Monster in My Closet by R.L. Naquin Read Free Book Online Page A

my nature.
    The phone rang.
    I snatched it up and snarled a greeting. “What?”
    “Zoey, baby. How’s my girl this morning?”
    “Brad, what the hell do you want?”
    “You always were grumpy first thing in the morning. Have some coffee.”
    “Not the time, Brad. Spit it out or hang up.” In a small back room in my head, I felt a tiny bit of shock. I didn’t talk to people like this, not even Brad. Whoa, girl. Ease up. You’re dangerously close to being hateful. Somebody’s feelings could get hurt.
    “Ok, I gotcha. You’re on the rag. I’ll speed it up,” he said.
    “Hanging up, Brad.”
    “No, wait. I wanted to thank you for getting me the extra work yesterday. So, thank you.”
    “You’re welcome. What else?”
    “Nothing much.” There was a pause. I could hear him breathing while he gathered his nerve to ask me for God only knew what this time. “Well, it wasn’t quite enough to get me through, so maybe, I thought, well, have you got anything else?”
    “No.”
    “Nothing?”
    “No. Goodbye, Brad.”
    “Wait! Could you maybe float me a couple hundred, just for the week?”
    My anger level reached the boiling point and the lid blew off. “Get a goddamn job, Brad. Work like the rest of us. Or go bother your parents. Sell your body to science, for all I care. I am not your wife, your girlfriend or your banker. Piss off.” I jammed my finger on the disconnect button, wishing for an old-fashioned receiver to slam.
    I dropped my phone on the table and covered my face with shaking hands. What the hell is wrong with me?
    * * *
    I spent the next two hours locked in my room—crying, pouting, throwing pillows at the dresser and staring out the window. I made a brief trip to the bathroom to shower, but it didn’t help my mood. At intervals I peeked out the window and saw the mushrooms circling the house gradually diminish until I looked out and saw no sign of them.
    I walked through the house and found Maurice on his knobby knees, scrubbing an old stain on the Egyptian throw rug in the living room.
    “I’m going out,” I said in a cool voice.
    Maurice said nothing. He nodded once and returned to dabbing at the carpet with a damp rag.
    I loved my blue convertible VW Bug. Not only was it a sassy fashion statement, but it got great gas mileage. A long drive would help me think, sort through my crowded brain, in peace. I closed the car door and fumbled with the keys. What is that obnoxious smell? Did something die in here?
    I searched between and under the seats for the offender and came up empty. When I opened the glove compartment, the stench of putrefaction and decay assailed my sinuses. My hands flew to my face in a futile attempt to block it out. A small, burlap bag tied with twine sat nestled amidst my collection of extra fast-food napkins, leaving grease stains where it touched the paper. Using as little contact as possible, I pinched the rough fabric between my fingers and lifted it out, dangling it in the air. The reek was unbearable. Surely breathing it in close quarters was unhealthy. It gave off an oily, ominous feel that made me shudder. I couldn’t decide if I should toss it out the window, burn it or scream for help.
    A knock on the window made me jump, causing the offensive mystery item to swing against my wrist and brush my skin. I yelped and straightened my arm. At least I hadn’t screamed.
    “Son of a bitch,” I said and looked out the window. Maurice’s yellow eyes stared back at me.
    I screamed.
    I felt like an idiot.
    He motioned for me to roll down the window. I ignored him and opened the car door, pushing him out of the way.
    “What the hell?” I said.
    Maurice grinned down at me. “You have to put that back, Zoey. Aggie made it for you. It’ll ward off bad stuff.”
    “It stinks .”
    “That’ll dissipate. Please put it back, Zo. You need protection whether you think so or not.”
    Resigned, I made a face and tossed the thing inside, then slammed the glove compartment