by Brux, Boone
This was my first convention of any kind. Until now I hadn’t given my job much thought beyond earning enough to support my three kids, and not getting killed or severely injured in the process. Maybe I needed to expand my outlook on being a reaper. It wasn’t as if I’d be quitting anytime soon—or ever.
For some reason they’d hidden the Is Following the Rules Really That Important class on the upper floor in the last section of the conference rooms. It didn’t appear any other workshops were being held up there, so I had to wonder if they’d chosen the location for the benefit of the new reapers, or because we were a rowdy group of rule-breakers and needed to be kept separate.
There were still fifteen minutes until the class started, so I ducked into the bathroom at the far end of the corridor to get rid of the four cups of coffee I’d managed to drink at breakfast. After doing my business, I exited the stall and moved to the sink to wash my hands. When I glanced in the mirror a reflection of a woman flickered in and out near the last stall.
At first, I didn’t say anything, waiting to see if the ghost would show. I’m still fuzzy on how the whole ectoplasmic dimension worked, so most of the time I just went with the flow and didn’t try to overanalyze the situation.
I waved my hand in front of the paper towel dispenser, my attention riveted on the spot. When the paper towels spit out, the spirit appeared again, translucent but clearly defined. The woman appeared to be around sixty, with salt-and-pepper hair, a kind face, and wearing a black smock and pants.
Slowly, I turned, not wanting to spook her—no pun intended. She seemed slightly confused, her gaze circling the bathroom as if trying to get her bearing. Finally, her eyes leveled on me. “Where am I?”
“The Sands Expo and Convention Center, fifth floor, end bathroom.” I like to keep my explanations short and to the point. A lot of times a spirit can’t handle too much info at once. I dried my hands and tossed the wadded towel in the trash. “What’s your name?”
“Estelle Banner.” She shook her head. “But I’m dead.”
My eyes widened, surprised she realized this. Good, dealing with her might be easier than I’d anticipated. Still, I had to wonder who had fallen down on the job and not reaped her. “That’s right.”
“Then why am I back in this bathroom?” Her voice rasped out, as if she’d been a chain smoker. “One minute I was waiting in line to board the ferry and the next thing I knew, poof, here I am.”
“Wait.” I leaned my butt against the sink and braced my hands on the counter. “You’d already been reaped?”
“Yeah, by a sweet little Mexican gal named Anita.”
“Do you happen to know how long ago that was?” If Estelle had gone through the reaping process, how the hell did she get back here? Only one answer came to mind and I didn’t like it. “When did you pass?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea, but it felt like I’d been waiting in that line for an eternity. When I first got to the river there was a small crowd. Then people just kept coming, and that ferry didn’t move. We were squeezed together tighter than a virgin’s thighs, standing room only.”
“Oh, crap.” Tabris had said that when the banks of the river got too full the spirits would flow onto the physical plane. It looked like that was starting sooner than he expected. “Well, nothing to worry about. I’ll get this sorted out.” I attempted a confident smile I didn’t feel. “But it may take a little time.”
“No problem.” She sauntered—well, more like drifted with a sashay—to the mirror, assessing her reflection. “I like it here. Nice and quiet.”
“Is this where you died?” A bathroom was a weird place to haunt. I figured there had to be a reason. “Is that why you returned?”
“Naw.” She picked at her perpetually ratted hairdo. “I used to work here, housekeeping. This is where I’d come on my breaks to have a smoke.” She turned to look at me and leaned her hip on the counter. “Nobody ever used this bathroom except for the employees. Kind of our secret sanctuary.”
“That’s nice, I guess.” People had to find their happy places where they could. However, discovering Estelle here did not make me happy. After class I’d go see Tabris, or maybe I’d pawn the job off on Nate. He loved brown-nosing the superiors. “I need to take care of a few things, but I’ll check on you later with an update on your situation.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She pulled a pack of spectral smokes out of her pocket. “I’ll be here, enjoying my cigarettes and the quiet. Just like old times.”
“Great, see you soon.”
