by Elise Sax
At four o’clock, I closed the shop and walked home. It was a relief to be away from John, the potheads, and the delivery men. But when I walked through the front door, I was greeted by Auntie Tilly and Auntie Ida, who each grabbed one of my arms and tugged me inside.
“There you are. Finally,” Auntie Tilly admonished me. “We’ve been waiting all day for you.”
“Don’t you know this is an emergency?” Auntie Ida asked in a softer but no less urgent tone.
“I was working at the shop just like every day,” I said and pulled my arms out of their clutches. “And I came home at four o’clock, just like I come home every day.”
Auntie Tilly gestured at me and looked at Auntie Ida. “Just like every day,” she repeated in a sneer. “She thinks this is just like every day. Doesn’t she know that a dead man’s walking around in the skin of a live man?”
“You know that, right?” Auntie Ida asked me, concerned. She was wearing overalls, and her welder’s mask was resting on the top of her head. That meant she must’ve been doing some kind of experiment, as usual, and I would’ve bet money that the experiment had something to do with removing dead people from living people’s skin.
My two aunts had been trying to figure out how to solve this problem and get John back to where he was supposed to be, and get Remington back to where he was supposed to be. It had been two long weeks, and as far as I knew, we weren’t any closer to solving the problem.
“How’s it going?” I asked them. “Any closer? Have you figured anything out?”
“That’s what you were for,” Auntie Tilly said.
“We got a computer from the redwood forest,” Auntie Ida interrupted.
“Not the redwood forest,” Auntie Tilly corrected her. “Amazon. We got a computer from Amazon.”
“That sounds pretty far to get a computer,” Auntie Ida said. “The redwood forest would be a lot closer. We would’ve gotten the computer a lot sooner than this. Don’t you know this is an emergency?”
Auntie Tilly clenched her fists. “I’m going to turn you into a frog,” she threatened. “A frog would be smarter and better company.”
Auntie Ida wagged her finger under Auntie Tilly’s nose. “No casting, Tilly. We’re not allowed to cast.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care what the consequence is. It would be worth it to see you as a frog.”
“Would you two please stop it?” I pleaded. I kicked my sandals off and walked toward the kitchen. “You would think you two were five years old, not the old hags you really are. Can’t you get along? Can’t you bury the hatchet, even in a crisis situation?”
My aunts followed me into the kitchen. The table was covered in open books, some of them ancient, and there was a desktop computer next to them with wires tangled in a heap by it.
“I’ll tell you where I’d like to bury my hatchet,” Auntie Tilly said, glaring at her sister.
“You really did buy a computer,” I said, surprised, looking at the computer. We didn’t have electricity, so I didn’t know how they were going to use a computer. We didn’t have a phone, either. Or a television. Or Wi-Fi. We weren’t exactly a modern family, and I was pretty sure my aunts had no clue how to surf the web.
“I told you we got it from the redwood forest,” Auntie Tilly told me. She slapped her forehead. “Dammit. You got me doing it now too, Ida. I mean, Amazon. Anyway, go and fix it, Agatha. We need to Google. Have you heard of Google? We’re pretty sure the answer’s in Google.”
There was definite panic in her voice. My aunts had been working frenetically on this problem, and I was getting the idea that it wasn’t because they were trying to save Remington or that they had any moral compunctions about a dead person taking over another person’s body. No, I thought that there was something else at play. Something bigger that could get us into trouble. It was as if my aunts were running against time to find a solution to the problem. There was a clock running out, but I didn’t know how much time we had left and what the consequences would be if we failed.
I glanced at some of their old books. They were really old. Wisdom of women brought down from generation to generation after generation. I didn’t think Google would have the answers we were looking for, but what did I know? I had never been on Google. I had never used a computer, except for the blasted electronic tablets for deliveries. And I hated those.
“I don’t know anything about computers,” I told my aunts. “But I’m pretty sure you can’t use one without electricity.”
