One Ghost Per Serving

by Nina Post

“He’s in a room in the back with the door closed,” Rex said.

  Eric kept the phone in his hand and went inside. The front room was empty except for two chairs and a table covered with children’s magazines. Muffled voices filtered through a door in the back.

  Rex materialized.

  Don’t get me into trouble, Eric mouthed.

  Shouldn’t you be buying yogurt? Rex mouthed.

  Why can’t you just phase in there? Eric tilted his head toward the door.

  I can’t.

  Eric shushed him with a wave and listened to the voices from inside. He couldn’t make much from them, so he went back outside and down the sidewalk.

  “Why didn’t you just phase through the wall?” Eric asked Rex.

  “Because that room is full of enchanters. They’d recognize me right away.”

  “Enchanters?” Eric said the word like he’d say ‘cavity search.’

  Rex scoffed. “Oh, you have a problem accepting that enchanters exist, do you? And who were you with the other night? A household sprite? A jar of pickles? The ghost of Christmas past? Me? But enchanters,” Rex made a face and waved his hand back and forth. “Nah. That’s beyond.”

  “Did you hear what they were saying?”

  “Not really,” Rex said, shrugging.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eric felt lucky to pick up a lunch shift at The Buckhead. His employers had been understanding of his yogurt quest; this was one area where media coverage actually helped. But their flexibility wouldn’t last much longer. So Eric changed into his suede shorts, his laced vest, and his antlers, and worked his tables. He picked up some nice tips, was felt up several times, and got two phone numbers, which he threw away, though sometimes the bus boys offered to pay him for a number because they didn’t get out much.

  A group surrounded the hostess at the podium. Eric’s stomach fell. “No, no, no. Not today.”

  It was Mark and his buddies from the firm: Chronograph Watch, Striped Tie, and Thin Nose. Chronograph pointed at Eric. They wanted his section. Eric wished he had gotten one of the enchanter’s business cards. Maybe they could teleport him over the phone. The lawyers oozed down the short stairs into the room and chose a round table, of course, by the far window. Eric wondered when things would stop sucking so much – or would they always be like this? He took a deep breath and approached the table.

  “Snackerge!” They all seemed to say at the same time, except Mark. “You’re our server?” they said in mock surprise.

  “What can I get you?” Eric said.

  “That wife of yours is pretty cute,” Striped Tie said, making Mark look uncomfortable and crack his neck.

  “Especially for an engineer,” Chronograph Watch said.

  “For anyone,” Mark said, then looked away at the stuffed animal head decor. “Let’s go ahead and order. I’ve got a meeting at one-thirty.” The lawyers grumbled but ordered.

  “Aren’t you going to write the order down?” Thin Nose asked Eric when he didn’t take out a pad.

  “Don’t need to,” Eric said.

  After a couple of rounds of drinks and treating Eric like their cabana boy, Striped Tie slapped the table. “This is almost as much fun as the time Mark took us to The Stamen Club after he shorted that tech stock!”

  Chronograph set down his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was brilliant, Mark – no one else had a clue about that electronic signature stuff back then, and you nailed the timing like, a nanosecond before the shares tanked.”

  They slapped Mark on the back. Mark had turned pale, and no one noticed but Eric, who held the tray under his arm and cocked his head. “What did you just say?”

  Striped Tie still had a big grin on his face. “What? Which part?”

  Eric stared at Mark. “What’s this about you short-selling an electronic signature stock?”

  “Yeah, Mark made a crap-ton of money,” Chronograph said.

  “And blew it in what, a week?” Thin Nose said, and punched Mark in the shoulder around Striped Tie. “Didn’t you!”

  “His brokerage account was –” Striped Tie started.

  “Shut up,” Mark said to Striped Tie, without moving his eyes from Eric.

  Eric left the table and took refuge in the employee break room. After a minute of pacing and fuming, he went into his manager’s office without knocking. He tore off his antlers and tossed them on the desk. “Consider that my week’s notice, Jim,” Eric said.

