Page 6

CHAPTER 5

“D enny, can you give me a hand with the dishes?” Beth asked as she moved to push her chair away from the table.

Denny pouted pathetically while he made a show of rubbing his flat stomach. “I wish I could, Mom. Really, I do, but after that third helping you shoved down my throat, I’m afraid that I just can’t seem to find the willpower to move.”

“I forced you, huh?” Beth asked, lips twitching with amusement.

“That’s the way I see it,” Denny said in agreement as he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

Beth looked at Tom expectantly.

“Sorry, hun, I can’t move either,” Tom said sheepishly.

Marty smiled as she stood up and picked up her plate along with Denny’s. “I’ll help, Beth. We should really give these old timers a break.”

“I knew you loved me,” Denny said with a wink.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Marty said dryly as she helped clear the dishes and brought them to the counter.

Denny ran a hand over his short, curly brown hair, trying to tame the untamable. “So, where’s my little brother and why the hell isn’t he here to see me?”

Tom sipped his beer. “I think he needed a break from your mother trying to baby him.”

“I don’t baby him!” Beth argued.

Both men shared a knowing look.

“I don’t!”

Marty bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. When that didn’t work, she turned away and became suddenly busy with scraping plates. If Beth loved you, she babied you. Marty learned that a long time ago.

When Marty had her appendix taken out when she was ten years old, Beth had fussed over her like a mother hen. It took her father, Tom, Denny, and Tristan to calm Beth down in the waiting room and stop her from interrogating every nurse and doctor that made the mistake of coming within twenty yards of her. Beth took it upon herself to take care of Marty after her mother abandoned her when she was six. Marty loved Beth more than anything and she appreciated it, even when she went a little overboard. Like the time Marty got her first period.

Beth decided to combine Tristan’s driving lessons with taking Marty to the pharmacy. Poor Tristan had no idea why his mother was hyperventilating in the front seat or why Marty was cowering in the back seat. He discovered the source of her embarrassment when Beth dragged them both down the feminine product aisle and started handing Tristan boxes of tampons and pads all while asking Marty if she wanted scented or unscented and applicator or applicator-free. Tristan choked on air as he dropped the boxes. He tossed his mother the keys and without a word, walked out of the store and the five miles home. For the next two months, Tristan had trouble making eye contact with her. Now, Tristan was the subject of Beth’s focus.

Poor bastard.

“Well, sweetheart, you did try to give him a sponge bath,” Tom pointed out while giving his wife a sheepish smile.

“You what?” Denny nearly shouted.

“He was shot and needed to be taken care of. Besides, he’s my baby. It’s not like I haven’t seen him naked before,” Beth said with a firm nod as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, twenty years ago you might have seen him naked. For Christ’s sake, Mom, he’s a grown man. He was shot in the shoulder, not paralyzed. I doubt he appreciated the effort,” Denny said, shaking his head in disbelief as he shot a look at his father. “If I’m ever bedridden, you keep this woman and her sponges the hell away from me. Hire some busty blonde to tend to my wounds.”

Tom just chuckled as Beth narrowed her eyes on her oldest son. “That’s nonsense. I would take better care of you.”

Denny shot his father a look of pure panic. “I’m serious.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s the problem anyway. Tristan appreciated me taking care of him,” Beth muttered.

Tom raised an eyebrow at that. “Sweetheart, he barricaded himself in his bathroom and refused to come out until Hank and I dragged you and your sponges out of his house.”

At that, Denny started laughing. Beth folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “It’s not that funny.”

He held up a hand while he tried to catch his breath. “That’s not why I’m laughing. I think that was the night he called me to suggest that we have you committed.”

Beth’s lips twitched despite herself. “Yes, well, it’s not my fault that my babies don’t appreciate me.”

“Oh, come on, Mom. You know that’s not true. You just have a tendency of overdoing it a bit.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do,” Tom said, chuckling as he finished off his beer.

“Give me one example.” When Tom opened his mouth to do just that, she clarified, “That doesn’t involve me taking care of them while they’re sick.”

“That’s easy,” Denny said. “What about our love lives?”

“What about them?” Beth demanded.

Tom shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Ah, sweetie, you are kind of desperate to get them married and give you grandkids.”

She scoffed at that. “No, I’m not.”

“Sweetheart, you signed Tristan up without his knowledge on ten different dating sites. Then, you invited the ones that met your qualifications to a party where Tristan was the only guy.”

