Saturday, September 15, 2012

Fiction Friday - Biggs and Wedge Occult Occurrences: Table for Three



I know it's Saturday. I had bronchitis all week, cut me some slack. This is the story that should have been posted last week, but between on overactive social life and then the aforementioned bronchitis, I couldn't get it done til now. So I'm a week behind, but I'll get back on track now. Anyway, this is the tenth story in the series, making it the midway point of what I have planned. Don't be shy about giving me some feedback if you read it, folks.

Biggs and Wedge Occult Occurrences:
Table for Three

            “Okay, this place is definitely nicer than I thought it would be from the name.”
            I smiled at my date for the night, Alexa Fogel, as I pulled her chair out for her. “I’m glad you like it,” I said, pushing her chair in before going to sit down in the chair on the opposite side of the table.
            “I have to admit, I’ve passed by it a few times before, but the name always chased me away: Mario and Luigi’s Italian Ristorante.” She smiled. “I always thought it would be run by two guys who liked Nintendo way too much, but I was wrong. I love it, Hank.”
            I laughed. “Oh, it’s definitely run by two guys who love Nintendo too much, I know the owners.” They were two brothers, that much was true, but they weren’t Italian. They just loved Italian as much as my partner and I loved Star Wars, so they named their business for what they loved, just like we did. That’s the very short version of the story of how me, Henry Biggs, and my partner, Aldredge “Wedge” Thompson decided to call our spirit-banishing business “Biggs and Wedge Occult Occurrences.”
            I saw the look on Lexy’s face as she digested this information and grinned. “Don’t worry; the food is still great, I promise.”
            “It better be,” she teased. “A first date is like a good impression… you don’t get a second chance.”
            The gleam in her eye and the slight upward curve of her lip made it obvious she was just playing around, but that didn’t help; I was nervous as fuck already. Lexy managed the bar Wedge and I owned, and she also helped run the occult business, handling the administrative aspects of it.
            But more than all that, I was already head-over-heels in love with her.
            According to Wedge, I had nothing to worry about. He swore she was in love with me, too. Of course, she never told him that, he said he just “knew” it. And Wedge changed women about as often as I changed socks, so I took everything he said with a salt shaker.
            “Hank? Are you okay?”
            Lexy was pretty much the only one who called me Hank. And as I heard her say my name, I realized she had been talking to me for a few seconds now and I had no idea what she was saying. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I answered weakly.
            She reached across the table and took my hand, squeezing it softly. “Relax,” she said. “It’s only me.”
            Yeah. Only her.
            I was saved from having to reply by the arrival of our waiter. He wore blue slacks and a button-down blue shirt, as did all the staff of the restaurant, with a red tie. Some of the staff wore red ties, and other wore green ties. I’m sure you can see where they were going with the color scheme. “Welcome to Mario and Luigi’s,” he said. “My name is Tommy and I’ll be your waiter tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink while you look over the menu?”
            Looking at him, his dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, the stud in his left ear, I could just tell he had a screenplay under his bed waiting for someone to buy, or a monologue memorized he was just dying to perform. The life of a starving artist. “Sure. Bring us a bottle of your best red wine; I’ll leave the type up to you.”
            “Very good, sir,” he said. ‘I’ll be back with your wine, as well as water and some rolls in a moment.” He looked like he was about five minutes over twenty-one and all the formality sounded a little off coming from him.
            “Look at you, pulling out all the stops with the wine,” Lexy giggled. “You sure I deserve it?”
            I looked at her, the way her hair fell down around her shoulders, the sparkle in her beautiful eyes, the way her smile melted my heart… not to mention how good she looked in the strapless back dress with the plunging neckline she was wearing… “Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” I croaked, feeling all kinds of inadequate wearing just a dark red button-down shirt and matching tie over black slacks, having listened to Wedge’s advice that a suit jacket would be too formal for tonight. I really should stop listening to him. “You look gorgeous tonight,” I told her.
            “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said, raising her eyebrow appraisingly, “although a jacket wouldn’t have killed you, you know.”
            I gaped at her for a second. “Friggin’ Wedge,” I finally muttered.”
            Lexy burst into laughter. “I’m teasing! I heard the two of you arguing about that as you came down the stairs before,” she admitted around laughs. “You really do look great, Hank.”
            “Thanks,” I said, trying not to blush and desperately wishing Tommy had brought our water already, I could feel my mouth going dry.
            As if on cue, Tommy appeared, putting two full glasses of water in front of us, as well as a full pitcher for refills. He also put a basket full of sliced bread and rolls in the middle of the table, and told us he’d be back with our wine and to take our orders in just a bit.
            I took a very greedy sip of water as Lexy asked, “So what happened the other night? You said you’d tell me over dinner.”
            She was talking about the Reisling case, the one Wedge and I agreed to take while we were drunk that almost ended up being the death of us. I told her all about it while we looked at the menu and waited for Tommy to bring our wine. I told her how a summoning done on the little boy whose parents thought he was possessed was totally useless; how the kid talked with a weird accent and cursed like a sailor and was super-strong; how he tossed Wedge out a window and nearly choked me to death. I told her how the kid pretty much mind-raped me, only releasing me when he saw I knew a priest and how he told me to go ask the priest what the kid was. I told her how Fr. Rube Eliott of Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows let us in on the Catholic Church’s secret: that there were demons possessing people, and how they could be exorcised, the symbol to draw in blood and the brief incantation, and how we exorcised the demon Ronwe back to hell after Fr. Rube told us how.
            “Demons,” she sputtered, almost choking on her water. “There are demons now?”
            “Apparently,” I said. “Wedge thinks the odds are against us ever running into one again, though.
            “What do you think?”
            I shrugged. “I think the odds are never against anything happening to me and him.”
            Lexy laughed. “That’s the right attitude!” She took another sip of her water and then recoiled in pain. “Damn! It’s boiling hot!”
            Confused, I raised my own water to my lips, and then winced. She was right; the water was hotter than hell.
            Tommy arrived at our table with a bottle of wine as Lexy and I looked at each other in confusion.
