by Zach Jenkins
Icarus nodded. “Every word. Manuel has haunted this house ever since. Past and present residents say that he’s a friendly spirit most frequently heard rattling around the kitchen late at night, especially right before a big holiday.”
I shook my head and forced myself to blink. I even looked back through the window to see if I could see any sign of the ghost in the kitchen. Not that I believed in ghosts, but the way he told the stories was so good that it was hard not to believe what he said.
“Who would live in a house they thought was haunted? That’s just creepy.”
Icarus nodded. “I’m with you there. No way would I sleep in this place.”
I liked Icarus. He seemed like he’d be fun to have a few beers with and swap stories with at a bar.
“Since it’s just the two of us, can I ask? Do you actually believe all these stories?”
Icarus smiled mysteriously and shrugged his shoulders. “The facts of the deaths are pretty certain. You can find records of all of it. The ghosts themselves… Well, I’ve never seen one, but I wholeheartedly believe that we know very little about how the universe really works.”
I shivered, but blamed it on the weather.
“Hey, I don’t mean to be a dick or anything, but this tour took ninety minutes. How’d you get through the first one so fast? I was only about thirty minutes late, right? Do you have a couple different tours you give?”
When Icarus dragged the toe of his shoe across the ground, I did feel like a dick. I hadn’t meant to call him out or anything, I was just curious. The guy was so good at what he did, I was just trying to figure out what had happened for him earlier in the night.
“My sister and I waited for anyone who might have shown up, hoping to buy a ticket on the spot. No one did. I only had the one reservation, which must’ve been yours. The fact of the matter is, business isn’t going all that well.”
I reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you do, I don’t have anywhere better to be. I’ve kinda… Well, that’s a long story. I’ll need a couple drinks first before I go into that.”
Icarus smiled. “I’d love to buy those drinks for you to get you to loosen up and tell that one. Business isn’t just not going good, though. Bad enough that I have to crash on my sister’s couch for now.”
I had slept on people’s couches many times, but never because of money. I didn’t know how to respond, but wanted to try to make him feel better.
“Maybe you just need a new website or to tweak your advertising campaign. These kinds of ghost tours are popular in almost any tourist town that I’ve ever been to. We get enough tourists here that you should be able to get plenty of customers if you could just reach them, right?”
“No website. No advertising campaign. No money for either or knowledge on how to do any of it. No money to hire somebody with that knowledge. I’ve just got the handmade flyers that I’ve pinned up around town, and my own enthusiasm when I meet people on the street who look like they’re not from around here. It looks like the old saying that it takes money to make money is a hundred percent true.”
It was ironic that Icarus had a dream but not the money to pull it off, while I had spent most of my life with plenty of money but no dream.
“It’s too bad you’re not a chick, man. My parents cut me off from my trust fund recently. I won’t see another dime until I get married. On that happy day,” I gritted my teeth through the bitter words, “I would definitely help you out. I’ll get access back to a ton of cash.”
The words made me feel like a dick again.
What kind of jerk complains about only having a comfortable amount of money instead of a ton, right after the other guy says he’s broke?
Icarus laughed. “Too bad you’re not gay. I’ve given up on a real romance and would’ve happily married you for your money.”
“Oh, you’re gay?”
Just shut up, Harley.
I hoped I hadn’t sounded like I was implying there was anything wrong with it. It really didn’t make any difference to me who people slept with. I certainly wasn’t any moral compass who deserved to have an opinion on things like that, anyway.
Icarus nodded, but an unfortunate silence spread between us.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out all awkward like that,” I said. “I frequently open my mouth and shock myself with the stupid stuff that comes out of it. What I probably should have said is that I’m surprised that you’re having any trouble finding a man. You’re very handsome, super funny, and great to talk to. I could easily listen to you tell me stories all night.”
I licked my lips that had suddenly become dry.
What’s going on? Am I hitting on this guy?
I’d been so nervous about offending him, I’d accidentally dug the hole deeper by swinging back the other way too far.
I coughed to hide a laugh.
Swinging the other way.
I am such a child.
One thing I had to admit, if I were to swing the other way, I really would have been interested in a guy like Icarus. He had the kind of personality I liked. None of the women I’d been with had been as interesting to hang out with as he was.
Maybe it was because they’d known I’d had money from the start, and that money ended up attracting the wrong women. Maybe things would be different with Icarus now that he knew. Either way, Icarus was fascinating, and I hoped he found the right man soon.
I licked my lips again and blushed when I noticed Icarus nibbling on his. But I didn’t move away.
What is going on with me?
We both jumped when a tiny dog barked nearby.
“What the hell are you two hooligans doing out on the street this time of night?” an old man asked, shaking his cane at us while his Chihuahua pooped nearby.
Happy for the distraction, I cleared my throat and said, “We’re just finishing up a tour. It ran long because I showed up late. Icarus here is just great. Sir, have you done this ghost tour?” I asked the old guy.
