Chapter 5
Chapter Five
JOSH
It doesn’t take as long as I thought to pack up my life in Chicago, and isn’t that sad.
But it means I can move into my gorgeous new apartment so much sooner, so Saturday morning, I catch the first bus out of Chicago and arrive in town just before noon.
Because buses are shit and take nearly five hours to cover what would have taken a third of that in a car.
But I’m here! I breathe in the glorious air of my new hometown, choke on the fumes of the departing bus, and swipe at my watering eyes.
A couple of teenagers hanging out nearby snigger at me, but I’m okay with that.
You know why? Because this wonderfully “new” bus station has not a single ghost. And even though my next stop is somewhere with a lot of ghosts, nobody will blink twice when I talk to them. My life is all sunshine and roses.
I yank out my phone and open the rideshare app. There’s a car two minutes away, and I gleefully claim it, then gather my things together. When it pulls up, I’m surprised to see someone in the passenger seat. Are they being dropped—
Oh. Nope. Here’s my first encounter with a town ghost. I open the back door and poke my head in. “Hey! Could you pop the trunk? I’ve got a few bags.”
My driver, a guy in his early twenties whose profile says his name is Tom, says, “Sure,” and hits the release. “Do you need a hand?”
“Nah, I got it.” There’s not that much, just a duffel and my backpack. The laptop bag with my million-year-old laptop can come in the back seat with me. And I have to sit in the back seat, because there’s no way I’m sitting on the grandma ghost in the front passenger seat.
When I’m settled, Tom pulls smoothly out of the bus station parking lot and onto the road. “Are you having a weekend break at the estate?” he asks politely.
“It is bad enough you pick up strangers, Tommaso,” the ghost says in a gloomy, accented voice. Spanish or Italian, maybe. I’m not sure which. “Try not to be memorable to them.”
Oh man. This is not going to be fun. “Ah, actually, no. I’ve just been hired to work there.”
“At the haunted house? Santa Maria,” Grandma says, crossing herself. Which… does she realize she’s a ghost herself?
“Oh wow, that’s cool,” Tom says. “Adele’s old job, right? I’m friends with Skye.”
“He is a nice boy, Skye, but his hair…” She clicks her tongue. “This is what happens when there is only one parent.”
Oh my god. Digging the fingernails of my left hand into my right wrist to keep from laughing, I reply to Tom. “I met Skye. He seems really cool. I’m looking forward to working with him.”
“Tommaso, you drive too fast. You’re just like your no-good uncle.”
“You should join us for drinks one night,” Tom continues blithely. “I know you’re scheduled to work weekend nights, but we could do a weeknight.”
“Dio mio, partying on a worknight,” Grandma mutters. “What did I do to be punished like this?”
“That sounds great, thanks. Ah—”
“Tommaso, slow down! Why do you never listen? You didn’t listen when I lived, and you don’t listen now.”
I cough to cover my hesitation. “Tom, has Skye told you about the ghosts at the estate?”
Tom shrugs and glances in the rearview. “Sure. But it’s pretty much general knowledge around here. I was just a toddler when it was renovated, but my mom says high school kids used to go out there to hang out with the ghosts.”
“Such a bad place. All those ghosts, and not one stopped the kids from making the babies,” Grandma mourns.
“Hang out with them? That’s a new one.” My voice sounds a bit choked, and I make a show of coughing again. Oh my god, did Hattie and Maisie and the rest really just stand around watching while teenagers got it on? That’s so gross.
Tom chuckles. “Yeah, but the way I heard it, the ghosts were so lonely, they welcomed the company of teens drinking beer.”
Grandma just moans, burying her face in her hands.
“I’ll bet. So you believe that ghosts exist?”
The look I get in the rearview this time is wary. “Yeah…”
“Great. Because there’s one in your passenger seat who’d like you to slow down a bit, please.”
The car swerves, and Grandma’s head snaps up. She twists around. “You see me?”
“What the fuck?” Tom gasps, and she instantly turns her attention to him, smacking the back of his head… or at least she would have, if her hand hadn’t gone right through him.
“Watch your mouth, Tommaso!”
“Is your name Tommaso?” I ask.
“Oh my god,” he croaks. “Nonna? Is it my grandmother?” He eases up on the gas, and the car slows immediately.
I look at the ghost, who’s turned around to look at me again. “Are you his grandmother, ma’am?” I ask. She’s studying me like I’m something particularly nasty she scraped off her shoe.
“I am. Who are you? Do you have the devil in you?”
Heard that one before. Always makes me feel real good. “No, ma’am, there’s no devil in me. My name’s Josh, and I’ve always been able to talk to ghosts.” Then I say to Tom, who’s casting anxious glances at the passenger seat, “She says she’s your grandmother.”