  “What in hell, Snackerge.” The normally-laconic though occasionally high-strung manager took a moment, ran a hand through his remaining hair then put his fingers on his temples like he was trying to perform telekinesis.

  “You’re my most dependable employee,” he said. “What’s next, a hawk and a squirrel gettin’ married? Jesus H, Snackerge.”

  “I’m sorry. But I’ll give you another week.”

  The manager shut his eyes and waved. “Eric, you’ve worked here longer than any obviously intelligent man who has to wear suede short-shorts and antlers should – my wife’s decision, by the way, can’t talk her out of it – and you’ve never let me down. I reject your proposal.” He pushed the antlers back to Eric. “Go ahead and leave early. Monica can cover the rest of your shift.”

  Eric let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I really appreciate it, sir.” Eric picked up the antlers.

  “I want to see you tomorrow!” Jim yelled, and Eric waved a confirmation.

  Eric wanted to see Willa, so he rode his bike to Jamesville Tech. He waited by her office door until she showed up.

  “What are you doing here?” Willa said.

  Eric felt unmoored, like he was on a tiny raft or an ice floe, and everyone he loved was on a brightly-lit ship, laughing, champagne flutes in hand, not even noticing that he was drifting away into the dark. His chest tightened with desperate longing.

  She unlocked her door and put her bag on the desk to transfer some files out of it. The other instructor, Andy, was sitting at his desk, giant headphones on. Eric thought it was odd that the door was locked, but he imagined Andy wouldn’t want any visitors.

  “Is that a new bag?” Eric managed to say, referring to the obviously expensive large leather satchel she was digging through.

  “Yep,” she said.

  “Did you get a raise?”

  “No.”

  “Did Mark buy it for you?”

  She hesitated. “Yes.” Then, “You may as well sit, since you’re here.”

  “No thanks.” Eric’s eyes darted over to the other instructor, who never seemed to leave the office unless Willa made him leave.

  “Suit yourself,” Willa said, sitting and tending to paperwork.

  “You like that he has money,” Eric said, leaning against the sofa arm. A statement, not a question.

  Willa flicked up her eyes without moving her head. So did Andy, Eric noticed.

  “It’s just a late birthday gift,” she said.

  “Mark has that money because he’s an unethical sleazebag,” Eric said.

  She straightened and held her pen like a palace guard would hold a rifle. “He’s a lawyer so he must be a sleazebag? Maybe you envy him because he didn’t screw up his life, or because he jumped through those hoops and you didn’t?” She was grading quizzes, making little checks or little X’s. Writing the occasional note.

  Eric remembered a fairy tale his mother used to read him, something about a Frog King. She had a violent dislike for it, but was fond of certain parts. She liked the part about the servant, Iron Henry, who was so unhappy that he had iron bands laid around his heart.

  “Mark has that money because he set me up to take the fall over that electronic signature scandal,” Eric said.

  Willa shot him a sharp look.

  “Do you remember that?” Eric asked.

  After a moment, she flashed a skeptical smirk. “C’mon.”

  “Right. Why would you believe me? I’m just your husband. You’ve only known me for more than a deca
de. We only raised a child together. Why should I think I’ve built up any trust or goodwill with you? Of course you would side with someone who has a stable, high-paying job – which he has because I helped him and then he sabotaged me.”

  Willa arched a brow. “Why would he do that? You were best friends.”

  Eric stood up again and paced over to Andy’s side of the room, and Andy, in what seemed like a defensive move, adjusted his humidifier. “Are you that naive, Willa? You don’t think that people you thought were on your side can stab you in the back?”

  She put her elbow on the desk and rubbed a temple with the tip of a finger. “You’re envious that he became a lawyer and you’re jealous that he’s been spending time with me and Taffy. Plus, you’re just naturally suspicious.”