She gave a nonchalant wave. Even though I’d quit smoking a while ago, the smell of cigarettes still tempted me—even if it was from a ghost. That revelation came from the spirit of an old lady, who had haunted the McDonald’s Playland near my house. Avoiding all contact with temptation was best. I already had too many bad habits—Alcohol—Carbs—Kitten videos. No need adding one I’d already kicked.
As I exited the bathroom I nearly collided with Mara. “Hey, what are you doing up here?”
“Probably the same thing as you.” She grimaced. “To get a lecture on following the rules.”
“Right, I forgot you’re new to GRS, too.” Yet another thing we had in common.
“Yeah, let’s say that’s why I’ve been ordered here.” She inhaled, as if readying herself for battle. “I’d rather sit through one of Cam’s lectures on tolerance.”
“I debated not coming, but didn’t want to listen to Nate lecture me.” I heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Shall we do this?”
She nodded.
The classroom was located at the end of the hall. Only five rows of chairs had been assembled and three in the front row had already been claimed by two women and a man.
“I feel like we’re going to after school detention.” When we entered, they turned and stared at us like three wary owls. I ignored them and edged into the back row. “How’s this?”
“Fine.” Mara scowled at the other students. “I’d hoped there would be more people so we could sneak out after it started.”
“I like the way you think.” Dropping my purse on the floor, I lowered to the metal folding chair. “Not with this crowd, though.”
After giving us the once-over, the three attendees turned their attention back to their laptops, and the array of binders and colored pens spread across their legs and neighboring chairs.
Leaning toward Mara, I whispered, “I feel like a slacker. Maybe I should have brought a highlighter set or something.”
A snort of laughter shot from her, but she quickly sobered and straightened. I followed her gaze. A man sidled toward us, his shoulders and hips rolling in opposite directions as he ambled. I think it was his attempt at a macho cowboy walk, which ended up looking like he suffered from a bad rash in his nether region. Instantly, my skeeve alert erupted.
“Ladies.” He stopped at the end of our row, leering at us. “The name is Jimmy.” His mustache wriggled under his nose, looking like a giant caterpillar when he smiled. “And lucky for you—” He grabbed the folding chair in front of me and flipped it around, hiking his booted foot onto the metal seat, which positioned his junk at eye-level. “—I’ll be your instructor today.”
Before I could stop myself, my gaze zeroed in on his crotch. Sweet Jesus, that couldn’t be all Jimmy. Realizing I was staring, I jerked my head toward Mara, giving her a wide-eyed stare.
She, however, didn’t appear to be as mortified as me. Her stare hovered on his privates, the corners of her mouth twitching in a smile. I don’t think it was in appreciation as much as amusement. After an uncomfortable length of time—and I mean uncomfortable for me because both Jimmy and Mara seemed unfazed—her eyes cut to his face. “Wow, our instructor, lucky us.”
“I know, right?” he said. “Been with GRS for twenty years. Ten in the field, ten teaching this class.” He winked at us. “Don’t be intimidated, though.” His attempt at being suave came off sounding like bad porn dialogue. “I’ll be gentle with you.”
>
“Ten years—that’s a long time.” A soft pout formed on Mara’s full, red lips. “What happened? Injured in the line of duty? Is that why you’re teaching?”
“Oh, I’ve been hurt plenty of times, nearly died twice.” He settled his arm across his bent leg. “But that’s not why I teach.”
“Did you get in trouble for breaking the rules?” I interjected. “And now you’re forced to teach this class? Is being stuck on the fifth floor, way back here—away from all the fun—part of your punishment?”
“I teach,” he blurted before regaining his cool, “because it’s my calling.” He focused on Mara, his mouth curving into a smarmy grin. “Shaping fresh minds…” His gaze descended to her boobs and back up. “…and bodies for GRS is an honor, and I’m good at it.”
“Well, I can’t wait to get started,” Mara said. “When will that be, exactly?”
“I like to see an eager pupil.” He held out two sheets of paper and shook his head, flipping his yellow-blond hair off his forehead. “You lovely ladies will need my class handout.”
