Phoenix Rising

5. There's Nothing In Here To Help

He shut his bedroom door and crept down the stairs. As he came to the first level, the smell of bacon invaded his nose.

Long gone was his desire to sneak out unnoticed. If there was one thing he couldn't resist, it was breakfast food.

"We haven't seen much of you lately," Marco pointed out, loading an English muffin with butter. Lucinda was spreading cream cheese on a bagel, her nose up at Phoenix. "I could use your help around the ranch. Twenty an hour."

"Yeah, sure" he shrugged, opening the wrong cabinet twice before finding the plates. "but I have an appointment in town, so-"

Lucinda interrupted him with a screech, "My china is off limits!"

"Then why have it where you keep the plates that aren't decoration?" He groaned, letting the ludicrous thing clatter back into the stack of fellow untouchables.

Lucinda almost screamed but settled on narrowing her eyes down to slits instead. "Watch that smart mouth of yours. You don't get to disrespect the people who put a roof over your head."

Phoenix clenched the countertop, "I had a perfectly fine roof with Walt and Margaret."

She scoffed.

"Something you wanna say?"

Marco cleared his throat. Phoenix had forgotten he was even there, but the animosity between the two was like a black cloud in the room. "Come with me, Phoenix."

With one last glare, he tried to slam the door, only to be reminded that it was just as uppity as Lucinda was. It swung violently on its hinges. After they exited the main house into the garage and Marco flicked on the light, several covered vehicles came into view.

"What innocent person's house paid for all these?" He muttered, fiddling with the velcro on the end of his windbreaker.

The man stared at the phone in his hand for a moment, then shook his head at him. "A few have been passed down from my father, who started collecting in the seventies after my sister was born. I thought I'd be carrying down the tradition... Anyway, I brought you out here for a reason. Not that I approve of your hole-in-the-wall job or your decision to not attend college... but a young man needs his own transportation."

"It's not for me," Phoenix walked around each of the cars, unambiguously peering under the tan covers. In reality, he couldn't see a future for himself. There was nothing but dark things in his eyes. From the other side of a Mercedes, he deadpanned, "One of them's mine?"

"That's right," Marco replied, seemingly detached. "If things work out, another, more reliable trust fund could be put in order."

Knelt beside the tire of another car, he warily peeked over the hood. "How did you know there was one before?"

"You forget about these devices we carry in our pockets, Phoenix." He said, shaking his phone. To add to the already unsettling atmosphere, Marco full-on Dr. Evil chuckled. "Full of information."

• • •

"Going somewhere?"

Sat in her favorite armchair by the largest window was Lucinda Rouillard, auburn waves falling out of a double-toothed clip. She took her reading glasses off and folded them on top of her paperback novel.