Grim Expectations (Aisling Grimlock Book 5)

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Grim Expectations (Aisling Grimlock Book 5) Page 17

by Amanda M. Lee


  “My arm hurts.”

  Griffin made a face. “Fine. I’ll give you a massage. Then we can take a bath and see where the night takes us.”

  “And when the real world finds us again tomorrow morning?”

  Griffin held his hands palms up and shrugged. “Details, baby.”

  In truth, there was nothing I would rather do than shut out the world and hole up with him for an entire night. “Okay, but we’re probably going to need food at some point.”

  “I put the takeout menus on the counter.”

  “You’re my hero!”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  19

  Nineteen

  I woke to a warm feeling on my left side, taking a moment to bask in Griffin’s comforting presence, and then realized I was warm on my left side, too. When I wrenched open my eyes I found Jerry under the covers, his back to the wall as he stared at me. It was as if he was willing me to wake up and would stop at nothing until I did. I had a good idea pinching would be the next step if I hadn’t opened my eyes in time.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I think I’m going through withdrawal,” Jerry announced, rubbing his cheek. His dark hair stood on end – unusual for him because the first thing he did upon rising was brush his hair and teeth. He wore blue linen pajamas, and seemed morose. “Do you think you can become addicted to a person?”

  It was an odd question, especially because my mind wasn’t firing on all cylinders. “I’m not sure, Jerry,” I replied. “What do you mean?”

  “I think I’m addicted to you,” Jerry said. “I’m not sure I can live away from you.”

  Griffin groaned as he jerked the pillow from beneath his head and pressed it to his face. I ignored his obvious annoyance.

  “It’s only been a few nights, Jerry,” I reminded him. “We have to get into a new rhythm.”

  “Yeah, but I liked the old rhythm.”

  “I liked the old rhythm, too,” I admitted. “This one is going to be just as good. We have to get on a schedule and then everything will be okay.”

  “But … what about watching The Golden Girls?”

  “We’re still going to do that.”

  “What about pedicure nights?”

  “We’re still going to do that.”

  “What about when I have a nightmare and you check out the closet to make sure no one is hiding in there with taffeta to frighten me?”

  I pursed my lips at his earnest expression. None of those things bothered him. The only thing that bothered him was the idea of change. “You know you’re still one of the most important people in the world to me, right?”

  Jerry nodded. “I miss the days when I was the most important person, though. I mean that in the singular. That one has replaced me … and I don’t like it.” He nudged Griffin’s arm with his fingers to get his attention, but Griffin didn’t stir. Either he’d gone back to sleep or decided that engaging Jerry in an argument this early in the morning was a waste of time. I was pretty sure it was the latter.

  I decided to change tactics. “I’m not the most important person in your life any longer,” I said. “I have to settle for being the second-most important. That’s what happens when you get older and try maturity on for size.”

  “Well, I think I’m done maturing,” Jerry said. “Let’s be ten again. Let’s dress up like Charlie’s Angels – the originals, not that movie we thought was so cool until your dad made us watch the television show – and we’ll run around the neighborhood fighting crime.”

  “That’s kind of what I still do,” I pointed out. “I just don’t let you feather my hair before I leave.”

  Jerry stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest. “I still maintain that’s a good look,” he said. “I don’t know why it went out of style.”

  “Everything comes back eventually, Jerry,” I said, resting my head on his arm as I tried to get comfortable. “Do you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

  “I just told you.”

  “No, something else has you upset,” I prodded. “I’ve known you a long time. I can read your moods.”

  “Aidan wants to rearrange the living room furniture and I don’t want to do it,” Jerry announced. “I like it the way it is.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to refrain from laughing at his righteous indignation. “Tell him why you don’t want to move it and come to a compromise. That’s what Griffin and I did when he didn’t like the way I arranged the living room furniture.”

  “How did you compromise?”

  “Yeah, how did we compromise?” Griffin asked, removing the pillow from his face. I guess that answered the question about whether or not he was awake.

  “Griffin was too tired to move the furniture again and I agreed to let him leave it where it was,” I replied. “That was a wonderful compromise.”

  Griffin snorted. “You’re such a pain.”

  “Don’t be mean to my Bug,” Jerry chided. “She’s a good girl. She’s … the best girl … and I miss her.”

  Griffin’s expression softened. “Jerry, once we have this entire thing with Serena and the Grimleys handled I promise you can have a special night with Aisling. I swear I will make it happen.”

  “Will you talk to Aidan about moving the furniture, too?”

  I wanted to laugh. Jerry was a master at manipulation and Griffin realized his mistake once Jerry started wheedling him.

  “No, I will not,” Griffin answered, taking me by surprise. “You and Aidan need to work out your issues just like Aisling and I need to work out our issues. I’m not getting involved.”

  “Ugh! You’re kind of a butthead,” Jerry complained.

  “I can live with that.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” Jerry said, dramatically throwing off the covers and hopping out of bed. “I’ll be back to finish this argument later. You’ll take my side eventually. Everyone comes to see I’m a genius one way or the other.”

