Page 9 of Playing for Keeps (Checkmate 4)

2

Andi

Cleaning Up

It takes only minutes to drive from one side of this small town to the other. It’s so small, in fact, I arrive at Riley’s home in suburbia before my heart has a chance to slow. Cutting the engine, I study the slightly untidy grass, though it’s not not overgrown, since the weather isn’t particularly pleasant. His mailbox overflows, and a couple parcels sit on his front porch and prove how lonely this house has been for weeks.

Leaving Nacho in the truck for a minute, I slide out, drop to the sidewalk, and study the yard with an eye for practicality. He needs a home that is handicap accessible, at least for the short term, so steps at the front of the house won’t do, but the front path is wide and leads right to the driveway. That’ll be helpful.

Leaving the mailbox alone for a second, I move along the driveway and stand on my tiptoes at each window I pass. All of the blinds are closed, the windows locked. But I don’t give up. I move past the garbage cans – the stench is enough to make my stomach roll – and add them to my to-do list.

Put them out, get them emptied, hose them out.

Stopping at the garage, I tap the roller door like that’ll magically gain me entrance, but nothing. Squatting down, I grab the handle and pull, but this cop isn’t that stupid and I’ve already broken in once; perhaps he’s learned his lesson. The door remains down and locked, so I straighten my spine and move to the six foot backyard fence, unlatch the gate, and move into the back. Same as the front, the grass is a little untidy, but not something I need to deal with right away. I stop and stare up at the house; more steps. It’s funny how four steps to a regular person means nothing, but to Riley… they’ll mean the difference between freedom or his home becoming a prison.

So I add them to my to-do list, then I step up to the back door and try the handle.

Locked.

He thinks he’s smarter than me. He thinks he can keep any regular burglar out of his home… well I’m not a regular burglar. I’m Andi, and I’ll slide down the damn chimney before I give up on this. Walking around the far side of his house, I stop at his bedroom window and test the lock. The glass doesn’t move, but in my peripherals, I catch a glimpse of something I never expected; I broke in through his bathroom window once already. You’d think the diligent rookie would’ve learned his lesson already. The window is small, it’s open only half an inch and draws no attention, but I see it.

I give my thanks for it.

Channeling the spring break, twenty-one-year-old me, I dig my nails between the wall and the screen and pop it out, then patting my pockets to make sure my cell and keys stay put, I boost myself up and stop half in, half out of the window.

The stench hits me first. Slamming my eyes shut and turning my face into my shoulder, I will the tears out of my eyes when the smell hits me like a wall. Not just a garbage can stench, but shit stench, like actualfeces. “What the hell?” Leaning back out of the window, I draw in a long breath until my lungs ache, then I hold it and scramble through the window until I fall to the tile floor and expel my precious clean air.

I jump to my feet and bring my shirt up to cover my mouth and nose. It fucking stinks in this house, and it takes only twenty seconds to figure out why. Ninja darts through the hall with a menacing growl, her tail bent at an odd angle, and kitty litter track marks on the floor as she passes. I step along the hall and tiptoe around the mess, and stopping at the laundry room, I whimper at the overflowing litter box. “Jesus, Ninja. They forgot you.”

He’s been away, and nobody remembered her.

Tears slide along my cheeks; tears from the smell, tears of sadness for the man in the hospital, and tears for the cat who would have thought she was abandoned. She’s been forgotten and alone for three weeks, shitting in an overfull litter box, drinking from a toilet, and wondering why the hell her devoted human has left her. Riley used to share his breakfast omelets with her, and now she lives in a dump and is probably starving.

Leaving the laundry room and stepping back into the hall, I move toward the kitchen and amend my assumption; not starving. A five pound bag of dry cat food lies torn open – or more accurately, chewed open – in the middle of the floor. Pieces of dry biscuit litter the floor amongst scattered garbage from the now emptied trash can. Rotten banana peel, egg shells, an empty milk carton. “Ninja?” I turn and pat my thigh. “Ninja, come out, baby. I’ll feed you something proper. Come on.” I pat my thigh again until the bell on her collar jingles and stops at the hallway door. She peeks around with angry eyes, but she doesn’t come out. She’s turned feral and scared from weeks of being alone.

“Okay. It’s okay.” Stepping around the trash, I stop at the massive windows over the sink and flip them open to get a little fresh air. Somewhat accustomed to the stench now, I drop my shirt and move toward the living room. Cat poop has been walked into the rug and over the coffee table. Groaning, I add the rug to my list and make a note to have it cleaned. The expensive blinds sit askew on one of the large windows, like maybe Ninja was climbing and pulled them down. Grabbing a chair from the kitchen, I climb up and fix it, then I open the window to allow more fresh air.

Finally, the cool from outside creeps in and creates a cross breeze. I move past Riley’s plush leather couch covered in blankets, a pillow, and empty gummy worm packages, and make no mention of the new claw marks along one of the arms. Stopping at the front door, I catch sight of the dangling handcuffs and pull in a deep breath before I lose my shit.

Pull it together, Andi. Fix this place, then deal with the girly emotions when you’re in bed later and no one can see.

I unlock the front door and swing it open. Stopping beside the parcels, I draw clean air into my lungs and listen to Ninja’s collar jingling invisibly behind me. She’s scared to come out, but scared to be alone. She wants human interaction, but has no clue if I’m friend or foe.

It’ll break Riley’s heart to know she was abandoned.

Turning back to the house and studying the filth spread from one room to the next, I let my breath out on a long sigh and cast a glance to the sky. There’s no way he can come home to this.

I teased that man mercilessly about being a momma’s boy, but where is she now? Why the hell can’t she feed his damn cat while he’s in the hospital trying not to die?

Lowering my head on a sigh, I take out my cell and consider who best to call to get what I need done. We need to make this house safe for someone in a wheelchair, for someone who’ll graduate to crutches, then a prosthetic. Moving down the front steps, I go back to the truck and slide Nacho’s satchel back over my shoulder. She snorts in the bag, happy little snorts, then pokes her head out the top to take in her new surroundings.

“I’ll fix you up soon, okay? I’ll get your dinner and stuff sorted, and a little bed. Then we’ll go to Lindsi’s and you can see Livi again.” Walking back up the front path, I slide my thumb across my cell screen and scroll my contacts list. I need helpers. Cleaners. Cleaning supplies. Handymen.

Smart women know to go straight to the top, so I find her name and hit dial.

“Hello?” The loud cacophony of fighting men and slamming fists fill the call. “Hello? This is Kit Kincaid, but it’s really loud in here, so you gotta speak up.”

“Kit! Hey.” I feel like an idiot standing out front while I shout into my cell. “This is Andi… Um, Lindsi’s cousin.”

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