            “Here we have a bottle of 2008 Spottswoode Cabernet Sauvignon, on the house, courtesy of Mario and Luigi themselves for Mr. Biggs.”
            “Thanks, Tommy,” I said, a little surprised. “And pass my thanks on to the guys, too, please. Listen, this water is a little warm; do you think we could have a fresh pitcher?”
            “Certainly, sir,” he said with a little grin. “Can I take your order while I’m here?”
            I gestured to Lexy first, and she ordered a plate of Penne Alfredo with grilled chicken and I ordered Meatballs and ravioli in a vodka sauce. Tommy took our orders, opened the bottle of wine, pouring it for us, and then said he’d be right back with fresh water for us.
            Lexy looked at the bottle of wine. She knew from the stock we kept at our bar, The Haunted Hops, that it was a $135 bottle. “Is there anyone who doesn’t owe you a favor?”
            I smiled innocently. “It isn’t my fault Mario and Luigi’s first oven was haunted.” She laughed, and I picked up my glass. “Wine this good deserves a toast…”
            “How about to first dates?” she suggested as she held up her own glass.
            “I’ll drink to that,” I said. We clinked glasses and drank. “Damn, that’s good.”
            “It really is,” she agreed. “I have another question,” she said suddenly, leaning forward on the table. “I get the whole demon story. But how did that lead to you finally asking me out?”
            I swallowed, not at all sure how I wanted to answer that. “You say ‘finally’ like you think I’ve wanted to do this for awhile now.”
            She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, almost like she was daring me to argue with her. “Haven’t you?”
            “I almost died, Lexy,” I said, not taking the bait. I definitely wasn’t ready to fess up to just how long… or how deeply… I’ve been attracted to her. “The demon was possessing that kid and his hands were an iron vise around my neck. I couldn’t breathe. I thought it was finally the end.”
            “Is that when you decided to stop all that nonsense about it being too dangerous to date me?” She peered over her glass of wine to see my reaction as she took a sip.
            Tommy came by and wordlessly replaced our water as I stared at her, mouth agape. After he drifted away, I shook my head. “Do you just know everything?”
            She laughed. “You boys just talk loud, that’s all. And, honestly, it took you awhile to realize I was in the basement the other night, as drunk as you guys were.”
            I couldn’t keep myself from blushing this time as I thought about all the other things. “I was wondering how much you had overheard.” I took a sip of wine to settle myself a bit.
            “Don’t worry,” she smiled reassuringly, “I wouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t want to embarrass you or anything like that. I just want you to know that I think it’s silly. I don’t think it’s dangerous to date you, and I want…” she stopped talking as she noticed the way my face had blanched. “Hank, what is it?”
            “The wine.” I stared down at the glass in front of me in horrified amazement. “It’s… blood.”
            “What? No it isn’t. It’s wine.” She brought her glass to her lips to take a sip and prove me wrong… and promptly spit it back into the glass. “Oh. My. God. That’s gross.” She looked up at me, disgusted and confused. “But it was wine when we started drinking it!”
            “Really good wine,” I agreed. I eyed the glass warily and then took another hesitant sip. “And now it’s wine again. Someone… or something… is fucking with us.”
            “Do you think it’s a spirit?”
            “Only one way to find out,” I told her, getting ready to reach out with that special sixth sense that made me a medium. “Can’t even go on a goddamn date,” I muttered to myself quietly before reaching out.
            This is what made me a medium, what made me so good at finding and banishing spirits. I could reach out with my senses and “feel” where and what a spirit was by tuning into what it was feeling. That’s how I could summon them into taking their version of a physical form so that Wedge could banish them by cutting them with a blade anointed in innocent blood. So I spread my senses throughout the restaurant, trying to ignore the ambient noise created by the feelings of the living… which was harder than usual here because there were so many people.
            What there wasn’t, I knew without a shadow of a doubt, was a spirit. The restaurant was free of ghosts and poltergeists. Confused, I started to pull my senses back into myself when I felt something grab onto them. It was a feeling of evil so deep and perverse that it felt like it made my insides blacken, shrivel up, and die. It was an evil so pure, an evil that exulted in itself just for being evil. It was a sensation of evil that had felt me reaching out with my senses and wanted to let me know it was there because it knew it was stronger than me, and it knew it scared me. I wrenched my own senses away from it and closed back into myself, well aware that I had broken out into a cold sweat.
            “Hank? Are you okay?” I could tell from her voice that Lexy was scared.
            “No,” I said honestly. I didn’t want to frighten her anymore than she already was, but she had to know the truth. “It’s a demon. Someone in here is possessed. And they’re after me.”
            Lexy gasped. “After you? How do you know?”
            “I felt it. The water, the wine… it’s playing with me. I don’t know why, and I don’t know who it’s possessing, but it’s after me.”
            “So much for Wedge’s idea that you’ll never run into a demon again, huh?”
I could see she was trying to be brave for me, so I smiled. “Yeah… he’s just never right, is he?”
She laughed; it was a weak laugh, but it was an honest laugh.
It was then that Tommy arrived with our meals. We sat quietly while he placed them in front of us and told us to let him know if we needed anything else. I nodded and he left.
“What do we do?” Lexy asked when he was out of earshot.
I thought for a moment. “I have no idea who the demon’s possessing. I won’t know for sure until he either exposes himself, or I touch him. Best thing for us to do is pay and go outside, I’ll call Wedge and have him get over here so me and him can figure this out while you… and I can’t stress this enough… while you go home safely.” I had expected her to argue and insist on helping, but I guess the new idea of demons had her sufficiently freaked out, because she just nodded.
I looked down at our plates, thinking about getting them in a doggy bag to take home and eat once we put all this behind us… and instead of ravioli, I was looking at a plate covered with little snakes crawling over my meatballs. Looking up at Lexy’s face as she looked at her plate, I could tell she was having similar experience. “Snakes?”
“Worms,” she corrected.
Fuck the doggy bags, I thought. Tommy was passing by our table to another and I reached out to lightly grab his arm, saying, “Hey, Tommy, something’s come up and we have to run, can we get the check?” When my hand touched his arm, though, I knew. I felt such gleeful malevolence that it overwhelmed me. I let go of his arm and pushed away, wanting to badly to get away from that evil that I knocked by chair over, falling backwards over it. I heard Lexy call my name, but it was Tommy who was standing over me, gripping my arm and starting to pull me to my feet.
