It takes me the better part of the rest of the day to go to the store, buy a whole new security system (cheaper than buying six more cameras separately), bring it back home, and set it all up. I then painstakingly shroud each of the cable wires in steel ribbing, and use hose clamps to secure them to the camera supports so there's almost no way to cut the wires, not without a grinding wheel, or something like that.
Lindsay calls me to let me know she's gone to pick up her friend, Eileen, who's supposed to be staying the night. I tell her I'm okay, and that when she gets home, I'll know it.
I install two panoramic cameras that can see three-hundred and sixty degrees, so there's no way that mother fucker can sneak up again without being seen, and after that, it's finally time for a breather.
My phone buzzes and I make the mistake of picking it up to look at it. I groan. "Who else could it be, but you... bitch," I say as I read the text message.
"I should have you arrested for assault with a deadly weapon," the text message reads, and I smile so wide it makes my lips hurt. I put my phone down and ignore it as message after message comes in and I don't bother to read them or reply. She just confirmed everything I suspected.
I eat a sandwich, watch some television, and then take a shit. I'm kinda bored, so I grab my phone and pick it up to read the text messages that have finally stopped. Thank god.
"You're a disgusting degenerate."
I chuckle.
"I cannot believe you're fucking a teenager!"
I sigh and scroll down.
"You're letting our daughter walk around the house naked!!!"
Oh fuck, I think, my brow furrowing. How would she know that, unless that fucking guy has a picture of Lindsay, naked?
"You're turning our daughter into a whore!" the messages continue. "You sleep with whores, you associate with whores, that's what you'll become! I cannot believe you would do this!"
"I can't believe you're such a huge cunt," I say to myself as I continue reading.
"I'm going to find out who that girl is, you're fucking. And when I find out, I'm going straight to her parents. I hope her father kills you."
I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"You can stop this now. Stop all this craziness. End it. We can talk. We can work this out. I really only want what's best for Lindsay. I want us to be a family again. Call me."
"Text me."
"Why are you not responding!"
"Maybe your phone is off."
"Is your phone dead?"
"Magnus!"
"Answer me!"
"Ugh," I groan, putting the phone down and rubbing my temples. The security system is chiming away and I turn it up using the remote and then look up to see Lindsay, and something blue, coming toward the door.
"So, yeah. This is our house," Lindsay says as she opens the door and she spots me sitting at the dining room table. "Oh, Hi Daddy!" Lindsay says, hooking her keys next to the door and motioning for the person she's talking to, to come inside.
"Daddy, this is Eileen. Eileen, this is my Daddy, Magnus."
Eileen comes into the room, and the first thing I see is bright blue hair and a nose ring. It's small, and black, but noticeable even though the blue hair demands attention. She comes forward with an extremely shy demeanor, extends a delicate well-manicured hand to me and I shake it.
"Hello Mr. Treebody," Eileen says with a smile and I notice her plump pink lips look like she's wearing six different layers of lipstick, but the top coat matches her skin complexion, making the addition of lip liner, plumpers, and lipstick, kind of pointless.
Her eyes are rimmed with the same bright blue hue of her hair, and then jet black, giving them a seductive flare, but I feel like there's something off here. Like, she gets attention, but doesn't necessarily like getting attention. Her vibe is strange and yet, at the same time, I discount my own observations and opinions. Who am I to judge?
"Hi there," I reply with what I can only hope is a welcoming smile. "How are you today?"
Eileen smiles and I see her blush just a bit, as if she's embarrassed to tell me. "I'm doing okay," she giggles and then she turns and says something to Lindsay that I don't quite catch and they both burst out laughing.
"Everything alright?" I ask curiously.
"Everything is good," Lindsay says, giving me a reassuring smile. "Real good," Eileen adds quietly. "We're just going to go put Eileen's stuff in my room," Lindsay says and I nod, watching as Lindsay leads Eileen out of the room and down the hall toward her bedroom. Eileen's head turns toward me as she's being led away as if she doesn't want to take her eyes off me, not even for a second.
"What in the hell?" I ask myself after the two of them are out of earshot.
I grab the decorative spray foam I bought and go to the first window in the front room and spray a heavy coat on the glass. I step back, inspecting my handiwork, and nod. There's no way that asshole is going to be able to take pictures through that, and, it should still let a good amount of light in. Problem solved.
I'm spraying the third window out of thirty when the can starts to run dry, and Lindsay and Eileen come out of the bedroom with shit-eating grins on their faces.
"Ladies," I say, giving them both nods. "What do we have planned for dinner?"
"Could you make nachos?" Lindsay asks me, her eyes begging for me to say yes.
"I don't see why not," I say, shaking the can and spraying the last bit of foam out, the contents sputtering feebly.
"I think you can ran out of cum," Eileen says softly.
"Oh my god!" Lindsay laughs and Eileen blushes and I can't help but smile at the rude humor. Eileen purses her lips and then assumes a tiny smirking smile that sets me on edge. I have to say something.
"It's spray foam," I say, holding up the can. "Flocking... for the holidays."
"Fucking?" Eileen questions, but I know she heard me right.
"Flocking," I say, a bit too authoritatively and Lindsay gives me a look like I'm being a grumpy bastard, which, I suppose I might be. I force a smile onto my face to try and make it seem like I'm the cool dad.
"Isn't it September?" Eileen asks.
"Yes," I reply. "Yes, it is."
"Daddy?" Lindsay asks, striding off into the kitchen as if she's on a mission. "Can we talk about the plan?"
"What plan?" I ask, following, and tossing the empty can of flocking into the trash next to the stove.
