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The interview struck Eliot as a little weird.
“So, past evictions?”
“Yes,” Eliot said to the man in front of him. He wasn’t acting like it, but Eliot could have sworn that this Nathan Ford guy was drunk. No wonder he wanted to meet at a bar. Ford certainly didn’t seem like a homeowner in a wealthy Boston suburb. “I put that in the application, man. If you knew it was gonna be a problem—”
“No, no, no,” said Ford. “I meant how? Why? What, uh, you didn’t pay rent? Started a fire, meth lab, what?”
“You…” Was this guy for real? “I put down references. Why’re you asking me? Am I supposed to do your damn job for you?”
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“I just like to give potential tenants a chance to tell their side of the story,” Ford explained.
“Wow, man,” Hardison said, relaxing visibly. “You don’t know how glad I am you said that. Because let me tell you, my last landlord was—”
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“—completely overreacting.”
“He said you—sorry—” Ford looked down at one of the papers strewn across the polished wood table. “You rappelled down the side of the building?”
“No! I mean, yes,” Parker admitted. “But really, I only hung off the side a little. I wouldn’t say I rappelled… and anyway, I didn’t even look in the penthouse. Well, maybe. For a second.”
Ford nodded along with Parker’s story, downing the rest of his whiskey with practiced ease. “Well, I doubt that will be a problem with a two-story Victorian. The lease starts next Saturday, does that work for you?”
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One bag was all Eliot really needed. After his time in the Army, he never really kept anything around that he couldn’t move quickly. This Spartan tendency made the chaos he walked into all the more unsettling. “What the hell—”
“Hey! Be careful, that’s not just expensive, that’s irreplaceable!” A man Eliot could only assume was Alec Hardison, one of his new housemates, stumbled his way out of the first floor bedroom. Hardison couldn’t have been that much younger than Eliot, but the t-shirt and beanie made him look like a college student.
“Don’t leave it the middle of the hallway!” Eliot told him, edging around the small mountain of technical whatever-the-hell. “What is this crap?”
“Whoa.” Hardison put himself between Eliot and the rest of the house. “Crap?” he asked. “I’m sorry; did you just call Lucile crap? Lucile is a classy woman! I built her, I wrote her operating system from scratch! Don’t you call her names, man!”
Eliot rolled his eyes as obviously as he could. “Oh, I’m real sorry. Tell your girlfriend I didn’t mean it, alright?”
“You did not just go there,” said Hardison. He shook his head and shifted his stance. It was hard for Eliot to look away. When Hardison talked his whole body was in the conversation. “No. No. You did not just—”
“HEY! KEEP IT DOWN, I’M TRYING TO CATCH A RACCOON!”
“What in the—”
Hardison let out a fond laugh. “Don’t worry, man,” he said. “That’s just Parker. She wanted to take the attic, she’s a little weird. But in a good way, you know?”
“Sure.” Eliot eyed the stairs up to the second floor warily. “I thought there wasn’t a third level?”
“Nah, there isn’t,” Hardison confirmed. “The attic isn’t finished, but it’s boarded up and stuff? I don’t know; there isn’t fiberglass everywhere, is what I’m saying.” He gestured toward what was apparently his room. “I took the first floor bedroom, hope that’s cool? I need space for my tech, y’know?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” said Eliot, picking up his bag with his right hand. “So I can take either on the second floor?”
“Hells to the yeah.” Hardison flashed him a smile. “Go nuts, my man.”
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Parker loved her new attic. She loved it, she loved it, she loved it! It wasn’t as high up as her old apartment, but it certainly was more interesting. To Parker, that made all the difference.
A quiet skittering caught her attention. She crept across the unvarnished hardwood floor, seeking out the source of the sound. There it was again. She silently lowered herself parallel to the floor, and listened. The skittering noises were coming from the dresser. Parker peered underneath it. “Hey there, little guy,” she whispered to a teensy little mouse cowering up against the wall. Parker carefully lifted herself up and backed away from the dresser slowly. She didn’t want to scare him, but how could she get him to come out?
Parker mulled the problem over. Mice liked cheese, right? There was no cheese in the house aside from Eliot’s, and she knew better than to touch his prized gorgonzola. Plus, she wanted to eat whatever he made with it. No, Parker would have to lure the mouse out with something else. She looked around her room. Old paystubs, candles, a can of lemonade, rope—aha! Parker grabbed the rope and tiptoed over to the open window. Tying one end securely to an old arm chair (probably safe) and throwing the other outside, she hoisted herself up to follow it.
