Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Oliver arrived at Bishop Point University on Wednesday an hour before his first class.
He followed signs and a stream of students to the student union.
After a surprisingly short wait in a long line, Oliver sat at a table near a window with his large coffee.
He pulled his laptop from his messenger bag and checked some stats for his blog.
The numbers for visits and clicks were even lower.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Why should he bother?
Nothing was going to make a difference if people weren’t clicking.
Blog posts were no longer a reader magnet.
The world today was driven by short, heavily filtered, frantically paced videos.
Not only did he not have a new cryptid or paranormal investigation to post about, he also had no following on TikTok.
While his involvement with the power-hungry witch and the conjured demon a couple of months earlier had generated some good numbers, it had been half of what he used to receive.
Maybe it was time for him to create short video posts about all the creepy things he’d seen.
But without actual video evidence and a new spooky situation to dig into, what kind of draw would he have telling what basically boiled down to as ghost stories around a campfire?
Spooky, true campfire stories might be unique enough to grab an audience. He would need to do some digging on TikTok to see what was already out there, because someone somewhere had to have already come up with the idea. But, maybe…
“Hey there.”
Oliver looked up from his laptop. Robin stood on the other side of the table, holding two large coffees.
“Hey. Join me.”
Robin took a few minutes to settle in, leaning their backpack against the window and drawing out their own sticker-decorated laptop. They took a sip of one coffee.
Noticing Oliver looking at the second cup, they said, “I like to stay well-caffeinated.”
“I see that. Are they both coffee?”
“Lattes with oat milk and a triple shot of brown sugar cinnamon.”
Oliver laughed. “That’s…”
“A lot?” They nodded. “Yeah. That’s how I roll. Whatcha working on? Getting a jump on our journalism homework?”
“No, I’m trying to come up with some marketing ideas for a site I manage.” Oliver furrowed his brow. “We have homework for Professor Garrity? Did I miss an assignment?”
“Not yet, but it’s listed in the online syllabus. I read through it yesterday to see what I might be able to get done early.”
“Oh crap, there’s an online syllabus? How did I miss that?”
Robin chuckled as they took another drink. “Maybe you missed it while you were chipping away at your stone tablet like Fred Flintstone.”
“Hey!” Oliver couldn’t help a grin. “How the hell do you know about The Flintstones?”
“I’ve been deep in 60s and 70s nostalgia for years. There are some great YouTube channels showing that stuff. And there’s usually a table or two at the cons about them.”
“Good God, nostalgia? You’re making me feel even older than I did my first day here.”
“No thanks needed.”
Oliver scowled. “I wasn’t thanking you.”
He caught himself frowning as a prickle of heat flashed across the back of his neck.
Was this how Cody felt when Oliver gave him a hard time?
Over the top of the laptop screen, Oliver watched Robin focus on their mobile phone, swiping through videos on an app and sometimes pausing long enough to actually watch one most of the way through.
“Are you on TikTok?”
Robin glanced up. “You know about it?”
Oliver gave them a gentle glare. “Yes, I know about it. Do you share a lot of content?”
Robin shrugged. “Some. It’s not my side hustle.” They smirked. “A side hustle is—”
“I know what a side hustle is, thank you very much. I’ve been thinking about doing some TikTok videos.”
“Yeah? About what?”
“Creepy stuff that happens around my town.”
Robin leaned in, eyes wide. “That would be fire. Is all of it true?”
“Probably half of what the rumors say,” Oliver said.
“Seriously? Wow. Why do you live there?”
Oliver grimaced. “Okay, it’s not that bad. Sometimes really creepy and dangerous things happen, but I met my fiancé because of one of those creepy…events.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story. Let’s save that for another time. Do you think something like that might get views on TikTok?”
“Sure. A lot of people like the spooky videos and stuff. A friend of mine follows a lot of channels that show that found footage type of stuff. It’s all about how you tag it and if the algorithm picks it up.”
“It’s all about the algorithm, isn’t it?”
“You know about the algorithm?”
Oliver checked the time and closed his laptop. “Like Gloria Estefan says, the algorithm is gonna get ya.”
Robin grabbed their backpack and fell into step beside Oliver. “Who’s Gloria Estefan?”
“Lord have mercy,” Oliver whispered.
After finishing both classes, Oliver drove out of Glenmont heading for home.
He turned the idea of a spooky campfire stories TikTok channel over in his mind.
He would definitely need to make some practice videos and get a feel for how things would turn out.
And dig into the tags and how they worked with the algorithms. He also needed to talk with Robin more about how they used the app.
Why had he signed up for an advanced journalism course?
“Because it had felt comfortable and safe for a return to college,” he said aloud. “And now you’re talking to yourself, so it’s time for some music.”
Singing along to music was the more acceptable form of talking to yourself.
When he entered Parson’s Hollow’s city limits, Oliver pulled into his and Dave’s complex.
He turned off the music and sat with the engine running, staring at their apartment door.
Dave had gone into Pittsburgh for work, a commute that took over an hour.
Making a quick decision, Oliver put the car in gear and pulled back out on the road.
The business district was busy. School had ended for the day. Packs of students roamed the sidewalks, jaywalking at the single stoplight. Hot, prickly irritation washed through him. Had he behaved this way?
He rolled slowly along Main Street, pausing as parents and student drivers alike waited for or backed out of the angled spots.
Once he had made it through all of that, Oliver accelerated, leaving the crazy circus of the business district behind.
Not far along Route 118—about halfway between downtown and the Hollow Leg bar, which squatted just this side of the border between Parson’s Hollow and Harriettville—Oliver pulled into a strip mall.
He found a spot at the far east end of the four businesses and parked.
Cody and Demetrius’s F-150s were both nearby, each with a magnetic Critter Catchers business sign on the doors.