  “No, I won’t,” Griffin said.

  Jerry obviously was done listening, because he huffed out of the bedroom. Griffin didn’t speak again until her heard the front door slam.

  “I thought you were going to talk to him about barging in without knocking,” Griffin said.

  “I haven’t had a chance yet,” I protested. “I found a homeless girl. We moved. Gargoyles attacked me. My arm hurts.”

  “Why does your arm only hurt when you don’t want to do something?”

  I shrugged. “I’m usually too strong and proud to admit I’m in pain. For some reason it’s harder to forget the pain when I don’t want to do something.”

  “Cute,” Griffin said, grabbing my waist and pulling me lower on the mattress so he could roll on top of me. He looked happy and rested, but his eyes were cloudy. “What are you going to do about work today?”

  “Dad said we would have shorter lists today because of the workers they’re bringing in from other territories. I’ll probably have only two or three charges.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Griffin said. “I’m worried about you being out there alone. Maybe I should call in sick and go with you.”

  I balked at the suggestion. “That didn’t work out so well the last time you did it,” I reminded him. “You ended up in the hospital and I cried.”

  “I remember,” Griffin said, resting his chin on my chest. “I still have a bad feeling about you being alone. I don’t know why.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “I know it’s your job, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Griffin said. “I love you. I don’t care what you do for a living. Maybe you could try the fast food industry or something, just to say you’ve given all of your options due consideration. That might make me feel better.”

  I pressed my fingertip to his nose and smiled. “I promise to be careful. It’s going to be all right.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “I really mean it this time.”

  “You’ve rea
lly meant it before.”

  “I can only do what I can do, Griffin,” I said. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “I know.” Griffin edged up a bit so he could kiss me. “Be really careful.”

  “I will.”

  “Give me another kiss.”

  “Done.” I kissed him a second time and tangled my fingers in the back of his messy hair. “Griffin?”

  “Huh.”

  “I think I’m going through withdrawal.”

  Now it was Griffin’s turn to chuckle. “I’m pretty sure I can do something about that.”

  “I knew you were the right man for the job.”

  “I’M NOT dead.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I’m not dead!”

  June Lombardo was a mixed-up woman. As the wife of a mafia type – she claimed her husband was a coffee importer, which made me think she’d been watching too much General Hospital – she was used to people doing what she wanted and saying what she expected. When she died in the boathouse of her Harrison Township home, her spirit immediately started ordering me around. When I didn’t respond in the way she liked, she threatened to kill me. That’s when I told her she was dead. The conversation hadn’t progressed from there for the past twenty minutes.

  “Listen, lady, I don’t have a lot of patience today,” I said, narrowing my eyes as I studied an odd hook on the wall. My father was rich, but I could never remember being in a boathouse before today. I didn’t know a lot about the machinery or the tools used to fix things, but that hook seemed out of place unless you were hunting for sharks. “What’s the deal with the hook?”

  June ignored me. “I am not dead,” she snapped. “Don’t you think I would know if I’m dead?”

  “Why do you think I’m here if not to claim your soul?” I asked, changing tactics. “I mean … why would I be on your private property if I didn’t have a specific task to do? I’m not stupid. I know your husband’s reputation.”

  “You don’t know anything about my husband’s business,” June snapped. “He’s much bigger in his own mind than he is in the real world. That goes for multiple things where he’s concerned.”

  It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to. “Oh, gross,” I muttered. “That is just … so very nasty. I did not need to hear that.”

  “Well, then perhaps you should leave,” June suggested. “If you leave, things will get better for me. I just know it.”

  “Many people believe that, but it hasn’t proven true for anyone.”

  “I want to try anyway,” June argued. “Leave … because I’m definitely not dead.”

  I pointed toward the body on the deck next to the boat. June fell face forward when the heart attack claimed her. She couldn’t even muster the strength to reach for the phone in her purse. It was quick and brutal. That was one of the reasons she refused to believe she’d expired. It happened too fast to register. “If you’re not dead, who is that?”

  “You’re probably one of my husband’s enemies,” June said, ignoring my question. “You’ve been sent here to mess with my mind and infiltrate our operation. Admit it.”

  “That’s not true, but it if was it would be stupid to admit it,” I pointed out. “Your husband would most likely kill me if I admitted that and you were still alive.”

  “Oh, he’s going to kill you.”

  I pretended I didn’t hear her. “You just said three minutes ago that your husband’s operation wasn’t nearly as big as he pretended. Why would I want to infiltrate his operation?”

  “Because … .” June made a face as the reality of her situation washed over her. She knew I wasn’t there because of the business. Heck, I wasn’t even sure what the business entailed. The only reason I got the job was because the property was empty and June was alone when she died. Her body wouldn’t be found for days, according to the file. I left out that little tidbit, though. Judging by the high-priced hairstyle and the heavy makeup, that probably wouldn’t make her happy.

