Turn you into a professional motherfucker.”
He was joking, kind of, so Arnie was surprised when Stan took his lead and offered a glimpse inside his sober reality.
“Actually, bro, I was thinking more along the lines of doing something with my hands. Like building shit. Making stuff. Real work, not shuffling paper.”
“Care to be more specific? Building shit is a fairly broad category. Are we talking construction? Building houses? Or something else?”
“Don’t laugh, but I’m kinda into all those renovation shows on TV.”
“Oh. I get it. You want to flip houses and do the work yourself?”
“Yeah!” Stan hooted, clearly delighted when Arnie got what he meant. “I’m not sure if I have a design eye, but I can sure as shit do the work.”
Arnie stuck out his hand and shook Stan’s. “Granddad says real Wanamaker men create. It’s in our blood. He and Dad grow things. I think it’s why he looks down his nose at a family mostly interested in dividends and living like spoiled brats. There’s hope for you, Stan!”
“What are you creating, Arnie? What floats your Wanamaker boat?”
The words rushed from his mouth without censoring or a filter. “I want to honor my mother by making the family she was denied.”
Stan’s eyes widened. “Whoa. That’s kinda heavy.”
“If we can’t be honest, we aren’t really brothers.”
“No, no,” Stan groaned. “I get it. I do. Your mother enjoys a saint-like status. Everyone adored her. Especially Granddad. He talks about her with such love and sadness. I think jealousy for a dead woman fed my mother’s cruel streak. In a way, the memory of Lianne Wanamaker haunts her. All these years later and she’s still trying to win an imaginary contest.”
Stan’s words kicked up something inside Arnie. A disturbing swirl of warning made his muscles tighten. A slow blurring in his peripheral vision triggered his sentient abilities. He sensed something, but now wasn’t the time to check it out. He’d have to chase the sensations later.
19
Her voice brimming with consternation, Lynda said, “The house next door has been empty for more than a year. I was a little surprised when it sold out of the blue.”
Summer poured more virgin sangria into Lynda’s glass and then topped off her own. She dropped an orange slice into each drink and took a sip before responding.
“Yes, it is weird but no stranger than Mrs. Baker on the other side deciding to move to Seattle. It seems like a for sale sign goes up every day.”
“Did you see the new neighbors? They’re creepy.” Lynda mock shuddered to make her point.
It was hard to disagree, so Summer nodded. “Dinkins is the name. I saw it on the boxes from the moving truck. Mother and grown son.”
“I don’t care what their name is or how they’re related. The two creep me out. They stare over here—all the time. I can see them from my spot in the living room.”
“You only notice because you’re stuck on the sofa. I’m sure they don’t stare all the time.”
“I told Bud I think they’re casing us.”
“What? Casing you? Meaning what?”
“Oh, come on. You know what I mean. The new neighbors are checking us out. Us. Not the gay guys across the street or the obnoxious out-of-place McMansion on the corner.”
Rolling a mouthful of the tasty sangria with her tongue, Summer enjoyed the burst of flavors and thought about Lynda’s observation. Along with most of the properties on Wishing Star Lane, the Gerry house was standard-issue for the San Fernando Valley. The one-story with a small front yard serving no purpose whatsoever was unremarkable. There was nothing about the slightly overgrown landscaping or the cars in the driveway worth a second glance.
But the gay guys, catty-corner and across the street from Bud and Lynda’s home? Good golly, they were flashy. Their yard decorations changed seasonally, and Summer swore they had a bad case of catalogordering-itis. Right now, they had a one-room schoolhouse theme going on which, before long, would be replaced with an explosion of Halloween.
And it wasn’t just the set decorating making Tony and Roy’s LGBTQ suburban showcase worth viewing. The flamboyantly gay couple had a social media following, so they tended to take a lot of outdoor selfies and would occasionally film a random video of them walking around their yard, usually with coffee in hand.
With the real show going on across the street, it kind of did seem unlikely the new people would show overt interest for the bland and uninteresting Gerrys.
“This place has changed,” Lynda stated in a