Paradise Park Read online

  He closed the front drapes and peered out the side door where he had a clearer view of Mel cutting the grass in her red short shorts and skimpy tank top. The afternoon was hot and her skin was glistening with sweat in the bright sunlight. He watched her push the mower down to the road, then turn around and mow another strip to the back fence. When she cut around the other side of the trailer he lost sight of her for a few minutes, but when she came back into view his heart skipped a beat.

  After the grass was finished, she always walked over to the flower bed between her place and his and started pulling weeds. She bent forward and Arthur pressed his face closer to the glass to look down her shirt. He ran his hand down the front of his pants, sucked in a breath and headed to the fridge to fetch a beer.

  He plunked his stocky body into the worn green recliner and chugged half a can of Molson’s. He might need to defend his territory. Sometimes people needed a lesson or two to sort out their priorities. He leaned over to get a closer look into his tool box on the floor beside his chair. He lifted up the top tray and peered into the array of junk on the bottom layer. Yep, there it was. The long screwdriver with the yellow handle that he had honed to a nice sharp point.

  Mel was his. His neighbor. His to watch. His to help with whatever. Nobody was going to mess with her without dealing with Arthur Lyons. Nobody. Especially, no new guy.

  LONNIE CHANDLER UNPLUGGED the amps and put the Fender back in its case—his practice time over for the day. He had to get ready for the resident’s meeting down at the hall. He didn’t usually bother going to the stupid meetings but a couple weeks back he had noticed a single girl, three trailers down the street and he wanted to get a closer look at her. He wasn’t sure she was single, but he knew she lived alone and he had watched her come and go enough times to know she didn’t have a boyfriend. Not unless she had one that never came to her trailer. Unlikely.

  Since first noticing her, he had been on a long run hauling canola down to Texas and he hadn’t had a chance to get more than a glimpse of her getting out of her pickup. The first day he saw her she was toting gallon paint cans from her truck to her trailer and from a distance she looked pretty decent. She had long, blonde hair and was slim. That was about all he had been able to see from his deck. He hadn’t seen her face up close, so she could be a dog or even worse. That’s what he needed to find out. No use doing hard thinking about her if it was a complete waste of time and effort. He wanted to say hi to her since the first day he saw her, but hadn’t worked up the nerve. Lonnie hardly ever went on a date because of his schedule and now that he had moved to the trailer park he didn’t know any girls at all.

  A big part of the problem was Ted. Ted hated women. Lonnie grabbed the huge bag of dog kibbles out of the closet and filled Ted’s bowl. A few missed the mark and scattered over the tile floor. Ted spotted every stray one and wasn’t long cleaning them up. Lonnie ran cold water in the sink and filled the stainless-steel bowl, “Ted, don’t drag your ears through the fucking water bowl. How many times do I tell you that, boy?” He patted Ted on the head and headed off to the bathroom to shower.

  After toweling off, he blow-dried his long mop of dark hair and shaved, leaving a bit of scruff so he’d look more…whatever that look was. Women liked that scruffy look—at least that’s what he’d heard. His experience with women wasn’t what you’d call extensive. More like minimal since he’d moved out here in the middle of North nowhere.

  Aside from not knowing anybody, he liked it in the trailer park. There was room to park his rig. Lots of fresh air. It was a quiet place to write songs and most of the time nobody bothered him when he practiced his guitar. Ted liked living in the country too.

  Lon fished a clean pair of jeans out of the dryer and took a cotton shirt from his closet. No telling how hot it would be in that shack they called a meeting hall. He checked his look in the mirror and nodded. Damn it. The new cologne was still in the rig. He ambled outside with Ted on his heels, retrieved the Duty-Free bag and went back inside. He opened the bottle, sniffed it and splashed some on his neck. Ready to go, he smiled, cracked open a beer and sat on the deck to relax.