We each accepted a paper and I dearly hoped this would put an end to his flirtatious shenanigans. No such luck. I attempted a Jedi mind trick. These are not the girls you want to flirt with. But when he continued to linger—and ogle—I realized I still didn’t possess that awesome power.
“Well, thanks for this.” Mara waved the paper. “Can’t wait to soak up all your knowledge.”
“A lot of people say that,” he said, nodding. I think the smile he flashed was meant to be sexy, but it made him look like he was trying to fart. “I’ll be around after class if you have any questions.” Neither of us replied. For my part it was because I’d thrown up in my mouth a bit. “Or I’ll be around tonight.” He winked at Mara. “I put my personal info on the front of the handout.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mara said.
“I bet you will.” He winked again, and I had the overwhelming desire to poke his offending eye out and throw it against the wall. “All right…” He straightened and strode to the front of the room. “Rules. What are they and who needs to follow them?”
Mara leaned toward me, keeping her voice low. “I see why they stuck this class back here.”
“Seriously.” I cringed. “What the hell was that?”
“I’m not sure, but I think we just got Jimmied.”
“Well, he needs to keep his Jimmy to himself,” I whispered.
“I wonder if he calls his junk “little Jimmy.”” Mara’s eyes narrowed. “Baby, Jimmy wants to show you some love.”
I pinched my lips together, repressing a laugh, and then said, “When I’m alone I touch my Jimmy.”
“Besides a noun, I think Jimmy can be both a verb or adjective.” Mara held up her finger, as if giving a lecture. “For example: he Jimmied his new sports car. Or, why don’t you go Jimmy yourself?”
“If he Jimmies me one more time I’m going to flip out.” My mind reeled with possibilities. “He really Jimmied up that test.”
Before Mara could add to our collection, the instructor interrupted, cutting off our Jimmyisms. “Do you ladies have a question or a comment?”
We straightened.
“Busted,” I whispered.
“Sorry, no—” Mara paused. “Jimmy.”
I manage a solid two seconds before I burst out laughing. “Sorry.” I made the universal sign for locking my lips and throwing away the key. “Please…continue.”
Jimmy’s vibe switched from suave to suspicious. Under his constant watch, there was no chance to slip out. During the next two excruciating hours, Jimmy not only explained more than a hundred rules, but also shared his personal experiences. Each incident had been life or death, and he’d always come out a hero. By the end of the lecture I’d concluded that the class was some kind of cruel initiation newbies were subjected to.
If necessity is the mother of invention, then endless boredom is the mother of revenge plots. The two-hour loss of my life, listening to Jimmy relive his glory days, was Nate’s fault, and I blamed him fully. He’d played me, knowing I’d come to the class even though I didn’t want to. Revenge was a dish best served cold, preferably while eating chips and salsa, and drinking a big-ass margarita. Cheers, Nate.
Chapter Five
At eleven o’clock Jimmy finally released us. To be honest, I hadn’t learned anything new. The bottom line was, don’t break the rules, or else I might start a chain reaction of biblical proportions. Got it. If it meant not ever having to attend Jimmy’s class again, I’d never step out of line—well, I’d try really hard not to.
“The thought of sitting through another class makes me want to light somebody’s hair on fire.” A determined expression set squarely on Mara’s face. “What do you say to a little gambling and a Bloody Mary?”
“Yes, please!” Pressing my hands together in a prayer position, I gave her my best puppy eyes. “But can we stick to the penny slots? It’s all I can afford to lose.”
“Who said anything about losing?” She patted my hands. “First penny slots, then maybe I’ll tempt you with something a little more dangerous.”
“I’m a chicken when it comes to money.” I lowered my hand. “Especially when I don’t have it.”
“All right,” she said, continuing down the corridor.
Her “all right” sounded anything but compliant to my wants. The one thing I couldn’t forget about Mara, no matter how much I liked her, was her demon status. If I were smart, I wouldn’t trust her with the smallest things. Then again, rarely did I heed my own advice.