“Let me help you up, sir,” he said loudly for the benefit of anyone listening, but the look in his eyes was anything but friendly. His eyes burned, just like Ronwe’s had, peering out from within the Reisling kid. “So now you know, huh?” His voice became quiet now, a muted growl that only I could hear. “Hate to break it to you, asshole, but you’re not going anywhere. I’m not done playing with you yet. You try to leave, and I’ll kill your pretty little girlfriend before you make it to the door.”
I knew firsthand how strong and fast a demon could be, even while possessing a human, and I wasn’t going to test this one with Lexy’s life on the line.
“Now, let’s have a seat,” he said, picking my chair up with his free hand. He pushed me down into it, his hand squeezing my wrist so hard I couldn’t help but wince. “That’s a good boy.” His hand squeezed harder. “Now, we’re going to talk about what you did to my friend Ronwe…”
The demon-possessed waiter suddenly recoiled as Lexy stood in front of him, holding a knife and fork perpendicular in front of her so they resembled a cross. “Back off,” she told it, her voice shaking. But her hand was firm, and even though it wasn’t a real cross, the demon backed off.
“I’ll give you two a few minutes to talk,” he said, aware of the restaurant patrons watching us. “Enjoy your meal; I’ll be back in a few moments to see if you need anything.” He glided away calmly.
“How the hell did that work?” I said, confused as I motioned for Lexy to sit back down. “That isn’t a cross. And you’re not even Catholic!”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, I remembered from your story about the other night that a cross worked, I thought it was worth a shot!” She leaned across the table. “What do we do?” she whispered. “Do we still make a run for it?”
I shook my head immediately as I rubbed my hurt wrist. “No way. He said he’d kill you before we reached the door, and he could.” I saw her look at the makeshift cross she had lain on the table and cut her off before she could speak. “Even if that trick worked again, he could just kill someone else in here instead. Or everyone, while we ran. I can’t let that happen.”
Lexy’s shoulders slumped. “And we can’t just exorcise him because we don’t know his real name, right?”
“Right.” I sighed and then gave a resigned shrug. “So we just have to get him to tell us his name.”
“How do we do that?”
“If he’s anything like the other demon,” I answered, “well, you know what they say, right? Pride goeth before the fall.” Before she could answer, I got up from the table and headed towards the “employees only” area in the back of the restaurant, knowing Not-Tommy would see me. “Follow me,” I said to Lexy over my shoulder, “and bring the knife.”
I was right, the demon saw us and headed me off on the way to the back, standing in front of the door. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Giving us some privacy to talk,” I answered casually, brushing past his arm and through the door.
He followed me and grabbed me by the shoulders, slamming me against the break room wall hard. “I think you’re a little confused as to who is in charge here,” he snarled as his fingers dug into my skin.
Lexy slid in the door behind us. I caught her eye and flicked my gaze to the lock under the door. She got what I was getting at and locked the door. Then she raised the knife in her hand and motioned towards the demon, obviously asking if she should stab him. I gave a barely noticeable shake of my head; all that would accomplish was stabbing Tommy, it wouldn’t hurt the demon. Keeping my hand below my waist where the demon couldn’t see it, I gestured for her to just wait.
“So you and Ronwe were friends, huh?” I ignored what the demon had said, focusing on my plan. It was harder to ignore the way it felt like he was crushing my shoulders, though. “I hope that piece of filth is enjoying his relaxing vacation back in Hell.”
“We are friends,” he growled angrily, his eyes staring daggers of hatred into mine. “At least as much as demons can be friends. And when he heard I was coming up here on a little joyride, well, he asked me to check in on the hairless monkey who fucked him over. I said it would be my pleasure.”
Lexy had moved directly behind him, I could no longer see what she was doing. But that didn’t matter, I had to focus past the pain both in my shoulders and in my head now from his stare, just focus on getting his name. “I hope you’re a little bit tougher than he was,” I said, trying to sound calm. “He was a bit of a pansy once you got down to it.”
The demon’s left hand left my shoulder and wrapped itself tightly around my neck.
Oh, joy. More choking.
“I think I’ll just kill you now and send your wretched soul to Hell so you can ask him yourself.”
He started squeezing my neck so hard I thought my head was about to pop like a pimple, but I fought through it, managing to wheeze, “Are you going to tell me who you are, or should I go to my grave thinking I was killed by Tommy the waiter?”
The demon squeezed harder. “Without your partner here, there’s nothing to save you, so you might as well know you die at the hands of Blivial, demon master of illusion. Tell Ronwe he owes me one.”
There. I got him to tell me his name. Now what?
            “I banish thee, Blivial, by the power of thy name,” Lexy said from behind the demon. He growled and released me in shock, turning towards her. I slumped against the wall, my hands going to my aching neck as I tried to see around the demon. Lexy had used the knife to cut a line down her arm and had used her blood to draw the symbol needed to exorcise demons on the wall like I had told her: three nines over three sixes, with the bottoms of the nines becoming the tops of the sixes, then a circle around them and then a pentagram around the circle. She smeared her own blood on her palm and slapped the middle of the circle as she continued. “And condemn thee back to the pits of Hell!”
            Blivial howled impotently, a howl that trailed off into silence before Tommy slumped to the floor, unconscious. Ignoring him, I grabbed a towel from the nearby sink and rushed to Lexy, pressing it against the cut on her arm. “I can’t believe you did that,” I told her, a little angrily.
            “Well you weren’t going to do it,” she said weakly, forcing a smile. “I’m just glad I paid attention to your story earlier.”
            I used the edge of the towel to wipe the blood off her palm and arm, still keeping pressure on the cut, not saying anything. This was my worst fear right here. Out with me just one night, and she’s hurt. She could have been killed.
            “Hell of a first date, huh?” She laughed nervously. “Going to be hard to top on the second.”
            “There isn’t going to be a second,” I said softly.”
            Lexy looked up at me, confused. “What? Why not?”
            “This is exactly what I was afraid of, Lexy. You come out with me, and this nonsense I do for a living gets you hurt, maybe even killed. I mean, there are demons. And they’re after me. And we can’t stop them without knowing their name, and we can’t know their name unless they tell us!” I shook my head. “No way. I’m not letting you get hurt. Or killed, just because of how we feel. This can’t happen again.”
            There were tears in her eyes, but I turned away before she could say anything.
            “This is how it has to be, Alexa. I’m sorry.”

