Now Shayne was bound to earth to live as a guardian of sorts. He could touch and move things when he chose without any difficulty, but he couldn’t be seen or heard by any living souls except by someone like Tristan. The only thing that changed for Shayne was his loss of human needs like food, water, and sleep. Other than that nothing had changed at all.
Shayne had been with Tristan ever since that first night. At first he’d stayed to protect Tristan until he was strong enough to protect himself. Over the years their bond had strengthened. Shayne went from being his protector and a second father to him to his best friend. Tristan didn’t know what he’d do without him. He was the only one who knew and accepted him for the freak that he was. Without Shayne he’d be lost or probably dead by now, by his own hand or someone else’s, he wasn’t sure.
“Listen, I’m just asking you to do me a little favor,” the man snapped.
“Fuck off,” Tristan said, walking past him to his front door and yanked it open. He rolled his eyes at the sounds of sex and god-awful porno music blasting.
He turned to shut the door and sighed when he spotted the persistent prick standing in his foyer. Tristan gestured to the door. “Get out.”
Pipe man folded his arms over his chest, defiantly. “No, I’m not going anywhere until you do what I want. If you don’t, I promise that I’ll make your life a living hell.”
Tristan shut the door and walked past the stubborn ghost towards the open double doors of the living room. He walked into the room and plopped himself down onto an oversized chair as he grabbed a remote to change the skin flick on the television.
“Hey, I was watching that!” Shayne protested as Tristan switched on the Xbox.
“You know how it ends. She fakes and he comes with his eyes closed while picturing some guy’s tight ass.”
Shayne scowled at him. “I don’t ask for much-“
Tristan cut him off with a chuckle, “Only for your own room, the twenty-four hour playboy channel, and you make me listen to Sinead O’Connor whenever you get homesick. That alone is too goddamn much!”
“Hey! She’s a very talented woman! She’s just misunderstood, that’s all!” Shayne snapped, throwing a pillow at Tristan’s head.
Tristan picked up the other wireless game controller and tossed it to Shayne. “Man up, bitch.”
Shayne threw him a dirty look before he turned his attention to the television. “You’re my bitch, lad, never forget that,” he said with a smirk.
“We'll see…..”
“Yeah, we’ll see, lad. By the end of this game ye’ll be good and spanked.”
“Ah, excuse me…hello?” the man with the pipe in his neck said as he stepped in front of the television.
“No, he didn’t,” Shayne said in disbelief and disgust. He cocked an eyebrow in Tristan’s direction. “Does he not know that I’ll bitch slap him into the next millennium for coming between me and kicking yer ass?”
Tristan sighed as he sat back in his chair. “Apparently not.”
“If you just do what I ask I'll leave you alone. Until then I’m staying,” the man swore.
“Yer not threatening my lad now, are ye?” Shayne asked with a hopeful glint in his eye, a look that Tristan knew all too well.
“Yes, he’ll do what I say or I’ll make his life a living hell,” the man said firmly. He turned a smug look on Tristan. “You know I can do it. Just look how I drove you away from that woman and I swear I’ll do it every time. You’ll never get laid again.”
Shayne’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ye met a woman at therapy? Don’t tell me ye plugged a nutso, lad.”
Tristan dropped his head back until he was looking up at the ceiling, and when that wasn’t enough to escape the bullshit that was his life, he closed his eyes. “They’re not all nuts that go there. Hell, I have to go there and I’m not crazy.”
“Well, ye do see and talk to dead people. Hell, ye live with one,” Shayne pointed out and Tristan didn’t need to look at Shayne to know that he had a sly grin on his face.
Without looking up, Tristan pointed a finger in Shayne’s direction. “Good point.”
“So….,” Shayne prompted.
Tristan looked up and muttered something.
“What’s that now, lad?”
“I said I was talking to Marty,” he grumbled louder.
Shayne’s whole face lit up. “Marty, ye say?”
Tristan rubbed both of his hands roughly over his face. “Don’t start that shit again. You know I can’t.”
