Gatekeeper's Secret
Copyright© 2026 by Fick Suck
Chapter 12
The snow was more than a dusting, but not much to cause concern either. No one showed up at the gate though. Grady finished his cup of milky coffee as he considered the odds of returning to the older storage room for a morning of sorting. He clicked his fingers as a thought occurred to him. He opened his cell phone and downloaded the app for his new motion detectors. Most of them were not live yet, but the one looking down on the gate was. Enrique had decided that detector was their test piece.
After twenty frustrating minutes, the app had located the broadcasting device and indicated it was active. With confidence, Grady strode to the barn and filled the burn barrel with newspaper, charcoal and some wood. When he was sure the fire was soundly burning, he walked into the barn, closing the door behind him. He pulled on his gloves and slid the respirator over his face before descending.
Grady was determined to burn as much trash as he could with the belief that once the mold and mildew were removed, he would be able to breathe down there without the respirator. He also brought down a contractor’s paint bucket with a handle for easier hauling. Less material and more trips kept the burn barrel working without overwhelming it.
He was finding odds and ends in every other bag as best as he could determine. Thus, every sack had to be dumped and sorted. Was it a teakettle or an alchemy pot? Was it an armband or a tentacle ring? Grady wondered as he put items aside whether he could host an “Alien Art Show” at the community center. Everyone would think he was putting up kitsch, and only he would know how literal he was speaking. Too bad that artistic creativity was not one of his strengths.
After hauling up the eighth bucket, Grady decided he was pushing his luck. His cell registered 11:24 and his intuition nudged his anxiety that if anyone were to show, twelve o’clock was the magic number. He closed up shop.
The smell of pinto beans in the crock pot with tomatillos and onions filled the house when he stepped inside. They had been cooking for fifteen hours at this point. He dumped a heap of cold rice in a bowl and nuked it in the microwave before ladling the beans on top. With a tablespoon of pickled sliced jalapeños on top for a kick, he dug into the goo. He was about to stand up and get a second scoop when a new chime rang on his cell phone. The motion detector at the gate worked.
Ten minutes later, a work van pulled up to his house. Three people piled out of the vehicle wearing thick weather-wear pants and hoodies over their heads. Only two of them were males. Enrique knocked on the door and entered without waiting for Grady to answer.
“It’s colder than an old whore’s tit out there,” Enrique said, explaining himself. “You got coffee on?”
“I’ve never felt an old whore’s tit,” Grady said. “Before you mentioned it, I’ve never thought about tits on an old whore, not that I’ve ever met one. Are you telling me you’ve met one and touched her tits.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” the woman said, giving Grady an excuse to examine her. He gawped like a fish when he realized he was checking out his old babysitter.
“My sister, Bettina, “ Enrique said with an open hand. “She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s also a licensed electrician, which we need to finish the job with a building inspector looking over our shoulder and up the crack of our ass.”
Grady moved them all toward the kitchen and grabbed the can of coffee grounds out of the freezer. “Why didn’t you mention her before we started the job?”
“She’s getting a divorce and had to skip town, running back to us,” Enrique said as he leaned against the counter. “She came back home to torment us instead.”
“Domestic violence?” Grady asked.
“He tried. I beat his ass into the ground with a pipe wrench. I’ve haven’t been charged, but they’re ‘still investigating,’” Bettina said using both hands to give him the closed quotes emphasis. “If he files charges, all his friends and family will know he has no balls. I’m not too worried. Still, a little distance is good.”
Grady measured the coffee grounds and turned on the machine. “Hungry?”
“I’m good,” Chano chirped. “Family brunch this morning; well, family meeting with food served. Whatever, I ate.”
“He needs a woman,” Bettina said with a nod towards her youngest brother.
“I may want a woman, but I need a dog,” Chano snapped back. “Needs come first. Dogs are cheaper too.”
They sat around the table, listening to the old coffee machine perk. When the machine stopped gurgling, Grady pulled mugs from the cabinet and brought over the carafe. He had a glass sugar dispenser from the Vietnamese restaurant. He snagged the jug of milk from the refrigerator and placed it in the middle of the table.
“At least there’s no yelling,” Enrique said before he began sipping his mug. “I hate the yelling.”
“The cinder block looks ugly from the road and stands out like a sore thumb,” Grady started, deciding that it was time to talk business. “Ideas?”
“Stucco or brick,” Enrique answered. “We can’t do either until spring though, too cold.”
“Stone?”
“First, it’s too expensive,” Enrique said. “Second, if you’re expecting the stone to blend into the surrounding landscape, it’ll never match. Plus, the metal roof is bright green.”
“Stucco needs replacing every six or eight years,” Grady groused.
“I can put you on the schedule immediately,” Enrique said with a grin. “I like a steady income.”
“Put up brick and center a carved stone plaque in the middle with name of the ranch on it,” Chano said. “A stone plaque or even a brass one would look sharp. You can get one from the gravestone cutter for a good price. He uses a laser, so it always comes out perfect.”
“I need a gravestone,” Grady said with sudden loneliness in his voice. “I’ve got to add a stone for my grandpa. I’ve been so busy I forget sometimes that he’s only been gone weeks.”
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