“So what’re we going to do?” Auntie Ida asked, throwing her hands up. “I don’t know anybody who has electricity.”
“There’s gobs of electricity in Remington’s apartment,” I said and slapped my hand over my mouth. What had I done? I had just unleashed my aunts on the town. “I mean, there’s electricity, but it’s way on the other side of town. You’d have to walk past a lot of people. You’re not thinking of going over there, are you?”
Auntie Tilly had lived in New Mexico for years, and she was used to the outside world, but Auntie Ida had never left the house. The Bright women stayed to ourselves. We didn’t like to draw attention. In the past, attention had always ended in disaster, and we were trying to survive a while longer, even if we were already older than dirt.
Auntie Tilly and Auntie Ida looked at each other and smiled. “I’ve always wanted to see where John wound up,” Auntie Ida said.
“We’ll go in the morning, Ida,” Auntie Tilly said with a big smile planted on her face.
A feeling of dread crept up my spine and I shivered. I had a bad feeling that we were headed for a wave of disaster. We had just gone through a lot of upheaval and chaos, and I had the feeling that we were headed for another round.
Chapter 3
“Alcohol is like love. The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that, you take the girl’s clothes off.”
–Raymond Chandler
There was no sign of my aunts in the house when I left for the soup shop the next morning. Auntie Ida usually baked something for the soup shop, but this morning I arrived empty-handed. I had the sinking suspicion that my aunts had snuck out to Remington’s apartment already. At least they had the common sense to go out under the cover of night. I didn’t need them to draw any more attention to us.
Not that anyone would notice, with everything else going on. As soon as eleven o’clock hit, it was total bedlam in the shop. The tablets on the wall were beeping nonstop. Mouse felt guilty about the added work, so she tried to take up the slack, handling the delivery men. But it was too much for one person to handle. I was taking orders, and serving food nonstop.
“Today’s soups are matza ball, broccoli and cheddar, vegan paradise, and beans beans beans,” I told Bud.
“I’m leaning towards broccoli and cheddar, but I probably should go for the vegan paradise,” Bud said, pointing at his laptop. “I’m reviewing heart stents. It’s some scary shit, I gotta tell you.”
“You have a heart stent?”
Bud shook his head. “Nope. Just reviewing them. Medical reviews get me double money.” He scratched his ear for a moment and seemed to think about his medical reviews. “Oh, what the hell. Throw me a bowl of broccoli and cheddar. You only live once, right? You got anything that goes good with the soup?”
“Mouse made great rye bread, but the deliveries took all of those. You want a baguette? I think we still have some left.” Bud glanced over at Mouse. Her face was red, and she was dripping sweat. The tablets were beeping, and she was filling orders one after the other, all the while trying to knead dough.
“She looks like she should rest a little,” Bud noted. “She wouldn’t want to end up with a heart stent, too.”
I studied Mouse for a moment. Bud might be right. All of the new business was too hard to manage, and because Mouse felt guilty about it, she was taking on far too much on her own. I was hoping that she would get overwhelmed and just quit the delivery apps idea so we could throw the tabl
ets and the delivery men out the door. But Mouse was stubborn, and she didn’t want to give up on her idea for more soup business.
Something had to change, quick. I hated the new atmosphere in the shop. The soup shop/bookstore was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place where one could get hearty, home-cooked soups, and read books. It wasn’t a place for nonstop business and people coming in and out, like it was a 7-Eleven.
The door opened, and my friend Frances Finkelstein walked in. She was wearing her usual business suit with pantyhose and pumps, but her hair-sprayed hair was slightly mussed, and she looked down in the dumps. She walked to an empty seat at an already occupied table, and sat down, surprising the diners who were eating at the same table.
She rested her elbow on the table, put her head in her hand, and sighed.
“Do you mind?” one of the people at the table asked her.
“Not at all. Eat up,” she told them with a loud sigh. I went over to her.
