by Andrea Speed, A. B. Gayle, Jessie Blackwood, J. J Levesque, Katisha Moreish
“You’re not working for the NHS now, Gil, and yes, you do just that.”
“What about the equipment, I can’t just take it back…”
“Gil, if he won’t come in, he won’t come in, full stop. Now get yourself and your rig back here in case some other poor bastard needs you…”
“No.” the word fell into the silence between them.
Miles sighed. It was so hard for people who hadn’t been on the battlefield and seen the carnage to understand. The military had seen their side of things and that was bad enough. Miles had had to remove shrapnel from the face of a five year old child. Jason Biggs needed counselling and fast. From the sounds of things he needed a psychiatrist not a paramedic no matter how well meaning the young man was.
“Gil…Carter Gillespie, please listen to me…”
Gil blocked out the rest of the Doctor’s words. Miles’ tone was reasonable, he wasn’t trying to be argumentative or authoritarian, but it grated on Gil’s nerves. He could hear his mother in that tone, always reasonable…but the use of his full name… “Carter James Gillespie, you are going to hear me out…” she would say, right before she gave him a very reasonable argument why he ought to do his homework or his chores. Gil sighed. It had made him want to scream at her on more than one occasion.
“No, Doc, and if it means I have to return to the UK over this, then so be it…I am not abandoning that man right now. He’s not out of the woods yet and as far as I am concerned, army shit or not, he’s in trouble and he needs our help. I’m staying at least until his temperature is back up again. Take it or leave it.” The irony was not lost on him. He was a guy who didn’t do ultimatums, wasn’t he? He curtailed the call and went back inside to be met by Mike at the bedroom door.
“What do we do?”
Gil’s eyes hardened. “We stay.”
Haven Falls #88: Late Afternoon Tea
Carter ‘Gil’ Gillespie, Lyle Ashley Tate
_________________________________________________
Lyle was really hungry. He’d been kept busy all morning doing small, menial tasks at the funeral home and then running errands for his new boss, Henry Vale. His planned hair cut had gone by the board, as had his lunch. Now he was at the hospital, scheduled to pick up the late Mrs. Jefferson and get her to the rest home so that Vale could start her prep before they closed for the day. He just had to grab something though, he could feel his sugars were dropping a bit too low.
There had to be a canteen or a cafeteria here somewhere. He stopped an harassed-looking nurse to get directions, then headed deeper into the air conditioned interior of the main building. Eventually his nose led him to the cafeteria; the food didn’t smell great, but at least it would deal with his current needs. He would make something better later, once he got off work.
The girl at the counter looked to be in her late teens, and was as enthusiastic about serving him as Lyle was about eating what she had on offer at this late stage in the afternoon. He selected a sandwich and cake, hoping them to be less likely to give him food poisoning than the remaining, half-cold, main meals lingering in the trays. He picked up some high-sugar candy bars and soda too, dropping them in his shoulder bag for later, in case things took longer than expected getting Mrs. Jefferson stowed.
Finding a table was easy, there was just a young mother with a child in a trolley near the window and an older couple, talking low between themselves, three tables away from the counter. Lyle selected a seat far enough away from either set of customers not to get involved. He didn’t feel like talking to strangers right now, he just wanted five minutes peace and quiet and something to eat.
****
Gil needed a cup of tea again. After this afternoon’s emotional ride, he was desperate for something normal. Why the hell was he so damned upset at Miles’ reaction? He had avoided confronting the doc on his return, he knew they would most likely have words, and not of the friendly variety. He was beginning to think that life in Haven Falls wasn’t going to be the easy-going slow-paced ride he had originally imagined. Culture shock, Gil thought with an exasperated sigh.