  At five to eight he headed to the meeting. Took him less than five minutes to walk there. Lonnie grabbed a chair near the back of the one-room building and looked around for the blonde. She wasn’t there. Mr. Deegan stood at the front of the hall talking too loudly to a bunch of men and Lon wondered if maybe old Harold was going deaf. He watched as the seats filled up. He had only lived in the park for six months, so he didn’t know all the residents but he had seen most of them around. Mostly older people that had retired to the quiet life, but there were enough younger ones to make it interesting. Lon was thinking about skipping out for a smoke before the meeting started when a couple came in that he hadn’t seen before. The guy was short and stocky and walked with a swagger—like he was a tough guy. Lonnie smiled thinking he could take him with one hand tied behind his back. The woman hanging onto his arm like he was God’s gift was chunky and butt-ugly.

  As soon as everyone was seated Mr. Deegan called the meeting to order. The girl hadn’t shown. Lonnie thought he had wasted his time and now he had to sit through the damn boring meeting.

  “Tonight, we have several topics on the agenda,” said Deegan, “so we better get started.”

  The back door opened with a squeak, and the blonde girl squeezed through and sat down quickly in the back row. Lonnie exhaled. She was on the other side of the aisle and he couldn’t see her face no matter how he tilted his head.

  Mr. Deegan read from the agenda. “Mrs. Plimpton, you have an issue you wish to bring up?”

  “I do.” Mabel shuffled up to the front and stood beside the podium. “The other morning, I was out walking my babies along the road and that huge purple truck pulled in through the gate and scared them so bad I had to pick them all up and take them home. Big trucks shouldn’t be allowed in the park.”

  Fuck, the old bitch is talking about me. Now I can’t park in my own driveway?

  “Mrs. Plimpton, Mr. Chandler is a resident the same as you and he is allowed to park his truck beside his trailer. Walk your dogs by the bush if they’re scared of the truck.”

  Stupid fuckin Chihuahuas. I’ll run over the little rats next time I see them.

  Mrs. Plimpton scowled as she made her way back to her seat. Lonnie could see her husband glaring at her. Poor guy, living with that fat-assed piece of misery.

  “I want to introduce two new residents who moved in this week.” Harold Deegan waved his arm and the short smart-ass guy and his wife ambled up to the front. “This is Gary and Marg Eastman.”

  Gary gave a little wave and the wife looked like she wanted to say something. “I’m an Avon rep, so if any of you ladies need anything be sure to take one of the catalogues I left on the table,” she pointed to the stack of catalogues, “or drop by my trailer and let me give you some samples.”

  “Thank you. Folks, let’s make the Eastman’s welcome.”

  Everyone clapped as the Eastman’s returned to their seats and Lonnie thanked God he didn’t come to get introduced when he moved in. Shit, what a nightmare.

  Wonder why the old handyman is staring death-rays at the new guy?

  Deegan looked at the list in his hand. “Who’s next? Okay, Mrs. Forsythe.”

  A skinny woman in her late fifties headed up to the front. Lonnie had seen her sitting on her porch a couple of times and she always had a drink in her hand. She was pissed about something by the look on her face. “I have insomnia, and I know nobody in this park gives a shit whether I sleep or not, but I do,” she hollered. “Some nights, I just get to sleep and some asshole drives down the road and wakes me up. This has to stop. I want a curfew put in place. No driving around the park after a decent hour—say ten o’clock.”

  Mr. Deegan raised his eyebrows and let out a big sigh. “Some residents work nights, Mrs. Forsythe. That kind of a rule is not possible. You’ll have to take some other action to get the sleep you ne
ed.”

  “I’ll move out of this park,” she hollered and several people clapped.

  Lonnie grinned. This was getting good.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Forsythe,” said Deegan. She stomped right out the door and left amid peals of laughter.

  Deegan checked his list. “April, you’re next.”

  Lonnie’s interest piqued as the little blonde girl hustled up to the front. Her name was April. Good to know. She wasn’t beautiful, but she wasn’t bad. Maybe she had a boyfriend. One of the things he needed to investigate.

  She seemed a little shy at first, but said what she needed to say just the same. “I wanted to let everybody in the park know that I’m a painter by profession. If you need any painting done inside or outside your trailer, I’d be happy to give you a price. My name is April Bonnacort and you all know where I live.” She smiled.

  Lonnie smiled to himself. I need something painted.