“Are you all right?” I asked her.
She sighed again. “I’m a woman without a purpose,” she said. “I used to be a high-powered female warrior goddess, but now I’m a ship without a rudder. I’m a peanut butter sandwich without the jelly. I’m a Hershey bar without the nuts.” She touched her stomach. “Oh, boy, Agatha. I guess I’m hungry.”
I grabbed a basket of cornbread off of another table and handed it to her. Frances had been in a deep dark funk since her real estate/fudge shop closed a week before. Normally, she was busy trying to buy and sell homes in Sea Breeze, but real estate moved slowly in a town with a raw sewage problem, and her business failed. Now, she was unemployed and without prospects.
Frances took a bite of the cornbread. “The only good thing in this town is those scooters,” Frances said with her mouth full. “They’re so cute. Folks are noodling around town on them. It’s like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Don’t you think?”
I hated the scooters. I thought that they were a threat to public safety. I wanted to take a baseball bat to them. But I didn’t want to throw water over the only thing that was making Frances happy these days. So, I just nodded.
“Give me your news,” Frances urged me. “Tell me something good. I need good news.”
I racked my brain, trying to come up with some good news. I would have bet money that Frances wouldn’t think that John’s new lease on life in Remington’s body was good news. She might have thought that the increased business from the delivery apps was good news, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk positively about it.
Luckily, Mouse came to the table, and I didn’t have to make something up. Her eyes were bloodshot and her clothes were stained because she had forgotten to put on an apron. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
“I’m fine,” Mouse squeaked. “I’m not going to die.”
“You’re not?” Frances asked. “You kind of look like you are. You’re sweating a lot, just like old man Sam Russell looked right before he had a massive coronary and died in the doughnut shop last year.”
Mouse clutched at her chest, and her face turned up in a panicked expression. “My chest does kinda feel tight. But I don’t want to die. I’m not going to die, right?” she asked, looking at me.
“You’re not going to die,” Bud called from his table. “You can always get a heart stent, and that’ll save you.”
Mouse did sort of look like she was going to die. “No, of course you’re not going to die,” I told her. “You’re just overwhelmed.”
“Why are you overwhelmed?” Frances asked Mouse. “Are you going hot and heavy with your flour guy?”
Mouse had recently started up a relationship with our flour delivery man.
“I don’t have time for relationships!” Mouse screeched. “Who has time for sex?” she screeched even louder. The diners stopped eating and looked at her for a moment before they went back to their meals.
I put my hand on Mouse’s back. “It’s the delivery apps,” I explained to Frances. “It’s bringing in a lot of business.”
Frances looked at the wall by the cash register, and her eyes grew large. “That’s right. You told me about the delivery apps, but I must’ve forgotten.” She tapped her chin with her finger, as if she was thinking about the delivery apps. “I bet I could be a great delivery man,” she said, as if she was speaking to herself. “I could set my own hours. I could be outside. I could see people. And I would probably lose a lot of weight with all of the activity. You know what? I’m going to work for the delivery apps.”
“You are?” Mouse asked. “For which delivery app?”
“All of them,” Frances said. “If one of those unwashed teenagers can handle one delivery app, then a professional woman with years of work experience like me can handle all of them. Easy peasy.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. At first, I thought it was my intuition pestering me because I had a niggling suspicion that Frances’s delivery work experience was going to wind up in disaster, but it wasn’t that. The hair on the back of my neck was reacting solely to the door opening.
Frances, Mouse, and I all turned our heads, as if we were the tide, pulled by the moon’s gravity. John walked in as Remington Cumberbatch, hot stuff detective, dressed in his custom-made suit. He took two long strides and stood in the center of the shop with his hands clasped behind his back, just like I had seen John do a million times before.
Our eyes locked, and John smiled at me and waggled his eyebrows. He seemed completely delighted to finally be walking around town on his own like a real live person.