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Goodreads Book Review - We Need to Talk About Kevin

We Need to Talk About KevinWe Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Boy, this was one disturbing book. I can't say for sure if I liked it or not; I can say that it was very well-written and the question of "What would I do if I had a child like Kevin?" was better at giving me a sleepless night than any horror movie I've seen in the last eighteen months (which, by the way, considering my current bronchial-infected state, is no mean feat!). The problem with it is that none of the characters, with the exception of poor little Celia, are remotely likeable. The narrator, Eva, is the kind of hoity-toity "I have money and I love travel and fine food so I'm better than everyone else" person I can't stand, and her inability to connect with her unborn child is bracing. The father, Franklin, is an oblivious asshat who refuses to see anything bad in his son while simultaneously refusing to see anything good in his wife. And Kevin... well, he's just Kevin. Explaining would give too much away. I think, though, that when someone writes a book like this, they aren't necessarily looking for readers to think it's good or bad, that we like it or we don't; I think they're looking instead to make us think. And this book definitely does precisely that.



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Just two days since the ninth review, the tenth book in the Recommended Reading Challenge is completed. This one was a bit of a doozy, but being too sick to do much more than lay in bed let me chew right through it. Ten books in and the second book in the challenge, Boy's Life, is still in the lead for favorite and the prize that distinction will win the person who recommended it. Now, the question is, what's next?

Monday, September 10, 2012

Goodreads Book Review - 11/22/63

11/22/6311/22/63 by Stephen King

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Like most of King's books, this one isn't actually about what it says it's about. On the surface, it's about a man who finds a way to travel through time who wants to stop the Kennedy assassination. And while it is about that, what it's really about is the joy of living in a simpler time, about finding life, love, and happiness wherever you are. All good science fiction has that duality in what it's about; it's the genre's greatest strength when done right. While I loved a lot of this book, loved it enough to give it four stars, that duality is actually a problem here. The characters King creates in those aspects of life and love are so well done, so fleshed out and loveable, that when the book veers away from them and touches on the actual historical events and the life of Lee Harvey Oswald... well, honestly, I was bored. I couldn't wait to get back to King's original characters and their lives. A blessing and a curse, I suppose, but either way, a very enjoyable read.



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The ninth book in the challenge is done, and I really enjoyed this one, so much so that I read it in three days while bed-ridden. I have to see what the next book would be, especially considering I'll be stuck in bed another day at least, maybe two, so if you have any, don't be shy!

Monday, September 3, 2012

Goodreads Book Review - High on Arrival

High on ArrivalHigh on Arrival by Mackenzie Phillips

My rating: 1 of 5 stars


This was just woefully underwhelming. Yes, she went through horrible things in her life, and I sympathize... but that doesn't mean the book is any good. It's boring. It lacks details. It's ridiculously repetitive; every few chapters she tries to pass off some big revelation that she learned about life through her drug use, but when it's the same revelation from a few chapters ago that she's "learned" six or seven times already... well, it gets old fast, not to mention how ridiculous it makes her and her credibility look. Yet another sparkling example of why I hate memoirs.



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The Recommended Reading Challenge is eight books old now, and this is the second one I demonstrably hated. Like the first one, it's a memoir, so maybe we should stay away from those! I still have a few books on the list: The Reluctant Fundamentalist, The Fuck-Up, and Motherless Brooklyn, but I haven't been able to get my hands on copies of those yet, so I'm going to skip ahead to the newest recommendation I've gotten, 11/22/63. It'll be the first Stephen King book I've read in a long time, so I'm kind of excited about it. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, if you have any recommendations, let's hear 'em!

Fiction Friday - Biggs and Wedge Occult Occurrences: The First Case Reprise - Lexy's Story

Yes, I know it's Sunday. Sorry. Call it "Short Story Sunday" if it makes you feel better. I just had the hardest time cracking this story, and after working on it for four days, I'm still not entirely sure it works, but it'as sort of an integral part of what comes next, so I had to muddle through. You know the drill. Read it, leave me some feedback. Seriously. Please? This makes a total of 49 pages about these characters through 9 stories, I'd love to know if people are digging it and what you like, what works, etc...


Biggs and Wedge Occult Occurrences:
The First Case Reprise –
Lexy’s Story

*Author’s note: this story takes place concurrently with both parts of “This Ain’t a Ghost Story.”

