by Lissa Kasey
“A little tired,” Micah replied. “I’ll have to call around to the people scheduled for last night’s tour and see if they want to reschedule or if I have to refund people.” He groaned. “It’s going to be a long afternoon.”
“We can handle the shop for a while. So at least that’s off your plate. Are you still doing your normal ghost tour tonight starting in Jackson Square?” Tim asked. “I don’t think I have enough memorized to do that for you. Sky is too flighty to do them. Not sure your new guy is up to the task either.”
New guy sounded like more than purely an employee, but I didn’t correct him. “Can I make more coffee?” I asked Micah, watching him eat. Mornings and food didn’t work much for me, but the coffee was almost gone.
He stepped around me, and added more grounds and water to the pot. This time I took the bag of coffee from him to examine the label. Where was my phone? I needed to take a picture so I’d remember what to get. I scanned the room and couldn’t recall if I’d actually gotten it back from the police last night. Maybe it was in the bag? And on that note, why hadn’t I heard from Lukas?
“I can manage the tour. I have to make sure Sky is still okay closing tonight,” Micah told him. “She was never meant to be full-time, but it seems to be working out that way. Her card reading brings in more, so I feel bad for needing her so much.”
“That’s why you hired Alex, right?” Tim asked. He looked me over. “To take care of some of your burden?” That sounded like a biting comment if I’d ever heard one. Though I must not have been awake enough to understand why.
I stared back at him. “What? Yesterday was my first day, you can’t expect me to know how to give a ghost tour when I haven’t even been on one yet. I can barely work the register. Five hours is not enough time to have the entire shop and city memorized.”
“It’s okay,” Micah said. He put a comforting hand on my arm. “I don’t expect you to be leading tours any time soon. I do eventually want you to be able to open or close without me, which will give Sky and me a more varied schedule. The shop is only open from one p.m. to nine. There’s not enough morning traffic to justify opening earlier and I’m not a morning person.”
“Amen to that,” I said. Mornings and me weren’t friends these days either. “Just give me a few days to learn the ropes and I can handle it.”
“You okay with him?” Tim asked Micah like I wasn’t there.
“I’m fine. Alex made a huge sale yesterday, over $1000 and I wasn’t even there. I think he’s going to work out fine. Let me go grab the stuff for the shop.” He darted back to that mysterious hidden wall closet again, and pulled open a door, and then dragged out a half-dozen boxes. “Sorry there’s so much. I haven’t had a chance to walk any of it over.”
“No worries. We’ve plenty of room in the car. Do you want me to put it in the storeroom so you can decide where it goes?” Tim asked.
“Yes, please. Thank you for helping out.” Micah rubbed at his eyes. Since he’d been up texting people, he must have gotten up earlier and gone back to sleep. Brad and Tim trekked across the room and began stacking up boxes. Tim passed Jet, and Jet hissed at him.
“Back at you, little brat,” Tim said. “Should have left you in the gutter that day I found you.”
“Hush,” Brad said. “He’s a sweetheart. Just picky is all.” He was allowed to pet Jet as he passed. Interesting.
The second pot of coffee finished, and I refilled my cup leaving some for Micah. He retrieved another cup and doctored up his own, leaning beside me at the counter and breathing in the smell before taking a long drag.
“What time do you think you’ll be in to the shop?” Tim asked.
“I’ll try to be there by five. I’ll text you if I’m running late. The tour isn’t until nine, and Sky will be there by three, so I have some time.”
“Okay, see you later,” Tim said, his gaze flicking to me again but he and Brad left without any fanfare.
“That was the ex?” I asked. “Great cock and all?”
Micah laughed lightly into his mug. “He can be a dick for sure, but Brad’s a good kid. Tim is all right. He’s a little bitter that he’s in his mid-thirties and still has a desk job. He answers phones for a car insurance company.”
“But you both made money on the videos, right?”
