Chapter 6
Chapter Six
JOSH
“Knock knock, dear! Can we come in?”
I glance toward the door. Was that…? Sighing, I give in to the inevitable and get up. Before I even reach the door, I can hear them quietly squabbling among themselves.
“…sounds foolish. You should have manifested and knocked properly. Saying ‘knock knock’ lacks gravitas.”
“I don’t need gravitas. We’re not trying to impress him with our status, we’re trying to befriend him!”
“I’m not trying to befriend him. We’ll be acquaintances and work colleagues only. Friends! I think not.”
I pause and listen, trying to see if I can identify the voices. I’m pretty sure the first one was Hattie, but I don’t recognize the person she’s arguing with. Male, but his voice is too low-pitched to be Freddie or Johnny.
“Well, I’m gonna make him my friend,” another voice says, and I’m sure this one is Johnny. “I want a union rep!”
“And I need a man to look after me,” Maisie adds plaintively. “I’d prefer him to look after all my needs, but I can settle for a gay BFF.”
Oh my god. I snatch the door open before that goes any further. “Um, hello?”
Creepily, they all turn to look at me as one.
Six ghosts are standing outside my door, and I’m suddenly very aware that I’m only wearing boxers and an undershirt.
What? It’s eight at night and I was planning to spend the evening on my couch, alone.
But Maisie—who’s wearing a satin hoop skirt with a midriff-baring leather bustier—puts a hand to her mouth and giggles, and I wish I’d stopped to put on pants.
“You’re a disgrace,” one of the ghosts I don’t know, a man dressed in a suit that looks like what Skye was wearing the other day, declares.
“What kind of gentleman parades around in his underwear?” He’s got heavy, bushy eyebrows that give the impression he’s scowling…
or maybe he really is scowling. He turns to Hattie.
“I don’t need to talk to him. My vote is no.
We need a warrior, not… this.” He waves his hand contemptuously at me.
“Great,” I say cheerfully. “Good night, then.” I begin to close the door, but with a surge of energy I can actually feel, Freddie manifests and sticks out his arm to stop me.
“No, wait,” he demands. “Please forgive us for interrupting your evening. We know you don’t start work until Monday, but this is… er, that is, we wanted a chance to become acquainted outside of work.”
This is weird, right? Freddie, Hattie, Johnny, and Maisie are looking at me with big, hopeful eyes. The grumpy ghost is still scowling, and the other one, a big man wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, is studying me intently, head tipped to the side.
They must take my hesitation as agreement, because Hattie pushes forward. “You’ve met nearly everyone, but this is Carter,” she waves at the farmer ghost, “and this is Joe.”
A distant bell rings in my mind. Didn’t she mention a grumpy Joe the other day?
“Don’t mind Joe,” she continues chattily. “He doesn’t watch as much TV as we do, and he hasn’t seen what people wear outside the estate these days. But I watch Pride every year,” she confides, “so I know you’re decently attired.”
What. Is. Happening.
“Uh… I wasn’t expecting company, or I would have put on something else,” I manage. Am I actually making excuses? “Thanks for… uh, knocking, by the way.” Fair’s fair, after all. They could have just floated on in.
“We’s respecting your boundaries,” Johnny says, with the careful cadence of a phrase just learned. Today he has teardrop tattoos under his eyes, and the mohawk is startlingly bright red.
“I appreciate it.”
We stand there. Staring at each other. In the doorway.
They’re not leaving. I could tell them to come back tomorrow—or that I don’t want to be friends—but is it worth it? I want to work here for a long time. I need to be on good terms with these ghosts.
Finally, I sigh. “Why don’t you come in for a few minutes?
We can have a chat. Just a quick one,” I warn.
“I’m pretty tired after moving.” I stand back and allow them to troop in through the door.
Johnny gets impatient waiting for his turn and enters through the wall instead.
Since I did just invite him in, I can’t complain about it, but I don’t want him getting into the habit.
By the time I close the door, they’ve made themselves comfortable, Hattie, Maisie, and Freddie on the couch, Johnny and Carter on the barstools, and Joe in the armchair by the window.
Which leaves me the option of sitting on my bed or standing.
I opt for the latter, grabbing the remote from the coffee table and turning off the TV, then hovering in front of it.
Now what? I can’t exactly offer them a drink. Partly because I don’t have anything but tap water to offer, but mostly because they’re ghosts.
“So you’re not a medium?” Joe barks at me from the window. I jump.
“Uh, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve had no training?” Is this a job interview? Whatever it is, I don’t want it.