“Why? Is yer wee willy not working?” Shayne asked with feigned innocence.
Tristan shot him a murderous glare. “First off, my willy isn’t wee and it works fine. You know that’s not the problem.”
“Ah,” Shayne said in understanding as he nodded solemnly. “Aye, I suppose I do understand.”
Tristan scoffed his agreement.
“I think he’s gay,” the man with the pipe commented.
“No, I’m-"
Shayne cut him off. “Aye, I’m afraid that has to be the case. That’s the only explanation for it. I’m afraid I’ve turned a blind eye to the signs for years.”
The denial that was on the tip of his tongue momentarily forgotten, Tristan narrowed his eyes on his friend. “What signs? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well,” Shayne drawled, making a show of studying his nails, “there’s yer first kiss, lad, talk about awkward. I could tell ye really didn’t want to kiss the lass.”
“Oh, you could tell that, could you?” Tristan asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “It probably had something to do with the fact that I didn’t want to kiss her and you knew that. I told you repeatedly that I didn’t like her, but noo,” he stretched out the last word, “you knew better. What was your reason for making me kiss her? Oh yeah, because back in your day it was normal to be brought to a whore when you were fifteen and, since you couldn’t hire one for me, you thought the school slut was just as good.”
Shayne smiled sheepishly. “She did like ye, lad.”
“She liked everything with a dick!” Tristan snapped. “And I told you that I didn’t like her!”
“Why are ye yelling at me? It’s not like I made ye kiss her,” Shayne muttered grumpily.
Tristan shot him a look of pure disbelief. “Didn’t make me kiss her? You shoved me into her!”
“It wasn’t that bad now, was it, lad? I mean she did give ye a go for yer money,” Shayne said almost defensively.
“She gave me mono,” Tristan said flatly.
Shayne looked thoughtful, “Well, there is that I suppose. Well then, what about yer first time, huh?”
“You got me decked and kicked in the balls!” Tristan snapped.
“I did?” Shayne asked in mock indignation with his hand pressed to his chest. “How was I supposed to know ye’d yell out some other lad’s name?”
“You yelled out another guy’s name during sex?” pipe man asked in disgust. “Here’s a clue, guy. That does make you gay.”
Tristan glared, just glared at the man.
“Ah, go easy on the lad. At least he’s loyal.”
“What do you mean?” Tristan cautiously asked.
Shayne shrugged lazily. “Ye still moan that name when ye spend in the shower.”
Tristan’s mouth dropped open and then abruptly snapped shut. “You spy on me in the shower?”
He laughed. “Ah, lad, I don’t need to spy on ye. I can hear ye anytime, anywhere. We’re connected. Besides, ye moan the name really, really loudly.”
Pipe man waved a hand to get their attention. “Ah, hello, if you’re thinking of a dude in the shower that kind of makes you gay, too. Now that we have that solved,” he clapped his hands together, “let’s focus on me, shall we?”
But Tristan wasn’t done. “I didn’t call out another guy’s name and you know it!”
Shayne seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Oh, that’s right. I guess yer not gay.”
“Damn stra
ight!”
“Yer just in love with Marty,” Shayne said with a shit-eating grin.
Chapter 4 “Denny, can you give me a hand with the dishes?” Beth asked as she moved to push her chair away from the table.
Denny pouted pathetically while he made a show of rubbing his flat stomach. “I wish I could, Mom. Really, I do, but after that third helping you shoved down my throat, I’m afraid that I just can’t seem to move.”
“I forced you, huh?” she asked with a tolerant smile.
“That’s the way I see it,” Denny said in agreement as he leaned back in his chair.
Beth looked at Tom expectantly.
“Sorry, hun, can’t move,” Tom said sheepishly.
Marty smiled at the two men as she stood up and picked up her plate and Denny’s. “I’ll help, Beth. We should really give these old timers a break.”