            Hank definitely would not be happy about me doing this.
            A few weeks ago, Weekly World Now magazine had sent a reporter, Melissa Adaire, to interview my bosses, Henry Biggs and Aldredge “Wedge” Thompson, about their occult investigation business, and tonight she was coming back to interview me.
            That’s right. I work for ghost hunters.
            My name is Alexa Fogel, but everyone calls me Lexy. I had set up the interview because I thought it would drum up more business for the bar the guys owned, The Haunted Hops, the bar I managed for them.  Wedge was indifferent to the idea, but I’m pretty sure he warmed up to it since his interview ended with him sleeping with the reporter, but I knew Hank hated it; he was a private person, and the work he did helping people by banishing spirits took a lot out of him, but I thought talking about it might help him.
            After what happened at the church, I was starting to think it did. And that kiss…
            “Where are the guys tonight?”
            Snapped out of my thoughts, I looked across the table at Melissa Adaire. We were sitting at a booth in the back, as quiet and private as we could get in a bar. I flashed her my sweetest smile. “Down in the office taking care of some business.” Translation: drinking their faces off. “I have to admit,” I said to her as I leaned back in the booth. “I have no idea why you want to interview me. I just manage the bar.”
            “My editor thought it would be nice to have a little piece to put in a sidebar in the main story. Besides,” she added as she took out her tape recorder and hit record, “when I was here the first time I got the feeling you do a lot more than just manage the bar.”
            I couldn’t hide a smile; she was right, I did a lot more than manage the bar. Hank and Wedge were my boys, and I took care of them.
            “I don’t suppose we could start out with you telling me the Skywalker Ranch story?”
            I shrugged, doing my best to look innocent. “Sorry, they never even told me that story. They take that gag order pretty seriously; they have to, or they’ll get dragged back to court and lose. Not to mention they’d have to return their baby,” I added, pointing to the giant replica of the Millennium Falcon hanging from the ceiling where a chandelier used to be. She was asking about the infamous case where the boys had done a favor for George Lucas in return for the replica, and for letting them use “Biggs and Wedge” in their business name since it was also the name of two Star Wars characters. Of course, the boys didn’t take their oath of silence about the case that seriously: Wedge had told it to more beautiful drunk coeds than I could count, and Hank had told me about it one time. It was the only time a case they told me about gave me nightmares, just the thought of that wookie…
            “Alright, then let’s start with how you started working here.”
            “I answered an ad on Craigslist,” I answered simply.
            “That’s it?”
            “Yeah. The guys had bought the bar but knew that they weren’t very good at running a bar, just in drinking in it. So they put up an ad. I had just graduated with a degree in business, so I answered the ad. They said I was the first person who showed up, and they hired me.”
            She laughed. “They didn’t put a lot of thought into the decision, did they?”
            I shrugged again. “They didn’t have much time. They had no idea how to run a bar and they knew it, and on top of that, the occult business was booming at that point, so they needed to devote their time to that. I started right away, and have been running the Hops ever since.” While I had been speaking, one of the waitresses, Kiana, had come over to the table and was motioning for my attention. “Excuse me a second,” I said to the reporter. “What is it, Ki?” She leaned over and whispered into my ear, pointing at a seat at the bar as she did so. I looked to who she was pointing at, and then said thank you. “You’ll have to give me a few minutes, Melissa,” I said. “There’s a gentleman at the bar who says he needs to talk to the guys, I’m going to go see what he wants.
            I made my way through the people in the bar, saying brief hellos to some of the regulars, to the guy Kiana had indicated. “Hi,” I said as I introduced myself. “My name’s Alexa. You have something you’d like to talk to Biggs and Wedge about?”
            He nodded. “Yes,” he said, “my name is Mr. Reisling, and my wife and I think my son is haunted.”
            People come into the bar and say things like that all the time. Part of what I do is weed out the kooks and fame whores to try to make sure the guys only meet people with actual spirit problems. I had never heard of actual people being haunted, just houses and things, but looking at this guy… major bags under the eyes, hair was a mess, clearly on edge… I was inclined to believe him.
            “Okay,” I said, “wait here. I’ll go get them.” I walked down the bar, asking the bartender to get Mr. Reisling a cup of coffee, before I went down into the basement where the boys kept their office. I was only hoping they weren’t completely wasted by now.
            As I walked down the stairs, I could hear them laughing, and then I could make out snippets of their conversation.
            “Because getting involved with me will just get her hurt,” I heard Hank say. He sounded sad as he continued, “just like in the church; or worse, even killed. So even if I do love her…”
            It felt like my heart stopped. He loved me? I knew he returned my kiss a week ago, and I had hoped maybe he was opening up, but to hear that…
            I knew I should have stopped listening and walked in the office, but I couldn’t make myself yet. I had missed some of what they were saying in my surprise, but I could hear Wedge now. “If you’re both crazy about each other, just go for it. I mean, she could get hit by a bus coming to work tomorrow. Me and you know better than anybody, death is always around.”