When he shook his head and waved us off, I added, “You’ve got to try it out. It’s amazing. It’s scary, and creepy, and interesting. I bet you’d learn a lot of things about this town you’ve never heard before.”
The old man scowled at me and with a gruff voice said, “I’ve lived here since before your parents were born. Ain’t no surprises around here for me.”
“Did you know that a former resident of this house was killed by his wife and his gay lover?” I asked.
“That so?” The guy asked, leaning toward me slightly with interest.
“Icarus, do you have any flyers handy?” I asked holding my hand out to him.
He pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it directly to the other man. “It’s a little messy, but here you go.”
The man tipped his head back so he could look down through his glasses at the piece of paper. “Hmm. Thirty dollars? Do you give discounts for couples?”
I patted Icarus on the back.
“I’ll make you a special offer, sir,” I said. “I’ll buy you two tickets tonight at full price, and my friend here will let you take part on the tour any night you want. That okay, Icarus?”
“Yeah, sure. I guess. I should be able to remember that.”
“I only ask one thing in return,” I told Icarus’ new customer. “When you’re done, and when you love it, because you will, you have to promise to tell everyone you know about the tour. Deal?”
“Bah. Sure. Why not? Most of the people I know are dead already anyway.”
Without another word, the old man turned to walk away, his dog skipping happily along beside him.
“Thanks,” Icarus said. “But don’t worry about the money. If he shows up I’ll take him and his friend or wife or whatever on the tour for free. If he actually does tell anyone it will be well worth it. If he doesn’t, the sixty bucks, well, I’d feel strange taking it from you, if you know what I mean.”<
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I didn’t, and wondered if I’d said something to offend him. I never got the chance to ask him.
“Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you, Harley, and thanks for coming on the tour, but I better get headed home. Have a good night.”
I almost offered him a rain check, but wondered what that would imply...and why I would have been implying it.
Icarus had reached the end of the block and turned the corner before I turned away to head to my car. I never would have waited like that for any of my regular friends.
What is going on with me tonight?
Three
Icarus
I stood outside Cupcake Kisses for a few minutes, and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Seven o’clock in the morning was a brutal time to be awake.
How did Echo do it every day?
I needed some of her dedication to rub off on me if I was to have any chance of having my own business becoming successful.
I stretched my back to work out a knot that had developed from sleeping wrong on the couch overnight. One good thing about getting an office job would be that I might be able to afford my own place with my own room and my own bed.
I held the door open for two ladies who were leaving the bakery, and nodded when they walked by. It was hard to resist the temptation to pull a flyer from my back pocket and shove it into their hands while they thought nicely of me.
“Icarus, there you are,” Echo shouted. “How was the hot date last night?”
I made my way behind the counter to pour my own cup of coffee. There were definitely some perks to being related to the owner of the bakery.
After popping a chocolate chip muffin into the microwave to warm it up a little bit, I said, “It wasn’t a date. And it definitely wasn’t a hot one. If it were, you wouldn’t have seen me on the couch this morning when you left. I just gave the guy the normal tour and we went our separate ways. Nice guy, though. Maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll come in here to ask for your number.”
“Oh yeah?” Echo asked. The prospect of a sexy suitor made her forget that she was stirring a bowl full of batter. “What exactly did he say?”
I shrugged noncommittally. “Nothing really, I guess. I don’t know. Don’t go picking out china or anything. The whole thing was a little weird. Get this: I think he’s looking for someone to marry so that he can get access to his trust fund or something. Like I said, weird. Maybe he’ll call you and make an offer.”
Echo started stirring again as she walked up beside me. In a whisper she asked, “Are you kidding me?”
“I don’t think so.” I blew across the top of my coffee. I was clearly going to need some caffeine to make it through the morning. “It came up at the end of the tour. He asked how my business was doing, and for some reason I dumped all my problems on him. Then he dumped that problem he has accessing his money on me. We even joked that it was a shame he wasn’t gay or that I wasn’t a woman so we could get a quickie marriage. For whatever reason, he said he would help me out with the business if he could get to that money.”
“Oh God. That would just be epic if you ended up in a fake marriage with a straight guy. Think of all the stories you would have to tell for years to come.”
I loved that Echo was more intrigued at the prospect of my sham marriage than her own chances with the guy. Every bakery owner needed good gossip to keep the clients happy.
“Probably not that many,” I said. “It sounds like he would have wanted a quickie divorce as soon as he finished the transaction. God, why are we even talking about this? You’re like a thousand times more likely to end up hitched to the guy, and you guys won’t have to worry about a divorce. You’ll pop out baby after baby and have to build me a little brother house on your huge estate so that I can babysit the kids for you while you work.”
Since I didn’t have a chance with the guy, why not let her have the fantasy for a day or two?