“Not so much the videos but the subscribers who sent us tips. We made a lot, really. Tim is not good with saving money. He’s got a big house outside the city, a really nice car, and all the latest in electronics any computer geek could want.”
“And a new boy toy to support,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, there’s that too.”
“Are you okay with that? Him and Brad?”
Micah shrugged. “We didn’t fit anymore. It wasn’t personal. Tim is very reliable and nice. I trust him with the shop and he takes good care of Brad. Brad is a good kid, nice to everyone, sweet even while being a bit of a sex addict.”
“You didn’t fit anymore because of your disappearance?”
He was silent for a minute and I worried he’d get mad, but he nodded. “Yeah, maybe? I think it was more about what happened to him when I was missing than how I might have changed. The police, the media, even my family treated him like he was a killer. They were all certain he’d murdered me and hid my body somewhere.” Micah let out a long sigh. “When he showed up at the police station in Reno… he was quiet, shut off emotionally, and bitter.”
“Bitter that people treated him like crap while everyone thought you were dead?” It made sense, even if it sounded horrible. I couldn’t imagine being treated the same way, accused of hurting someone important to me, only to have that person show up unharmed and prove them all wrong. “None of that was your fault.”
“It doesn’t matter. Pain comes in many forms and often makes a lasting impression.”
“Do you remember anything about the time you went missing?”
Micah glanced my way, his eyes narrowed like he was hiding something, but I’d had a lot of time in the Middle East to learn body language and facial expressions. Searching for suicide bombers had made me wary of everyone. “Not really.”
“The book said you were gone a couple months. Vanished from Chicot Park here and wound up in Reno?”
He nodded.
“I’m sure you’ve been questioned a million times about it. How about you share what you want to, and I don’t ask?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it at all. It feels like another lifetime ago. Everything. From before, to the day I simply showed up in Reno. I’d rather be who I am now.”
Okay. That was something I understood. “If you need to talk, I’m willing to listen. No judgment. Been through my own shit, but I’m not going to push.”
Micah gave me the ghost of a smile. “Thanks.”
“I need to join your Facebook page, look at some of these ghost pictures people have taken to get ready for your tour tonight. Do you normally see stuff on the tours? Am I going to freak out?”
“I never see anything. Instead I point people toward areas that are known hotspots.”
“None of the pictures are ever yours?”
“I’m too busy telling everyone stories to be taking pictures.”
I took another big sip of the coffee and suddenly remembered the middle of the night noises. “It’s bright out,” I said.
“It is,” he agreed.
“Captain Obvious, right? Can we talk about those noises?”
He looked at me, gaze searching my face for something. “Maybe it was a dream.”
“I only dream of my time serving.” I set the cup down on the counter. “Please don’t tell me it’s all in my head. I’m really tired of hearing that.”
Micah sighed. “Lukas wouldn’t want me putting stuff in your head.”
“He’s my brother, not my keeper.” Except he sort of was. I sighed. “Can’t you be straight with me?”
He gave me a wicked grin, the sort of thing I recalled from a handful o
f his videos, then stepped into my personal space and cupped my face with his hands. “Straight?” He inquired and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Is that what you really want from me?”
And of course, my dick was like oh hell no, it had a list of what it wanted from him, the fucking traitor. “You know I’m attracted to you, so that’s not fair. I’m wondering if this is one more thing that makes me nuts.” I pulled away from him.
“If I heard the same things would that make me crazy? Or simply validate that you’re not crazy, but that there is something neither of us can explain that makes scary noises in the middle of the night? Is there really a right answer to this?”
I stared at him, thinking through all the scenarios. He was right, of course. Either we were both nuts, or something had been making noises in the dark. And wasn’t that equally as terrifying, maybe even more so than actually being crazy?
“Managing the shop helps,” Micah said, sipping his coffee. “People don’t look at me like I’m broken because they assume I’m acting all dark and mysterious to bring in business.”
“You’re not broken.”
