Between You And Me

Caleb POV Neil’s eyes darted at me with speculation before returning them to the house. The shell of a dwelling neglected and deflated for more than six years had vegetation coiling upwards on the stone veneer. Windows had been shattered, the paint peeled and torn and graffiti had been painted on the siding. Its large structure still whispered soft tales of when it was once habitable, tire streaks imprinted on the driveway and a beautiful lake that now resembled a swamp. Thick stairs led to the front door now hanging off its hinges, a bright yellow police tape purposely discarded over the railing, faded from years in the sun. On the only intact window, the word Devil had been sprayed across, hauntingly bright red against the visible dust painting the glass from within. Another bold statement etched across the siding caught my eye: Enjoy Hell. Neil ran his hand through his autumn red hair with an exacerbated sigh. “Why’d you buy a murderer’s house again?” he asked, obviously ridiculing my new investment. “Authenticity?” “This is going to be the site of our next project,” I told him frankly, stepping through the overgrown lawn. “Our cinematic masterpiece.” His face morphed into a mask of disgust, his OCD inflating at the sight as the full weight of this purchase set in. “This place? It’s a mess! And the finances, Caleb. The money for renovating and furnishing, not to mention equipment—” I placed a hand on his shouldering, trying to soothe his nerves. “Neil, calm down. I have a private investor that insisted on this place. Plus, this is where most of it happened.” Neil stared at me for a moment, freckles scrunched together on his nose, mentally trying to connect what I meant to where we were. Then his brown eyes widened, mouth agape as he looked at the house with new recognition. “Oh my.” Staring silently at the house, he crossed his arms, head tilting to the side, the gears in his brain trying to visualize the set. “The outside is going to need a lot of attention and I don’t even want to imagine the inside. The pond will be easy.” He looked at me sternly. “Is this really what you want? Right now?” The corner of my lip lifted as I nodded. “This is the best time to do it. I’m tired of waiting.” This time, he placed a hand on my arm as though he were the one who needed to support me. “I know. But what about—” “What about it?” I asked, snappishly. I stepped towards the stair banister, the once golden railing rusting into auburn corrosion. “I need to do this. I’ve been rewriting this movie over and over for nearly five years and there’s no better time. I’ve received Pat’s backing, I have producers on standby, and I have the perfect actress for the job.” Without question, Neil nodded, now confident in my reasoning to suddenly buy this house in a suburban town mainly known for its boarding school, “world-recognized” cherry pies, and psychopathic preachers. Because of the location and the story, we both knew this would open pandora’s box, and there’d be no turning back. “And what actress would it be?” he asked, his smile indicating he already knew before it spilled off my tongue.  “Daphne Brookshaw.” He dramatically lifted his arms with an eye roll. “Wonderful! We’ll be having a s**t show on and off camera.” He pursed his lips at me. “You know I’m going to have to call a psychiatrist on set—for insurance purposes.” I chortled, headed up the spacious stairs to the front door. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Neil followed, taking cautious steps and frowning at the dirt that lined the rails. “No disrespect but why her?” “I can’t make this film without her. She’s essential to everything. And if things go as planned, the Daphne Brookshaw we all know and love will make this a movie something to remember.”