            Both crazy about each other? Damn, was I really that obvious?
            Hank was talking again. “At least if she got hit by a bus, it wouldn’t be my fault.”
            Okay, this was killing me. I couldn’t listen anymore. As I turned the corner into the office and leaned against the doorway, Wedge said, “Doesn’t Lexy deserve to make that choice herself?”
            Hank said my name, but it was badly slurred, so he tried it again. “Lexy deserves…”
            That was when he noticed me, and he froze like a deer in headlights.
            “Lexy what?” Wedge prodded.
            “Lexy is right behind you,” Hank said, and I could literally hear him trying to force sobriety into his voice, but he was hopelessly plastered. “Hello, beautiful.”
            He called me beautiful. He had never said anything like that to me before; he was always trying to keep just enough distance between us. I couldn’t help but blush as my nose crinkled a bit at the powerful smell of whiskey in the room. “Having fun, boys?”
            “You know us, always a party,” Wedge laughed as he turned his chair around so he could see me better. “What’s up, Tiny?”
            God, I hated when he called me that. Just because I was only 5’2” and he was 6’4. “There’s a man upstairs who would like to see you,” I said, but then I considered how drunk they both clearly were, especially Hank. “Should I tell him to come back tomorrow?”
            “Nah, we can see him now. What does he want?” Hank was trying so hard to seem so much more sober than he was. God help me, I thought it was adorable.
            “He said him and his wife think their ten-year-old son is haunted.”
            Wedge laughed. “They must be drunker than we are. People don’t get haunted, just places and things. Right, Biggsy?”
            Everyone else called him Biggs or Biggsy, but he let me call him Hank, or even Henry sometimes. Even though he was answering Wedge, he was looking right at me the whole time. “Never heard of a haunted person before,” he said, “but then again, I had never heard of two spirits haunting the same thing, or a gorilla ghost either, so who knows?” He pulled himself up from his seat behind his desk, and I was afraid he was going to tip over for a second there.
            He made his way over to the door and I put my hand on his arm to stop him for a second. “Are you sure about this, Hank? You’re really drunk.”
            “So’s your face,” he responded with a goofy grin.
            What? “That doesn’t even make sense.”
            “Think about it and it does,” Hank answered before he started going up the stairs. I turned to watch him go, praying he wouldn’t fall and break his neck.
            “Don’t worry, Lexy, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Wedge said, trying to be assuring before he followed Hank up the stairs.
            And then Wedge promptly tripped on the first step.
            He got up fast and kept moving after Hank, but I couldn’t stifle a sigh. “Why doesn’t that fill me with confidence?”
            I followed the boys upstairs, introduced them to Mr. Reisling, and then left them to talk. I went back to the booth I was sharing with Melissa. “Sorry about that,” I said as I sat back down across from her.
            “Was that about a case for them?” she asked. When I nodded, she said, “So how did you go from being the bar manager to helping them with the occult business?”
            “Pretty much just like that,” I answered with a little laugh. “People would come in to talk to the guys when they were downstairs, or out of the building or whatever, so I’d talk to them first, see what they wanted, and then get the guys. It went from me just doing that to helping them keep names straight to helping with dates and billing issues and whatever else.”
            “It sounds like they couldn’t do it without you.”
            “I wouldn’t say that,” I answered absent-mindedly as I watched Hank and Wedge walk out with Mr. Reisling, frowning at the way they swayed on their feet. I had a bad feeling about this one, but I didn’t want the reporter to see that. “They could handle the occult stuff without me, for sure. I just help make things go more smoothly.”
            “Have you ever gone on a case with them?”
            I immediately thought about the case Fr. Rube Elliot hired the guys for, the poltergeist at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow where they needed to use me as bait and Hank had a bit of a meltdown. And then I kissed him in the office downstairs, not trying to push anything, just wanting to let him know I was there for him, and now it seemed like the kiss might have changed everything.
            “You have, haven’t you?” Melissa smiled. “I can tell by the look on your face. Tell me about it.”
            I definitely wasn’t going to tell her about the church case, but now I had to tell her something. “You’re right,” I said. “Once I started really helping with that business, I told the guys I wanted to tag along with them to see exactly what they do. Hank was against it immediately; he thought it would be too dangerous and was worried I might get hurt. He still thinks that way. But I insisted, and Wedge thought it was a good idea, so Hank finally agreed that I would join them on their next case. It took a few days, but finally one came up.”
            “What was it?”
            “It was a pretty basic haunting, at least the way it started out. A woman in her fifties came in and said she the typical weird things were happening in her house: things flying across the room, strange sounds, doors closing, lights going on and off, all in the living room, but she never saw any ghosts or anything. She also told us she kept her husband’s cremated remains in an urn on the fireplace in the living room, which just screamed, ‘Hey, there’s a spirit here!’ So the boys told her to stay here and wait for us, expecting it to be an open-and-shut case, and the three of us piled into the van and headed to her apartment.”
            “Was it not as open-and-shut as they expected?”