Mouse clutched at her chest, again. “Maybe you’re right, Frances,” she said. “Maybe I’m dying. My heart’s racing. It’s pounding like it’s going to come out of my chest. Do you think this is it? Should we call 911?”
Frances waved at her. “No, that’s a normal reaction to seeing that hot cop. He looks better now than before he went into the hospital. More distinguished. More Cary Grant to go along with The Rock. No heart can beat normally when faced with all of that.”
I began to sweat. “What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice an octave higher than usual. “He doesn’t look at all different. Just the same old Remington. Nothing to see here. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“O…kay…” Frances said, drawing out the word. “You all right, Agatha? Maybe you should get some water.”
I waved her off. “I’m fine,” I said and rushed toward John.
“What’re you doing here?” I whispered to him.
“I came to say hello before I go to work. I’m going to work, Aggie. Look at me, I’m alive and working.”
I looked around to make sure no one was listening, but everyone was listening. They were all looking at him and looking at me with him. There had been a lot of interest in the possible relationship between me and the new, sexy detective.
I shushed John. “Don’t talk about being alive,” I whispered. “Everyone here is alive. We don’t talk about being alive.”
“Sorry. I’ll get over it, eventually, I assume,” he said, dejected. “Anyway, today I’m going to fight bad guys.” He leaned in closer, and his smile returned. “I’ve been watching a lot of television. I know what to do. I’m totally caught up on modern-day law enforcement. I need to use my gun as much as possible, shoot everyone. First, though, I need to chase them in my car, beat them up when they don’t talk to me, and then shoot them in the face.”
I started sweating for real, now. “Don’t do that,” I urged in a whisper. “You can’t do any of that. Not the face shooting. Not even the car chases. You have no idea how to drive a car. This is not television. This is real. This is Sea Breeze. It’s a tiny little town. We don’t have crime. You know, unless there’s a murder. But even then, it’s not the normal kind of murder. It’s a bizarre small-town murder. So, you’re not going to do anything. Nothing. No law enforcement. You can look the part, but you don’t act the part. You understand? You can bide your time until we, you know, fix this.”
The door opened and a few potheads walked in. They were carrying baggies of marijuana that they must’ve just purchased next door. Business was booming so much, that they weren’t even waiting until they got stoned before they ate. It was like a preemptive binging before they lit up. I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“Take any seat,” I said.
John leaned down and whispered in my ear. The sensation of his breath on my skin made me shudder with pleasure. “You want me to arrest them? I would love to make all your troubles go away, my dearest Agatha. Say the word and I’ll clear them all out.”
With his lips so close to me, my blood raced in my veins and my body heated up. How could a mere whisper ignite my desire? But it had. It was all I could do not to strip naked right there and then.
I wouldn’t know what to do after I was naked, though, because I was the world’s oldest virgin, but something told me that John would fill in any gaps that I might have in the sex department. He seemed raring to go at any moment, but right now, my anxiety was overpowering my sexual desire.
I was worried about John going off into the world without me. Yes, we lived in a small town with practically no crime, but he knew nothing about the modern world, besides what he saw on television. Two weeks was not enough time to prepare him to be a cop on the beat.
“No, I’m fine,” I croaked. I tried to clear my throat, but the desire and anxiety were blocking it. “I don’t need help. You do.”
John stepped even closer to me. His lips grazed my ear now. “I’d love you to help me, Aggie,” he said in a breathy whisper.
I shivered visibly, and I broke out into a sweat. I wondered what kind of hellish trick it was to make me sweat and shiver at the same time. Whatever it was, I figured that it was out of the realm of understanding for a virgin.
“Wait for me, and I’ll take you to work,” I told him. “I’m worried about you going alone. You don’t know what’s out there waiting for you. Let me help you for the first day. I just need to finish up some orders, handle the potheads, help Mouse with the deliveries, and those sorts of things,” I told him.