  April sat down and Harold made an announcement about results of the water testing in the community well. Lonnie wasn’t listening any more. He was thinking about what needed painting in his trailer—in truth—nothing. He’d have to make something up.

  After the meeting, Lonnie returned home with a renewed sense of purpose. Ted was asleep on the couch but managed to wag his tail a couple of times when he heard Lonnie come in.

  “Wake up, Ted. We have to walk down the road. Get off the couch.” Ted lifted his head and yawned but he didn’t move. He was a big Red Bone hound and he was lazy. He liked to stretch his legs out and use the whole length of the sofa. Lonnie showed him the leash. “Come on, you big lump. Let’s go.” Lonnie snapped the leash on Ted’s collar and dried to drag him off the couch. Ted grunted, stretched and followed against his will.

  Lonnie lit up a smoke and the two of them ambled down the road in the dark towards April’s trailer. It was almost ten and Lonnie wondered if it was too late to be knocking on her door. The outside light was still on. Ted lifted his leg on the four by four supporting her deck.

  “Jesus, Ted. Be reasonable.”

  Lonnie climbed the four steps, sucked in a breath and knocked twice. The door opened and April stood in front of him, backlit by the ceiling light in the kitchen. There wasn’t much to her. Not much of a body on her, now that he was close enough to see. Yeah, she did have long blonde hair, but that was about her only asset. She blew a big bubble and popped it. Ted jumped and growled. “Hi,” Lon said feeling tongue tied.

  “Hi yourself.” She said through the screen door.

  “You said at the meeting that you did painting?”

  “Yep, I do. Do you need a price on something?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Interior or exterior?”

  “Umm…interior.”

  “The whole trailer or just one room?”

  Fuck, she was driving him nuts already.

  “Living room.”

  “I can measure it and give you a price when I come home tomorrow. How’s quarter to six?”

  “Uh huh. Fine.”

  “You’re the trucker, right?”

  “Yep, that’s me. I’m Lonnie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lonnie. See you tomorrow.” She closed the door and the outside light went off.

  Lonnie stood there in the dark. “I guess that’s our cue to go home, Ted.”

  GARY AND MARG ambled down the road away from the meeting hall. “That was a waste of time,” said Gary. He flicked his silver Zippo twice then lit up a smoke.

  “Sure was,” said Marg, “not one of my Avon books got picked up.”

  “Fuck, Avon,” Gary sneered at her. “That’s all you think about.”

  Marg tilted her chin up at him. “Selling Avon Cosmetics is my profession.”

  Gary snorted, “Profession? You hardly make a dime selling that shit.”

  “Don’t Gary. I don’t like it when you laugh at me.”

  “And do I care what you like and don’t like?”

  Marg dropped her gaze to the road. “No,” she said almost inaudibly.

  “Know what I’m thinking, Margie?”

  “What?” Marg kept walking.

  Gary stopped at the bottom of the steps, grabbed Marg by the arm and turned her to face him. “I’m thinking you should move in with your friend Sheila and give me some space. I’m feeling kind of…kind of…like I’m smothering or some fuckin thing.”

  Marg teared up, began sniveling and hurried inside the trailer. Gary followed her in, grabbed a cold one from the refrigerator and flicked on the TV. “Stop that bawling in there, Marg. We had a pretty good run. I’m just not feeling it right now. I think we’re done.” He chugged his beer, smiled to himself and cracked open another one.

  Marg emerged from the bedroom with a tissue in her hand. “Sheila wasn’t at the meeting because she isn’t home. She’s at her niece’s in Toronto for a couple of days. I couldn’t move until she gets back.” She crossed the living room, put her arm around Gary’s neck and tried to kiss him. “I thought we were starting over when you got out of prison. Do I really have to go, sweetheart? I can be so nice to you, if you let me.”

  Gary pushed her away. “Don’t touch me, Marg. You make my skin crawl.” He jumped up and gave her a backhander across the face.

  Marg screamed as she staggered backwards into the wall. She rallied, clamped her teeth together and took a hefty swing at Gary’s head. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm. Marg roared and kicked him in the shin. Gary chuckled and wrapped her in a bear hug. “You got some fight in you tonight, Margie.”

