by Lex Chase
“You should get that checked out,” Patrick said as he stood.
Henry sipped his tea, still blissfully unaware.
“Know of any doctors in CASA?” Benji asked, rising to the challenge.
Patrick thumbed his chin. “Well, funny you should ask….”
“Him?” Benji asked and nodded to Henry.
Patrick’s gut clenched as Henry pulled out the Times and ran his fingers over the front page. “Him?” Patrick tried to keep his smile intact as Benji denied him his desperate moment for news. “Naw. He’s a—” Patrick snapped his fingers next to Henry’s ear, only to be rewarded with no response. “—pet project.”
Benji narrowed his eyes. The skepticism was strong with this one. “Then, who?”
“Me.” Patrick counted the seconds until Benji’s gaping reaction.
“You.” Benji didn’t take the bait. Dammit.
Patrick stretched with a long arch of the back. “Well… if you want to get specific, not medical. Particle physics. You know,”—he flicked his fingers dismissively—“superboring stuff about two bodies colliding together, creating a passionate explosion.”
Benji coughed again. “Passionate?”
Patrick feigned innocence. “Do you find my vocabulary intimidating? I could use alternatives. How about concupiscent?”
“Wha—”
“Or would you prefer something that rolls off the tongue? How about lascivious?”
“Do you ever stop?”
“But my dear Benji, we were just reaching the climax of our verbal copulation.”
“Oh God!”
Patrick licked his finger and hissed, mimicking a sizzle as he drew a one through the air. “Gotta be faster, pussycat.”
Benji looked away, his jaw set in a stubborn way that made it obvious he was doing his best to deny Patrick a reaction. But his red cheeks and ears were more than enough.
“So, do you know what happened?” Patrick asked. “How you got here?”
Benji shook his head. “I drove, of course.”
Oh boy. It was going to be a long day.
Patrick led Benji two tables away and gently brushed his elbow. His fingers twitched at the shock darting up his arm. He had to be mindful of that. He’d had a rule against casual touches for years, but Benji was somehow making him forget that. It made Patrick worry about what other rules might be next. “You’re going to need to sit down for this.”
Benji clucked his tongue. “You’re really going for that trope? Are you going to ask how my heart is next?”
“You don’t have one anymore,” Patrick said as he plopped into the chair next to him.
“What?”
“You’re dead.”
The silence swallowed them. Overhead the fine musical stylings of Italian pop filtered through the showroom.
“I’m what?” Benji asked, his voice soft.
“Was I mumbling?” Patrick folded his arms behind his head and leaned his chair back on two legs. “I could have mumbled. Did you hear me say you’re dead?”
“I got that.”
“Awesome.” Patrick let the chair slam back into place. He patted Benji on the shoulder. “Good chatting with you.” He pushed up from the chair and turned to go, his good deed done for the day. That sob story in the entertainment showroom was a more pressing matter.
“Wait,” Benji ordered him.
Patrick grunted under his breath as he slowly turned with a pivot of the heel. His Nike squeaked on the tiles. “May I help you?”
“You tell me I’m dead and you leave it at that?” The words were resigned and barely audible. It cut through Patrick’s defenses much easier than anger or accusations would. He had a feeling Benji’s angry face would be about as threatening as a fluffy kitten after his first bath. But right now he just looked confused and more than a little betrayed, and it came off as impossibly charming. Patrick wanted to cuddle him. What the hell.
Patrick shrugged. “Well. Yeah.”
“There’s more.”
“What do you mean more? There isn’t any more,” Patrick said, bewildered by Benji’s resistance.
“Of course there’s more.” Benji scowled, and his adorable factor skyrocketed. “We’re in Hell, right?”
Patrick clapped his hands in laughter but more in an effort to silence all argument. “Hell? Fuck no. That’s Wallville.”
“So, this is heaven.”
“Nope.”
“What, then? We’re just ghosts? There is no afterlife?” Benji swallowed. “Wait. That can’t be—you said there was a hell.”
Patrick kept his lips sealed, enjoying watching Benji puzzle it out.
“CASA is purgatory?”
