Nowhere to Run

Thanks to the rain, Shore Haven wasn't making a very good first impression. The ride down to the little blue cottage that was to be Maggie's new home was bleak and miserable, though the family property manager seemed in high spirits.

"We're almost there," she said in a singsong voice as she pulled down a narrow road with no curbs or sidewalks.

Most homes they passed stood a decent distance away from the asphalt and were nothing special. With simple wood exteriors that could definitely use a bit of updating, they did have one advantage over the property she ended up stopping in front of; they were much, much bigger. Maggie had no right to be as disappointed as she was. She may have come from money, but she'd known what it felt like to sleep on the filthy city streets, too. Still, everything about this new environment seemed foreign in all the worst ways. Aside from herself and the property manager, Gloria, there hadn't been a single other black human being for miles, yet she had passed no fewer than fourteen churches. Given that this was the-middle-of-nowhere, New York, she felt wary. Were there simply no black people here or was she ignoring the biggest, most obvious red flag?

The two exited the sedan with Maggie's suitcase in one hand and some Chinese food she'd picked up on the way there in the other. There was no driveway to pull into; just a path of flat stones that lead to the kitchen entrance. She followed it as Gloria opened the door excitedly.

"I was shocked when your father told me he wanted to renovate," Gloria started while getting into Realtor mode. "For years, all I had to do was make sure the pipes didn't freeze. I've gotta say, though, it was exciting overseeing this place's renovation. Short notice, but I think it cleaned up alright." With the flick of a light switch, the tour began. "As you can see, the kitchen isn't exactly modern, but it is new. Freshly painted blue cabinets, lace curtains for the windows and doors and, of course, the flowery wallpaper. I know, I know. Most people are over wallpaper, but I think it adds charm. Plus it's only in here and the bedroom. The rest of the home," they stepped into an open living room that, while small, suited a single user, "has this gorgeous wood paneling." It didn't take long to get to the only two rooms left. The bathroom was a bathroom -- paneled and tiled with an updated sink and shower -- and the bedroom was nothing special, either. It had that flowery wallpaper, as promised, and two separate closets with white, louvered, bi-fold doors -- presumably for the old retired couple this cottage was clearly meant for. "And that's it!"

Maggie smirked. "No library or indoor gym?"

"Very funny," Gloria grinned back. "This here isn't Newton Square. In fact, you'll be hard-pressed to find a single pool in this entire area that isn't above ground."

"What about a laundry room?"

The managers face fell a bit. "There are laundry hook ups there." She pointed to a door opposite the bathroom. "Your father said to only make sure you had a microwave and a refrigerator. He kind of went out of his way to insist."

Maggie sulked. "Of course he did."

"Look, Maggie, I just manage the properties, and I'm not privy to everything that's going on between you two, but," she put a hand on Maggie's shoulder, "the man loves you. No matter how far you fall, he..."

"Thanks. I think I can take things from here." Maggie immediately caught herself. "Sorry. You're right. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. To you especially. I just don't want to think about how far I've fallen is all."

"Don't beat yourself up too much. Most people don't bounce back from heavy drug use the way you have. Honestly, you look pretty damn good. You're not the twig you used to be anymore."

Maggie cringed. "Just a property manager, yet you know that much."

"People talk. Especially when they get emotional. Your father...is human. I'm not here to judge you. I'm here to help you. Buffalo isn't that far away if you need anything."

"You're also here to keep tabs on me and make sure I don't destroy the place or turn it into some drug lab."

"Which I am sure won't happen," Gloria stated confidently. "I'm rooting for you. Your whole family is." She could tell Maggie was getting uncomfortable in spite of the kind words. She wouldn't overstay her welcome. "Anywho, I'll let you get settled. You have my number and the bus schedule to the city. If you need anything, I'm close."

"Thanks, I...thanks."

She gave Maggie's shoulder one more squeeze before letting herself out. Maggie watched from the bay windows in the living room as the red sedan made a u-turn and disappeared down the street back the way it came.

