Not in Texas

Chapter 4

After she got tired of sleeping, Susan felt curious about the rest of the house. It was quiet on the second floor now; the first floor had people and silverware sounds. Susan walked around the wide, carpeted hallways on the second floor. Most of the doors were closed; some were open to bedrooms and sitting rooms. One room was set up like an office; the desk had three monitors and a TV playing a show. She recognized Dom's kinky hair and went in. He had on headphones that he removed when he saw her. "What's up?"

"Why doesn't your mother live here?"

"Mom lives there because Pop lived there. We came up from nothing. It's good to remember that." He reached across the desk and grabbed a vape pen. Susan watched him inhale and blow the smoke through his mouth.

"Who owns this house?"

"Probably me," he shrugged. "Aunt Vicki handles the paperwork. Pop left me a lot of stuff when he died. I bought Mom's house, set up a trust, gave the rest away."

"How did he die?"

"He was shot." Another toke on the pen. "Next question."

Susan looked down. "Can I really stay here?"

"I don't see why not. You can even visit Mom if you want."

"I don't have a car."

"John will drive you."

"OK." She wasn't sure what else she wanted from him. "Thank you."

"There's food downstairs," he said, turning back to his computer. "I hope you're not vegetarian."

Susan walked toward the stairs, listening for the noises coming from the kitchen. There were six people in the dining room--five men and Vickie. A dissected turkey and aluminum foil-covered platters were laid out on the table. She recognized John sitting on the side. He stood up and walked over to her. "Are you hungry?"

"A little bit," she said, glancing over at the other people. He followed her gaze and gave their names, but Susan immediately forgot them. She walked with him into the kitchen. That table was full of desserts. Vicki appeared, took the empty plate out of John's hands, and walked back into the dining room. She returned with it full and cleared a spot on the table for Susan to sit down. John leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms folded. "Do you all live here?" She asked as Vicki left.

"Yep. And Dom sometimes."

"He said he was a collector."

John smiled. "Is that what he calls it?"

"What would you call it?" John just looked at her with light, amused eyes. "Do you do the same thing?"

"Approximately. Dom does software, I do hardware. We're a team."

"And everyone else?"

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. "They're part of the team too."

"Why doesn't his mom and sister live here?"

"Shontae doesn't have much love for Vicki. They only got along for my uncle's sake."

"What happened to him?"

"He died on the job. Workplace hazard."

"I don't understand," she said, shaking her head. "Dom said he was shot."

John pulled out a chair beside her. "He did what Dom does. Only better. And what he calls collecting, some call stealing."

"Stealing what?" She swallowed.

"Data. Secrets, code, whatever is of value to someone else."

"Why would you do that?"

He shrugged. "Why would you do any job? To make money. Sometimes you have to get close to a source to infiltrate it, and that means the risk is higher. Pop knew this, and he did it anyway. That's life."