“Holy—” He cuts himself off, possibly because he knows his grandmother won’t like him swearing. “Nonna, what are you doing here? Have you been here since… um, all along? Why didn’t you go to heaven or wherever?”
She sniffs. “How could I leave? Your mother is my greatest failure, and your no-good uncle is running the business into the ground. I had to stay and try to make them do better.”
Wow, this is going to be a fun conversation. “Uh, she wanted to keep looking out for the family,” I prevaricate, earning myself a glare from Grandma. Nonna? I don’t know what to call her.
Tom laughs. “She just crapped on my mom and uncle, didn’t she?”
Okay, that’s a relief. “Pretty much.”
“But, Nonna, why are you in the car right now instead of yelling at Zio that he’s making the gnocchi the wrong way?”
“I needed a break. And someone needs to remind you not to drive like an idiot.”
I relay that. Tom grins and rolls his eyes, then glances back at me. “Is this okay, you translating? I don’t want to take advantage.”
“It’s fine,” I assure him. “Usually it’s just me and some lonely ghosts, so being able to facilitate a family reunion is nice.” I wonder whether whatever mojo is going on at the estate will affect Nonna, or if that’s limited to the ghosts who live there? Guess I’ll find out soon enough.
The rest of the journey passes in three-way conversation. Nonna has a lot of instructions she wants to pass on, many of them accompanied by back-handed compliments or outright insults. Tom is both laughing and exasperated by the time he turns the car into the estate’s driveway.
As the crackle of energy washes over me, Nonna’s form becomes subtly more real.
I’ve always had to look twice to tell the difference between living and dead people, but I noticed last week that it’s even more tricky here on the estate.
Tom half turns his head to say something to me and shrieks, running the car off the driveway and onto the lawn.
I guess it’s not just ghosts who live here that can benefit from whatever the fuck is here.
“Tommaso, what are you doing?” Nonna shrieks. “You drive like your nonno, all over the road!”
Slamming the car into park, Tom jerks around in his seat. “Nonna?”
She gasps. “You see me?” Her hands rise to tidy her hair—which, just saying, she didn’t care what she looked like when it was only me who could see her—and she fades a little.
“Where did you go?” Tom demands in a panic. “Nonna, come back!”
“You need to concentrate on being here,” I tell her. “He can only see you if you put effort into it. It will tire you out,” I warn, but I don’t think she cares, because in the next second, she’s so solid, I would swear she was alive.
“My Tommaso!” she exclaims, stretching out her arms. He reaches toward her cautiously, eyes going wide when he touches her hand and feels how solid it is.
“Ma’am, maybe tone down the solid body,” I suggest. “It will use up all your energy and then you’ll fade sooner.”
Instantly, Tom’s fingers sink into his grandmother’s palm, and he yanks back. “That’s creepy. But I’m so glad you’re here, Nonna.” His eyes get wet, and I decide it’s time for me to go.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m just going to leave you now. Feel free to stick around and talk—I’ll make sure Kieran and Skye know what you’re doing.”
They both turn glassy gazes on me. “Are you sure? Let me drive you up to the house, at least,” Tom protests, and I laugh.
“Dude, it’s like fifty feet away. Just pop the trunk so I can get my stuff. You have some catching up to do.”
“Thank you,” Nonna says sincerely. “You are a good boy, even if the devil is inside you.”
“Um… thanks.” I slide out of the car while Tom exasperatedly tells her she can’t go around saying people have the devil in them.
Leaving them to it, I collect my stuff and trudge up the driveway to the house.
It’s a lot busier today than when I came last week, with groups of people standing out the front and walking around.
As I approach, I can see the paved parking area at the side of the house, where an assortment of cars and two tour buses are parked.
Deciding to be smart, I avoid the front entrance and go around the side of the building to where the staff door is.
I don’t have a pass to open it, but if I recall correctly, it’s about ten feet away from the kitchen window.
Maybe I can get someone’s attention and get them to let me in.
But as I get closer to the door, it opens and a man steps out, phone in one hand and coffee cup in the other. A big man with muscles that make my tummy feel funny. Who I know. Biblically.
Fuck.
Now what? Do I wait for him to go and then hope to find someone else?
Or do I act like a big boy and pretend this isn’t awkward as fuck? Nothing good ever comes from sleeping with a coworker, even if he’s not shacked up with another coworker.
I sigh. I’m going to have to work with him and his boyfriend, so I guess I should start adulting now. Professional distance is the key.
“Hey,” I call. “Ewan!”