Patrick pointed at him with a nod. “We’ve got a winner.”
Benji blew out a breath and shook his head. “Unbelievable. How is this my life?” He barked out a short, harsh laugh. “Or I guess the point is that it isn’t my life, right? Good to know my afterlife is going to suck as much as my real life did.”
Patrick put a hand to his heart. “I’m wounded. Are you saying spending the rest of eternity here with me is a hardship?”
Benji glared at him. “I’m saying that I don’t even know how I died, let alone what I did to deserve to be here. If there’s a hell and a purgatory, that must mean there’s a heaven, right? So why am I here? What did I do to deserve this?”
This? This was why Patrick usually left the heavy stuff to Karin. It was a huge adjustment, he got that. Hell, he’d lived it himself. Or not-lived it himself. Whatever. The point was he understood, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stand here while Benji had an existential crisis. He had shit to do.
“I don’t know, sunshine. Serial jaywalking? Not sorting your recyclables before you put them out to the curb? The point is you are here, no matter what happened to get you here.”
Benji’s face crumpled, going from indignant to wounded in the blink of an eye. And that should not make Patrick feel guilty. It shouldn’t. He didn’t do guilt. Maybe the swooping feeling in his stomach was indigestion.
“But—”
Patrick held up a hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. You think you shouldn’t be here? Fine. That’s a staffing issue, and you’re going to have to take it up with Karin in HR.”
For a second he didn’t think Benji was going to fall for the dismissal, but he did. “Fine,” he said, his lower lip trembling ever so slightly.
Ah, hell. Benji didn’t strike him as a crier, but it looked like maybe things were headed that way. Time to push onward.
“Now that we’ve established that you’re the newest employee here at purgatory CASA—”
“But CASA is such a happy place.”
Patrick snorted. “Obviously you’ve never shopped here with your wife.”
“I don’t have a wife,” Benji said, glancing out the window.
“Ouch. Tough break,” Patrick said and followed Benji’s line of sight. The robins were building a new nest on the windowsill. He took a slow breath and took comfort that spring had come around once again.
“My…,” Benji muttered and turned his attention to the sugar packet container. “My boyfriend dumped me.”
Patrick blinked and rubbed the back of his head. He scratched at the short fuzz at the nape of his neck. “You don’t say,” he said absently.
Sure, he was dead, but he wasn’t blind. It would have been so much easier if Benji had had a wife. Damn.
Benji unfolded and refolded his hands. “Yeah….”
The attempt at small talk was as pleasant as a butter knife to the eye.
“All right.” Patrick spun his chair around and straddled it. “If you’re going to be stuck here, you’re going to learn how to play the game.”
“Game?” Benji perked up, seeming unsure.
“Gotta make it entertaining somehow.” Patrick tapped the table with a knuckle. “Ground rules. This is a real CASA. The customers coming in and out are living and shopping for cheap minimalist furniture.
They can’t see us. Got it?”
“We’re ghosts?” Benji knit his brows in confusion.
“Whatever you want to call it to get you through the day, sunshine,” Patrick said. “Ready for the next part?”
“Should I be taking notes?”
“You’ll catch on.” Patrick reached out and clapped a hand on Benji’s shoulder. The jolt of power shot up his arm and to the crown of his head. He forced his smile to stay in place. “I imagine you’re a quick study.” Patrick drew away and flicked his fingers, trying to work out the sting. “Next, our job is to help others move on.”
“Others?” Benji asked. “Why us?”
Patrick shrugged. “Just lucky. I suppose. CASA chose us, Mr. Frodo.”
“We’re on Frodo, now?” Benji’s slow grin triggered Patrick’s own.
“Don’t get used to it, cupcake.”
“How do we help them move on?”
Patrick smirked. “You’ll learn.”
“Other ghosts are here with us. Like… Karin?”
“Yup.”
“Who else?”
“Agnes. Who you sort of met.” Patrick pursed his lips in thought.
Benji was like a dog with a bone now that he was getting some answers. Patrick reconsidered his openness. Maybe he should have stuck to cryptic answers. Though that was more Agnes’s schtick. He probably couldn’t pull it off half as well as she did. Damn.