“But you have the ability to be a medium?”
“I guess? The other medium I met said I did. And I’ve always been able to see and talk to ghosts.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “Ever forced a ghost to cross over?”
I shake my head. “I’ve helped a few who wanted to. But I wouldn’t know how to force it.”
Turning to Hattie, he says, “He’s no good to us.”
“He can learn,” she insists exasperatedly. “The most important things are that he has the talent and he’s a nice boy!”
“Um, excuse me,” I begin, because it sounds like they want me to force ghosts to cross over, and what the holy hell?
But Joe’s not done with the cross-examination.
He asks me my opinion of the current government, the former one, Star Wars—all nine movies, with a disconcerting focus on the topic of fascism—and a dizzying array of books and movies from the last century.
Then he asks if I make any charitable contributions—um, what part of me being broke does he not understand?
—and poses a series of “what would you do if” questions, most of which are about me choosing whether to save someone’s life or assure myself personal gain.
I’m so confused. And getting really annoyed. I mean… what the heck is this? Finally, just when I’m on the verge of telling Joe to fuck off and kicking them all out, he looks at Hattie and says, “I suppose he’ll do.”
Maisie claps her hands, causing a multitude of bangles to clack together. “Yay! I knew my gay BFF would win you over!”
The beginnings of a headache throb behind my eyes.
The ghosts are all smiling at me—except Joe, who I don’t think ever smiles.
“What’s going on?” I demand.
“Just getting to know you, dear. You have such a nice aura.” Hattie pats her hair.
“We all got good feelings about you,” Johnny adds.
“And Ewan likes you,” Carter says. “He’s an excellent judge of character.”
I blink. “He… does?” He barely knows me. And our encounter today wasn’t exactly positive.
Carter blushes.
Oh. My. God.
Did Ewan talk to the ghosts about…?
No. Surely he wouldn’t?
But the only other reason for Carter to blush while talking about Ewan liking me is if he overheard Ewan telling Daniel… right? Or did Ewan just tell everyone?
Humiliation washes through my whole body, but I shove it aside. I’ll deal with Ewan and his loose lips another time. For now, I just want to get these ghosts out of my apartment so I can fall asleep in front of the TV.
As if she hears my thoughts, Hattie stands. “Well, I suppose we’ll leave you to it!”
I blink. What? That’s it? “Um… okay?”
They get to their feet and move toward the door, thanking me for having them over, assuring me I’m welcome to visit them at any time, and wishing me luck with my new job.
When I finally close the door behind them, I stare at it blankly.
I think I might have missed something important, but fucked if I know what it was.
My first full day at the estate begins with me lazily waking in a big, comfortable bed to sun-washed walls. I grin at the ceiling. There are worse things in life.
Rolling over, I snag my phone and see it’s still early, just after seven, but I get up and head to the shower. Even though I don’t officially start work until tomorrow, Sunday is one of the busiest days here, so this is my chance to observe, learn, and help when I’m needed.
By eight, I’ve showered, breakfasted, and tidied my apartment—because the novelty of having such a nice place hasn’t worn off yet—and I’m in the staff break room, enjoying the coffee I just got from the kitchen, when I hear voices approaching.
A second later, Ewan and Daniel stroll in, holding coffee cups.
“Oh, hey, Josh!” Daniel greets me with a big smile on his tanned face. “I didn’t know you were here already.”
Ewan didn’t tell him?
“I arrived yesterday.” I make myself meet his gaze and return the smile.
If my guess after Carter’s little slip last night was right, and Daniel does know about me and Ewan, at least he doesn’t seem upset about it.
I’m glad—he’s really open and friendly, one of those perennially cheerful people who manages not to be annoying about it.
And he’s hot. Not as built as Ewan, but still fit and muscular.
“Ah, so you don’t have coffee upstairs yet. We ran out because we’re idiots who hate to shop.”
I lift my cup in salute. “At least you’re not an idiot who forgot he’d need groceries. And doesn’t have a car.”
“Ouch,” Ewan says. “That’s going to be a challenge for you.”
I make an agreeing noise, trying to keep my gaze from lingering on his broad torso.
They’re both wearing period clothes, although not like what Skye and the guides wear.
No confining jackets or scarf things around their necks.
Their shirts are open at the collar and down to their sternums, with seemingly no buttons, sleeves rolled up to reveal their forearms. Their pants aren’t as well-tailored as Skye’s, seeming a bit looser, the fabric not as fine.
At a guess, I’d say these are “work” clothes, whereas Skye and the guides dress in higher fashion.