A Boat Made of Bone (The Chthonic Saga)

by Grotepas, Nicole

  Once the door was closed, Ferg threw his hands up in the air and exclaimed to Kate, “Well, that was totally uncalled for.” They were the only ones left in the store, the typical afternoon lull.

  Kate rolled her eyes. “You were accusing him of stealing from his dad.”

  “I say that to all the teeny-boppers. I have to put the fear of God in them or else they think we’re their own personal fence.”

  “Fence? What, like sword-fighting?” Kate asked.

  “Haven’t you played Skyrim yet? Or any of the Elder Scrolls games?” Ferg scratched his head in dismay.

  She shook her head. “On what? You’ve been to my house. We don’t even have a TV.”

  Ferg exhaled a long-suffering sigh and cocked his head to one side. “A fence is someone who buys stolen goods and resells them. They’re a middleman.”

  “Fascinating,” she said, lying. Video games were like anything else—if you weren’t into them, the subject was dull.

  “He was staring at your ass the whole time anyway and it was bugging me,” Ferg said defensively.

  “Right.” Kate sniffed and glanced at her reflection in the jewel case of the CD she was filing. Not an awesome face, to be frank. Her blonde hair was too straw-like, but she wore it in a ponytail to make up for that. The freckles that covered her cheeks and nose were the bane of her existence, and the attractive almond shape of her eyes just meant that her irises nearly vanished when she smiled.

  “What?” Ferg asked. “He was.”

  “You’re sure he wasn’t checking you out?”

  “Look, I’m flattered when our customers go for me, but he was completely drooling over you.” Ferg winked and held his hands out like he was framing a picture with Kate in the center of it.

  “Don’t be gross, Ferg,” she said, shaking her head.

  “You almost done alphabetizing?” He dropped his hands. “And why do you keep wincing? And why are there streaks of dirt all over your clothes?”

  “Well, you win the award for most sensitive boss. I’ll remember to bring you a bouquet of balloons and a mug,” she said drily. He had a way of making her feel nitpicked.

  “Huh. Sorry. I didn’t know you were feeling sensitive today.” He opened a CD case and used the reflective disc to check on his brown, carefully mussed hair. He ran his fingers through it lightly, adjusting a few strands as he talked to her.

  “I fell climbing today, thanks. And then my roommate’s attention-starved dog jumped all over me when I went out the back door.” Kate glanced at her shirt and tried to dust the paw marks off. It was useless.

  “Easy fix. Go out the front door.” Ferg snapped his fingers like he was coming up with that revolutionary idea. He returned the disc to its case.

  Kate closed her eyes. “Yes, thank you. Great idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Look, sweetheart, I’m just trying to help you out. Oh, and sorry about falling. Did you smash into the wall or something?” He grabbed a gummy burger candy out of a carefully positioned box on the counter next to the register and opened it.

  “Yep.”

  “Dislocate your shoulder?”

  “Just a bruise. A big one.”

  “Almost done alphabetizing?” He put the entire gummy burger in his mouth.

  Kate glared. “Not much has changed since you asked me that three minutes ago. I’d be done if you’d do your share.”

  “I’ve paid my dues on that crap,” he said, swallowing and shrugging innocently, his eyes wide as though he was under direct orders to not attend to the menial tasks that kept the store a barely-oiled machine. “I don’t get paid the big bucks to alphabetize.”

  “Right. You get paid to stand behind the counter, threatening customers.”

  “Watch it, girlfriend.”

  Kate sniffed and leaned closer to the shelf like she was thinking really hard about the progression of M-o-n- to M-o-o-. She hoped to communicate that she was done with the conversation—it wasn’t like she had all day to finish the alphabetizing task. And being in such a small store made politely avoiding conversations difficult.