“I knew you loved me,” Denny said with a wink.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Marty said dryly as she helped clear the dishes. Since they were eating in the large kitchen, it wasn’t too difficult a task. Beth threw her a wink as the two of them worked together to clear the table.
Denny ran a hand over his short curly brown hair, trying to tame the untamable. “So, where’s my little brother and why the hell isn’t he here to see me?”
Tom sipped his beer. “I think he needed a break from your mother’s fussing.”
“I don’t fuss!” Beth argued.
Both men shared a knowing look.
“I don’t!”
Marty bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. When that didn’t work she turned away and became suddenly busy with scraping plates. Fussing and Beth went hand and hand. If she loved you, she fussed over you. Marty had learned that a long time ago.
When Marty had her appendix taken out when she was ten years old, Beth fussed over her like a mother hen. It took her father, Tom, Denny and Tristan to calm Beth down in the waiting room and stop her from attacking every nurse and doctor that made the mistake of walking through the waiting room. Beth took it as her responsibility to mother Marty after her own mother had abandoned her when Marty was six. Marty loved Beth like a mother and appreciated it, even those times when she went a tad overboard. Like the time Marty had her first period.
Beth decided to combine Tristan’s driving lesson with taking Marty to the pharmacy. Poor Tristan had no idea why his mother was damn near hyperventilating in the front seat or why Marty was cowering in the back seat. He discovered the source of her embarrassment when Beth dragged them both down the feminine product aisle and started handing Tristan boxes of tampons and pads all while asking Marty if she wanted scented or unscented, applicator or applicator free. Tristan choked on air as he dropped the boxes. He tossed his mother the keys and, without a word, walked out of the store and the five miles home. For the next two months Tristan had trouble making eye contact with her. Now poor Tristan was the subject of Beth’s focus, poor bastard.
“Well, sweetheart, you did try to give him a sponge bath,” Tom calmly pointed out while giving his wife a small sheepish smile.
“You what?” Denny nearly shouted.
Beth stood stubbornly in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, glaring at the men. “He’d been shot. He needed to be taken care of. Besides, he’s my baby. It’s not like I haven’t seen him naked before,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“Yeah, twenty years ago you might have seen him naked. For Christ’s sakes, Mom, he’s a grown man. He was shot in the shoulder, not paralyzed. I doubt he appreciated the effort,” Denny said in clear disbelief. He shot a look at his father. “If I ever get bedridden you keep this woman and her sponges the hell away from me. Hire some busty blonde to tend to my wounds,” he said with a lecherous grin.
Tom just chuckled as Beth narrowed her eyes on her oldest son. “That’s nonsense. I would take better care of you.”
Denny shot his father a look of pure panic. “I’m serious.”
“Well,” Beth said with a sniff, “I don’t think that’s the problem anyway. Tristan appreciated me taking care of him.”
Tom raised an eyebrow at that. “Sweetheart, he barricaded himself in his bathroom and refused to come out until Hank and I dragged you and your sponges out of his house.”
At that, Denny started laughing. Beth folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “It’s not that funny.”
He held up a hand while he tried to catch his breath. “That’s not why I’m laughing. I think that was the night he called me up to suggest that we have you committed.”
Beth’s lips twitched despite herself. “Yes, well, it’s not my fault that my babies don’t appreciate me.”
“Oh, come on, Mom. You know that’s not true. You just have a tendency of overdoing it a bit.”
“No, I don’t!”
Tom chuckled softly. “Yeah, you kind of do.”
“Oh, give me one example.” When Tom opened his mouth to answer, she clarified, “That doesn’t involve me taking care of them while they’re sick.”
“That’s easy,” Denny said. “What about our love lives?”
“What about them?” Beth demanded.
Tom shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Ah, sweetie, you are kind of desperate to get them married and give you grandkids.”
She scoffed, “I am not.”
“Sweetheart, you signed Tristan up without his knowledge on ten different internet dating sites. Then you invited the ones who met your qualifications to a party where Tristan was the only guy.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. “So?”
“So? So, why the hell didn’t you do that for me?” Denny demanded.