“But how do we make them move on?” Benji asked.
“Excellent question,” Patrick said. “People don’t end up here by accident.” He thought about it for a moment and laughed. “Or I guess they kind of do. Anyway, we help them and poof.” He fanned his fingers to demonstrate. “Out the doors they go, another satisfied customer.”
“Into the void?” Benji shivered, rubbing his arms. “That terrifying thing?”
“No, they go to heaven,” Patrick said.
“Okay, if this is purgatory, what’s heaven?”
Patrick pointed a finger. “You guess.”
Benji shook his head. “Costless?”
“Pfft! Please. Costless is one of the seven circles. Keep up with me here.” Patrick locked eyes with Benji. “You can do this.”
Benji frowned. “Scope?”
“Is that a guess?” Patrick arched a brow.
“Is it?” Benji sat straighter in his chair like a petulant child.
Patrick stood and offered Benji his hand. “C’mon now. We have wrongs to right, skippy.”
Benji stubbornly set his jaw. “But you didn’t tell me.”
“Let’s go,” Patrick insisted. “Lunch break’s over. We’re on the clock.”
“Wait, does that mean we can actually eat? Patrick, wait up!”
There was something peculiar about Benji. Agnes had been right. He definitely was a cute one. Sandy mop of hair, fresh face, and dark eyes like he’d waltzed out of a Disney movie. His shirt was a bit loose on him, but the way that his skinny jeans were one size too small might have contributed just a sliver of a percentage to the cute.
But it wasn’t that. And Patrick wouldn’t admit it under penalty of death, as if that mattered anyway. Benji made his time in CASA seem easy and more tolerable. Maybe Agnes had been right. All Patrick had to do was to try on being a Guide for a new visitor for a while and see how that fit him.
That curious sensation of camaraderie was fascinating. Now the literal sparks between them when Patrick attempted the slightest touch, that was the intriguing stuff. One could get high, horny, or both on that business if they abused it. The temptation was there, but when Patrick acknowledged it, the self-disappointment kicked in. He’d have to wait for Benji’s energy to taper off before Patrick decided to give it up and go for it.
“Hey,” Benji said as they meandered through the herd of shoppers. “Hey!”
Patrick blinked, his throat clenching. He covered for it by stretching out his hands and cracking his knuckles. “Yo, what up?”
Benji smiled. “I asked about you.”
“Yeah?”
The shoppers sidestepped around them, permitting them to pass like fish through water.
“How did you get here?” Benji asked.
“Same as you,” Patrick said as he scanned the crowd. The howler monkey of a spirit was nearby. As soon as he got him out of the damned store, he could think without his head pounding. Even Tommy refused to go into the entertainment showroom. Poor weird, friendless kid.
“Which we’ve already covered is something I don’t remember, so why not tell me and answer two questions in one?” Benji prodded.
Patrick shrugged. “I was popped out of my mother’s womb, I grew up, drew the short straw, and whack, here I am? What more are you looking for, sweetheart?”
Benji coughed into his fist and then cleared his throat.
“You should really get that checked out.”
“By you, good doctor? Open my mouth and say ah?”
It was Patrick’s turn to flush as he sharply turned away and faked a sneeze. Dammit. Benji was definitely stepping up to the plate. Patrick came to a halt and shut out the noise of customers chatting among themselves. The howler’s voice, carried over the expanse of the floor, was harder to ignore. Benji didn’t seem to notice, but his mind wasn’t fully wrapped around not being on a different plane as everything else.
“Am I going to move on?” Benji asked as he stood at Patrick’s side.
The customers slipped around them, unconsciously shifting just out of the way as they wandered the aisles. A woman stopped next to Benji as she checked the price on a ARDERE nightlight. She turned over the rubbery turquoise cat-shaped light and flicked the switch. She gasped at the changing colors and then dropped two boxes in her cart.
Patrick arched a brow at Benji’s question and then sighed. “Couldn’t tell you, cupcake. CASA is a harsh mistress. She decides who leaves and who stays.”