Maggie was finally alone. She never had a moments peace in the rehab center nor the dens of iniquity she sometimes ended up in during her lowest points. She revisited the different areas of the house, starting with the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she found it empty and, while there was a small table and chair in the tiny nook, there was no other furniture to speak of in the house. Opening the fridge, she found a lone ice tray; empty, of course. Her dad was quite serious when he said she'd have to fend for herself and that there'd be no rescue if she fell back into old habits. There'd be no fourth, fifth, or tenth chance. However, there would also be no one breathing down her neck, checking her bags, waking her up at 6am to pee in a cup, or attempting to rob her while she slept off her latest indulgence, either. And it could stay this way as long as she held up her end of the bargain. She needed to keep the lights on and her nose out of trouble. That's all. No rent, no debt, and no kids. Her first task? Get a job. She already knew where he first paycheck would be going. After all, taking a bus all the way to Buffalo with a basket of laundry was not how she wanted to spend her weekends.

Instead of opening the closet door to find out what kind of laundry units the space would allow, she was met with a fully naked, bearded man of questionable aroma. He immediately pounced on her, catching her mid-yelp as the two fell to the floor. Wide-eyed and silenced by a giant hand, she stared up at the stranger's wide grin.

"Maggie, was it? Nice to meet you, Maggie." He took her hand that was attempting to push him off of her and shook it. "Now, I'm gon' level with you. This here ain't a great start for us, but I'm still gon' have to ask you not to lose your shit, okay? Because if you do, I'm gon' have to do something about it, and neither of us want that. Do we?" She caught his drift and shook her head no. "Good." He lifted his hand. "We have an understanding."

Shocked, she looked down and back up. "Why are you naked?"

"Best way to enjoy the go in my humble opinion."

"The...go?"

He nodded as if everything that was happening was normal. "It's easy to take indoor plumbing for granted until it's gone. Suddenly, your stuck going outside in the cold or letting your ass get bit up by mosquitoes, and then it hits you." He rested his fist against his cheek as he reminisced. "This here house -- your daddy's house, I suppose -- is vacant and probably has its facilities intact. Thus began this little escapade."

She proceeded with caution as the man clearly wasn't all there upstairs. "How did you get in?"

"Now if I told you that, you'd seal it up tight. Then where would I go?" He looked at her as if actually expecting an answer. Suddenly his eyes were locked with hers. "You'd better take a good look at this here mug. Beards ain't uncommon round here and, if you're fixing to call the cops after I leave, you'd better know your man. Cause if you call them and they don't catch me quick, I'll be back. And I won't be so nice then, ya hear?"

"Yea," she answered, flustered.

He leaned in and sniffed loudly and ran a hand through Maggie's hair. "You smell like you talk; a lil too fancy for my taste."

Maggie looked away as she felt him growing on top of her. "You don't."

His grin broadened. "It's only been a minute, and you already think you're too good for me. I'm not fussed, though. Something tells me that if I'd knocked on your door in my Sunday's best with my hat in one hand and flowers in the other, you'd still look at me with those same eyes. Either way, I can't win, can I? So," his hands wandered lower and lower until they teased her zipper open, "why shouldn't I?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," she said though gritted teeth.

"So I heard. What's your poison?" She didn't answer. He gave her bottom lip a long, foul, tender kiss. "Hmm...I like you. Didn't think I would."

"If you're going to do something, then do it." She glared at him with rebellion in her eyes. "Otherwise, get off of me. You stink."

"Now I really like you," he licked his lips, "but," he began to stand, "I'm more of a romantic, and this simply won't do." He pulled her up to her feet and pushed her into the bathroom where she unfortunately hit her head against the toilet. "Nice meeting you, neighbor. Do me a favor and count down from one hundred." He slammed the door closed. It was slow going given the small bump to her head, but she managed to scramble to her feet. Despite her panic, she managed to get the door open, but the intruder was already gone with the double doors in the living area that lead outside being left wide open as proof. All that remained was the funk of his kiss and the very real threat to her person if she dared dial the police. Also, her Chinese food was gone.