House Guest

Tea with Mrs. Hoffman had often been a highlight of Chase's week. However, after the disaster at the church service he knew they both needed a nice afternoon, even if the pastor and his wife had tried to help them both with the service and had them over to talk afterwards. Overall, Chase thought that they'd managed to salvage things fairly well. Terry had apparently been unable to accept the pastor's decision and eventually left the building, loudly declaring that he did not intend to return. Whether it was due to his anger or the other man's short-sightedness, Chase did not feel he would miss the man.

Luckily, Mrs. Hoffman had been far more accommodating and when Justine mentioned that she had "a complicated history," the older woman had actually given a small burst of laughter.

"Dear please," she said. "Almost everyone's got something in their past. I can still remember my own daughter got in an argument with me when she was a teenager. She wanted to be an adult so badly, that she began seducing and dating a man who was six years older than she was, and she was barely old enough to drive. Years ago even, when my father refused to give my husband his blessing, we ran off and eloped. Granted that's hardly so scandalous nowadays, but back then it was considered to be very inappropriate."

This made Justine smile a little, a sight Chase had begun to cherish since the catastrophe at the church. While Justine had claimed she'd recovered from the shock, Chase knew better than to just accept her word on the subject. After all, Justine was still a fiercely proud woman and hated showing weakness to others. Still, she was getting a little better, at least around him.

"Misses Hoffman," Chase said, mocking a shocked tone. "I never would've known you to have such a mean streak."

She laughed and took a sip of tea before shaking a finger at him.

"Mock me if you must young man, but back in the day I was something of a rebel. It's what Frank–my husband's first name dear–anyway, it's what he always liked best in me. You should've seen the look on his face while I was giving birth. He told me once he'd rather go back to Vietnam than have me deliver another chid."

Justine and Chase both laughed at that, and for a few hours, Chase felt like they were really just like many other households in the world. They were just a group of people who cared for each other sitting at a table, sharing stories and occasionally laughing or arguing with one another. As the sun began dip in the sky, Mrs. Hoffman excused herself and left, and Chase began to sketch in his journal, working on a first draft for a commission. Meanwhile Justine began to prepare some food.

And so the afternoon gave way to evening and finally true night. Chase was just getting ready to shower when there was a very loud knock at the door followed by a voice Chase didn't recognize.

"Justine!" shouted the voice, as its owner pounded on the door again. "Bitch! You 'n dere?"

Chase flicked his glance over to Justine, and saw her huddled in the corner, eyes wide in fear. Chase dropped down and crawled over to her swiftly.

"Who is that?" he whispered.

"Big Charlie," she muttered back. "He was… my… pimp for a while. I didn't think he knew I was in Chesterfield, let alone here. I'm not sure how he found me, but if he knows I'm here things will get nasty fast!"

Chase nodded looked around for a decent weapon if he needed one. Eventually pulling out a long steak knife, Chase weighed it in his hands, breathing deeply.

"Go the to bathroom and lock the door," he told her in a low voice. "I'll try and talk this out."

Justine nodded and moved quickly, closing the door quietly and latching it shut.

"Justine!" yelled Big Charlie. "I know you 'n dere! I can see dem lights!"

Chase placed the knife in his belt behind his back and took a final breath before opening the door quickly, feigning a look of irritation.

Big Charlie certainly lived up to his name. He was an African American male, easily over six feet tall. His silk shirt–which Chase figured would make him look like a child–had buttons on the front that were straining with the effort it took to remain buttoned. The man had several golden rings on his sausage-like fingers and a thick chain around his left wrist. Despite the slight chill of the early October night, Big Charlie wore no coat. He did however have a large hat, similar to a fedora atop his head, and his chin bore a thick line of stubble.

"What are you banging on about?!" Chase asked, aggressively. "I just put my children to bed and now you're banging on the door like an ape! I don't know who you're looking for but you need to go, now!"

