Chapter Sixteen

Brandy

The rest of the day was not nearly as entertaining as when Collin was there.

The filming crew, having decided nothing else of any worth was going to happen that day, picked up and left, leaving the barebones crew of one camera person, one sound person, and an incredibly depressingly young PA who was apparently going to be producing should anything arise. Unfortunately for them, it was a normal evening, and we closed up the shop at nine.

As had become custom, we sat down for a talking head interview, where we went over the events of the day, with the poor PA asking questions sent to him in an email by Phil, then the cameras were off. The crew left, and Basil and I walked across the street home. Basil took the back way in to go directly to her floor, with plans for us to meet up in an hour for dinner.

I was looking forward to that hour. Not that I didn’t love Basil or being around her, but after the hecticness of the day and the overwhelming amount of people, lights, and instructions, I was anticipating an hour of sinking into a bathtub and doing nothing in the silence for a few minutes. I didn’t even want to put on music or a TV show. Just silence.

The door jammed on me, as it often did, and I had to press my leg against it as I turned the knob to get it open. I made a little frustrated sound, which turned into a warble as I almost slipped in something wet spilled on the floor by the door. When I gained my bearings, I looked up to see my grandmother holding a spray bottle and rag.

“Granny, what are you doing?” I asked.

“Cleaning up after you,” she said. “You made a mess by the door.”

Tiptoeing, as if that would help, I got away from the door and onto the carpet of the living room, where I kicked off my shoes. Granny dropped the rag and then stepped on it, sweeping the cleaner up with the rag by dragging her foot through it.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I’ve been at work all day, and I didn’t have anything wet in my hands when I left.”

“There was something all over the floor,” she said. “I had to clean it up.”

The spot she was cleaning looked spotless already. I slipped off my socks and gently took her by the shoulders, guiding her away from the door to sit on the couch.

“It’s all right, Granny, I got it, I got it.”

“All right,” she said. “Okay, thank you.”

I crouched down and used the rag to clean the entire entryway floor just in case, and then took the rag to the dirty clothes basket by the door to go downstairs. I’d take it with me when I went down to my room.

“What were those people doing at the shop?” she asked suddenly. “The ones with the big trucks and the cameras? Are we going to be on the news?”

“It’s the documentary team, Granny. We talked about it yesterday, remember?”

“Documentary crew?”

This had become a regular conversation. I found it easier to just tell her we talked about it the day before, because we had. That wasn’t a lie. It was just that every yesterday’s conversation had also happened the day before and the day before, going back a month.

“Yes, Gran, the shop is being featured on a show. They follow us around with cameras and tell our story about reopening.”

“Oh,” she said. “But they were there for a long time.”

“Yes, they follow us around all day. Sometimes they come talk to us after work too. It’s a reality show. Remember how you liked that show about the family with all those kids?”

“Yes,” she said. “I liked that show. Those cameras were always around, though.”

“So are these,” I said. “I just told them they aren’t allowed to come down here or down in my floor without being invited.”

“Oh. What about your mother?”

Another pang of sadness clenched my chest. “They can go upstairs,” I said. “We worked all that out.”

“I don’t like that,” she said. “I don’t like people in my house I don’t know about. I saw your friend today. Basil. She came by. It was very nice.”

“Yes, she’s here a lot,” I said.

I didn’t like not telling her the complete truth, about Mom or Basil or the show, but I had done it so many times. So many evenings I had patiently explained to her that her daughter was dead, that we had a roommate in Basil living upstairs. Sometimes, it came as a shock, and she spent an hour crying before slowly forgetting why she was sad. Sometimes she took the news like I had just told her we had run out of milk. Sometimes it jogged her memory, and she would get sad, but it would come back to her.

Learning to dance around the truth without explicitly lying to her was something I had to develop for my own sanity. The caregiver who spent early evenings with her was very helpful in finding ways of keeping her mind off issues that might cause trouble, but sometimes it just cropped up. Especially if the caregiver company couldn’t send anyone, and Granny was mostly alone for the early evening.

“I think I am hungry,” Granny said. “Would you like pancakes?”

“No, Gran, it’s after nine. I can make you something if you are hungry, though. Would you like pancakes?”

“No,” she said, her voice sounding far off suddenly. “No, I don’t want pancakes. I want… I want ice cream.”

“Ice cream? I have some ice cream.”

“Yes. I would like ice cream and to be in my bed. I want to watch Andy Griffith.”