Jugs’s truck was a short distance away. Apparently not a lot of critters needed to be caught this afternoon.
Oliver approached the building. The May sunshine warmed the top of his head and shoulders. After a colder than usual April, it felt good. He paused to turn his face up, closing his eyes and drawing in a breath.
A lifted truck roared past, leaving him a cloud of exhaust. He coughed, shot a glare after the vehicle, and opened the door to the Critter Catchers office.
It wasn’t a large space and, in his opinion, was oddly shaped.
Longer than it was wide, they’d managed to fit three cheap business desks and some file cabinets inside.
Cody and Demetrius’s desks were a few feet inside the entrance, pushed together facing each other with Cody’s back to the door.
When Oliver entered, Cody sat in his ridiculously lowered chair—how it supported him, Oliver had no idea—his big work boots propped on his desk.
He repeatedly tossed up a football-shaped stress ball and caught it.
He was talking, and Jugs, sitting at his spot in the back corner of the room, was clearly trying to get a word in.
Cody’s face lit up when Oliver entered.
“Ollie!”
“Hey, Oliver,” Jugs called in his deep voice.
Enid Helen, Jugs’s Yorkie, barked from her bed by Jugs’s feet.
He scooped her up, cradling her in the crook of one arm and stroking the back of her head with a thick finger.
She was little-dog stylish with a tiny pink bow on top of her head.
Back in high school, Jugs and Cody had been football rivals who nevertheless managed to become friends.
“Oliver?” Demetrius appeared from the doorway leading into the break room. “Hi. Good to see you.”
“Hi.”
Demetrius approached and, with one smooth movement—obviously having done it many times in the past—grabbed the stress ball in mid-air.
“Hey,” Cody protested.
Demetrius crossed his arms. “Don’t you and Jugs have a possum to wrangle?”
“Wow.” With a wounded expression, Cody dropped his boots to the floor with a heavy thud. “Just wow. That’s how it is?”
“Yep.”
Cody stood, towering over Demetrius. He stared down at his husband, big arms folded. “So, you’re the boss now?”
“At this moment, yes.” Demetrius grabbed the front of Cody’s short-sleeved polo and pulled him down for a lingering kiss. “When we get back home, you can be boss.”
One corner of Cody’s mouth curled up, and he squinted slightly. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“You can hold me to anything you want...later.”
“Come on, Bonker. Let’s go earn some coin.” Jugs carried Enid Helen in one arm as he headed for the door. He held up a fist and Oliver bumped it as he passed. “Good to see you, Oliver.”
“You, too.”
Cody put an arm around Demetrius’s waist and pulled him in for another kiss. This one didn’t stretch out as long, but it still had some heat in it.
Oliver cleared his throat, and Cody ended the kiss. Demetrius’s face was flushed, his pupils wide.
Cody tipped an imaginary hat to Oliver. “Future brother-in-law.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go chase down a possum.”
“Don’t have to, they come to me.” Cody leaned down and whispered in Oliver’s ear, “I’m a possum magnet.”
Oliver stepped aside, rubbing his ear against his shoulder. “Gross. Get out of here.”
“Better get used to me. We’re going to be family in a couple weeks.” Cody gave him finger guns as he backed out the door.
“He always has to make a big exit,” Oliver said.
“He does.” Eyes soft and color still high in his cheeks, Demetrius squeezed the stress ball in a steady rhythm, watching through the window as Cody climbed into his truck.
With a quiet sigh, Demetrius dropped the ball onto Cody’s desk and fell into his own chair. He gestured toward Jugs’s desk. “Sit down and tell me what’s going on. Seems like there’s something on your mind.”
Oliver sat. “Guess I’m trying to figure out what to do with my life.”
“Oh, is that all?”
They chuckled together, and then Demetrius leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Are you nervous about the wedding?”
“No, nothing like that. I’m trying to decide what I can do to actually earn a living. I can’t keep letting Dave pay for the bulk of the bills, groceries, and dinners out.”
“Isn’t that why you’ve gone back to school?”
“Oh, he paid for my classes, too.” Oliver put his head back and blew out a frustrated breath as he spun in the chair. “What is wrong with me?”
“Okay, don’t fall into the well.”
Oliver stopped his spin and frowned. “The well?”
“The well of despair. It’s pretty deep and hard to climb out of.”
“That analogy needs work.”
“Fine, forget the well. Talk to me. Remind me what classes you’re taking.”
“An advanced journalism class called Expanding Viewpoints and Social and Online Communication.”
“Those both fit with your background and interests.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“But?”
“But the visits to my blog have really dropped off. No one reads blogs any more, right? So, I was thinking about maybe trying something new, like videos or something. Try to tap into a different market.”
“TikTok.”
“Yeah, exactly. Maybe YouTube as well. But it’s all…” He put his head back and spun again.
“Exhausting because you’re already tired from having created an online presence after leaving The Herald, and now it feels like starting over from scratch.”
Oliver stopped spinning and stared at him. “Yeah. Oh my God, how did you put it so succinctly?”
“I know a little bit about starting from scratch more than once.” Demetrius turned in the chair to grab his phone off the desk. “It’s almost four. Do you want to join me at Margie’s for an early dinner to avoid the crowd and we can talk about this some more?”
“Will Cody be mad if you eat before him?”
“I know you’d like that, but he won’t care if I take home some of Margie’s meatloaf for him.”
Oliver stood and pushed in the chair. “You know, as much grief as I give the two of you, you really are a good match.”
“Yeah, we are.” Demetrius sighed happily then stood. “Let’s go.”
Once he locked the door behind them, Demetrius headed for his truck and said, “I’ll meet you at Margie’s.”
“Yeah, see you there.” Oliver’s steps were lighter as he headed for his car.