“Not today!”
Nick pulls off his sneaker, waving it at the lone flyer that made it through the door. With a quick swipe, he crushes it against the wall. The tiny red thing falls to the ground where Nick continues to stomp on it with his other shoe.
“Die. You. Stupid. Fucker. Die.”
After the wasp is turned into jam and my heart stops trying to jackhammer its way out of my chest, I ask, “What the hell was that?!”
“What did it look like, dumbass? It was a swarm of red death!” Nick slips his shoe back on. His exposed arms are covered in welts. I guess he wasn’t able to outrun them all. After he takes a couple deep breaths, he asks, “Did you get stung?”
I shake my head. Why is he worried about me? He’s the one looking like a leper.
“Well, that’s good.” He straightens his arms, wincing while he gets a good look. “Thank God you opened that door. Those things would have turned me into a pin cushion, for real.”
“No kidding. What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was doing what Mel asked me to do!” He shakes the can in his hand at me. “Jesus Christ, this hurts.”
“Give me that.” I snatch the unmarked can from him, inspecting the top. I press the button and a cloud of white mist bursts into the air. My nose stings with the strong odor. It’s familiar, but doesn’t smell lethal.
“Disinfectant?” I guess.
Nick nods. “So, there’s a colony of wasps out there who won’t have to worry about the flu for a while. Lucky bastards.”
“What a bitch,” I whisper, in case Mel is close by. “You could have died!”
“No kidding, Sherlock. Brilliant deduction.”
“I’m starting to regret saving you from a stabby death.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint you by not dying.” He steps toward me, towering over me with a glare of contempt. “Maybe next time you’ll get to find my corpse.”
“One can dream.”
Nick huffs, bumping my shoulder as he passes. I wheel to follow him into the café.
“Where the hell is everyone? I want to give that bitch a piece of my mind.”
The counter is abandoned, neither Mel nor Rod waiting to begrudge Nick when he takes a seat at the corner table. I notice a small note on the register, sprawled in Rod’s tiny script.
On lunch. Be back at some point. Don’t forget to vote!
Nice of him to wait until we were almost murdered by the angriest of God’s creations. He probably knew I’d come back just as pissed off. I crumple the note, tossing it into the bin.
Nick grumbles in the corner, inspecting his bloody arm. Even from across the room I can tell its swelling. Swallowing a bit of my pride, I grab a plastic bag and start scooping ice into it.
“Seriously, where is everyone?” he asks, wincing again as he pokes his arm.
“Guess they wanted plausible deniability for when the cops found your swollen body out back.” I tie the bag then duck under the counter. Nick scowls at me but accepts my offer. I set the bags down on his arms and he recoils. I set a bag on the table and take his hand, gently tugging his arm straight again. A shiver shoots up my spine, but it’s probably just a chill. He grunts as I set the ice on the welts. He offers his other arm willingly.
“Makes sense.” He grimaces as I place the other bag.
It may not be his fault directly, but things would be so chill around here if it weren’t for this outsider. Maybe I can give him a little push in the right direction.
“How long are you going to put up with this?” I ask, leaning against the back of a chair. The girl with the purple hair hasn’t even looked over her book since we came storming back in. Must be nice to be so oblivious to the world.
Nick shakes his head, shifting in his seat without disturbing the precariously placed bags. “It’s not a big deal. I can handle a little hazing.”
“Hazing?” I echo. “This is borderline attempted manslaughter. What’s next? Mel has you go get the oil changed in the latte-mobile and cuts the brakes? A shitty summer job is not something to die for. And look, it doesn’t have to be you. I’ll just give Claudine a call—”
“I said I can handle myself.”
Nick’s tone makes me want to swallow my tongue.
“Okay then. Sorry I asked.”
Nick just huffs and stares out the window, obviously done talking to me.
I wrack my brain for another angle to convince him, but the bells above the door jingle and I have to get back to work.
“Rod’s had to leave early tonight, so you and Nick are shutting the place down.”
Mel seems hellbent on making me hate her.
“Wonderful,” I mutter, emptying a pot of old coffee into the sink. At least his run in with a thousand angry red monsters has shut him up. He hasn’t said a single word all night.
“Have fun,” Mel calls back as she sashays out the front door, pausing only for a moment to look back and smile at me.
I wonder if I shaved off some of those golden curls if I’d find little horns poking out of her scalp.
Nick busts through the swinging door, the broken wheel of our mop bucket screaming as it scrapes against the tile. He avoids making eye contact, opening the latch on the counter and steering his bucket into the café.
Time to kick it up a notch. The faster I get done, the faster I can get the hell out of here.
We work in silence beside the alternating sounds of scrubbing and running water. Before long, Nick pauses his mopping to pull out his phone. After scrolling for a few seconds, he taps the screen and sets it on the counter. An upbeat synth vibe plays, but it sounds too tinny through the tiny speaker.
“Is that okay?” He asks, looking up to meet my gaze for the first time in hours.
I shrug.