I smiled, offering my hand to her to help her back up. She didn’t need it, really. She wasn’t frail physically. It was only her mind that was going. But no matter how far gone she seemed to be, she never forgot Andy Griffith. I swear, he was like catnip to people born before 1970.

After tucking Granny back into bed and bringing her a bowl of her favorite ice cream, I shut the door most of the way and went to the towel closet to grab one for my bath. Before I could even make it to the steps to go downstairs, there was a knock at the front door. Sighing, I put the towel down on the stack of laundry that needed to go down with me and padded along to the door.

“Brandy Shaw?”

“Officer Anderson,” I said, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

“May I come in?”

My instinct kicked in immediately, and I placed my foot behind the door, closing it a little farther so I was only opening it a foot or two. I knew that it probably wouldn’t matter if he decided to shove me hard enough, but the protective stance was enough to let him know I wasn’t going to let him in, nor was I going to go down without a fight.

Menace radiated off of him. It was like a slick oil, oozing and dripping from his pores. I could smell it. A faint hint of sulfur, like he’d eaten eggs earlier and had bad gas, wafted over to me. I couldn’t help but think of the paranormal shows Basil and I watched, where the smell of sulfur indicated a demon. That’s what it felt like. Demonic. He had an energy that was as intense as it was dangerous.

“No,” I said. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

He grunted, clearly unhappy with being denied entry.

“This is still the home of Madie Shaw, is it not?”

“She does live here.”

“Then may I speak to her, please?”

A sick grin crossed his lips. He thought he was being clever.

“She doesn’t own the house anymore,” I said. “I bought it last year. She is in bed already. She will be more than happy to speak with you tomorrow, if you would like.”

“She is an elderly woman. What if I felt like she was being abused? It would be my duty to do a welfare check on her.”

“Have you had any reports of abuse?” I asked. “Do you have your body camera on to document any abuse you might think is happening?”

His facial expression dropped, and the smile wiped off his face. He didn’t like being spoken to this way. Especially by a woman. That came off loud and clear.

“I don’t need a body camera,” he said. “If I wanted to, I could bust this door down to do a welfare check, and you know, I am pretty sure I would find signs of abuse. Recent. Recent signs of abuse.”

“Are… are you threatening me?” I asked. “Are you threatening my grandmother?”

“Not at all,” he said, his expression not changing but doing a little vocal trick to make it sound like he was being charismatic and friendly. “Not at all, Miss Shaw. Or is it Mrs. Pepper still?”

“It is not,” I said.

“Oh. My mistake.”

“Why are you here, Officer?”

He cleared his throat, checking behind him to see if there was anyone else before looking back at me. It alarmed me, that maneuver, making me think he was tempted to force his way in and make good on his not-threat.

“You’re seeing Collin Galloway,” he said. “I heard he came by the shop today. You didn’t listen to my warning. Even after I let you go home. That… is not a mistake I will make again. Do I make myself clear? Miss Shaw?”

“Again, are you threatening me? Because if you are, I would very much like you to know that you are on security cameras doing so. And I would love to take that footage to your superiors.”

I was bluffing. I had no such footage. There was a camera on the corner of the house, but it faced the store. It was enough to catch him off guard, though. He seemed unsure of himself for a moment, clicking his tongue and breathing through his nose.

“Brandy, is everything all right?”

It was Basil. She was standing behind me. I didn’t turn to look, but inside I was smirking. By his expression, he clearly did not expect anyone else to be there, and Basil, despite being a teddy bear, looked intimidating. Her tattoos alone were enough to frighten someone like him. You could see it in his eyes.

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Officer Anderson was just dropping by to say hello. Weren’t you, Eugene?”

He grimaced. Clearly, he was not accustomed to being referred to by his first name, at least not by a woman he didn’t know.

“The Galloways are bad news. All of them. You need to stay away from them. Or watch your back.”

“Thank you for your opinion,” I said. “Now I’m afraid I have to go. I have several phone calls I need to make before bed tonight. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from me soon.”

He maintained eye contact with me as I shut the door, and as soon as it was closed, I pressed my ear to it to listen. He didn’t move for some time, and I didn’t exhale until he did. When I could hear his engine start, I finally relaxed.

“What was that?” Basil asked.

“Eugene Anderson,” I said. “Coming to threaten me for dating Collin.”

“That’s what I thought I heard,” she said. “From now on, you let me answer the door. I’ll set him straight in a hurry.”

“I don’t think there will be a next time,” I said. “His next move is either to forget it and move on, or to not bother knocking.”