  Ferg was silent for a bit, but Kate kept her attention on the rack. Looking at him could only encourage more conversation. She concentrated on getting through the M’s. Alphabetizing was today’s task and if she didn’t finish soon, she’d have to try to do it when the store was full of customers later that day. Customers were the last thing she wanted to deal with lately. Tom had been gone three months and since then, the only thing she looked forward to was . . . nothing. Hardly anything. The possibility of meeting someone she could love? She had so little hope of that.

  She blinked. There it was, surfacing in her mind, the dream from the night before hovering at the fringes of her conscience. It hung there like a big black cloak, waiting to fall over her and wrap her in its velvet warmth, blocking out reality.

  With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes for a moment, reaching for the memory of the dream, eager to close the fingers of her mind around it and hold tight. She wanted to zero in on the face of the man in it, her lover. Who was he? For a split second, she saw him—blue eyes, a dimple in his right cheek, dark hair, and a wild, delicious smile.

  But like a puff of steam in the cold, his features slipped away before she could discern who he was. No one from her immediate life, anyway.

  A dimple. Blue eyes. A smile to die for. That was it.

  ***

  Kate glanced at the clock over the entrance wondering where all the customers were. Ferg had left at five-thirty, and Luke—the closer—hadn’t come in yet. She grimaced and looked back at the music video playing on the LCD TV hanging over the used gaming section. Slow days were interminably long.

  The door chime went off as someone came in. “Hey,” Kate said without looking at the customer. She got off the stool and crossed her arms as a chill passed through her. The air conditioner either worked too good or not good enough. This evening it was running on eleven.

  “How’s it going?” the customer—a guy—asked, stopping at the counter. Kate noticed him absently as she checked the clock again. Wait a minute. Her eyes flicked back to the customer and stuck, caught by his angular jaw and bright green eyes. She gulped and backed up, bumping into the stool and nearly knocking it down. She turned and snatched it with both hands, righting it.

  “Uh, I’m good, thanks,” she said, turning back to him and smiling. Her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.

  She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. He was gorgeous. She didn’t want to stare, but couldn’t help herself. His black hair was styled to be messy, there was a bit of scruff accentuating his stone-carved jaw, and he was flashing a brilliant smile at her like it would solve the energy crisis. He could have been . . . in . . . in an Old Spice commercial. Or something. That was all she could think of. His presence flustered her beyond the levels of deep thinking she usually participated in.

  That’s when she realized she’d seen him before—at the climbing gym where she and Audra sometimes hung out on ladies’ night when they got in two-for-one.

  He cleared his throat. “So, do you guys have the new Katy Perry on vinyl?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts, “Uh, I know it’s a stretch. Just wondering, though.”

  “Sure, yeah, let me show you where it is,” Kate said, walking briskly around the counter and heading into the new vinyl section.

  Katy Perry? She thought with a quiet groan. Katy Perry was great, for what she was. But seriously? This guy should be listening to hip-hop or hardcore or something. At least, that’s what he looked like. Not poppy Katy Perry. Kate had nothing against her, personally. She was a songwriting, marketing genius, like Taylor Swift. But she was just too happy. There wasn’t enough angst in her music.

  Kate stopped halfway down the new vinyl aisle and pulled an album out of the rack and handed it to the guy. He took it and studied the cover, turning it over in his hands to run his gaze over the back. It was a two-disc set, a collector’s item.
>
  “This is perfect,” he said, beaming at the cover.

  Kate put her hands in her back pockets and looked around the empty store. Where are all the other customers? Maybe it was just because it was summer and people were out having fun rather than cooping themselves up in an old store. She should be glad she had the place to herself with Mr. Old-Spice guy—maybe they’d have a nice tumble under the vinyl racks or something. She scoffed internally, yeah right. But why not? And what if? It would be . . . amazing. Probably. Though from the looks of him, maybe he was self-centered.

  She studied the ground, avoiding his face, and turned slightly to face the rack rather than him. If there were other customers, she could go help them rather than standing expectantly in front of him, staring like she had no manners, as he considered the album.

  He finally broke the silence. “Well, actually, I was just looking for her other album. But I guess this is newer. And better?”

