Page 12 of Stronger Than Blood

Chapter eleven

Rory

The guy was cute. I would say hot, and he was, but there was something else about him. A layer of innocence. A vulnerability that let me know he wasn’t a toy to be played with. Unfortunately, that’s about the only thing I was interested in.

Too bad, I thought as my newly found cousin shook my hand before going into work.

I might not be able to use my gift for much, but my gaydar was always spot on, so I didn’t make any bones about it and overtly flirted with him.

I knew I shouldn’t have. I mean, he might be in the closet, but he blushed so sweetly I didn’t regret my decision.

I had basically brought my entire wardrobe with me to Piston Creek. I lived in an apartment with three other guys next to Madam’s store. I didn’t have much of a relationship with them and knew if I left my stuff in my room, I would more likely than not come home to most of it missing.

My trunk was full of clothes and a few odds and ends I’d taken out of storage, so I at least felt somewhat safe being away.

I grabbed a few pairs of old shorts and a shirt that’d been dead for a long time.

I know I should’ve chucked it, but I’d had it since I’d been a teenager, and I hated the thought of throwing away something I’d had that long.

Now was a good time to put it to its final use. Especially if the store was as horrible as Mick, the cute guy, had let on. I walked into the service station and spotted him. I grabbed a soda and paid before I joined him at a table. “So, come here often?” I asked, making him smile.

“As a matter of fact, I do. They’ve got good fried chicken. Have you ever eaten anything from the Roadside store?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, we don’t have them in Memphis. But it smells good. I’m sure Mrs. Kennedy’s is better, though,” I said, whispering conspiratorially.

“Oh, I’d never compare them. The food at the restaurant is by far the best around this area, but if you’re in a hurry, Roadside’s fried chicken ain’t nothing to blink at.”

“So, tell me about this building. How did you get involved with cleaning it out?”

That made him laugh as he popped the last of his chicken sandwich into his mouth.

When he swallowed, I watched his Adam’s apple go up and down in his throat.

Despite my thoughts from earlier about not going after him because he was likely not just into a quick roll in the hay, I couldn’t help taking a gulp myself.

He really was my type. He smiled. “Well, my great-grandmother owns it, and since she’s ninety and currently in the hospital, it’s my job to do. ”

“Oh,” I said and thought about Mrs. Kennedy’s comment about the ghost. I wondered if maybe it was his uncle who was haunting him.

I studied him as he talked, trying to get a read on him.

There was something there, something outside my ability to define.

My gifts were lacking, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a sense of the otherworldly.

If I were to guess, he was indeed haunted by something or someone.

It’d take someone like Madam to figure out who or what.

I really enjoyed our conversation as he sat with me as I drank my soda.

After finishing, we walked companionably back toward his uncle’s shop.

I was really enjoying the moment at least until the moment he opened the door, and I was hit by the smell.

“Ugh,” I said. “Yeah, you aren’t kidding. It’s kinda smelly, huh?”

He just laughed. “Not too late to back out. I grabbed a pair of gloves from the hardware store before coming over, but I’ve been using a pair I found here. You’re welcome to the new ones,” he said and pointed toward a counter where a new pair of leather gloves sat.

I didn’t respond to the comment about backing out, but I slipped on the gloves and asked, “So, all this has to go in the dumpster?” I looked around the room. “Anything staying?”

“That’d be a nope. So far, I’ve found absolutely nothing but trash, so everything has to go.”

I did a two finger salute to him and got to work, hauling all the trash out and dumping it into the mini dumpster in front of the building. “This won’t take long to fill up,” I said skeptically, and he shrugged.

“Yeah, they have to trade it out every night when we’re done. That’s the town’s rules.”

“Good thing, ’cause I don’t think we’ll fit all this inside.”

Mick just smiled. “Well, no time like the present.” He began picking up the trash and tossing it into the dumpster. We worked quietly for about an hour. There was something about this guy that seemed to draw me to him. I was looking forward to talking to Madame about it.

Even though we worked mostly in silence, I felt comfortable. Happy even. Finally, we both crashed on the cleared part of the floor for a break. “Well, that’s most of it gone,” Mick said. “Now, I can go back and start going through stuff again.”

