Jake
“I missed you, Jake.”
The woman’s words linger on the humid night air.
What’s her name again? Ellie something, I think. She’s a busty blonde that I’d picked up at a real estate development conference a few months earlier. After spending several raucous nights in the hotel room with her, coupled with the fact that she lives in New Orleans, she’s currently my most convenient option for a quick and willing fuck.
She isn’t the only one, of course. I’ve got women scattered across the country, and they tend to make themselves available to me once they know I’ll be in town on business. But with most of my meetings scheduled for the New Orleans office, I’ve been seeing a lot more of Ellie lately.
“I missed you too,” I fib. The whole truth is that sometimes I find myself daydreaming wistfully about the feeling of my cock in her cunt, but her personality is utterly forgettable.
I raise my arms above my head and allow myself a luxurious stretch before settling back down onto the sheets. The silky fabric clings to my sweat-soaked limbs, a reminder of the way I’d pumped my lust and frustration out into Ellie’s compliant body. The smell of sex, heavy and cloying, hangs in the stifling air.
“Don’t you have AC?” I ask her, kicking the sheets away from my overheated skin.
Ellie shakes her head. “The window unit’s busted.”
Just my luck. When I’d told her that I’d wanted a steamy night at her place, I hadn’t meant it quite so literally. It’s hotter than hell in here.
I suddenly find myself longing for the state of the art HVAC system that pumps immaculately cool air through the house I had built on the edge of the swamp. Honestly, it’s one of the only things about the place that I actually like. When I’m inside, I can pretend that I’m still in New York and not camped out in the ass crack of nowhere. That is, if some weird shit isn’t going down in the house.
Goosebumps creep across my skin as I consider some of the unusual experiences that I’ve endured in the new house. Even though I’ve told Julia that it’s just the house settling, or the pipes, or whatever bullshit I conjure up in the moment, I can’t help but think that there is something there, something strange and unexplainable.
Doors open and close on their own. Objects never seem to stay in their proper places. A few times, I’ve sworn that Julia was thumping around upstairs in those hideous designer heels of hers, but when I’ve checked, she’s always been out shopping and spending all of my hard earned cash.
And don’t even get me started on that fucking swamp. The smell alone is bad enough, but that cemetery really takes the cake. Every time I look out there, I feel like I’m going to see the Creature from the Black Lagoon rise up out of the mud.
But it’s almost worse when I don’t look. For some reason, I can’t shake the sensation that there’s something standing out beneath the gnarled trunks of the cypress trees, staring.
Watching.
Waiting.
The thought makes me shiver in spite of the oppressive heat. I’m not scared, though. There’s nothing out there, not really. It’s just some stupid trick of the mind brought on by Julia’s incessant nagging and the weird way that the light shifts out over the marsh.
“Jake, are you okay?” Ellie frowns, running her small hands down my arms. “You look like somebody just walked over your grave.”
I choke out a strangled laugh as an image of that grotesque cemetery in the middle of the swamp flashes through my mind. “I’m fine,” I manage.
Ellie opens her pretty bow mouth to say something, but she doesn’t get a chance. My phone startles to life, ringing and lighting up cheerfully to reveal a picture of me and Julia, one that I’d drunkenly snapped at a party back in New York before we’d moved.
Grateful for the distraction, I snatch up the device and hit the green button to accept the call. I hold one finger out to a pouting Ellie, shushing her as I say into the speaker, “Hello?”
“Howdy Jake, it’s Thurman,” a familiar voice greets in a heavy Texas drawl.
“What’s up?” I ask. I can never tell with Thurman. His tone never seems to change, regardless of whether he’s giving me good news or bad.
“Just wanted to let you know that the latest shipment came in with no problems,” the man says slowly.
I glance over at Ellie, who’s watching me curiously. Damn. The last thing I need is for one of my side pieces to catch wind of what I’m doing and try to hold that over me, so I choose my next words very carefully when I ask, “And the, uh, produce? It’s all there?”
“Yup,” Thurman confirms. “Everybody’s accounted for. We should be all set for the first construction site next week.”
“Music to my ears, Thurman,” I grin. “Thanks.”
“No problem, boss,” he replies in that same unaffected tone. “Any luck with the investors?”
“I’m pretty sure we’ll have them in the bag after this week. In a few short days, Carter Real Estate Developers will officially become Carter Real Estate Developers and Construction,” I assure him. “We’ll be fully funded and fully staffed.”
“Good to hear,” Thurman responds.
There really isn’t much more to say, especially with Ellie’s impatient hands beginning to roam over my body. I wrap the call up quickly as she adds more incentive by way of trailing a line of hot kisses down my neck.
As soon as I hang up, Ellie’s blue eyes widen, and she asks, “Are you really here on business, or just to see me?”
