Hi, all! You're getting this a little early since I promised to help the hubby out tomorrow. I still plan to upload on Wednesdays. Much ❤️

Chapter 2

"Joy!" Kyle shook my shoulder. "Wake up!"

I groaned. The television still droned on, a narrator detailing the case of a missing college student. "Do you have something against me sleeping?"

"We have a new neighbor."

I cracked my eyes open to see Kyle, perched on his knees atop the couch, staring out of a gap in the mini blinds. "Look," he said.

I considered going back to sleep, but my own curiosity won out. It wasn't everyday we got new neighbors. Most of the folks who lived here had done so their whole lives. Our town wasn't exactly a tourist destination. Just the name: Crab Orchard, Tennessee. Who the hell would hear that name and want to come here? Orchards should be full of oranges or apples. A Crab Orchard sounded fucking terrifying.

Clumsily, I rolled over and hobbled up to match Kyle's position. We resembled two children waiting for an ice cream truck, and for a moment, I was nostalgic. For that brief moment, I pictured Kyle the way he'd been when we were kids. When Mama was around to carry the load, and the biggest thing we had to worry about was whether or not the antenna would pick up cartoons.

Then I looked out the window, and the feeling disappeared. "Someone's moving into the meth lab?"

Kyle's eyes squinted and scanned back and forth across the distance. "Well, it has been empty for six months. I'm sure the cops cleared it out."

I shot him a flat look. "It fucking exploded."

He scoffed. "It didn't explode. It just caught fire a little."

"It's fucking charred all over the right side!" Nobody could live in that thing. Who would even want to?

"I'm sure it's fine." Kyle waved me off. "There's the neighbor!" He pointed, then knocked me off balance as he tried and failed to somehow get closer to the window.

I gripped the cushions to keep from toppling over. "Jesus, Kyle! You're like a child!"

"We should investigate!" He grabbed my hand, yanked me off the couch, and hurried toward the door.

I pulled back and found myself in a tug of war, my arm unfortunately serving as the rope.

"C'mon! I watched your creepy shows this whole time while you slept! Humor me!" His eyes grew wide, and I cringed. Forget puppy dog. Kyle's eyes could only be described as a tub full of starving kittens about to be drowned by Charles Manson. "Please! I'm bored."

"Fine!" It was dirty, and he knew it. I could never say no to him when he looked at me like that. "Only for a minute."

Kyle released me and clapped his hands together. "This is gonna be awesome. What do you think we'll find? He must be interesting to move into that dump." He continued to ramble on as we exited the trailer and cut across the lot.

As we drew closer, I got a better look at the man, and my surprise at his willingness to move into the death trap dwindled. Scraggly hair and unkempt beard, all wrapped up in tattered rags. "He looks homeless," I murmured.

"Awesome." Kyle's pace quickened.

When the man caught sight of our approach, he stopped what he was doing and stared.

"Hey neighbor!" Kyle called, unaffected by the man's stiff stance, or the flat look on his face. "I'm Kyle. This is Joy."

Our new neighbor didn't say a word even after we'd stopped walking, and we all stood in an awkward silence. Or, at least, it should have been awkward. One look at Kyle, and I could tell he was relishing the moment like the true drama starved queen he was.

Unable to stop myself, my attention turned to the man, and I began the process of figuring him out. Muddy boots, dirty hands, sweat stained white tee under an old red flannel shirt.

It was the eyes that told the story though. I met his stare and almost took a step back. Hollow. I forced myself to maintain the contact, searching, waiting, but it was like staring at a corpse. I bit the inside of my cheek as a trickle of irritation burned my ears.

"You got a name?" Kyle asked, seeming undeterred by the friction that surrounded us.

The man seemed to think on it, then in a voice like gravel, he murmured, "John."

Great. Just what I needed. Another John.

Kyle snorted, and I instinctively jabbed a warning elbow into his side.

I studied the man further, but the more I tried, the less I got. He was blank. A ghost. I'd never been afraid of ghosts, but this man scared the hell out of me. I could always read people. Everyone had a tick, a habit, something. Like a spoiled child denied her way, desperation descended upon me. He had to have something.

"It's nice to meet you, John," I purred in my working-Joy voice, trying to draw some sort of reaction from him.

The slightest clench to his jaw; those dead eyes narrowed a fraction. "I don't like visitors," he said, voice gruff. "I mind my business. You folks do the same." He looked pointedly toward my trailer then between the two of us. An obvious dismissal.

Kyle's eyebrows lifted as he looked over at me. "Okay then." He pulled me along as if I were his dog, and I couldn't help but cast a glance behind me. The man didn't notice. He'd gone back to his unpacking, forever to remain a mystery.

But. . .

No. Dammit, no! I could always read them. Never had someone been able to be so. . .blank. My ego felt like a balloon that has just received a needle, and I had the sudden urge to pull my own hair.

To add insult to injury, Kyle chirped, "What you get from him?"

I pulled away and moved ahead.

"Joy?"

It was easy enough to ignore him. Maybe I was still in a funk over the money—and everything else. Maybe I'd pissed God off with my deal so he took my talent away. That thought turned my blood ice cold. I just needed a drink, a minute to process. I snatched a beer from the fridge and chugged it.

Kyle waited expectantly. "Well! C'mon Joy, don't leave me hanging."

"Nothing."

"But the guy? What did you get from him?" he asked again, seeming unable to believe the solitary word had been my answer.

"Nothing." God that sounded stupid. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

"Really?" His disbelief only made it worse.

Yes. Really. I didn't believe it myself. I didn't like the way it felt. Reading people was the only thing I had, and I couldn't let it go. "I'm going back."

"What? No you're not." Kyle grabbed two more beers and steered me towards the couch. "Marathon remember?"

"He's hollow, Kyle," I breathed. "He's like a shell." My brain worked in a loop, replaying every second of our interaction, convinced I'd remember something I'd missed. But there'd been nothing.

"Maybe it's the leftover meth fumes," Kyle said, but even his teasing couldn't chase away my unease.

"No, it's something else. If I could just. . ."

"Joy." Kyle gripped my shoulders and sat us both down onto the sofa. "Let it go. Yeah, it's weird, but that guy seems slightly unhinged. I want you to stay away from him."

I met his gaze. He had that look. The—me Tarzan, you Jane, I protect Jane—look.

I nodded slowly, but inside my mind the hollow eyes still dominated my focus. Kyle wouldn't understand. I could always read them. It was the only thing I could do that didn't involve me taking off my clothes. My only skill. If I couldn't do that, then—

No. I could. I just needed more time. My eyes drifted to the television, to the DNA sample currently displayed. Some expert carried on about the findings and, in that moment, it dawned on me.

This was my chance. My one opportunity to be a detective, to solve a mystery, to prove I could. Even if it was just some guy living in the old meth lab.

I realized Kyle was still staring at me, so I darted forward and smashed my lips against his cheek. "Watch my shows, Boo. You promised."

Kyle's expression didn't waver. He knew something was up. But, reluctantly, he settled back against the cushions. "I mean it, Joy."

I patted his chest, then smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt. "Don't worry. I'll stay away from him."

It wasn't a lie. I'd wait until he left. Then, once he was gone, I'd just have a peek at his stuff. No harm. A grin curved my lips, adrenaline coursing at the thought of doing something other than existing. Something real. Something I'd always wanted to do.

Who'd have ever thought I'd want to break into the meth lab?

Hit that ⭐️ like it spilled your coffee on purpose 😘