  A loud knock on the door interrupted their domestic bliss. Gary released his grip on Marg’s arm to answer the door and she bolted for the bathroom. Gary smiled to himself as he heard her turn the lock.

  Gary opened the door to a short stocky farmer wearing denim overalls over a plaid shirt. He didn’t have much hair left but the guy had a big grin on his face, a smoke in one hand and an egg carton in the other.

  “Hey there. Welcome to Paradise. I’m Earl. Need any eggs?”

  Gary raised a brow and called over his shoulder, “Marg, honey, do we need any eggs?”

  Marg had made herself presentable while she was locked in the bathroom. She came into the kitchen wearing a fake smile. “Sure, we could use a dozen. Are they fresh?” Her right cheek was glowing red as she stepped into the light.

  “Fresh out of the hen’s ass,” said Earl with a chuckle.

  Gary chuckled and opened the door wider. “Come on in for a beer. We’re neck deep in boxes, but the beer’s cold.”

  Marg fetched beer from the fridge for Gary and Earl and she uncapped one for herself. She zeroed in for a better look at Earl, the egg man, once he was sitting under the faux stained-glass light that hung over the table. Not bad looking, nice tan. Dark hair, what was left of it. An improvement on Gary and younger by a few years. “You live in the park, Earl?” Marg asked.

  “No. Live on a farm closer to Bethany—about five miles from here. Couple hundred acres.”

  “With your wife?” Marg asked and drew a knowing stare from Gary.

  “Nope. Me and my dad.”

  “Sell many eggs?” asked Gary.

  Earl tipped back in his chair. “Have a pretty big route. Come around once a week or every other depends what the customers want.”

  “You must have a lot of chickens,” said Gary the wise one.

  “Hundred or so.”

  Gary drained another beer and gave Marg the high sign. “Must be a lot of squawking.”

  “They ain’t in the house.” Earl winked at Marg.

  “Fuck, no. I guess not.” Gary laughed, then levelled stone cold eyes on Marg. She wasn’t getting the beer because she figured she was safe with company in the kitchen. “Get us more beer, Margie.”

  “Need any repairs done on farm vehicles, I’m your man,” said Gary.

  Earl’s eyes followed Marg as she walked to the fridge. “You a mechanic, Gary?”

  “Uh huh. Twenty years’ experience on trucks and he
avy machinery. I’ll give you a good price. Need to build up a clientele in this area.” Gary pointed at the boxes. “We’ve barely set our asses down here in the park.”

  “Might have you look at one of the John Deere’s. Keeps stalling.” Earl drained his bottle and stood up. “Thanks for the beer. I better go if I’m going to finish my deliveries.”

  “No problem. How much for the eggs?”

  “Two bucks a dozen.”

  Gary flipped Earl a toonie. He shoved it in the pocket of his overalls and headed to his truck. Gary walked out on the deck, lit up a smoke and watched the egg man drive away.

  Marg came out, slipped her arm around his waist and kissed his neck. “You still mad at me?”

  “You make the first night in the new trailer our best night ever and maybe… just maybe, I won’t be mad at you anymore.”

  ARTHUR TRUDGED HOME from the meeting, dropping back to keep a safe distance behind the new guy and his girlfriend. He heard Gary, that’s what his name was, talking trash to her and laughing at her. When he got home he made a cup of tea and sat on his deck to enjoy the warm evening. That’s when he heard his new neighbours fighting inside their trailer. They had been going at it like cats and dogs until the egg man knocked on their door.

  That was no way to treat a woman. You had to treat them gentle. Then they would give you what you wanted. Gentle, that was always the way to go.

  Arthur remembered when his father used to come home from work late at night smelling like cheap scotch. He wasn’t gentle with his mother. He liked to treat her rough. He said he was doing her a favor—supporting her, giving her food and a roof over her head and she should be grateful.

  From his favourite hiding place in the broom closet, Arthur would watch his father, red in the face and cursing, hitting his mother with his fists until she begged him to stop. He wanted to help her, and in the end, he did. Rough was not the best route to take.

  The egg man drove away and Arthur watched Gary kissing his girlfriend on the deck.