Beth ignored him. “I had to do something,” she said defensively.
“Something, huh?” Tom sighed, “Sweetie, you’ve been known to drag poor unsuspecting women across town and shove them in his direction.”
“Well,” she looked down at the floor for a moment, “I had to do something. He never asks anyone out. Never. And he’s never brought a girl home to meet us.”
Denny chuckled. “Mom, he doesn’t have to ask women out. They throw themselves at him. Have you not seen him? With his golden blonde hair, green eyes, perfect tan and chiseled good looks,” he looked at Marty and winked, “much like myself except for the eyes and hair of course, women are constantly after him. He doesn’t have to ask them out.”
“But, he never asks anyone out! And he only dates them a couple of times. He’s never even had a girlfriend,” Beth pointed out.
“Beth,” Tom said tightly in warning. His eyes flashed to Marty who was now focused on loading the dishwasher, afraid that Beth would direct her attention to her lack of a love life. Since that was the last thing that she needed at the moment, she decided that staying quiet and out of Beth’s radar was for the best, at least it was the best thing for her, Tristan was on his own.
Beth’s eyebrows shot up while Denny gave her a “duh” look. She mouthed Marty’s name and both men threw their hands up in frustration.
“Really, woman, where have you been?” Tom asked in disbelief.
“You know for a professor and a nosy mother, you’re really not that observant,” Denny said as he stood up and walked over to the counter to cut two large pieces of cake while Tom walked over to the fridge and poured two glasses of milk. The men sat down and ate their cake, leaving Beth to process the new information.
She looked at Marty, who was almost finished with the dishes and then back at the men with a calculating gleam in her eyes. “Are you sure?”
Denny shook his head as he looked at his father. “Perhaps we should reconsider having her committed.”
Tom sighed, “I’d have to agree. I’m surprised that she didn’t notice years ago and take matters into her own hands.”
Beth looked back at Marty who was done now with the dishes and smiled. “Hmm, interesting. I guess I overlooked a few things.”
“I’ll say,” Denny scoffed.
Marty frowned when s
he noticed three sets of eyes locked on her. “What? Did I spill something?” she asked, looking down at her clothes.
“Nothing’s wrong, kiddo. Why don’t you grab yourself a large piece of cake and have a seat,” Tom said with a smile.
Denny licked his fork clean. “While you’re up, could you get me a slice?”
“You’ve already had a slice,” Beth said.
“But..but…,” Denny sputtered, looking horrified.
“Besides, if you have another slice, I won’t be able to send half the cake over to Tristan with his dinner,” Beth explained as she raced around the kitchen to put a basket together.
“Fine. Get the food together and I’ll take it over. At least I know my brother won’t deny me more cake,” he said on a heavy sigh.
Beth smiled brightly at Marty, “Actually, I think Marty should bring the food over. By the time she finishes dropping off the food, her father might be home and then she can drag Hank over here for a bite.”
Marty eyed her suspiciously. For years Beth had stayed out of the rift between her and Tristan. She seemed to understand and accept that they’d grown apart. Marty was curious at the sudden change and really wished that she’d paid a little more attention to their conversation instead of focusing on the dishes and hoping that Beth wouldn’t turn her attention on her.
“Okay, I could do that,” she said hesitantly.
“Great!” Beth said brightly. “When you get back, you can have some cake.”
“If I don’t eat it first,” Denny muttered under his breath as his gaze zeroed in on the cake platter.
Beth dragged the picnic basket over to the fridge and started to load it with leftover fried chicken, potato salad, pot roast, corn on the cob, and fruit salad. Then she placed half the cake into a cake carrier and somehow fit that inside the basket as well.
“Here you go,” she said as she practically shoved the basket in Marty’s hands. Marty almost toppled over beneath the heavy weight.
“Ah, Mom, maybe I should carry it over for her?” Denny asked, looking concerned as he got to his feet. “That basket might be a little too heavy for her.”
Black Heart Page 5