With a nod, he continues his task, the music drowning out the monotonous soundtrack of cleaning. I recognize the second song that plays, which is honestly a bit of a surprise. Who knew Nick had decent taste in music?
Maybe he’s not completely irredeemable.
Ugh. What am I saying? He’s an Outsider jerk, no matter how pretty his eyes are.
Wait, what was that? I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
The night drags on like one of those historical dramas they show on the History Channel. Each time I think I’m done washing dishes, I find another stack hiding under the counter. Mel’s probably been stashing them all day. I bet she’s laughing her pretty little head off right about now.
By nine o’clock, my mind begins to wander. Mostly I think about you, Chase. How much you would have loved working here. How I would come and visit you on nights like tonight, sitting in the café with a stack of homework and quizzing you for your vocab test. How Rod would have laughed at your jokes and how you’d have won Mel over by now. How you would have fawned over Nick—
So many possibilities. All of them squandered.
“Everything okay?”
Nick is staring at me. I blink. A traitorous tear falls into the dishwater. I quickly wipe away any evidence.
“Fine.” I say, focusing my attentions on a particularly stubborn coffee-stained mug.
I can feel Nick’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look up from my work.
“I’m all finished up out here,” he continues, pulling the limp bucket behind the counter. “Do you need any help?”
“I’ve got it, thank you.”
“Look, Tommy. I know you don’t want to be here all—”
“I said I’ve got it.” I interrupt him. “See you.”
“But I can—”
“Jesus!” I reel toward him and the mug slips from my hand. It hits the floor, shattering into a thousand white shards. “Fuck! Would you just leave?!”
“Fine! Okay! I’m going! Hope you don’t get robbed and murdered.”
“That’s so nice,” I say, kicking a chunk of porcelain. “Thanks for that.”
“Whatever,” Nick huffs. The bells jingle as he exits, and the sudden silence of Claud
ine’s comes rushing in to smother me.
A swelling sense of guilt builds in my stomach as I stare down at my mess.
“When did you become such a dick?”
I pull the stopper from the sink drain. “Oh, so you’re talking to me again?”
“Not for long. Just thought you needed to be called out on your bullshit.”
“You’re not even real! How can I be the one bullshitting?”
“You tell me, Smarty Pants.”
“Very mature.”
Silence.
“Was that all you got?”
Water drips from the faucet behind me.
“Chase?”
I’m alone. Isn’t that what I wanted?
I storm out of Claudine’s. The shadowy clouds looming overhead flicker with heat lightning as I stomp down the sidewalk. My fists are clenched at my side. I rear back and kick the concrete trash can in front of Bill’s Hardware and Taxidermy.
“Shit!” I hiss as scorching pain radiates up my leg.
I limp to a nearby bench and plop down to assess the damage. After a minute or so, the pain subsides to a throb. I wiggle my toes inside my shoe. They all move without much trouble, which is a relief.
That Tommy really got under my skin. I can’t put my finger on exactly why. I mean, we’ve never had the warm fuzzies towards each other, but he’s never yelled at me like that. It really got to me for some reason.
It’s almost like…
No. Nope. Not even.
I actually laugh, because the thought is so ludicrous. I pull out my phone because I have to tell Reese. She’ll laugh too.
After I send the message, I grab my keys and unlock my car from across the street. With any luck, I’ll get back to the cabin before mom finishes off the cookies I made last night.
“What’s the big deal, Nicky? So, he yelled at you. It’s not the end of the world.”
“I don’t care that he yelled at me,” I say, kicking my computer chair into a spin. “I mean, that’s not the part that upset me. I dunno. Maybe I’m just upset that he’s trying to get me to quit.”
“Why is he—okay, can you stop spinning? I can’t look at the screen, it’s making me sick.”
I plant my foot and skid to a halt.
“Thank you. Now why do you think he wants you to quit?”
“Who knows, Reese? I can’t figure him out. One second, I’ll think we’re cool and then two minutes later he’ll fly off the handle about something. Maybe he’s bipolar? Should I ask Kev about it?”
“I’m sure there’s something else going on here,” Reese says then bites down on the end of her fingernail. “That or maybe he just hates your freaking guts? Not everyone has to like you.”
“That thought makes me uncomfortable.”
“It’s real life, sweetie. Some people just aren’t going to care for you. We call those people bitches. And then we move on. I do it all the time. Just do what I do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Kill ‘em with kindness. You be so nice that they have no choice but to look like the asshole if they fuck with you.”
My phone vibrates with an incoming message.
“I’ll give it a try. Thanks, Reese. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Of course, honey. Sweet dreams and all that. Mwah!” She blows me a kiss and the feed goes black.
I toggle over to the text message.