It didn’t take Parker long to reach Hardison’s window. She peered in at her new housemate and knocked against the glass. Hardison practically leapt from his chair, eyes wide. “Ha!”, she laughed to herself. So jumpy.
“Parker!” Hardison squeaked, opening the window. “Girl, you scare me. I am very frightened. Why would you do that?”
“Sorry,” Parker replied. “Do you have any cheese flavored snacks? Like, oh, I don’t know…” She raised her eyebrows, nodding towards a crinkled up bag. “Cheetos?”
Hardison looked at the bag of cheetos, then back at Parker. Then at the cheetos again. He let out a small sigh of resignation and reached to pick up the bag. “I’m not gonna get these back, am I?”
“No.”
“Right, right,” said Hardison. “Why did I ask?” He handed the cheetos over, smile slowly spreading across his face.
Parker shrugged as best as she could while dangling from a rope by one hand. Her other hand was outstretched, ready to receive the cheeto bag. “Thanks”, she said. “You wanna help me catch a mouse? I’m going to name him Cheddar!”
“Sure…?”
“Meet you upstairs!” Parker shouted, and with that, she shimmied up her rope with surprising speed. Well, she assumed it would be surprising to Hardison. They had only met last week, after all.
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It wasn’t long before Hardison got used to living with his new housemates. Eliot was twitchy in a terrifying way, but ultimately surprisingly nice. He even made them dinner sometimes. And Parker, well… Parker was something else.
“Nobody move!”
Definitely something else.
“Parker. Why?” asked Eliot. He was drinking some kind of energy drink. It was inches from his lips, his arm frozen. Eliot and Hardison had both learned to err on the side of caution when Parker was involved.
“We have a runaway,” Parker said quietly, tiptoeing across the kitchen floor. In her hands was something resembling a butterfly net. Her eyes darted from side to side, clearly searching for something.
“A runaway what, exactly?” Hardison was not ready for another meet and greet with a raccoon.
“Just a rat,” Parker assured him.
“A RAT?!” Hardison jumped up onto his chair. “Uh uh. UH UH. Get rid of it! Why is it down here?!”
“He’s the last one. Tricky, though. Outsmarted all my traps.” Parker seemed proud. “But I’ll get the little—RAT!” SWISH! Parker’s net flew through the air and hit the tiled floor. “Got ‘em!”
“Girl,” began Hardison, “you have got to get a hobby.”
“I have a hobby,” Parker said breathlessly, newly caught rat in hand. She ran towards the stairs, practically skipping. “And now I’ll find a new hobby, because I caught the last one!”
“The last one of what?” Eliot yelled after her, but it was too late. Parker was already out of the kitchen and heading upstairs.
“Let it go, man,” Hardison advised him. “Just… let it go.”
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Parker liked weekends. On weekends, neither of her housemates had to go to work, and they were such excellent entertainment.
“There is nothing wrong with the way I’m watering the damn plants!” Eliot shouted across the lawn.
“You’re not watering them, you’re drowning them!” Hardison yelled back. He waved a gardening book in front of Eliot’s face. “Two cups, it says! Two cups!”
“Why don’t you use the measuring thing we have in the kitchen?” Parker suggested, sipping her iced tea.
“Yeah, Eliot, why don’t you?” Hardison asked. “Why don’t you measure, Eliot? Why don’t you measure?”
“Dammit, Hardison!” Eliot turned the spigot off. “Then how about you do it, huh? You water the damn plants!” He held the hose out to Hardison. “Come on, take it!”
“Just stop drowning them, man!” Hardison whined, looking forlornly at the doomed garden. “The lease says we’re responsible for the upkeep of the house—”
“I’m tryin’ to upkeep the damn house—”
“That’s not what it looks like to me—”
“There’s a watering can right over there,” Parker pointed out.
“When did you become an expert in, in gardening, huh?” Eliot asked, ignoring Parker. “You learn all that from your book? Come on, come on—take it! You water them!”
“I do not understand why you won’t just stop spraying—there are like, daisies, man!” Hardison gesticulated wildly, waving his arms and pointing to the flower beds. “And violets, and other plants that cannot survive like this! Why are you doing this? Did a daffodil kill your family? Is that it?”