  “Oh, right. We have that too. But this is her most recent release. Limited edition. She’s got some songwriting chops, you have to admit,” Kate said. She noticed an album with two different price tags on it and pulled the lower priced one off and began rolling it up between her fingers. “Who doesn’t love Katy Perry, right?”

  The guy continued to stare at the album, seeming distracted. “Oh, it’s not for me. It’s a gift.”

  “Even better. You can’t go wrong with that. Collector’s item, so even if they don’t want to open it and put a needle to it, they can keep it and the value will go up.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” he said, giving another of those bright smiles and studying the cover again. He must have been thinking about the lucky girl who was going to get the album.

  Normally Kate would know exactly what to do after she’d led a customer to what they wanted—leave, saunter to another spot in the store and busy herself with organizing something or asking other customers if they needed help. But this gorgeous specimen unnerved her. And there were no other customers. So she stood there, lamely, watching him stare at the front cover and the back cover, over and over again. She felt unnatural and awkward, suddenly too self-aware to behave in a normal fashion.

  And she found herself longing to be given a Katy Perry album. She would love it. She really would, if it came from him. Well, as long as he knew she didn’t love it for the music, but because it would possibly appreciate in value. And . . . it would be from him. She wouldn’t care if he gave her an Enrique Iglesias album. Or a Shakira album, or any other world-famous mass-produced South American pop star. If it came from him. Well, it was from him.

  “Well, thanks for the help,” he finally said, apparently deciding that it was exactly what he wanted.

  “Oh, yeah, of course. Um, you ready to check out?” she asked, taking a step back, suddenly noticing she’d been standing kind of close to him. He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. The motion caused a riffle in the air and when she took a breath, she caught the musk of his deodorant. Old Spice? Unmistakable and rather fitting, since he could have starred in one of the commercials. Old Spice Sport. Tom had used it. Her knees weakened.

  “Yep,” he said. His voice was smooth and soft. A baritone.

  Kate took off for the front of the store, finding that her legs were stronger than she’d expected. At the counter, she scanned the tag with a price-gun and stuffed the album into a paper sack. She told him the total and waited as he pulled out two twenties. Her mouth felt thick with cotton. Of course it went like that. The moment when she wished most to have charisma and confidence, she could only sink into awkward silence during the final moments of their currency exchange. It was probably the last time she’d ever see him. He was probably going to move far, far away and would never even be at the climbing gym ever again.

  She longed to know who the album was for, but couldn’t bring herself to formulate any type of casual question about it.

  “Well, thanks,” he said as he took the paper sack and walked to the exit. He gave a final glance over his shoulder and smiled as he pushed the glass door open and walked out.

  “Yeah, have a great night,” Kate managed to choke out, but he was already gone.

  She sighed and leaned across the counter to look for him through the doors, but it was no use. She let out a groan as she flattened herself on the glass surface, letting her arms drop over the edge. “Total loser,” she muttered to herself. To make matters worse, she hadn’t been able to appreciate his rear end—his black shirt had been too long and he’d been wearing a pair of gray striped, long, skater-shorts.

  The door-chime went off again and she jumped, standing up straight.

  He was there, suddenly, standing on the other side of the counter.

  “Oh, hey, again,” she said. “Did I . . . did I give you the wrong change back?” She couldn’t believe it. It had to be a mistake that he was back in the store, standing there looking perfect and beautiful.

  He smiled at her, one hand in his pocket. His green eyes scanned her face in one swoop. “Do I know you?” he asked.

  “Er, maybe. Yeah,” she answered, feeling flustered. “Uh, you just bought an album from me? Less than three minutes ago?”

  “Right, how could I forget?” he laughed. “No, I mean from somewhere else. You look familiar.”

  Her body temperature skyrocketed. Her palms felt clammy. If she told him exactly where she knew him from, he’d think he was the shit. Like she’d noticed him.

  He shook his head like he’d figure it out if he could just jostle his brain around. “Did we have a class together once, is that it?”