“So?” Beth asked, but Marty didn’t miss the guilty expression on her face.

“So? So, why the hell didn’t you do that for me?” Denny demanded.

Beth ignored him. “I had to do something,” she said defensively.

“Something, huh?” Tom sighed, “Sweetie, you’ve been known to drag poor, unsuspecting women across town and shove them in his direction.”

“Well,” Beth mumbled as she looked down at the floor for a moment, “I had to do something. He never asks anyone out and he’s never brought a girl home to meet us.”

“Mom, he doesn’t have to ask women out. They throw themselves at him. Have you not seen him? With his golden blonde hair, green eyes, perfect tan and chiseled good looks,” Denny said, pausing to shoot Marty a wink, “much like myself except for the eyes and hair, of course, women are constantly throwing themselves at him. He doesn’t have to ask them out.”

“But he never asks anyone out and he’s never had a girlfriend,” Beth pointed out.

“ Beth ,” Tom said tightly in warning. His eyes flickered to Marty, who was now focused on loading the dishwasher, afraid that Beth would direct her attention to her lack of a love life. Since that was the last thing that she needed at the moment, she decided that staying quiet and out of Beth’s radar was for the best. At least, it was the best thing for her.

Tristan was on his own.

Beth’s eyebrows shot up while Denny gave her a “duh” look. She mouthed Marty’s name and both men threw their hands up in frustration.

“Really, woman, where have you been?” Tom asked, shaking his head in wonder.

“You know, for a professor and a nosy mother, you’re really not all that observant,” Denny said as he stood up and walked over to the counter to cut two large slices of cake while Tom made his way to the fridge and poured two glasses of milk. The men sat down and ate their cake, leaving Beth to process this new information.

She looked at Marty, who was almost finished with the dishes, and then back at the men with a calculating gleam in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

Denny shook his head as he looked at his father. “Perhaps we should consider having her committed.”

“I’d have to agree. I’m surprised that she didn’t notice years ago and take matters into her own hands,” Tom said, finishing off his milk.

Beth looked back at Marty and murmured, “Hmm, interesting. I guess I overlooked a few things.”

“I’ll say,” Denny scoffed.

Marty frowned when she noticed three sets of eyes locked on her. “What? Did I spill something?” she asked, looking down at her clothes.

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Why don’t you grab yourself a slice of cake and have a seat,” Tom said with a warm smile as Danny licked his fork clean.

“While you’re up, could you grab me a slice?”

“You’ve already had cake,” Beth said.

“But…” Denny said with a look of longing at the chocolate fudge cake with extra fudge frosting.

“Besides, if you have another slice, there won’t be any for Tristan,” Beth pointed out with a satisfied sigh as she grabbed a picnic basket from the pantry.

“Fine. I’ll take it over. At least I know my brother won’t deny me more cake,” Denny said with a heavy sigh.

Beth smiled brightly at Marty, “Actually, I think Marty should bring the basket over. By the time she finishes dropping off the food, Hank should be home and she can drag him over here for dinner.”

For years, Beth had stayed out of the rift between her and Tristan. She seemed to understand and accept that they’d grown apart. Marty was curious at the sudden change and really wished that she’d paid a little more attention to their conversation instead of focusing on the dishes and hoping that Beth wouldn’t shift her attention to her.

“Okay, I could do that,” Marty said hesitantly, watching Beth closely as she tried to figure out what she was up to.

“Great!” Beth said brightly. “When you get back, you can have some cake.”

“If I don’t eat it first,” Denny muttered with heartfelt sigh as he stared longingly at the cake.

Beth dragged the picnic basket over to the fridge and started to load it with leftover fried chicken, potato salad, pot roast, corn on the cob, and fruit salad. Then, she placed half the cake into a cake carrier and somehow managed to fit that inside the basket as well.

“Here,” Beth said as she practically shoved the basket in Marty’s arms, causing Marty to stumble back.

“Ah, Mom, maybe I should carry it over for her?” Denny asked, looking concerned as he got to his feet. “That basket might be a little too heavy for her.”

“Nonsense, she’s a tough girl,” Beth said brightly as she practically shoved Marty to the door.

“Sorry, Marty!” Denny yelled as she stumbled onto the front porch.

“Sorry about what?” she asked a second before the door was slammed shut in her face.

