Southern Gothic (3 page)

“Yeah, I saw him go.”

“That means he’s not here to bother us. Not for a while. We’re all alone.”

Max felt his lips curl upward. “Now that is a much better way to spend our time than fighting.”

Sandra pressed her mouth against his, and he wasted no time reaching for her bottom. He felt a bit like a teenager whose parents had stepped out. The kisses between them had that urgency, that strength and desire which accompanied making up as well as the fear of getting caught.

He heard a car pull up outside but did his best to ignore it. He heard the car door shut but dismissed it as a neighbor stopping home early. His hand reached up Sandra, but they both stopped as they heard three sharp knocks on their door.

“Damn,” he muttered.

Sandra kissed the tip of his nose. “Raincheck?”

“You need to ask?”

With a wink, she opened the door. A tall, stark lady dressed in an expensive business suit stepped in. She extended her hand, and with a clipped tone, she said, “Good day. I’m Cecily Hull.”

Chapter 3

If Max had been asked
all the numerous ways his day could have gotten worse, he would never have dreamed up this. Cecily Hull stood in their trailer with a disgusted twist to her mouth as she examined the poor conditions. She had short, blonde hair styled with sharp ends and a close buzz in the back — a rather intimidating look when coupled with her pale skin and grim eyes. One might assume she had been dressed for a funeral, except Max’s gut told him this was her standard appearance.

She stood still with her hand out, and Max finally realized Sandra had no intention of being polite. Why should she? A few years ago, Max would have agreed with Sandra’s attitude and probably took a step further. But he knew better now. This woman had a reason for visiting, and there was no point to pissing on the situation before they had learned that reason. He shook her hand as Sandra crossed her arms over her chest.

Cecily kept her eyes locked on Sandra. “My apologies if I’ve intruded, but I need to speak with you about an urgent matter.”

“Come in,” Max said. “Have a seat.”

She glanced at the couch, and her pointed nose wriggled at an offensive odor. “I won’t be long. I think I’ll stand.”

Sandra’s jaw tightened. Max hurried between them. “Okay,” he said. “Why don’t you tell us what Tucker wants and you can be on your way.”

Cecily chuckled — an off-putting, airy sound like a dog’s squeaky toy that could barely squeak. “I’m not here on Tucker’s behalf. Not in the least. I’m here for me and for me alone.”

“Then why don’t you tell us what it is you want.”

“Your help, of course. You are one of the few people in this town, possibly in this entire world, that can actually help me because you are one of the few that has managed to face the Hull family and survive.”

Max gestured to the trailer. “We do survive, but not unscathed.”

Cecily chuckled again. Sandra’s eyes narrowed, and Max wondered if the old cartoon image of steam boiling out of one’s ears could actually happen.

Clearing his throat, he hoped the sound might snap Sandra into a more professional state-of-mind. To Cecily, he said, “Exactly how are you related to the Hulls?”

Her eyes perked up. “Ah, you’re finally asking an intelligent question. That’s good. I was beginning to think the family had overestimated you. Let me save you the trouble of taxing your brain too greatly. I’m the daughter of Terrance Hull. I’m the reason for all of this mess with Tucker.” She raised a hand to stop Max’s questions. “You see, the Hull family is a patriarchy. Except that’s too simplistic. It’s an extreme, orthodox patriarchy. Everything revolves around control of power through the male line.”

“And you’re the only child of Terrance Hull?”

“You
are
smart. Yes. Father had no other children. Only me. A daughter. He tried for more but Mother suffered complications — her uterus was not healthy enough, I suppose. After me, she couldn’t have another child. Divorce was never an option. We are too religious a family to allow such a blemish. Father asked our witch to cast a spell that would help him gain an heir, but no spell could help Mother. And unfortunately for Father, other than a weak uterus, Mother’s health was excellent. She will probably outlive him, and so, he could not hope to remarry and try with a younger woman.”

“Couldn’t he just get rid of her? Accidents happen in your family.”

“My, my. I had heard that you thought low of us, but I had no idea how low. No, Mr. Porter, we do not murder our own to make life easier.” Over her shoulder, she said to Sandra, “You better watch out for this one. If he doesn’t like what you’re doing, you might find yourself the victim of an accident.”

Max grabbed Sandra’s hand and yanked her close. Her fingers dug into his flesh. Better that than having to pry those fingers off of Cecily Hull’s neck. “So, Terrance had you, and to your twisted family, that’s a bad thing.”

Ignoring the jab, Cecily continued. “It was Father’s idea to bring back Tucker. Then, at least, the family could live under the sure hand of Tucker while waiting for me to produce a boy. That was their plan, anyway.”

“You don’t sound too keen on the whole idea.”

“This is the twenty-first century. I grew up in a family stuck in the nineteenth — at least when it comes to views about women. So, no, I am not keen on the idea. In fact, I want to help my family modernize its views. I want to force the family to accept me as the new head. To do so requires the aid of special people with special skills. You and your little research firm are some of those people.”

Max kept expecting a camera crew to pop through the door and inform him that he had been the target of some prank show. “You want to hire us to help you become the next head of the Hull family?”

“I want to hire you to do something you badly need done — get rid of Tucker Hull.”

“I thought you didn’t murder your own.”

“Tucker’s already dead. He’s also unnatural and in my way.”

“So, exceptions can be made.”

“Always. In return for your assistance, you will receive substantial income, and I can easily throw in a better home. Most importantly, once Tucker Hull is no longer a problem, all of your unfortunate circumstances will go away. He is the reason you suffer. But when I lead the family, I will do away with such petty behavior. You’ll be free to live, work, and prosper anywhere you desire. Nobody will be out to ruin you.”