  “June, I know you’re upset, but I didn’t cause this situation,” I said. “You can’t take out your frustrations on me. It’s not fair and it’s not right. I’ve learned that myself only recently. Sometimes you have to blame yourself when you’re at fault. It sucks … but there it is.”

  Instead of being placated, June was incensed. “How is this my fault?”

  “You ate three thousand calories a day, tanned, never exercised and ate red meat at least eight times a week,” I pointed out. “How can you blame that on anyone else?”

  “Oh, you’re one of those, aren’t you?” June narrowed her eyes. “Red meat is healthy … and so is a tan!”

  “Oh, whatever,” I muttered, moving my eyes back to the hook. “Seriously, though. What is that for?”

  “It’s for hooking skanks,” June replied, reaching for the hook. Her eyes widened when her ethereal hands fell through it. That’s when the true nature of her situation finally made a dent in her hard head. “I … oh, no!”

  “And there it is,” I muttered dryly, leaning a bit when I thought I saw a hint of movement outside the open boathouse door. I was quiet as I tilted my head to the side. June kept railing and rambling, but I knew I was the only one who could hear her. I took one step closer to the door to look outside. I was fully ready to hop in the water and swim down the E. coli-infested waters of Lake St. Clair to get away from a potential threat should it pop up. Griffin would never let me hear the end of it otherwise. The outside walkway was empty, though.

  “I cannot believe this happened to me,” June screeched. “Now my husband is going to marry one of those whores he sleeps with when he thinks I’m not looking. She’s going to take my jewelry … and furs … and my car. This is a nightmare!”

  My ears perked up and I turned back to June. “Your husband sleeps with whores? Does he have his own on the payroll or does he pick them up on Eight Mile?”

  “He doesn’t pay them, you twit,” June hissed. “He’s a very powerful man, so he attracts a certain type of woman. I was married to him, so I was the most powerful, but there were others who … .”

  She didn’t need to finish painting the picture for me to know what she was talking about. “He’s rich, and young women like pretty things,” I supplied. “You were the public wife, but he slept with the whores. I get it.”

  “He loved me,” June said, jutting out her lower lip. “He’s going to be crushed when he finds me out here later today.”

  I had news for her. Her husband wasn’t returning for days and he wouldn’t be the one to find her. I had no idea where he was, but a groundskeeper would discover June, and the moisture and little critters in the boathouse would do a number on her body.

  “I’m sorry about your husband.” It was a lame offering, but I felt she needed something to prod her in the direction of going willingly into the hereafter. “I’m sure he has people to take care of him, though.”

  “Whores,” June groused.

  “Well, he’ll never be able to replace your spirit with whores,” I said. “As for the rest … there’s nothing to accomplish by hanging out here. You can’t go back, because you’re already dead. You can only move forward.”

  “And where is forward?”

  That was a good question. I’d scanned the file before walking down the pathway to the boathouse. I naturally assumed a mob wife would go to Hell. I was wrong. “You’re going to a good place.”

  “Do you promise?”

  I nodded.

  June heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. Do what you have to do. I don’t want to see whatever whore my husband brings home next anyway.”

  “That’s a good attitude.”

  “I hope he gets AIDS and has no choice but to join me right away,” June added.

  “That’s a less healthy attitude.”

  It took me only seconds to absorb June’s soul. When I stepped outside, the cool fall air hit me hard. I wrapped m
y coat tighter to ward off the stiff breeze, but the hair on the back of my neck stood as I passed a clump of trees on the east side of the property. I pulled up short and stared at the area. There weren’t enough trees there to hide anyone – including a wraith – yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that somebody was watching me. The wind was heavy, and I stared at the spot for a long time until my phone chimed to signify an incoming text message and I had no choice but to look away.

  When I glanced at my phone screen I was surprised by the message scrolling across it. I wasn’t expecting to ever again hear from the individual contacting me.

  “What the hell?”

  Well, this day just kept getting more and more interesting.

  20

  Twenty

  My father’s girlfriend – er, ex-girlfriend? – wanted to meet for lunch at a restaurant close to the home office. She picked one close to Eternal Sunshine Cemetery, the location of some of my biggest triumphs (and losses, quite frankly) during the past few months. I parked on the street in front of the cemetery fence and studied the stark landscape of the grounds for a moment before moving toward the sidewalk.

  My mother was placed at rest in the family mausoleum in this cemetery after her “death.” Now I had to wonder if my father took down her plaque when no one was looking. I’d never thought to ask him. He’d been decidedly taciturn when it came to my mother’s resurrection. I had a feeling that’s exactly what Barbara wanted to talk to me about.

  Her text was short and to the point. She wanted to buy me lunch and have a discussion about my father. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with it – I barely knew the woman, after all – but I was understandably curious. She’d fallen off the Grimlock radar screen in recent weeks, and other than my father’s terse statement that she was taking a break, he didn’t mention her.

  There had to be more to the story.

  Even though it was fall, the sun was bright and it took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim ambiance of the Mexican restaurant. I found Barbara quickly. She was the only one sitting alone and she picked a booth in the back corner of the restaurant to give us privacy.

 

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