He took a deep steadying breath. Early days, Gillespie, he thought, weaving his way through the hospital corridors towards the cafeteria. He checked his watch, shift change in a couple of hours. maybe he could avoid Miles altogether before he went home. He ordered tea and bought a brownie as well, turning to scan the place for an available seat. He was surprised to see a familiar face. Tucked away in a corner, dressed very formally, sat the guy he had nearly broadsided with his bike, Lyle...Tate, that was it. Goddamn, was that a real name? Gil paid for his tea, fumbling the change--he hated dimes and cents too--and went over.
“Hi. Long time no see.” He grinned, glanced at his watch. “All of...24 hours? Can I join you? Tell me to piss off if you like, but its nice to see a familiar face”.
Lyle looked up to see the stunningly good-looking RTI-waiting-to-happen, Carter Gillespie. “Sure, feel free”. He gestured to the empty seat opposite him, smiling in invitation. This kind of eye-candy company was always welcome. The blue paramedic uniform Carter was wearing looked very good on him, and Lyle’s eyes were especially drawn to Carter’s exposed forearms, muscular and dusted with dark hairs.
“Thanks.” Gil took the invitation and pulled out a chair, settling himself into it with a sigh. He took a sip of tea and regarded Lyle as he sat there, all formal in the black suit. “You visiting or collecting?”
“Giving a lady a ride back to Vale’s. I figured she wouldn’t mind waiting ten minutes while I grabbed something to eat”.
“She’s not in a hurry to go then?” Gil smiled.
“Not now. I doubt anyone ever hurries to a funeral home, not when they are in her state, anyway”. Lyle made a gesture with his hands, locking the fingers into a flat bridge. “My first proper client. Mr. Vale is going to show me the basic procedures when I get back...” Lyle looked thoughtful for a moment, “Maybe eating now was not so good an idea after all. Still, given the choice between fainting from being grossed out or passing out from low blood-sugar, I’d rather do the former. Wouldn’t want to make extra work for you”.
“I’m used to Manchester city centre on a Friday night. You know, punch-ups, people getting pissed and threatening you with machetes, stupid teens throwing up on alcopops... that’s work of a sort I can handle. This...I’m not sure. Its not necessarily easy, but its quieter than I’m used to. I wouldn’t object to more work...” he paused, “...as long as its not as stubborn as the last one.”
“Well, if I get called to any that are still wriggling I’ll let you know.”
“Actually, on balance, I guess I prefer this place. At least you get a better class of stiff...” he chuckled and lowered his voice. “Some stiffer than others...”
Lyle blushed. He still wasn’t used to this kind of banter, despite nearly a year now living as an out gay man. “So have you settled in okay?”
“You mean apart from nearly running the locals over and getting pulled over by the Sheriff? Yeah, I guess. My apartment isn’t big enough though. I need two bedrooms. And I’m paying top whack for a sea view and the sea is miles away. I can see it, but only because I’m on the top of the bloody building. Besides, I’d like something a little closer to the hospital. Not so far to get home after a busy shift...if I ever get one.”
Lyle chuckled softly. Carter sounded frustrated. “I guess I’m lucky, the right house came up for sale just when I needed it”. I rattle around in it actually, he thought. He sipped his tea and considered the man across from him. Various ideas and fantasies flitted through Lyle’s brain, but he was forced to admit that certain practicalities would prevent him from house sharing successfully at present.
“Just listen to me, what do I sound like? I shouldn’t complain. Back home, the times I got to eat my lunch without being interrupted...” Gil paused, thoughtfully, “truth to tell, I can’t remember the last time I managed that.” He took a bite from his brownie and followed it up with a g
ulp of tea. “Christ, these things...you could get fat just looking at them, or use ‘em to brick up a door. My arteries are hardening just by being in the same room.”
“They’re too much for me, normally. Missed lunch today though”.
“Your boss keeping you busy then?”
“I think he enjoys having a servile minion at his beck and call.”
“You don’t strike me as the servile minion type.” Gil smiled, looking him over. “Change your name to Egor?”
“It’d be better than Lyle Tate, right? Still, here at least not so many people laugh in my face as I get introduced to them”.