“But aren’t we all? Even if it’s in small ways, the world shatters our exterior, cracks the shields we put up and sometimes allows something else to burrow inside. Those of us who look more put together? We have more cracks than most. You, who admit to being broken? Your cracks are big, sure enough, but few and mending them is easier when there aren’t so many.” He turned to stare out the window. “You’re not crazy, Alex. The world is full of unexplainable things only because we haven’t found a way to explain them. If you think of it that way, it’s less scary.”
“You have no idea what I saw in that desert…” My heart began to race just thinking about it.
“What if you let it go? Stop trying to reason through the whys and hows, but accept it as something that happened?” Micah asked. “Not everything in life has an explanation. In fact, most things don’t. The memories will never completely vanish, but they might fade, and have less power over you.”
“Is that what you have done with your disappearance?”
“Yes,” Micah admitted. “It was either wallow in it or learn to live. I haven’t been all that successful since I buried myself in work, but I’m hoping to change that and find a life again.”
“You mean dating as well?”
“Yes. Everything. Going out and enjoying myself. Having sex. Maybe finding love. There’s more to life than the job and distraction.”
“Finding a life again would be nice,” I agreed, liking his definition. Outside of the mental hospitals and couch surfing, learning to live sounded great. Was it an achievable dream? Or another delusion my brain wanted to cling to? “But as much as I’m attracted to you, we can’t. You’re my boss. That’s a no-no in any culture. No matter how attracted I am to you.”
“Lukas is your boss, not me.”
I blinked at him. “I don’t work for Lukas.”
“You do, actually. Technically, I do too. Without him my visa would be up, and I’d have to go back to Japan. Immigration laws in this country really suck.”
I gaped at him. “What? How? Lukas?”
“He’s a silent partner for Simply Crafty. Helped me get the loan for the retail space and all the permits for the tours. New Orleans has laws about residency and shop ownership. Lukas has been here almost a decade and has residency as well as citizenship, so Lukas owns fifty-one percent to my forty-nine percent.
“Wait,” I said. “Wait. So you didn’t give me a job. My brother gave me a job.”
“He’s a silent partner. Doesn’t really do anything business related other than collect a check and help pay some bills. I needed help at the shop and he asked if I could make it work for you. If knowing that helps me not feel like your boss, that’s great. I want you to be comfortable.”
I stepped away from him, feeling… something I couldn’t quite define. Anger? Betrayal? Treated like a child? Was I that broken? Did Lukas expect so little from me that he had to be the one to give me work?
“Alex?”
“Sorry. I need a minute, okay? I’m sorting through a lot of stuff right now,” I said. I felt his eyes on me, but needed to get my head straight first. Was I mad at him? Kind of. But what for? Had he really done anything wrong? He’d never interviewed me, let me walk along blissfully unaware that his benevolence was really my brother’s. I’d never asked for all the details. Not his fault. But I couldn’t help but be angry with him for bursting my hopes that I was finally getting set on the right path because I’d earned it, not just because of Lukas. I stalked to the chair and my stuff, then began pulling my clothes back on.
“Alex?” Micah asked.
“I’m not a little kid.”
“I never suggested you were.”
“I quit,” I told him as I dug through the bag to find my wallet and phone. When I checked the phone there was not a damn word from my brother. So much for him picking me up in the morning. I had scathing things to say to him, but it was a bad idea. This whole thing was a bad idea. Hell, living some days was a bad idea.
“Alex, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No. I’m sure you didn’t. But that’s okay. We’ve just met, right? I kept thinking that it was all okay because I know you. But I don’t really. You’re some guy I watched on a video once. I overstepped by thinking we were friends. I forget that this world isn’t about friends. Should have learned that at war when we suspected everyone, but I’m broken…”
“Alex.”