  Eric stopped next to the sofa and put his hands on the windowsill that stretched across the back of the office. He watched the students cross the field. They looked so young. They were so young. He wished he were their age right now, but he wasn’t, and this was how his life was turning out: an ex-wife who moved away and took their daughter with her, a daughter he wouldn’t be able to maintain a connection to. Also a bus, a couple of low-paying service jobs, and a damn ghost. Maybe he and his parasitical ghost pal could drive around the country in the Princess, solving crimes with Rex’s invisibility and Eric’s talent of dread and fear. Watch out, crime.

  “Mark and I were both interns at Margot, Chicken,” Eric said, still staring out the window, his throat tightening as he wondered what he did to make things this way.

  Willa rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to hear this story again.”

  “It’s different this time. One of the partners – Chicken – asked us to get his computer system up to date. I suggested that he look into buying software for managing signatures and contract approvals, which, by the way, is a perfectly legitimate program that allows people to e-sign contracts. Cuts down on paper and mailing costs.”

  “I don’t have time to hear this again,” Willa said. Eric glanced over at Andy. He looked like he had time to hear it.

  At this point, Eric was speculating without proof, but he was almost certain he was right, that this was how it happened. “The partner bought the program, I helped install it. Soon after that, Mark went in and changed a setting that had the program sign everything automatically for the lawyer.”

  Someone knocked on the door then opened it and poked his head in. “Professor Fellier, I have a question about the separation of Freon and water for the test tomorrow?”

  “Come back later,” Willa said.

  Eric walked over and pushed the student out the door. He scrawled CLOSED on a sticky note and slapped it on the other side of the door, then locked it behind him.

  “Then Mark positions the change as a trick I thought of and shows the partners,” Eric continued. “The partners thought, ‘Hey, this is great, I don’t have to read anything.’ But then the robo-signing scandal fell on their heads, and people found out that the attorneys had automatically signed off on a massive pile of legal filings while attesting that they personally reviewed each one. And the partners pointed their skeletal fingers at me –”

  Another knock.

  “ – and claimed that their ethically-challenged intern made this change to the software without their knowledge or approval,” Eric said.

  Eric opened the door and growled. The student ran down the hall and Eric shut the door again.

  “Why would Mark do that on purpose?” Willa crossing her arms.

  “Is it so hard to believe that he envied me?” Eric said.

  Willa gave him a look that indicated it was.

  “Stop thinking of me as your hapless shot boy husband you don’t want anymore,” Eric said, pacing in front of her desk. “Think of me as the man you met in school, the smart one with a bright future ahead of him. Can you do that for a whole minute?”

  Willa considered this. “Wasn’t Mark the same way?”

  Eric breathed out his nose in a scoff. “Mark didn’t do nearly as well as I did in school, on tests, at work, you name it. He was lazy but he wanted to look good for once.”

  Willa stood and crossed her arms. “So you’re saying that Mark is responsible for you getting fired.”

  “You’re going to stop there?” Eric said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you listen to me? Or don’t I get that much from you now?”

  “Of course I listened,” Willa said. “Listen.”

  “Then you would know that Mark is responsible for setting me up as the fall guy for a scandal, with the commensurate press coverage, and for getting me blacklisted from working in the legal field, and for getting my scholarship pulled.”

  “So you’re blaming Mark for everything bad that happened to you,” Willa said.

  “You’re not listening to me at all. You’re so intent on being with Mark that you’re not hearing what I’m telling you.”

  Willa shook her head. “I don’t know what to believe – and I’m not intent on being with Mark.”

  “Are you kidding me? You don’t know what to believe?”

  “Well, do you have any proof of this?”

  Eric rubbed his face and ran his hands over his head in frustration. “If you won’t believe me, then just ask him the right questions. That’s all you need to do. Unless he’s a sociopath, he’s got to be dealing with a guilty conscience.”

  “Please. He’s the most confident man I –” she trailed off.

  “The most confident man you know?” Eric scoffed and Andy looked over, slowly. “That confidence is built on swampland. He needs more reassurance than I do.” Eric leaned in to the side of Willa’s desk. “That’s not real confidence. It’s a facility for social interaction and changing whatever he needs to about himself to fit in.”

  There was another knock on the door, then the door slowly creaked open and a head emerged. “Professor Fellier?”