“But you said you help people leave.”
Patrick pointed a finger. “Ah! Now you’re catching on.”
“But you just said CASA decides. And… that CASA is a she?” Benji knitted his brows. The brow-knitting thing was quickly becoming Patrick’s kryptonite.
“You just said it,” Patrick said and then headed off again toward entertainment.
“Do you know how unhelpful you are?”
“Unhelpful?” Patrick asked over his shoulder. “I’ll have you know I’m employee of the decade.” He patted his hip and snapped his fingers. “C’mon, pup. Let’s go.”
Benji frowned and kept in step. “Unfortunately, I liked cupcake better.” He jogged to keep the pace. “Why don’t you move on?”
It was an innocent question that crashed Patrick’s mood as easily as his interest in Benji had risen.
“I don’t.” Patrick didn’t need to elaborate.
“But you said everyone does.”
Benji’s innocence was very quickly becoming Patrick’s least favorite quality. They had to find the howler and fast. Patrick’s good night’s sleep depended on it.
“Some people are different.” Patrick clenched his fists at his sides, and he stepped up the pace.
“What’s so different about you?” Benji asked, hurrying behind.
And now Benji was rapidly becoming less attractive.
“This way,” Patrick commanded him and snatched Benji by his shirt.
Benji yipped as they took a sharp right through office furniture. Patrick crouched low behind a dividing wall and peered through the network of table legs. Benji stood over him, not getting with the program as quickly as Patrick had hoped.
The howler had claimed the SPÖL TV stand and shambled around it drunkenly. He was a disheveled mess of an older guy with a potbelly and broken glasses. At least he hadn’t shown up covered in dog shit.
“Have you seen my wife?” he asked a customer who passed him by. “Have you seen her? Gray hair? Flowery dress? Her name’s Mary. Have you seen Mary?” Another customer pushed along with her cart. Her beeper sounded that she was
needed in Bambini Mondo. “Mary! Mary!” he screamed as he burst into tears.
Benji’s lip trembled as he stood out in plain view. “He’s so sa—”
“Get down.” Patrick yanked him by the waistband of his jeans.
Benji flopped like a marionette to the floor next to him.
“Welcome to your crash course in showing someone the exit,” Patrick whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
“Did you have to nearly rip off my pants?” Benji said as he awkwardly readjusted.
Patrick didn’t pay him any mind. “You need a smaller size. I’ll get Karin on it.” He pointed toward the sobbing old man. “Here’s how it’s gonna go. You’re my trainee, so it’s your job to observe on this one. Got it?”
“I’m not a kindergartener. I teach them, you know,” Benji whispered.
“Well, this isn’t painting pine cones time.” Patrick snapped his fingers. “Stick with me.”
Benji nodded. Finally, no witty comebacks. At last he was regaining his attractiveness. Maybe halfway yanking off his jeans had something to do with it. The situation necessitated the chance to cop a feel. That was Patrick’s story, and he was sticking to it—for the time being.
“Okay, the short and sweet of it,” Patrick whispered. “It’s like they said in Ghostbusters, we’re made of spiritual energy. But the more we interact with the living world, the more we deplete it. Also, helping other spirits along requires using quite a bit of energy. So we ration it so we don’t dissipate right away.”
Benji thumbed his chin. “And if we dissipate?”
“It’s off to the ball pit.” Patrick turned back to the howler. “Okay. Ready?” He popped up out of hiding and pasted on his best smile.
“Wait, wha—” Benji squeaked.
Patrick toed him with his Nike, trying to urge him into following his lead.
The howler turned, eyeing Patrick with hunger and panic in his eyes. Patrick relaxed his stance and drooped his shoulders, portraying a nonthreatening posture.
“May I help you find something, sir?” Patrick asked sweetly.
Benji peeked out from behind the divider, and Patrick nodded to him.
The howler, thankfully, stopped howling. “I’m… I’m looking for Mary,” he said, confused.
“Mary?” Patrick repeated, feigning committing the name to memory. “I’m sure I can help you find her. Now, tell me where you saw her last.”