            “It never really is,” I said, shaking my head. I was really, really praying it would be that easy for them tonight, though, because they seemed way too drunk to handle any curveballs. I continued the story, hoping it would hide my concern. “So we got to the woman’s house and went right into the living room. The guys told me to stay by the doorway so I could get out in a hurry while they did their thing. Hank felt around the room with that special sense he has, his medium’s gift, and honed right in on the urn on the fireplace. There was this painting of a clown hanging on the wall behind the urn that creeped me out so badly I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. It wasn’t a scary painting or anything, clowns just freak me out. Wedge finally got my attention, wanting to make sure I watched how they painted the double pentagram with chicken blood for the summoning and banishing. Once it was done, Hank sat in the middle of it with the urn in his lap…”
            I was interrupted by the sounds of “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen coming from my phone. It was the ringtone I had set especially for Hank because of how crazy that song drove him. “Sorry, I have to take this,” I said hurriedly as I slipped out of the booth to answer the phone. “Hank? Is everything okay?”
            “Yeah, it’s fine,” he answered, but I could tell from the strain in his voice that it wasn’t. “Listen, I can’t explain right now but I need you to get out of the bar for awhile.”
            “What? What are you talking about? I can’t just leave, it’s Friday night and the place is getting packed!”
            “Lexy, don’t argue with me,” Hank said. He sounded almost sober, and I didn’t even want to begin to imagine what might have happened to sober him up that fast. “You need to take the rest of the night off, leave the bartenders in charge. Go see a movie or something.”
            “Alright, fine. There are a few movies I wouldn’t mind seeing; I guess I’ll go catch one.” Like there was a chance in hell I’d leave the bar with him sounding like this. I’d wait there until they got back, until I was sure Hank was safe, and nothing was going to change that. But he was clearly more worried about me than whatever they were dealing with, and I didn’t want to be a distraction.
            “Good. Thanks. I’ll explain everything tomorrow, I promise.” Hank hung up without saying goodbye. I took a second to put my poker face back on so Melissa Adaire would think everything was okay and joined her in the booth again.
            “Sorry about that,” I said, leaving the phone on the table in case he called back. “Where was I?”
            “Biggs had just sat on the floor with the urn,” she answered.
            “Right.” I picked up with the story. “Now, what you have to remember is that when it comes to the summoning, this is how Hank explained it to me. If the spirit is localized, like haunting an entire room, he just has to sit in the pentagram and feel for it until it manifests, and it’ll manifest in the boundaries of the pentagram because it’s drawn to him. That’s all he has to do to summon it. But if the spirit is haunting a particular item, the item itself has to be in the pentagram with him, or the spirit will manifest by the item and won’t be bound by the pentagram’s power.
            “And the reason this is important to the story,” I continued, “is that the spirit here wasn’t haunting the urn.”
            Her eyes widened a bit, but she said nothing, so I went on. “Hank assumed it was because, well, it makes sense, right? And when he was feeling out the room, he was drawn to the fireplace, so he figured it had to be the urn. But when he did the summoning with the urn, nothing happened, or so he thought. He looked around in confusion, until he heard me scream because a clown had just appeared out of nowhere in front of the fireplace.” I couldn’t suppress a shudder at the memory.
            “It was the painting?” she asked, laughing a little bit at my discomfort.
            “Yeah, it was the painting. We never found out why or how, the woman had bought it at a garage sale a few weeks ago because her husband had always loved clowns so she thought it would be nice to hang it behind his urn, but it was haunted. And when I screamed, it got the poltergeist’s attention and a lamp went flying at my head. Luckily, my scream also got Wedge’s attention and he had already instinctively been moving towards me, so he tackled me out of the way in the nick of time. Hank yelled for Wedge to get the poltergeist and then he was at my side, pulling me up and getting me out of the house. Wedge came out a minute later, having banished the clown poltergeist with his sword.
            “That’s some story,” she said. “Do they make mistakes like that often?”
            “Absolutely not,” I said defensively, although I knew about quite a few times where things like that happened. “The whole banishing thing isn’t exactly an exact scientific process. It’s all done on what Hank feels when he reaches out with his senses. And compared to other mediums I’ve met and heard about, he’s good. Really good.  But there’s no way to get them all right all the time.”
            “Okay,” Melissa said, smiling, “I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything, relax. I was just asking.”
            “Sorry.” I exhaled slowly. “I’m just protective of them. They’re my boys, and they do their best doing a good thing that’s also a hard thing, you know?”
            “I understand.” She reached out and turned her tape recorder off. “I think I got everything I need.”
            “Good. Listen,” I said spontaneously, “I’m going to order some dinner from the kitchen. You want anything? My treat, a thank you for doing the story for the guys.” I didn’t particularly want to spend any more time with a reporter, having to think about my every word, but I didn’t want to sit alone and worry for the next who-knows-how-long, either.
            “I’d like that,” she replied, and I waved Kiana over.