“Thanks, Micah. It was nice meeting you. I hope things work out for your tour thing. It’s probably not the best fit for me anyway since my brother doesn’t want me entertaining any ideas that paranormal stuff is real.” I left then, not daring to look back because I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes. Trust was hard. I’d trusted Lukas. I wanted to trust Micah, and now I wasn’t sure where to turn.
I walked through Micah’s garden, glancing over the area for any sign of what might have made the noise the night before, but everything was still and calm. Another fucked up memory I didn’t need.
Chapter 10
The walk to Lukas’ place took an hour because I got lost three times. Stupid Quarter all looked the same. I thought hard while I walked of a thousand things to say, or other work options, maybe I’d go home. Mom and dad still lived in the same house I grew up in. Mom loved the neighborhood, but worked long shifts as a nurse and was rarely home. Dad had trouble keeping a job, not because he wasn’t a hard worker, but because the world was rigged against men of color, and he’d never gone to college. My mom hadn’t cared. As kids we never cared. It wasn’t until we hit our teens that the world opened our eyes to how narrow it was. He had been a mechanic for a few years until degrees and computers ousted him, now he mostly worked minimum wage retail.
Lukas and I had been lucky to be born white enough to pass. Outside of our hometown we could take advantage of that privilege. If I went back, I’d fall right back into the cesspool of hate that had me joining the army as soon as I was old enough in order to escape it. And look where that had taken me.
I’d been homeless two months after getting out of the army before a flashback had landed me in the psych ward. Two months on the street had been hell. The gnawing hunger in my gut. Constant fear that someone would steal the little I had, begging for scraps from strangers, and battling the demons in my head left me broken. It was hard to believe I’d been out almost a year. Free from the horror, back in the world with the knowledge to build a bomb or slaughter a group of teenage boys indoctrinated to murder, but couldn’t get a job running a register or waiting tables. No skills, they told me, even after Lukas had given me an address and clothing so I didn’t look like a hobo.
And didn’t that all just burn. Pride. Wow. Something else I’d thought I’d lost in that desert. Only there it was, rearing its ugly head and demanding bullshit. When Lukas had come to visit in the psych ward and asked if I wanted a chance to start over,
I’d jumped at it. I thought that I had no pride left to batter or bruise by accepting the charity of others, even if it was only my brother, but there it was. Fucking hell.
I stood at the base of the stairs that led up to Lukas’ place and wondered why. Why I bothered? Why had I even lived that day? Why had I been spared? To be some slob living on my brother’s couch?
With the clothes on my back and five bucks in my wallet I’d get real far on my own, wouldn’t I? Maybe I would be better off if I checked myself back in. Though the sad fact of that was that even as a ward of the state, I could wait months to be put in some sort of house or facility other than the hospital. Overcrowded, and ignored, the crazy fell through the cracks. They tried a dozen meds to make me sane, all making me worse, adding akathisia, to hallucinations, to projectile vomiting, and nothing touched the depression.
“Crazy,” I grumbled to myself. “Just like thinking some ex-porn star would ever want anything to do with you. No wonder his ex looked at me like I was dirt.” I sat down on the stairs as I realized I didn’t have a key to get into Lukas’ place, though I knew I’d had one before going to the police station last night. Maybe I’d left it in the bag at Micah’s.
“Fuck,” I swore again. Angry at everything. Myself mostly, for being so damn worthless.
The overcast sky chose that moment to open up and downpour. Fabulous.
I sat in the rain, hunched over, trying to protect my phone. The phone Lukas had given me, paid for, and even programmed. I sent him an angry text: You bastard. I hate you. Why didn’t you tell me I was working for you?
I waited a while for a reply or for the rain to stop. Neither happened. Then I sent: I don’t have my key to get in… it’s raining. I sent it even though it sounded whiny to me.
The door opened at the top of the stairs and Lukas looked down on me, his eyes bloodshot. He looked tired, a deep-down bone-weariness that I’d been seeing a lot on his face since I arrived in his life. Coincidence? Maybe not.