“Maybe it did. Maybe a daffodil killed my family!”
“See, now you making fun of me, but—”
“Oh my God!” Parker shrieked. She got up from her comfortable seat on the porch, strode over to her bickering housemates, and snatched the hose from Eliot’s hand. “I am confiscating this. No more watering today.”
“Parker, the daisies—”
“NO MORE WATERING TODAY!”
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DING-A-LING-A-LING~!
God, that doorbell was annoying.
Eliot dragged his feet on his way downstairs. Who could it even be? It was barely six in the morning, Hardison and Parker didn’t strike him as tremendously social, and he had burned all his aliases. “One second!” Eliot called out, almost at the front door. Once he made it, he swung the door open. “Sorry about that.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry if I interrupted you!” warbled the very peppy strawberry blonde woman in front of him. “I just wanted to talk to you about your fence.” Her smile was sickly sweet in a way that gave Eliot shivers. And Eliot was not easily frightened.
“No problem, ma’am,” said Eliot. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, again,” she began, “it’s your fence. I’m afraid it doesn’t meet with the standards of the homeowner’s association. It needs to be stained, and protected against the elements. I’m sure you understand?”
Excuse me? “Understand what?” Eliot asked. “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name?”
“Sandra,” drawled the woman. “Understand that you’ll need to bring your property up to standard? It’s for the good of the neighborhood.”
“Right.” Eliot glared at Sandra, making sure she knew that she was unwelcome. “I’ll get right on that. Have a nice day.”
Sandra waved at Eliot as he moved to close the door. “Have a nice—” The door slammed.
“Hardison!” he shouted.
“Yeah?”
“I think I know why the rent is so low,” said Eliot.
Parker popped her head down from atop the stairwell. Eliot was fairly sure she was hanging from the railing with her thighs. The girl was strong. “Why is the rent so low?” Parker asked.
“Sandra,” Eliot drawled, rolling his eyes. “Apparently our fence isn’t up to code.”
“There’s a code for fences?” Parker flipped down from her perch, landing halfway down the staircase.
“Doubt it.” Eliot wandered over to the kitchen, Parker trailing behind him. Maybe he’d make something to help him cool off. He had to use that cheese soon, and some simple eggs with cheese would be a good way to start off the day.
“Do we have to do something with our fence?” Parker asked, not seeming enthused at the prospect. She scrunched up her face like she had eaten something sour. It was cute.
“Nah,” Eliot said. “I don’t reckon we do.” He bent down to pull a large frying pan from under the counter. “Grab the butter for me?”
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Sandra was proving to be difficult to get rid of. Apparently she was the chairwoman of the homeowners association, and they took property values seriously. What, exactly, that had to do with the stain on their fence or how tall their grass was a mystery to Hardison. But it seemed like every time he left the house, there was Sandra.
Hardison and Parker were walking down to the main road on a bright, sunny day. A very good day, if Hardison was perfectly honest. Parker’s arm was linked through his and it was making him a little giddy. This, of course, was when Sandra chose to apprehend them.
“Good morning!” Sandra chirped, smile plastered perfectly in place. “I don’t suppose you two have a minute to chat?”
Hardison really couldn’t think of anything he had less time for. “Well, we were gonna pick up a few things—”
“Perfect, I’ll walk with you!” Indeed, Sandra was keeping pace. The click-clack of her rapidly moving heels echoed against the pavement. “I’ve noticed you haven’t made any of the recommended changes to your property?”
“Sharp one, ain’tcha?” Parker didn’t even look at Sandra, but stared straight ahead.
Sandra seemed taken aback. “I’m sorry, Miss Parker—”
“Just Parker.”
“Well, just Parker, I don’t mean to be a pest—” Hardison held in a laugh. “—but I only want what’s best for the neighborhood. You understand,” finished Sandra.
“Eh,” Parker said with a shrug. “Not really.”
The smile on Sandra’s face morphed into something bitter. “Hm.” She looked Parker up and down, eyes settling on where her arm was intertwined with Hardison’s. “So, are you two together?” asked Sandra, a nasty twinkle in her eye. “I don’t mean to pry, Parker, but I was under the impression you were with that long haired fellow. The sort of… angry looking one?”
Oh no she didn’t. “Lady,” Hardison began, “I don’t remember my friend here,” he said gesturing to Parker, “asking for your opinion.”