“At this moment I should tell you I have no idea what you mean...but we both know I’d be lying.”
“It could have been worse, I could have been christened Candy Rell or Sweeten Lowe. My parents had a sense of humour, unfortunately. I didn’t need to be gay to get bullied, I got my turn at that much earlier than high school.”
Lyle smiled, thinking back to the innocent tone he had used when telling Agent Tyler his name. She had missed the joke completely, as he had suspected she would.
“I hated my name,” Gil admitted, “Carter Gillespie? Makes me sound like a firm of solicitors. But you can’t shorten my first name. Cart.” He snuffed a laugh and shrugged. “So then I sound like a horse-drawn vehicle...”
Lyle worked hard at suppressing the giggle that followed on from the image he just had of ‘Cart’ all dressed up in pony gear. “So you switched to Gil, eh? It suits you. So does the uniform, by the way.”
“Thank you. I cannot get used to the blue though. I feel like I should be in the navy or something.”
Lyle bit his lip, this time trying not to imagine Gil as a member of the Village People. He only managed it by concentrating really hard on his cake. It was a close call... he only didn’t spew it across the table because it was so damned sugary-heavy. “Expecting to hear people call ‘Ello sailor’ are you ?” He couldn’t resist it. It demanded to be said, so he had said it.
Gil choked and laughed. “Wouldn’t that be ‘Hi there sailor’?” he said, in a mock American accent. Then he caught the disapproving looks from the two older people across the room and sobered. Catching Lyle’s eye though, he winked and drained his tea. “Well, I better get going. I was late this morning, I don’t want the Doc on my back for taking too much time off.” As if that was the least that Miles is on my back for, Gil thought sourly.
“Which doctor?”
“No, properly certified.” Gil grinned at his own joke. He smothered the mental image of a half-naked Miles dancing round a bonfire in a native village with a string of bones round his neck. Lyle had handed him that line on a plate. Fortunately he got a laugh from his co-comedian. “Miles, Miles Sutherland. The Aussie.” he explained.
“Ah right. Is he the boss of you then ?”
“Whether he is or not, he seems like the boss of everybody. He just about runs the place.”
“Right. Busy guy then...” Too busy to tend to you, Lyle, he thought, Asher Bay it is then. “Nice seeing you again, Gil. Stay safe.”
Gil stood, then paused, eyes narrowing slightly in concern. “Why do you ask? Forgive me, but...do you need to see someone?”
Lyle hoped the panic didn’t show on his face. Gil was sharper than he had anticipated, and their easy jesting had relaxed him, making him careless. “No, I am just trying to work out where to get a GP, is all. Stupid to imagine a hospital doctor would have time for a private practise as well though. I guess I’ll ask around over in Asher Bay”.
“I can ask him for you. Truth be told I’m not sure if he doesn’t do consultations. The man is a workaholic, he’s always here.” Gil paused. An idea had struck him. “I er...managed to get myself an invite to the Renegade Steel for the opening night. You wouldn’t like to come too, would you?”
Lyle blinked, utterly stunned. Did this gorgeous bloke just ask me on a date? Surely not?
“It’s just...” Gil continued, “I don’t really know many people. I’m allowed to bring guests, apparently. I thought I might invite Miles, but I have a feeling he won’t come.” He sighed. “Its okay if you’d rather not. I just thought we Brits ought to stick together.” And you are quite sweet, Gil thought, waiting for the answer. There was something about Lyle didn’t quite make sense and he couldn’t figure out what it was. He was curious, but he did like the man. Damn, he didn’t want to come across as too needy either.
He surely doesn’t need his hand holding... and I’m not sure I’m up for being his reserve companion in case this doctor of his doesn’t show. Or am I being set up for a dog show ? Lyle could hear all his insecurities chattering in his ears. Then he remembered what his boss had said about socialising and networking with potential clients. If this guy had enough clout to get tickets for the opening of the Renegade Steel he might be able to introduce him to the town’s movers and shakers too, despite his protestations of not knowing anyone.