“Who says you aren’t business, baby?” I tease as I curl a lock of her bottle blonde hair around one of my fingers.
Ellie rolls her eyes, but smiles all the same. “I mean, which is the excuse to get out of Dodge? Me or these mysterious business deals of yours?”
“You, of course,” I grin. “But I really am here on business too. I’m expanding my company, which means meeting with investors. It’s not my fault that they happen to be based right here in New Orleans, same as you.”
“You’re gone so much, your wife is going to hate you,” Ellie jabs. Do I detect a little jealousy leaching into her tone? That makes things a bit more interesting. Maybe I’ve been underestimating just how entertaining she can be.
“I think she already does.” I consider how Julia always seems to find fault in everything I do. Apparently, it’s not enough that I work my ass off to shower her in money and expensive gifts. Hell, I even built a whole fucking house for her. I glance around Ellie’s cramped apartment, with its yellowed walls, sagging ceiling, and no goddamn AC. Julia should be grateful, but it never seems to be enough for her.
Maybe it never will be.
“Is that why you travel so often?” the blonde woman presses. “To get away from her?”
“Not exactly,” I hedge.
If I really wanted to escape from Julia’s vexing clutches, I’d divorce her. Even in New York after she’d found out about one of my little indiscretions, and we’d fought viciously, I’d stayed with her.
“Then why?”
I close my eyes and let out a pained sigh. “The house,” I admit. “It’s that fucking house.”
“The one you built?”
Without opening my eyes, I nod. “That’s the one.”
“But you showed me pictures of it. It’s gorgeous!” she exclaims.
“Yeah, maybe if it wasn’t sinking into the fucking swamp and overrun by ghosts.”
There. I said it. Ghosts.
“Ghosts?” Ellie parrots. “Like, for real?”
“Maybe,” I groan. “I don’t know. It’s just creepy. Even when I’m home alone, it always feels like there’s somebody watching me. There are noises, things moving, that sort of stuff.”
“Have you ever seen anything? Like an apparition or whatever?” Ellie asks eagerly.
I open one eye and glance at her. She really is quite sexy, in a generic sort of way. Her blonde hair is thick and tumbles over her shoulders in carefully styled waves. Her face is a plastic surgeon’s playground, full of fillers and botox. I doubt even her breasts are authentic, though I’m certainly not complaining.
There are a thousand things I could be doing with a woman like this, and talking about a haunted house isn’t one of them.
Sensing that I’ve got other things on my mind, Ellie pouts those perfectly sculpted lips and begs, “Please? Just tell me one story, I’m dying to know!”
After a few seconds of indecision, punctuated by her staring enticingly up at me from beneath her lashes, I capitulate, “Fine. But only one.” I think about all the incidents that have happened over the last six months since we’ve moved in, but finally, I decide to tell her about the builder.
“We hired a local construction crew to clear the debris from the lot and rebuild the house,” I start. “The contractor was this guy, I think his name was Tyson? Tyler? Something like that. But anyway, all these weird things started happening at the construction site. All the batteries on the power tools would be drained overnight, locked doors would be open in the morning, stuff like that. We all thought that maybe some homeless guy was living out in the swamp and coming up at night to mess with everything.”
“Well, was there?” Ellie inquires.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. There were some accidents too. Some guy fell out a window and nearly fucking died in our driveway. Can you imagine what a mess that would have been for our insurance? And then some poor asshole put a nail through his hand a few weeks later. Meanwhile, every time I’m in town to walk through the property, I start hearing that the place is cursed.”
Ellie’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“I mean, that’s what they said. And then just when we’re a week or two out from completion, the contractor, Trevor or whatever his fucking name is, goes crazy. He just snaps, starts doing weird shit around town and raving to people that there are demons in the swamp. Then one night, he just disappears.”
“Just like that?” Ellie gasps.
“The foreman said he was there one day, gone the next. But it sounds like something horrible happened in the house the night the contractor went missing. The foreman told me that there was blood all over the place, especially in the kitchen.”
“Oh my God!” I can tell the story is scaring her, and I hate to admit that I’m a little pleased by her reaction. “Do you think he’s dead?”
“Who knows?” I shrug, conveniently leaving out another detail the foreman had shared, which was that he had ended up locating the contractor in Florida a few weeks later, apparently tending to a family emergency.
Ellie suppresses a shudder, and I wrap my arms around her comfortingly, drawing her into my chest. “I can see why you always want to get away from there,” she whispers against my skin.
“It’s horrible,” I agree. “In fact, I’m inconsolable.”
Recognizing the playfulness in my tone, Ellie draws back. “I’d better console you then,” she says slyly as her hands slide down my chest and further south.
“I think you should,” I say.
And then I lie back and let her.