“I didn’t,” Parker chimed in. She was still for the most part ignoring Sandra, but glanced over to Hardison for a second with an inscrutable expression.
“No, you didn’t,” continued Hardison. “You did not. So, Sandra, why don’t you leave all three of us alone? Parker, Eliot, and I would appreciate it if you mind your damn business.”
Finally, blessed silence. Sandra gaped at him. Her mouth hung open a little, and she was clearly searching for a way to respond.
“Wow, that really shut her up,” Parker commented. She regarded Sandra with a cool, unnerving gaze. “That’s a first.”
“Nice change,” said Hardison, leading Parker away from the confounded woman. “You have the shopping list, right?”
“No, I thought you did.”
“Damn.” Hardison glanced back to Sandra, who was walking in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, that was in the direction of their house. “I don’t wanna walk back.”
Parker shook her head vigorously. “Me neither.”
“Wing it?”
“Wing it.”
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Eliot was excellent when it came to cooking. It was a point of pride. He took it seriously. There was nothing more satisfying than pulling off a perfectly prepared dish with finely balanced flavors. It was his respect for the art of cooking that made Eliot want to strangle Hardison most days.
“What the hell is this?” Eliot demanded, pouring a disgusting puke green sludge out from the blender and into a glass. Parker made a grab for it and he slid it out of her reach.
“It’s a smoothie,” answered Hardison. He gestured to the glass. “That right there has got everything you need to get you through the day. It’s got pineapple, cucumber, broccoli, protein powder—”
“Protein powder?”
“Yeah,” Hardison said. “Vanilla flavor. I’m not a big fan of the chocolate. Tastes all funny.”
“It does taste funny,” Parker agreed.
“Oh, it tastes funny?” Eliot asked sarcastically. “It tastes funny? Why, why would you—” He lunged over to the cupboard and pulled out the offending protein supplement. “You know what tastes funny? This, with freaking—pineapple? Really?”
“Why you hatin’, man?” Hardison took the glass Eliot had poured and took a sip. He promptly spit it out. “Oh, no, that’s nasty. That’s nasty.”
“Does it taste funny?”
“You were right, man,” said Hardison, raising his hands in the air. “I’m sorry. Those flavors do not go together. I was very, very wrong.”
Parker leaned across the table and snatched up the smoothie, bringing the glass to her lips.
“Parker, no, don’t—”
She took a giant gulp. Then she swallowed. “Tastes good,” Parker mumbled around the edge of the glass.
Eliot slumped down into an empty chair, defeated. Hardison just grinned at him. “See, Parker appreciates my cooking,” he said.
“You don’t even appreciate your cooking,” Eliot shot back, but it lacked bite. A smile was playing at the corners of his lips. Damn if it wasn’t hard to stay mad with these two teaming up on him.
“I do.”
“I know, Parker,” Hardison told her. Eliot could hear something else in that reassurance, but he wasn’t sure what that something else was just yet. “I know.”
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Eliot truly found Sandra to be terrifying. Despite the verbal dressing down Hardison and Parker had given her mere days before, she seemed determined to pretend nothing had happened. She had sent him, Parker, and Hardison a joint invitation to her backyard barbeque. What really puzzled Eliot, however, was why the hell were they going?
“Why the hell are we going?” he asked Hardison again. The three of them were three houses down from Sandra’s, but it wasn’t too late to turn back.
“Because it is a beautiful day,” Hardison began.
“Free food,” interjected Parker. She was carrying a bowl of potato salad. At least, Eliot thought it was potato salad. It looked… orange.
“Sandra is horrible,” Hardison continued, ignoring Parker’s interruption. “But she is one of many, my man. Some of our neighbors could, theoretically, be cool!”
“And food!”
“And free food.”
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Parker flitted between the barbeque, the dessert table, and her boys, catching bits of gossip as she went. It was fun to listen in on other people’s conversations, especially Sandra’s. The woman could gossip.
“I was just trying to be friendly, but he bit my head off!”
Speak of the devil. Parker circled in on Sandra and her friends, playing with the food on her plate and turning her back to them. This ought to be good.
“I can’t believe he said that to you!” squeaked a woman in a blue sundress.
“I know, neither can I,” Sandra gushed. “I mean, all three of them are so rude. Won’t trim back their plants properly either, have you noticed? Anyway, I was asking a perfectly innocent question!”
