I muttered and ran my fingers along my braid.“They’re just...intense.”

---