It took a few minutes of wandering around, feeling the vibes of the machines, before we settled on two slots. Unicorns flashed on mine, and ladybugs and butterflies danced across Mara’s.
“Drinks?”
I started and turned to see the casino waitress smiling behind me. Usually I burned through several dollars before catching the attention of a waitress. “Bloody Mary for me, please.”
“Make that two,” Mara added.
The waitress jotted down our order, smiled again, and said, “I’ll be right back.”
I plopped onto my seat and shoved a five-dollar bill into the lit up slot. “Come to mama.”
Mara fed in a dollar, hit the max bet, and won a thousand pennies. She smiled. “I like this machine.”
“Yeah.” Beginners luck, probably. I pushed my button and lost twenty-five cents. Undaunted, I slapped the max bet button again and lost another quarter. “Damn it.” For a second time, butterflies and ladybugs danced across Mara’s machine, music blaring. Then came the endless ding of coins being deposited to her credits. I swallowed my jealousy, but my voice involuntarily raised an octave when I said, “That’s fantastic.”
“I’ve never played penny slots before,” she said, smiling at the dancing bugs. “It’s fun.”
“Tons of fun.” I hit the spin button and lost. I glanced around. “Where’s that waitress?”
Mara smiled at me. “Any luck?”
“No.” I lowered my bet to fifteen cents and spun, this time winning back six. Instantly my mood lifted. “This is how they get you—take, take, win, and then lose twice as much.”
“Have you ever played the dollar slots?”
A snort of laughter huffed from me. “No way.”
The waitress arrived in record time and delivered two gigantic Bloody Mary’s, a bevy of vegetables and olives shoved into the glass. After accepting the drinks we each laid a dollar on her tray. “Good luck, ladies.”
“I’ve been wanting one of these since I got here.” I took a long sip. The chilled, spicy juice flowed over my tongue and down my throat. “That is so good.”
Mara drank, her eyes growing wide, and then nodded. “That should wash away the bad taste Jimmy left.”
Holding my drink, I pressed my max bet again. No win.
“So…” The bells on Mara’s machine dinged. She waited until the credits finished adding and continued. “Tell me about yourself. Are you marr
ied?”
“Widowed.” I watched the center unicorns line up and stretch into a single unicorn, sparkly lights dancing around the row. “I won.” Happiness blossomed inside me as two hundred credits beeped onto my machine. “I officially love this game again.” I looked at Mara. “What was I saying?”
“You’re widowed?”
“Oh, right.” I refocused on the unicorn and pressed the button again. “Jeff died about a year and a half ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” Mara took a tiny sip, and then asked, “You didn’t have to…reap him, did you?”
“God, no.” Since I’d just lost half my winnings within ten seconds of getting them, I swiveled in my chair. “I became a reaper after Jeff died—actually because Jeff died.”
Mara’s hand rested on the spin button but she didn’t push it. “How so?”
“I was the next one on the list. When he died, I popped onto GRS’s radar.” That memory still made my stomach knot. “And get this.” I pulled two speared olives out of the glass. “I had no idea Jeff had been a reaper.” Using my teeth, I slid the green ovals off and chewed. “There are still a lot of unanswered questions about things, but I’ve been trying to focus on the kids and getting us back on our feet.”
“No idea?” She mirrored my action, tapping the sword on the side of the glass. “That must have been a shock.”
“A little bit,” I said around the food, and then swallowed. “My introduction to grim reapers consisted of Nate locking me in a minimart bathroom with him and one really pissed off ghost, and then calling his porter.” I shuddered. “He’s super creepy.”
“That’s crazy.” Even though Mara attempted empathy, she couldn’t contain her laughter. “Sorry, it’s not funny, but—it is.”
“The sad part is that it’s so typical of my life.”
“Well, you passed all of GRS’s tests, so that proves you’ve got the makings of a grim reaper.” She cleared her throat. “I know Nate reaps violent criminals. Who do you reap?”
I stared at her for a few seconds before turning back to my machine and slamming the max bet button. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