* * * * *
            To my surprise, I actually really enjoyed having dinner with her, and then the hour we spent after that just talking as well. I was actually about to ask her if she wanted to keep in touch after this when I heard something that stopped my heart.
            “I didn’t lose!”
            It was Hank’s voice, and I could hear Wedge laughing at him. They were both back, and it sounded like they were okay. I turned in the booth and saw Hank weaving his way through the crowd to our booth.
            “What’s she doing here?” he said as soon as he reached us.
            “Thank God you’re okay, you scared me half to death with that phone call!” I ignored his question as I almost leapt out of the booth to hug him, our height difference meaning my head ended up leaning against his chest.
            He broke the hug, pulling away a bit but leaving his hands on my arms. “Yeah? Then why are you still here? I told you to leave.”
            “Like I’d leave after a call like that, with you guys obviously in danger?” I punched him on the arm, and my fear must have taken over a little because I hit him harder than I planned to. Then I called him an idiot. “So what happened?”
            He looked at me before answering, and I got a little concerned. Did something bad happen? Was he really okay?
            “Can I tell you over dinner?” he finally asked.
            Was he asking me out?
            “Not tonight, obviously,” he said, sounding a little nervous when I didn’t answer right away. He saw the empty plates on the table. “I mean, you’ve clearly already eaten…”
            “Hank,” I interrupted, taking his hand gently, “yes. You can tell me over dinner, anytime you want.”
            “Good,” he said, looking a little surprised. He looked at me for a second, then he leaned down and kissed me lightly, and then he walked away, leaving me speechless.
            “I guess there’s more story here after all,” I heard Melissa say behind me.
            And she was right.