“What?” he cried, eyes bugging. “That’s not—”
“What would you have liked to rescue me in, Officer? Should I have been wearing the tight miniskirt? Or the pumps? And you must definitely hate this saggy, old bra that I’ve worn for the last week?” I popped my breasts up, sending Davis careening into the side of his door. “Why oh why didn’t I peel my cracked head off the steering wheel in time to change into something more uplifting, and low-cut?”
He sputtered. “I didn’t say a thing about—”
“About why you didn’t drive up and find me flashing my best come-hither smile?” I scoffed. “You didn’t say it, but I’m sure that was your next question.”
“Ms. Kim! There— There has been a terrible misunderstanding,” he cried. “I, in no way, meant to imply a negative about your clothing, or what you should or shouldn’t be wearing. Obviously, it is no business of mine how you choose to dress on any given day.”
I sniffed. “Look, my head is killing me. I’m tired, I’m freaked out, I’m looking at a massive car repair bill. Do you think we could take a break from discussing what a friendless, broke, slovenly, living-with-my-mother loser I am?”
Davis’s cheeks glowed neon red.
I really should’ve been a lawyer. Anyone with my ability to make a cop this flustered was destined to be.
“Of course, Ms. Kim, please rest. I apologize for...” He tossed his head. “I’m just sorry.”
Accepting that, I rested my head back on the glass and closed my eyes.
Eeeeee!
I shot up, blinking under the stabbing sunlight.I fell asleep? How? When?
“We’re here,” Davis said, raising his voice over that horrible screeching. “If it’s all right, I’d like to escort you inside. Get you settled.”
“In... inside?” My sluggish brain sputtered and stopped, and started up again—focusing on my surroundings long enough for me to put together the picture. “Oh, no...”
The manor—
My home for eighteen years. Once photographed for the cover ofLantana Lifestyle Magazine. The pride of my mother’s eye.
—looked terrible.
Gone was the manicured lawn. Grass and weeds hip-high grew with abandon, defiantly raising a million middle fingers to the riding mower that clipped their growth. The night I left the manor behind forever, I shot down the circular gravel path—blowing past our marble fountain, the centerpiece of our landscape. Beautiful, dancing women in flowing hanboks posed, smiled, and beckoned to the coming guests—streams of crystal-clear water dancing from their palms.
Not anymore.
The marble cracked in a dozen places—splitting their smiles, stealing their noses, dismembering their fingers and limbs.
No water was running, which was just as well. The fountain basin held nothing but dirt, leaves, and trash. Running water would only gift us a feature as muddy as the path surrounding it. Clearly, the gravel had blown away long ago, and nobody bothered to have it redone.
And still, all of that was a better sight than the manor itself.
The flower garden that used to circle the mansion, once my mother’s pride and joy, was now nothing but weeds and dead bushes. The plaster was peeling. The roof was missing shingles. And a few of the windows were boarded up like an abandoned asylum, instead of a lived-in home.
Twisting around, I realized the screeching was a gift from the gate. Now unmanned, it seemed it was replaced by an automatic gate sometime after I left. And that replacement was the only upgrade that gate has gotten since,because I was now looking at a rusted, wheezing thing that wanted to be put out of its misery.
“Ms. Kim?” He stopped the car and killed the engine. “Would you mind?”
It took me a second to remember his question. “Oh, uh— Yes. That would be fine.”
Climbing out, he came around to my side, opened the door, and guided me out. I leaned on him, letting him prop me up more than I needed him to. Coming across weak and fluttery would dissuade him from asking any more questions. How could I deal with his questions when I couldn’t handle my own?
How did the manor get this bad? Where were the staff? The groundspeople? The gardeners? The housekeepers? Anyone?
Davis led me up the brick staircase.
Loose stones wobbled beneath our feet, welcoming us officially into the house of disrepair.