Can I ask you something? It’s sort of personal, but nothing crazy. 10:13pm
Me: I’m here to help, Stranger. I just love listening to other people’s problems. It gives me infinite pleasure. 10:13pm
I can’t tell if you’re being facetious, but here goes. What would you do if you find yourself attracted to someone that you work with? 10:14pm
Me: Is said person age approps? Because I have to say, I find the whole sleeping-with-the-boss cliché to be completely overplayed. 10:14pm
Um, gross. My boss is like a hundred years old. And my other boss, or at least the person who thinks they’re my boss, is a nightmare. This is just another peon, like me. 10:15pm
Me: Peon you say? Is that what you call someone who enjoys golden showers? 10:15pm
I am not even going to dignify that with a response. 10:16pm
Me: Sorry. I have zero filter. But you’ve probably already guessed that. So, why are you so concerned about having a work-crush? 10:17pm
It’s really more so the person I have an issue with than the fact we work together. I’m sort of new to this whole thing, and I’m having a lot of conflicting feelings. 10:18pm
Me: Sorry, what “whole thing” are we talking about? Just want to make sure I’m not reading between non-existent lines. 10:18pm
The whole… liking someone thing. The first (and last) time I expressed my feelings for someone, it didn’t end well. 10:19pm
Me: Did she dump you? That must have been harsh, bro. Wanna talk about it? 10:19pm
Actually, he died. And no, I don’t want to talk about it. 10:20pm
Me: *opens mouth, inserts foot* 10:20pm
It’s fine. So, this has been the first time since… that happened, where I’ve felt something. A spark here. A chill there. He’ll look at me and I’ll just blank. It’s embarrassing. But, there we are. 10:21pm
Me: Awww! I ship it so hard and I don’t know anything about it! Tell me more! Details, Stranger! 10:22pm
I’d rather not get too in-depth. Besides, I think I may have blown up any chances I had with him tonight. 10:22pm
Me: Oh no! What happened? 10:23pm
I got upset over something that wasn’t even his fault and I—it doesn’t matter. I’m not even sure why I told you all this. It’s not meant to be. 10:23pm
Me: Aww, come on, Stranger. Crazier things have happened! Hang in there. If it’s meant to be, then it’s written in the stars. Not much you can do to change it. 10:24pm
Thanks. Anyways, I’ve taken up enough of your time. 10:24pm
Me: Don’t even sweat it. I’m just going to turn on a true crime podcast and stare at my ceiling—like any stable person would. 10:25pm
Are you serious? I love true crime podcasts! Wait, which one are you listening to? 10:25pm
Me: Murder & Me, though I’ve dabbled a bit in Murder Me, Daddy, but that one was just a little too weird. 10:27pm
I freaking love M&M! I’m listening to the Ted Bundy episodes right now! I’ve… never heard of that other one. Sorry. 10:27pm
Me: Don’t be. I can summarize in two words: DILF Murderers. 10:28pm
I’m disgusted yet slightly intrigued. 10:28pm
Me: Welcome to my world. Things are gonna get weird. 10:28pm
“Please don’t make me close with him again.”
Mel looks up from her phone long enough to roll her eyes.
“Sorry, Tom-Tom. Rod’s sick and I’ve got to pick up Claudine from the airport. She’s landing in an hour, so I’ve got to book it.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
This is the last thing that I want right now. After my little confession last night, Nick has been in my head non-stop. I haven’t really had the chance to sit down and iron out the details of why exactly that is.
“If it helps, I feel really bad about the whole thing.” Mel slings her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll try to make it up to you next week.”
“Sure.” I agree. I’ll believe it when I see it.
Mel gives me a somber wave, then heads for the exit.
I hear the bathroom door click open and I busy myself with restocking paper cups. Nick joins me, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.
“Guess it’s just the two of us again.”
I don’t say anything, just give a slight nod and move on to lids.
“Apologize.”
“Huh?”
Nick cocks an eyebrow at me. “What?”
Heat floods my face. “Nothing. Sorry. I thought you said something.”
Thanks a lot, Chase.
“You’re welcome. Now apologize.
”
Nick steps through the swinging door and I exhale. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Why not? It’s the decent thing to do.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be decent. Maybe we need to continue this standoffishness until I can figure out what the hell is going in my head!”
“But he must think you’re an asshole.”
“Maybe I am!”
“Maybe you are what?”
Nick stands halfway through the swinging door, carrying an emptied trash can.
“Maybe… uh… maybe I’m going to go clean the café area!”
“Oh, okay.” Nick motions to the espresso machine. “I’ll take care of old Bertha then.”
“Fine.”
Nick nods, his brow furrowed. He ducks back through the door.
“See what you made me do?” I scold Chase.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out, welcoming the distraction from deceased friends.
Any breakthrough on the coworker situation? 6:58pm
I type back a quick response.
Me: I’ve been contemplating lighting myself on fire just to get out of here. 6:59pm
A clatter from the back makes me jump.
“Sorry!” Nick calls through the wall.
My phone buzzes again.
Relatable. 7:00pm
I crack a smile. But then Nick busts back through the door and I scurry away to gather the mop supplies. Safe inside the storage closet, I type another message while I wait for the bucket to fill.
Ghosting You Page 13