  “Can’t you read the sign on the door?” Eric said from the window.

  “About the test tomorrow,” the student said. “I have a question about the Unilux boiler?”

  “Come back in ten minutes, Larry.” Willa waited, then turned back to Eric once the door had closed. “Whatever you say about Mark, he’s good with Taffy.”

  Eric laughed. “He’s good with Taffy? You think so?”

  “Yes, of course.” Willa’s face tightened. She tried to smile but failed.

  “He wanted to take her to a petting zoo, Taffy told me,” Eric said. “A petting zoo! Why not just cut out the middleman and give her a petri dish of lethal microbes?”

  “He’ll learn. He even gave her a new microscope, which she loves.”

  “Oh, that’s hard. Buying her affection.”

  “Isn’t that what you’re doing?” She raised a brow.

  “Huh?”

  “With this contest?”

  “It’s not the same thing.” Eric sighed. He wanted to argue the point, but he was sad and tired and felt precariously worthless. So he looped back around. “He made her a sandwich with meat from the deli.”

  “The monster,” she said.

  “And he didn’t clean the counter first.”

  “Let’s give him the needle.”

  “You do realize that we’re still married.”

  “Your point?”

  “So maybe you shouldn’t be dating just quite yet.”

  “Mark and I aren’t dating. He’s a family friend.”

  At the sound of yet another knock on the door, Eric wanted to have a full-out tantrum. Willa called out and a kid with messy curly hair took a step in.

  “Sorry, Professor Fellier,” Curly Hair said. “I cleared my work schedule, so I wanted to confirm I still can go on the site tour of the Mighty Ghost Slugs stadium.”

  “Great, I’m glad you can make it after all.” Willa smiled. “The chilled water plant replacement is quite impressive; you’ll be glad you went.”

  After the student left, Willa’s eye
s brightened. “It’s going to be an exciting tour. The stadium just installed two 700-ton centrifugal chillers with variable frequency drives. And there are about a million other upgrades to look at. I’m sorry, where was I?” She leaned back. “Mark is a family friend. It’s perfectly reasonable that he would spend time with us.”

  Eric took in a breath. His forehead was getting hot and he desperately wanted to be outside. “It should be pretty damn obvious by now that Mark is no friend of mine. And he just wants to get in your pants, so he’s no friend of yours. Taffy is a necessary add-on that he’ll probably try to put in boarding school somewhere in New Zealand once he’s got a ring on your finger, so he’s no friend of hers. And do you really want to be with someone named Bollworm?”

  Willa glared. “Get out.”

  “Think about what I said. Ask him the right questions.” Eric ripped the sticky note off the door and shut it behind him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nathan’s phone beeped and DZ’s voice piped through. “Nathan, get in here.”

  The personal day Nathan had taken wasn’t nearly long enough. He wanted a personal week. A personal month.

  When he opened DZ’s door, he noticed several things. One was that the office had a completely different setup with the addition of a wardrobe cabinet and some kind of shrine. Another was that DZ was playing the TV show Charmed on his main screen. Yet another was that DZ was drinking a Ramos gin fizz, and the final troubling addition was the sharp-postured man standing in the back corner in pressed khakis and blue short-sleeve shirt. All of these things worried Nathan. It meant that DZ was prepping for battle, and leveling up his erratic behavior.

  “Who’s he?” Nathan tilted his head at the man in the corner.

  “That’s Cyril.” DZ tossed a leather ball from one hand to the other. “He’s my intern, but he has another job as a jockey valet.”

  Nathan hoped that meant, for Cyril’s sake, that he was used to dealing with high-maintenance, self-absorbed, anxiety-prone divas.

  DZ waved in Cyril’s general direction. “Don’t pay any attention to him; he’s here to do my errands. But don’t underestimate him either.” DZ lowered his chin and looked up at Nathan. “He competed in an aeronautical pentathlon.” Nathan didn’t know what an aeronautical pentathlon was, but he doubted that Cyril had competed in one.