“Thank goodness we had a cool spell, or this would’ve been a whole lot worse.”

“No doubt,” he agreed. “So, what do you do that allows you to hang out for a week helping poor grandkids clean out their dead uncle’s hoarder stuff?”

I just chuckled. “Well, I’m sorta between jobs. I’ve been… Well, I’ve worked for a psychic for the past year. I was supposed to be learning the trade, but unfortunately, I don’t seem to have the necessary talent.”

As I suspected, his eyes grew large. “Like a real psychic?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, she’s authentic and amazing. Have you spent any time in Memphis, down by Beale Street?” I asked.

He shook his head and took the last drink of the Gatorade he’d purchased. “No, I haven’t spent much time outside this area. There just hasn’t been time for traveling, if I’m honest.”

I looked at him, confused. He was young and good-looking and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, not like someone who’d bed himself down in a small town and never leave.

“Well,” I said, ignoring the thought of the small-town backward man he had basically just told me he was, “Madam Bellamy is one of the most talented psychics around, and after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, she set up shop there. Maybe you could stop in to meet her someday.”

He smiled. “Maybe, but with work and my grandma…” He paused, and I could see a moment of panic cross his face.

“You okay?” I asked.

He sighed. “Yeah, sorry, I just lost my job and hadn’t really thought of that today. I was supposed to file for unemployment, but—”

“It’s still early,” I said, trying to take the concerned look off his face. “Besides, don’t you do that online?”

“Yes, but my phone is too old to connect to their system. I know… It sucks. I’ll have to go over there, but I’d rather finish out the day here, and I’ll worry about all that tomorrow. Anyway, you were saying you’re training to be a psychic.”

I laughed. “Trying and failing, but that’s neither here nor there.

My skills are best utilized as hard labor.

Shall we get back to it?” I asked, not wanting to dive any deeper into that subject.

It sucked that I hadn’t achieved my goal, and now that I saw he, too, was struggling in the work field, I figured changing the subject was best for both of us.

I followed him to the back room and stopped short, stunned to see the mound of trash still in the room. “Wow, this is a lot!” I said.

We worked for four more hours, taking breaks for one of us to grab a cold drink from the store or to stop and rest, but as the massive pile of trash in the back room dwindled and the one in the front room grew, we didn’t find anything redeemable.

It was clear that the guy had a huge problem throwing stuff away. How strange.

By the time dinner rolled around, we were exhausted. “I don’t think we can do much more until the empty dumpster comes.”

He smiled and nodded in agreement. “I should probably get a shower and go check on my great-grandmother anyway.”

“Oh, wait, I was supposed to tell you Mrs. Kennedy said to bring you by the café for dinner.”

He looked down at his clothes and shook his head. “No, I’m not fit to be in a place where they serve food. I need a shower and maybe a little bleach to clean the day off.”

I chuckled. “Well, I’m sure she’s not gonna be happy you aren’t coming. She seems pretty smitten with you.”

That caused him to laugh. “Well, she’s a cousin. Big surprise in a small town like this, huh? I’m not sure how, but I think she’s somehow related to my grandpa or maybe great-grandpa.”

“So, what time tomorrow?” I asked, causing him to stop short.

“You’re gonna come back?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, it’s far from done, and I did say I’d help.”

“Oh, I’ll probably get here early. I haven’t had much sleep the past few days, and I usually work nights, so I wake up at the crack of dawn. Whenever you get up, come on over. We have the best donuts around, just down the street from here. I’ll treat you if you’re interested.”

“Perfect, I’ll bring us coffee. Is the service station’s decent?” I asked.

“Yeah, and it sounds like a plan,” he said, and I winked at him. He reached out and offered his hand, and I took it in mine.

It was as if the light blinked out around me. Then I felt like someone had hit me in the stomach. The first emotion to hit me was terror. Gunshots, followed by visions of blood, filled my senses.

My throat clenched and I felt like I might faint. For some reason, I looked up and when I did, I was staring into the face of a kid, maybe five or six. I recognized him. It was Mick as a little boy.

Compassion instantly swamped me, so instead of freaking out like I wanted to, I concentrated on him. I noticed blood splattered all over his face and body. Again nausea turned my stomach; then it all stopped.