  “Only if you studied graphic design,” Kate said, her heart racing. Why is this happening? This never happens. Besides, with her straw-like hair and eyes on the brink of extinction (when she smiled), there was no way Kate had a chance with a looker like him.

  “I didn’t. So that’s not it.” He put a finger to his bottom lip as though he was concentrating. “Maybe a general? Like geology or ecology or something?”

  “That would have been two or three years ago, if so,” she said, feeling her face get hot in a blush.

  He snapped his fingers. “You climb, don’t you? That’s it, right?”

  She nodded weakly. “Just a bit. I’m not that good.”

  “I doubt that. I don’t remember well enough to deny or affirm that. But I’ll remember to judge you now, and make a determination, next time I see you,” he flashed a teasing grin that made a dimple appear in his scruff-covered cheek. She swallowed. It was hard to swallow—her throat was as dry and prickly as a cactus rib. “I had no idea you worked in such a cool place.” He looked around, nodding slowly.

  “It’s a job. I like it,” she said and shrugged.

  “The only job sweeter would be mine,” he laughed. “Kidding. But yeah, I work at the gym. What’s your name?”

  “Kate,” she answered. “Yours?”

  “Ty,” he said and scratched his arm, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Well, it was good to figure that out, Kate. So, I’ve got to go, but it was cool to run into you. Next time you’re at the gym, say hello.”

  Kate found her smile. “Sure, yeah. Of course.”

  The door chimed again as he exited. Kate expelled a deep breath and shut her eyes, realizing just then that she’d been so tense she’d hardly breathed.

  “Well, he was hot,” a voice said. Kate flinched, startled, her eyes whipping open.

  Luke, her coworker and replacement for the rest of the night, was standing on the other side of the counter. He must have come in when Ty left. Kate flashed him a glare, then grinned immediately, feeling embarrassed for some reason, her cheeks on fire again.

  “You thought so too?”

  It was Luke’s turn to blush. “I’m not—he’s—I didn’t mean it like that. Not that I have anything against that. One of my best friends is gay. I was trying to tease you.”

  “Jealous?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Luke was tall and thin, a paci
fist who avoided conflict as if engaging in it brought on the plague. And he was too sweet to tease her. He couldn’t even do it right.

  Kate couldn’t stomach giving him a hard time, and she stretched across the counter to give his upper arm a friendly jab. Something about Luke’s nature made her want to protect him, even from herself.

  “Not even,” he said, flushing slightly and jumping away from her touch. He pulled his phone out and began typing into it. “Hang on, I’ve got to send a message to Zoe, uh, my girlfriend, you know?” He shrugged and lifted his gaze to her before it darted back to his phone. “It’s about tonight.”

  3: Coincidences

  Kate’s phone buzzed with a text from Audra as she exited the store, leaving Luke at the helm.

  She walked past the adult store, the juice bar, the furniture store, and arrived at Salt and Sugar Coffee, perched at the intersection. Audra sat outside, reading a book.

  “Your phone not working? Is that why you had to buy a book?” Kate asked as she sat down in front of a foamy cappuccino. “Thanks for getting me a drink.”

  It was only seven so the sun still shone brightly. The other tables surrounding the cafe were full. Groups of hipsters walked by wearing black-framed glasses and suspenders, the cuffs of their jeans rolled up. Audra had picked a table near the road so exhaust blew toward Kate as an evening breeze stirred along the hot street.

  “No problem, doll,” Audra said cheerfully, putting the book down. “I bought this tome over there,” she said, jerking her chin toward the chain bookstore across the street. “I wanted to read a book—an actual book.”

  “It always looks cool to read unnaturally enormous tomes,” Kate joked loudly. A line of cars rumbled along after waiting at the nearby intersection.

  “Pretty much. I got these glasses at Goodwill to round out the image,” she took them off and handed them to Kate. “See? No lenses. But they look cool, right?”

  “Very cool,” Kate said, hiding how doubtful she felt about fake glasses. “So, did you already eat dinner?”