“It really isn’t a big deal, why was he so defensive?”
“Well,” said Sandra dramatically, “I think I know why. I think they’re all… together.”
“You mean—”
“Yes!” A burst of laughter erupted from the closely gathered group. “I mean, he told me to keep out of all three of their business—”
“Oh my God!”
“I know, can you imagine?”
Oh. Parker started walking away, not really paying attention to where she was going. She just knew she had to be somewhere else. It turned out it listening to gossip was much less fun when you were the one being talked about.
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He was just heading back into the fray when Eliot was hit by a blur of blonde. “Whoa, Parker.” His hands fell steady on Parker’s shoulders as she came to a halt. “Where’s the fire?”
“There’s no fire,” Parker said quickly. “Why would there be a fire? There’s no fire!”
“I-I’m confused, did you set a fire?” asked Eliot.
“No.” Parker was obviously upset about something.
Eliot gently tilted her chin up and held her gaze. “Parker. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Parker insisted, fidgeting with the almost empty paper plate in her hands. “Just… Sandra was talking. About us?”
“About—”
“You, me, and Hardison,” she said.
“Yeah, I got that part,” said Eliot. “Don’t listen to her, whatever she said.”
Parker nodded, a tight smile straining her face. “I know,” she whispered. “But, I think she just invited us to make fun of us. She was saying stuff about us all—all of us, you know? Being—and she said it like a joke, like it was so funny.” Parker glanced around, like she was telling a secret. “I don’t… get that.”
Realization dawned on Eliot, swift and brutal. “Let’s go get Hardison,” he said, grabbing Parker’s hand.
“What—”
Eliot dragged Parker back into the mass of people, laser focused on finding Hardison. He found him by the grill, chatting with Sandra and a couple of her friends, clearly trapped. Perfect. “Alec!” he called, and Hardison turned toward him in confusion. Eliot never used Hardison’s first name. “You about ready to go, babe?”
“I—” Hardison looked behind him real quick, as if to make sure Eliot was talking to him. “Yeah, I’m ready to go. What’s with—”
“Alright, you finish up talking to Sandra—hi, Sandra—and we’ll be out front?” Eliot said brightly, shit eating grin plastered across his face. He stopped right next to Hardison and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t keep your best guy and gal waiting.” Eliot stepped back, and led a stunned Parker away from the party. He could hear Hardison scrambling behind them, saying hasty goodbyes.
“Holy shit!” Parker hissed in Eliot’s ear as they made their escape. “That was awesome!”
Eliot smirked. “That should give her something to talk about.”
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Where Sandra had gotten the idea, Hardison couldn’t be sure. But now her misunderstanding was slowly becoming Hardison’s reality. It was surreal in a way. Hardison had never imagined he’d end up here.
“Hardison!” Eliot called out from the kitchen. “Get your ass in here and help Parker set the damn table!”
“Yeah, get your ass in here!” cried Parker.
“I’m comin’, God!” he shouted back, not quite able to keep the laughter out of his voice. Hardison had never imagined he’d end up here, but he sure was glad he did.
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Parker twirled steak knives between her fingers, showing off to Eliot as she set the table. “Can you do this?” she taunted him, tossing one up into the air and catching it by the flat of the blade.
“I sure can,” Eliot replied, not looking up from the stove.
“You didn’t even see what I did,” Parker complained, putting the knives down next to their respective place settings.
“Yeah, Eliot,” Hardison said, coming in from the living room. “You didn’t even see it. Pay attention to our girl.”
“Awwwwww,” Parker cooed, wrapping her arms around Hardison’s shoulders. “My boys.” She didn’t know what she would do without them. She didn’t want to know.
“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot drawled. “Finish setting the table.”
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They were, Eliot knew: Parker’s boys. It was something he was growing more comfortable every day. He was Parker’s, and he was Hardison’s, and they were his. Somehow, they felt more solid than any of the other relationships he’d had since his service. Something had always been missing, and it scared him. It scared him how easily it all fell into place.
“The table’s already done, what are you going on about?” Hardison asked, coming up behind Eliot and inhaling the savory scents of pork chops and bourbon glaze. “Oh my God. Eliot, marry me.”
“Hey.”
“And Parker. Marry me and Parker.”
“Put out the glasses,” said Eliot with a soft, contented smile. This peace, it was scary. But they were worth it.