She seemed to take it way more seriously than I’d intended. In my head, it had sounded like an obvious joke. No gorgeous, rich dude was going to walk into Cupcake Kisses and sweep either one of us off our feet.
I could see the wheels spinning in Echo’s head, though. Now that her business was established, the next thing on her life checklist was settling down.
“It’s too bad he isn’t gay,” I said, hoping to bring her back to a more generic fantasy. “Did you see that guy? He should be a professional model or something.”
Echo dipped her finger in the batter to take a taste. “Mmm.”
I wasn’t sure if she was talking about the batter or Harley.
Before I could ask, the bell over the door rang announcing a new customer.
Matty and Pierre stormed into the bakery together, as usual.
I checked to see if their arms were hooked together. We all assumed they’d end up together someday.
Not yet.
Pierre worked at the flower shop around the corner that Matty owned. No two men could stay working together selling flowers and fighting as much as they did without wedding bells in their future.
At least, we all kinda hoped they would get married just so we could see how much more they could disagree with each other.
They were both a couple of inches shorter than me and sported thick beards. That’s where their similarities ended. Matty’s beard was black and well-kept. Pierre’s was brown, long, and a little wild. Matty was wearing his usual white, collared shirt, and tweed slacks complete with a fashionable vest while Pierre wore black jeans and a Megadeth T-shirt.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Pierre said, fanning himself with both hands.
Matty rolled his eyes and sat on one of the stools at the counter. “No one say anything. Pierre simply has to get this off his chest before he pops.”
Pierre waved both middle fingers at his boss without even slowing down with his pacing up and down the length of the counter. He finally stopped and spun to face us, holding both hands up with their palms facing us. “Christian is totally marrying that girl he’s been hanging out with.”
“Megan,” Matty mouthed silently at us as if we didn’t know.
Everyone’s gaydar went off whenever Christian walked in the room, but he swore up and down that he was as straight as could be and just happened to like blouses with flowers on them and cherry-flavored ChapStick.
“Relax, Pierre,” Echo said. “Let’s get you some food to help you settle down.”
I moved without any further direction. Despite not working there, I knew my way around the place, and what the regulars liked. Pierre always got a scone, and Matty always got a cupcake.
It was a good thing Matty ran as often as he did, with the amount of sugar calories that he consumed.
I set their plates in front of them and grabbed two mugs so I could start preparing their tea.
Pierre took a nibble from the scone, exhaled, and finally was ready to talk. “Christian and Megan like totally just walked into our store and flipped through our flower books and picked out table settings for their wedding.” He made the whole sentence sound like one word. When he continued, he was talking much slower, putting an emphasis on each word. “You should’ve seen the size of the rock on her finger.” Returning to his normal high-energy way of talking, he added, “It has to be worth more than my car.”
Matty snorted. “Pierre, your car is a piece of shit. That scone’s worth more than your car.”
Pierre glared at Matty. “Focus, you imbecile. That poor gay man is about to marry his beard because he’s afraid of his daddy. We can’t let this happen.”
Echo patted Pierre’s hand. “Honey, you know we can’t do anything about it. Who Christian marries and what sexuality he embraces is his own business. We’d just as soon be able to talk you into shaving your beard as getting Christian to break up with his.”
Pierre gasped at the thought of shaving his beard, and shoved the rest of his scone into his mouth. He propped himself up on his elbows on the counter and pouted while he chewed.
The bell rang again before anyone could demand an explanation.
We looked up and saw our friend Shane struggling with the door.
Shane had crutches under his armpits and a cast on his left foot.
“Hold on,” I called out. “I’m coming. One sec.”
Before I could get there, Griffin jogged the last few steps up the sidewalk, and squeezed past Shane and held the door open.
“What happened to you?” Griffin asked.
“Some teenager kid wanted to learn how to shred instead of just weaving slowly down the hill. We were practicing some light jumps and the kid got out of control. It’s my fault really. I was too close and couldn’t get out of the way in time. So it looks like it’ll be a few months before I’ll be able to get back to work.”
“Shit,” I said. “How are you going to get by?”
“Thank God I signed up for the disability insurance my financial planner told me about before Christmas. That’ll at least let me pay the bills until I’m back on my feet again.”
“Look at this fancy asshole. With his financial planner and disability insurance,” Matty said, standing up from his seat to make room to let Shane sit there.
“Hey, dumbass,” Griffin barked. “Things like insurance are what grownups do. Good job, Shane. Stop by the coffee shop later. I’ve got another delivery of those coffee mugs you asked about the other day.”
“Sorry you got hurt,” Matty said while glaring at Griffin. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I can come over on Wednesday to help you clean the house or whatever. Or I can get you groceries. Just let me know what you need.”
We all turned when the bell rang again to see what new surprises were coming into the store.
“Harley, what a surprise,” I said, wiping my hands on a towel, and checking my clothes before remembering that he wouldn’t care how much sugar or flour had collected on me.
