TRIP

Chapter 1: COME SEE THE PARADISE

New Jersey.

Jesus Christ, it was the last place in the world I thought I'd end up.

I'd just driven through downtown Norman, taking notice of the tree-lined streets and rows of mom-and-pop stores. The place was straight out of Anytown, USA. A shrine to suburbia. A Norman Rockwell painting come to life.

In other words, boring as shit.

I mean, I wasn't a town kinda guy. I was a city kid. New York? Sure, sign me up. But Jersey? What the hell was waiting for me here? Rumor had it the entire state smelled.

Well, to be fair, I hadn't yet noticed any overly offensive stink since crossing the border, and thankfully, my new town didn't reek of anything other than middle class and fresh-cut grass. I guessed that was one perk I could log in the "pro" column.

I wished I had more time to check out New York but there was too much stuff to do at the new house. Plus, school had already started. A week ago. I'd been agitated the whole twelve-hour drive over, but I was sure my anger would be nothing compared to my father's. Man, was he gonna be pissed. I wasn't looking forward to the inevitable confrontation regarding my late arrival. I'd avoided talking to him the past two weeks and simply timed the phone calls to my mother when I knew he wouldn't be home.

I turned my truck up North Road and was stopped at the gate house. The man inside slid the glass window open and said, "'Afternoon. Where ya headed?"

"Wilmington. One-oh-one North."

"Ah. The old Calloway place. You working or visiting?"

"Neither. Both. I uh... I live there." I held my hand out toward him. "Trip Wilmington. I guess we'll be seeing each other around, huh?"

His expression turned amused as he shook my hand. "I'm Peter Clarke, but everyone up here in The Hills calls me Big Pete. Nice to meet you." He reclaimed his hand and added, "But I'm still going to have to call up to your house and confirm that you are who you say you are."

I couldn't help but chuckle.

It wasn't thirty seconds before Pete hung up with my mother and opened the gate. "Welcome to the neighborhood, Trip. See you around."

"Sure thing, Pete."

I gave him a salute and wove my truck up the long, winding road, peeking at the massive houses visible through the trees. All the homes in Norman Hills were apparently built with seclusion in mind. I hadn't been able to get a clear line of sight at too many of them while driving, but I was sure that even on foot, the entire neighborhood would be obscured by the woods.

Our house was at the very top of the street. It was a large stone mansion with oversized windows and a huge wrap-around porch. I reluctantly admitted that it was really nice.

I hopped out of my truck and gave a knock on the front door before trying the handle, finding it unlocked. "Honey, I'm home!" I joked, stepping into the foyer.

Mom's voice echoed throughout the house as she exclaimed, "Terrence! Hi! I'm in the library!"

I gave a scan around the expansive front hall and laughed out, "I don't know where that is yet!"

Mom launched into a game of Marco Polo in order to guide my way, and I followed the sound of her voice through a den into the correct room. The library was a large, one-and-a-half-story, wood-paneled cavern lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves with a couple of well-placed bay windows to brighten things up. Mom was kneeling in the center of the room, surrounded by box after box of our old books when she looked up at me. She brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face, trying to hide a smile. "Well, look who finally decided to show up."