Josie paused. “You’re joking.”
“Guess who’s back in town and residing in the old house?”
She squealed. “You’re fucking joking!”
I peeked out the window. “Where are you living now? Still in Santa Cruz?”
Shuffling sounded on the other end of the line. “Are you home right now?”
“I’m at the house, yeah. I was actually calling to—”
“I don’t care why you were calling. I’m coming over and we’re hanging out all day. So, clear your schedule.”
I snickered. “You gonna help me clean? Because this place is a nightmare.”
Her car beeped over the phone. “Send me a list of shit you need, and I’ll pick it up on the way there. Ah! I can’t believe you're back in town! Is this a permanent thing? Please tell me it is. I never thought L.A. suited you.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “One step at a time, Josie. But yes. I’ll be sending you a list of cleaning supplies as well as good. And I’ll give you some cash when you get here.”
“Pssh. I got a new job that pays well. This is on me, and you can pick up dinner. How’s that sound?”
I smiled. “Sounds like I can’t wait to hear about this new job.”
“Eh, it’s not glamorous but it pays the bills. Now, send me that list!”
She hung up the phone and I quickly sent her a message with the few things I needed. Then, I tossed my phone onto the wooden side table beside the rocker recliner. I wrinkled my nose as the faded leather outline of my father’s body that used to occupy this chair more than any other piece of furniture in this place. I reached my hand out and placed my palm against where his arm would lean, where I had held his hand in my own multiple times while we watched Saturday morning cartoons.
I brushed the tears away from my eyes and steeled myself against the mess that I knew would be underneath the chair.
Then, I pulled it off to the side and groaned.
“My God, did anyone ever clean this house?” I hissed.
The cobwebs alone were enough to let me know that I needed the vacuum cleaner. And when I turned the chair over onto its side, I found so many polyps filled with spider eggs that I shivered. Damn it; that meant I’d need to call an exterminator.
It also meant I needed to flip over every single piece of furniture just to make sure other spiders hadn’t made their home in this place.
“Time to die,” I whispered.
I turned on the vacuum and sucked up those little bulbous packets of disgusting grossness before I walked over and peeked beneath the couch. And when I saw more bulbous nests, I groaned. I walked over to the side of the couch and heaved it upward, then did my best to scoot the wooden side table beneath it in order to keep it propped up.
And after the couch was stable enough without my grip, I quickly did a swipe underneath it as well.
Before moving to every other piece of furniture downstairs.
The kitchen didn’t have any, but the living room was riddled with them. The dining room seemed okay, but there weren’t many dark and damp places for them to hide out in a room that was filled with nothing but pictures, a table, and some chairs. I pulled the vacuum cleaner upstairs and went room by room, shocked at the lack of nests, considering what I found in the living room.
Nevertheless, the spider nests seemed to be concentrated in one room.
Which would hopefully help with the exterminator bill.
“Now where the hell is my best friend!?” Josie exclaimed.
The front door slammed open and I went rushing down the stairs. I squealed with delight as I flung myself into her arms, hugging her as the bags she held dropped from her hands. She wrapped me up tightly and we bounced around, squealing and shrieking like we hadn’t seen one another in decades.
And after kissing her on the cheek, I held her out so I could take a look at her.
“You look good. You been working out?” I asked.
She lifted her arms and flexed them. “Part of the job. I need the muscles to bring in tips.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Now you really have me curious about this job.”
Her arms fell to her sides. “Don’t freak out, okay?”
I blinked. “Why would I freak out?”
“Because I know you. You’re protective of those you love, and I need you to keep a lid on it, all right?”
“Surely, you’re confusing me with my brother.”
She snickered. “I see you still think you’re different from him.”
I ignored her comment and leaned against the staircase banister. “Come on, tell me. What’s this fantastic job you’ve scored?”
She thumbed over her shoulder. “Let me get the rest of the stuff out of the car and then we can talk.”
“I’ll come help.”
I was flabbergasted at the amount of shit we pulled out of Josie’s trunk. Not only had she picked up lunch from the diner we always used to go to as high schoolers, but she had every cleaning supply afforded to us under the sun. I pulled out window cleaners and carpet cleaners. Hardwood floor cleaners and mop heads. There were three different brooms and fresh towels that smelled like heaven and three massive things of toilet paper.
The woman had practically stocked my place with things I hadn’t yet picked up for myself.
And it made me more curious than ever before.
“Eat, then clean?” Josie asked.
I hauled the food into the kitchen. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
We danced around one another, pulling out silverware and drinks. But once we got settled at the table, I eyed her from my perched position.
“You gonna spill it about this job now?” I asked.
Josie sighed. “I’m a stripper, Astrid.”
I blinked. “Wait, have you always been a stripper?”
She shrugged. “In some way, shape, or form since high school, yeah.”
“Why in the world didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because I knew if there was anyone out there prepared to give me the, ‘you’re better than that’ speech, it was you.”
My heart broke at her words. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I’d look down on you for something like that.”
She furrowed her brow. “You mean, you’re not upset?”
I sipped my blackberry tea. “I do feel like you’re better than that, but if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”
She munched on a French fry. “Honestly? It makes me feel strong. Empowered, almost. I’ve always loved to dance, but I knew I was never good enough to go professional, you know?”
“Especially after breaking your ankle. Didn’t the doctor tell you to stop ballet because of it?”
She nodded. “Yep. But on that stage I get to dance. I get to be free from all the rules and regulations my parents held me to when I was younger. I get to cast off all that religious bullshit, get to express myself through amazing costumes and makeup, and I rake in the money at the same time doing something that makes me feel strong.”
I smiled softly. “Then, I’m happy for you. Really.”
“Plus, the place is kept really clean and safe. It’s not like those seedy, weirdo bar-stripper joint combinations. People come in for the shows, and if they want drinks and food, they have that option. It’s really nice.”