“Well, that was definitely odd,” Marty mumbled, blinking at the front door. Deciding to get this over with, she shifted the large picnic basket in her arms and made her towards the sidewalk and-

A tingling sensation crawled up her spine, giving her no choice but to turn around and frown when she spotted Beth standing in the window, watching her with a huge smile and…

Was she giving her a thumbs-up?

“Okay, weirder,” Marty mumbled as she turned back around and headed towards Tristan’s house.

Beth was obviously up to something. What? She didn’t know, but it couldn’t be good.

* * *

“I’m telling ye, that’s not the best way to get this girl,” Shayne argued while Tristan tried focusing on the game and ignoring the asshole.

“Why the hell not? It always worked for me!” the dead asshole said defensively. “He’s good-looking, so it should work.”

Tristan ground his teeth and focused on killing zombies while Shayne gestured towards him. “He can’t just go up to Marty and say, ‘Do ye wanna fuck or do I owe ye an apology?’ That’s a stupid line!”

Pipe Man threw his hands up in frustration. “Why not? It works!”

Shayne grumbled something about assholes as he picked up his controller and joined the game.

“Well, why not?” the dead asshole demanded again.

“I already told ye, Patricia, Marty is a good girl. That shit won’t work on her.”

“And I told you that my name is Patrick, not Patricia!” Patrick snapped.

“Whatever, Patricia, until ye come up with something helpful, shut the fuck up,” Shayne said, beheading a demon.

Patrick tried to sit on the couch only to fall through it and land on his ass. “What the hell?” he shouted, making Shayne and Tristan chuckle.

“Yer just a ghost, lad. Ye can’t take any type of form or interact in this world,” Shayne said dryly.

“But you can,” Patrick said accusingly.

“That’s because I’m not a ghost,” Shayne answered in a bored tone.

“What the hell are you, then?” Patrick demanded as he stood up.

Shayne looked thoughtful for a moment before he said, “I guess I’m what ye would call a shipper.”

“A shipper? You mean like UPS? What the hell does that even mean?” Patrick said, only to hold up a hand when Shayne opened his mouth to answer. “You know what? I don’t really care because we’ve gotten way off-topic here.”

With that, he moved in front of the television and blocked the game.

“Now, where were we? Oh, that’s right. Do what I want or you will never experience a moment of peace again. I’ll also go spy on this Marty chick and watch her when she’s naked,” he added just to piss Tristan off.

Tristan’s expression turned cold as he moved to stand up. “I will fucking-”

Shayne cut him off as he gestured for Tristan to sit back down. “No, he’s right, lad. We really should help him,” he said with a heartfelt sigh as he stood up.

“That’s more like it,” Patrick said, grinning smugly in Tristan’s direction as Shayne joined him.

Shayne pressed a finger to his lips. “Just out of curiosity, Patricia. When ye were alive, where did ye think ye’d end up when ye died? Heaven or hell?”

Patrick shifted nervously. “I didn’t really think about it.”

“What do ye think, lad? Where do ye think he’ll end up?” Shayne asked Tristan, never taking his eyes away from the man fidgeting nervously in front of him.

Tristan studied Patrick for a long moment, taking in the pipe sticking out of his neck and guessed that it didn’t land there by accident. “I’d say hell,” Tristan said with a shrug.

“What? No way! I’ve led a good life.”

“Let’s see, shall we?” Shayne said as he placed his hand over Patrick’s heart.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Patrick demanded, only to groan as his eyes widened in terror when a black light emanated from his chest.

“Well, I guess ye were right, lad,” Shayne murmured as they watched the darkness quickly spread.

“Wait, what are you do-” Patrick started to ask only to disappear in a puff of black smoke before he could finish. The smoke quickly disappeared as though it had never been, taking all evidence of their unwanted guest along with it.

Tristan picked up the second controller and tossed it to Shayne. “Why the hell did you wait so long? He was getting on my fucking nerves.”

“He entertained me for a bit there,” he explained, shrugging it off.

“Well, as long as you were entertained,” Tristan said dryly.

Shayne’s gaze shot towards the front door before he grinned.

“What?” Tristan asked, not liking that gleam of anticipation in the bastard’s eyes.

Just as quickly as the smile came, it was gone. Shayne cleared his throat. “Nothing, lad.” Then, with a flick of his hand, he sent Tristan’s drink flying off the arm of the chair and onto Tristan’s lap, soaking him.