“I’d love it. Thanks”.
“Oh, Great.” Gil grinned. “Well, I’ll pick you up on the day then?”
Lyle quickly got out his card and scribbled his home address and cell phone number on the back. He passed it to Gil, smiling as he did so, knowing he was flashing better teeth than most Brits had the joy of owning. Some surgeries you didn’t have to wait for here.
“See you soon. And call me meantime if you like”.
“Sure...maybe we could grab a pint after work somewhere. Not that I know any decent pubs yet. Oh, and I promise not to run over you this time...” Gil added.
“You’re on. Catch you later, Gil Gillespie”.
Gil nodded and sauntered out of the cafeteria. Lyle watched him go, with a mixture of wonderment and trepidation. Then he finished off his, by-now rather cold, tea and headed for the mortuary to collect Mrs. Jefferson.
Haven Falls #90 - You’ve Met The Butcher
Flynn Archer, Henry Vale, & Lyle Ashley Tate
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Flynn wondered what he should do when he got home. Changing clothes was a given, but should he get out of town? Should he go to Aiden’s and tell him the entire truth this time? Should he just run?
He ended up spending way too long just sitting in the dark, trying to figure out what it all meant. If his dad did have something to do with his mother’s murder, then he had paid for it. But that begged the question who chopped his hands off and buried them in the park? What the fuck did that mean? If Miles was right, they were a warning, but to who and why?
He felt bad, but Flynn knew that was the least he should feel. Sure, he felt like he was going to murder his dad if he ever saw him again, but had he meant it? He felt so sick about his certain death now Flynn was sure he couldn’t have actually killed him now. Not that it mattered.
He knew now that yes, he had been set up. But for what reason? Again, he couldn’t figure this out. It was like he’d put a jigsaw puzzle together, only to find a huge handful of pieces missing, pieces vital to the whole.
Flynn had no idea what had shaken him from his paralysis. The phone had rang a couple of times, but he had ignored it, so it wasn’t that. He just finally got up, and decided on a course of action: he was going to see Henry Vale. He must have had some answers, or at least maybe he knew what his parents were up to. He’d settle for that.
He headed out to the mortuary, although he had to take a bus and then walk the rest of the way, as he had no car. (He could have hotwired one, but he wasn’t sure it was worth the potential of being caught.) Like most funeral homes, the Final Rest was peaceful and green on the outside, a stately weeping willow providing a nice chunk of shade, but it also felt indefinably creepy. Once inside in the air conditioned cool, he shivered involuntarily.
The silver haired Henry Vale appeared quietly in the wood paneled foyer, almost like a ghost. He gave him a professional, frigid smile that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “Well, Errol Ashton, I was wondering when you’d nut up and pay me a v
isit. Congratulations on finding me.”
Flynn froze, everything he was planning to say dying in his throat. Errol Ashton - his real name. He hadn’t use it since … when was the last time he’d used it? He’d been living under different names for years. How had he known? Realization made his skin prickle on his scalp. “You … did you send the photograph? Did you lure me here?”
“No, but I wish I had thought of it. I guess Riley did me a favor. You don’t happen to have that photo, do you?”
He was getting nothing but bad vibes off this guy; it was like standing too close to dry ice, nothing but a coolness that seemed lethal. “No, I’ve hidden it. Who the hell is Riley? Is he the one who shot at me?”
Vale chuckled, but it had no mirth in it at all. There was something in his cool blue eyes that was hard and dark, something that told Flynn that, despite his age and dapper appearance, this fucker was dangerous. “No, but you just can’t get good help these days, can you? It’s a damn shame.”
Flynn found his anger again, and it rose like bile in his throat. “Did you kill my parents?”
Vale just stared at him, oddly placid, hands folded in front of him. His body language was telling him he’d already dismissed Flynn as a possible threat. “You’re a deeply stupid person, aren’t you? You’re exactly the type of vapid pretty boy your father worried you were.”