Big Charlie looked Chase up and down, as if sizing him up. Then a large smile broke over his face, like Chase had just told a very funny joke.

"And who you s'posed ta be?" asked Big Charlie.

"I live here," said Chase. "And if you don't get out now, I'm call the cops."

Big Charlie smiled again and shook his head. Then, he placed his oven mitt-sized hand on Chase's chest and pushed his way into the apartment. Chase fingered the knife, preparing to attack the man if he had to. Big Charlie took a look around, and his eyes lingered on the closed bedroom and bathroom doors.

Big Charlie took two long steps towards the bathroom when Chase heard the shower in the bathroom turn on full blast. Big Charlie raised an eyebrow at Chase and reached behind his back, and pulled out a shining pistol, which glinted in the reflection of the house lights. Chase felt his breathing shorten. Why hadn't he considered that Big Charlie might be armed? It seemed obvious in hindsight.

In that moment, Chase fully understood the anxiety Justine always felt at their relationship with one another. Big Charlie was a being from her world: hard, uncaring, and likely prepared to kill if need be. Chase didn't even own a gun. More than the drugs, more than her past, Big Charlie showed Chase just how different he and Justine were… how different they had always been. It was horrible in a way, almost as if discovering the woman he'd taken into his home was always doomed to be an outcast.

Yet, despite all of that, despite the fact that she might not belong in the same places he did, he wanted her by his side. Regardless of her past or the trials that it had brought them, he knew he'd rather face them down each and every time than to have her disappear. Because despite the fact that they were practically from differing worlds, he had come to love her. He loved how she would challenge his paintings and joke with him after he'd been working all day. He loved reading through her poems and listening her ramble about her workday. He found her efforts to better herself and improve beyond endearing; they were heartwarming.

Chase took a deep breath and readied himself to attack Big Charlie, gun or no gun.

The pimp point the pistol at him and put a finger over his large lips. Then, he knocked twice on the bathroom door.

"Just me dear," said Justine, although her voice sounded slightly different, as if she had pinched her throat slightly. "Did you get the girls to bed?"

Big Charlie hissed softly so that only Chase could hear, "Tell her it's fine, or I'll visit your girls next."

"Everything's fine, Jen," he said, making up a name on the spot. "Just wanted to be sure they hadn't left the water on again."

Big Charlie smiled at Chase and pocketed his weapon, moving towards the front door. Chase suddenly realized he had been holding a breath since the pimp had pulled out the gun and let it out slowly. Big Charlie, for his part, pulled out his wallet and pulled out several crisp, hundred-dollar bills.

"Yo man," he said, handing Chase the notes. "Sorry 'bout dat. Some motha fucka musta given me some bad info. Get chu girls sommit nice."

Then, Big Charlie closed the door and began to head back down the stairs, as if nothing at all had happened. Once Chase heard a car start up in the parking lot he locked the door and sprinted to the bathroom, knocking eagerly.

"It's alright!" he said. "He's gone!"

The waterfall stopped and Justine slowly opened the door. The moment she was satisfied that the man really had left she threw her arms around him, and Chase could feel her shaking.

"I'm so sorry!" she wept into his shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's alright," he said, patting her back softly. "He's gone now. You were brilliant."

She looked at him with watery eyes and smiled.

"I shouldn't be doing all of this to you. You don't deserve this."

Chase looked her in the eyes and gently kissed her gently on the forehead. It was the first time that anything that anything physical beyond a hug had transpired between them since she'd kissed his cheek. It made him nervous, to kiss her as he did, but she did not pull away or stiffen. When he backed away a little he smiled at her. He mentally ran through some lines in his mind about how her past didn't need to own her, or about how she deserved better too, but in the end he only said four simple words.

"I want you here."

She smiled again and nodded and they went to sit on the couch, softly speaking and talking about anything besides what had just happened. While they didn't fall asleep until several hours past their usual times, they did eventually both pass out together on the couch, neither wanting to move far from the other.