“Only if we help you, though. I mean, if you managed to take over the family without us, then this petty behavior against us will continue, right?”

“I suppose if you want to stay out of this and simply pray that I succeed, that I won’t hold a grudge against you, and that I’ll be benevolent toward your situation, you are free to do so. But only with your help will you ensure that I succeed, that I won’t hold a grudge against you, and that I’ll be benevolent toward your situation.”

Sandra bumped Max aside. “That’s it. Get out. I don’t care if you’re a Hull, I will not allow you to stand in my home and threaten us.”

“I was not threatening you.”

“Sure sounded like it to me.”

“I assure you —”

“That’s not worth much, is it? You got any references?”

“Excuse me?”

“References — people who can vouch for you.”

Cecily stiffened her back. “I’m a Hull.”

“That’s the problem.”

“I merely meant that —”

“We know exactly what you meant. You Hulls are nothing but a cancer to our life and we won’t have anything to do with you. Go. Play your little family politics with someone else. We are not your pawns anymore.”

Cecily held still and gazed down at Sandra. Max worried he would have to jump in to stop Sandra from throwing a punch, but then Cecily’s lips broke into a snobbish grin. “My, my. You certainly do have spunk. What a shame you won’t work with me.” She leaned over. “You may want to rethink your position, but whatever you choose, I promise you I will become the next leader of the Hulls. So if you refuse to help me, you’d best stay out of my way.”

With a calm gait, Cecily walked out of the trailer. She got into her car, a classic Porshe 911, and she drove away. As the sound of her engine receded, Sandra kicked a new dent into the wall.

“Damn, I wish I could have strangled that woman,” she said. “The nerve of her coming here like she was doing us a favor by trying to force us back into that maze of crap they call a family. Can you believe that?”

Max had been married long enough to know Sandra well — good and bad. He knew she needed to vent off this anger, especially after their own fight, and he knew the best way to help her was to simply agree with her, to let her spout whatever she needed to say, and then later they could talk about this with rational thought. But he made a crucial mistake — he hesitated. Sandra turned toward him, her face a mixture of anger and confusion.

“Are you really thinking about taking her up on this?”

“Of course not.” Max shook his head, but he couldn’t stop his mouth. “But she does make a few good points.”

“Good points? Are you crazy?”

“I only mean that without Tucker Hull our lives would be easier. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a chance on her. Worst thing that happens is she turns out to be like all the other Hulls.”

“Really? That’s what you think is the worst? How about this — Tucker Hull slams Cecily into the ground and maintains control of the family. He’s really pissed now and who can he look at to blame for this happening? Oh, I don’t know, maybe those Porters who’ve screwed things up for him on several occasions. You think it’s bad now, what happens when Tucker Hull really wants to hurt us? We’d be lucky if he only sends a hitman to murder us. More likely, we’ll end up cursed, living out an eternity in some form of torture.”

“If Hull wanted to curse us, he would have already. We’re just not that important to him.”

Max reached out but she slapped away his arms. “Well, dear Husband, let me ask you a question. Is gaining money and some false sense of security really worth selling your soul to the Hulls?”

“Honey, that’s going a bit far. Maybe you’re not seeing this clearly because it involves the Hulls.”

“I’m prejudiced, now? Is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Sandra stomped down the small aisle leading to the bedroom at the front of the trailer. She whirled around, her eyes blazing, her face tight, and she shook her fist. “Because you are clearly too much of an idiot to know when to support your wife, I’ll make this plain and simple. Don’t talk to me again tonight. You sleep out there. I’d make the point really clear if I had a fucking door to slam shut.” Instead, she threw the sliding curtain closed. Seconds later, classic rock blared from the bedside radio.

Max smacked his forehead and plopped onto the couch. “Stupid, stupid.” he said. “What the heck were you thinking?”

He knew the answer to that. One glance at his surroundings gave him the answer. They were in trouble, soon they would be forced to live off credit cards, and once that debt began, they’d never dig out of it. Like a snake coiling before it struck, the money problems readied for a devastating blow. It didn’t matter that he had a college degree, that he had been employed by a public school, or that he had managed to keep them afloat for several years. Nobody would hire him for a decent job — not if they looked closely into his history. Too many job changes. Too many gaps of unemployment. Bosses won’t care that he had made a stab at self-employment. If anything, they’ll take that as a sign of his desire to always be looking for better pastures. The best he could hope for was to flip burgers.

Sandra would eventually get a full-time job — unless she was right and the Hulls were stopping that from happening. In which case, things were even worse than he wanted to admit. But wasn’t the real problem her inability to admit the situation? He had no love for the idea of working with any Hull, but reality appeared to be pushing them towards that cliff.

And it was a cliff. A sheer drop into a dark abyss that he had climbed out of before and knew each time became more difficult. And each time he resurfaced, life became a little harder, a little worse.

But if he didn’t help Cecily Hull, what would be left for them? Being poor. Except they had been poor before, and back then, when one of the Hulls tried to buy them off, they easily refused. They had also been forced into working for the Hulls later — which proved to be no big deal until the day they came calling about a witch coven. That was when the long climb out of the darkness began.

“We made it, though,” he whispered. Looking around him, Max wondered if it had been worthwhile. Being poor was one thing. Being poor with no real possibility to get out — that was poverty. That was unacceptable.

A few hours later, Max startled awake to the cold of a ghost drifting into the room. He had no memory of falling asleep. No sound came from the bedroom. He had no memory of Sandra shutting off the music.

His disorientation might have continued, but Drummond floated a few feet away, and upon seeing Max awake, Drummond said, “Finally. I was getting bored waiting for you.”