Ghosts

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I wipe the steam that covers my bathroom mirror, admiring my reflection. I’m not one of those manholes who likes to preen when he sees his own physique, but I gotta admit, I look pretty darn good in a towel. The quiff my hair’s been styled in since starting at Hill O’ Beans has held up nicely, though it’s getting a little long on the top. I’ll have to pop in to see Nico for a light trim when I get a chance.

With practiced hands, I razor away two days’ worth of stubble, then slap a wad of gel through my hair. Satisfied that I’ve achieved a solid nine on the Sexy-Beast-Meter, I remove my towel, give my torso and legs one more wipe-down, then hang it on the rack. I make my way back to my bedroom, searching the floor for my cleanest pair of boxers and my un-wrinkliest pair of jeans.

“Hey, little bro.”

The girlish squeal that issues from my mouth is embarrassingly unmanly. It’s all I can do to keep my skeleton inside my skin as I whip around, searching for the voice’s source. I find him lounging on my bed, arms folded coolly behind his head. He’s wearing the same blue jeans and grey tee as the last time I saw him…which, until this second, I was sure was nothing more than a hallucination brought on by blunt force trauma.

Under normal circumstances, this would be annoying as hell. The fact that I’m about to have a conversation with my very dead older brother is…well, disturbing. As if my life isn’t weird enough.

I cover my junk with one hand while snatching up my jeans with the other. With my denim shield in place, I glare at my spectral guest. “Not cool, AJ.”

He spreads his arms wide. “Come on, give your favorite brother a hug.”

“I’m naked, dude.”

“And I’m dead. But you got over that, thanks to me.”

I edge over to the corner of my room, slide my big toe into the band of my boxers, and lift it into my waiting hand. “And I’m grateful. Really. Now step outside while I get dressed.”

AJ swings his legs off the bed and stands. “Oh, come on. I’m paying you a visit from beyond the grave and you’re ordering me out of the room? It’s not like I haven’t seen that baby carrot you got hanging between your legs before.”

I choke back a laugh. No way am I giving him the satisfaction of knowing just how much I’ve missed our brotherly banter. How much I’ve missed him. “Screw you, butt-munch.”

“Tell me, has that hot girlfriend of yours seen that cocktail sausage you call an erection yet?”

Righteous indignation washes away my embarrassment. I drop the jeans and, in full view of AJ, step into my boxers. “At least I can still get an erection.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but then his shoulders slump. “Touché.”

Score.

“You know, I’ve been wondering ever since that night in Harold Crane’s basement whether our little heart-to-heart really took place or if it was all in my head. Guess this answers that.”

“Yeah, about that.” AJ pushes off the wall and faces me. “I imagine you have questions about your psychic abilities.”

“Only about a million.”

“Well, I might be able to answer some of them.”

Whoa. “For reals?”

“Yup. No offense to Gina—who I really like, by the way. She’s cool in that spunky, early-thirties soccer mom kind of—”

Guh. Guess my brother’s chronic verbal diarrhea followed him to the afterlife. “Please don’t finish that sentence, AJ. I’d better not find out you’re perving out on her when she’s in the shower or some s**t like that.” I deepen my glower. “Wait a sec. Was that you just now in Gina’s living room?”

I swear his face goes pale. Is that possible? He is a ghost. Does that mean he—ah, screw it, I don’t care right now. I can freak out about this when I’m not running late. I snatch a clean black polo and a pair of socks from my dresser drawer, then sit on the bed and pull both on.

“It was me,” he admits. “But it’s not what you think. I can only appear to someone who’s a blood relative, and only in their direct vicinity. And before you ask, yes, you’re the only one who can see me.”

“Good to know I’m not gonna be visited by every spook in town.” I slip my feet into my black Converse. “So, is that all you have to say? Sydney’s driving me to work today, and she’ll be here any minute.”

I sense another presence behind me a split-second before it speaks. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, tell him already,” says a male voice. This one is more mature yet equally familiar.

An old man, clad in a crisp blue dress shirt and white pants, stands by the window, staring through the tiny gap between the blinds and the frame. The short white hairs that cover the lower half of his face have been trimmed to perfection, and the air of authority that surrounds him hasn’t waned even though he died six years ago.

“Grandpa Bernie?” I gasp.

“Hey, kiddo.” His weathered face cracks into a warm smile.

“Wha…how…” I slam my eyes shut, shake my head, then open them again. He’s still there. I fix AJ with a stony glare.

He responds with an infuriating smirk. “I might have mentioned to a couple of our relatives that you can see us now.”

Aaaand the mountain of crazy just gets bigger and bigger. All that’s missing is Sauron’s eye.

“Glad to see you’re finally taking care of yourself,” Bernie says, drawing my attention. “Always knew you had it in you.”

“Uh…thanks?” I stammer.

His expression hardens, and his eyes flash with indignation. “But…‘Bax’? Is that how you show respect? By ditching the name you were given? I took a bullet to the chest at Gia Lam in ’73, for which I won—”

“The Silver Star, yes I know. You were a Badass First Class, Grandpa. But do you know what being named ‘Bernard’ gets you on the playground these days? Beaten up.”

“You should have stood up for yourself, instead of letting your brother fight all your battles.”

“Leave him alone, Gramps,” AJ interjects. “You saw how Mom treated him. He was just a little kid. You gonna blame all that on him, too?”

Grandpa’s jaw tightens for a moment, then he shakes his head. “No.”

“Lest we forget, I had to deal with the same bullying. What was Dad thinking, naming me Amos? You know how many times I was called ‘Anus’ growing up? It was hell.”

“What’s wrong with Amos?” This voice comes from the doorway. A bald man who looks a lot like Bernie stands on the threshold, clad in an army dress uniform that reminds me of the one Steve Rogers wore before becoming Captain America. “It means ‘strong’, just like the men of this family have been since the days of my own great-great-grandfather!” He scrubs a hand over his hairless head, facing Bernie. “I’m telling you, son, these kids today—”

Gah. Enough is enough already. I have no idea if making a break for it would work, but I’m seriously considering it right now.

“Give it a rest, Dad,” Grandpa Bernie says, then returns his focus to me. “Sorry, kid. Now you know what I had to grow up with.”

AJ holds his hands up. “Grandpa, Great-Grandpa, no offense, but I can handle this.”

“Phooey,” Amos grumps. “Doesn’t sound like you’re handling anything.”

“I hate to agree with the old man, but he’s right,” Bernie adds.

“Old man? Look at you! You’re ten years older than me!”

“Because I had the sense to stop smoking when my doctor told me to!”

“Okay, that’s it!” I bellow at the top of my lungs, silencing the cacophony with a vengeance. When I’m certain I have their attention, I continue, looking at Amos and Bernie in turn. “Before this becomes a thing, we’re setting some ground rules. First, my life is crazy enough without the Undead Baxter Family Reunion. From now on, I don’t want to see more than one of you at a time, got it?”

“Got it,” AJ says without hesitation. He feels me on this one. Thanks, dude.

“Fine,” Bernie and Amos say together.

“Second, if you insist on coming into my home, without me inviting you, you are going to treat me with respect. Maybe I wasn’t at Saigon or Iwo Jima or whatever third-world shithole became your path to glory, but that doesn’t mean I need to be reminded just how unlike you I turned out.”

Shock washes over the faces of the two military men. “That’s what you think?” Bernie says in a hushed tone.

“Boy, you got us all wrong,” Amos adds.

I open my mouth to argue further, but Amos holds his hands up, cutting me off. “We’re going, we’re going. Don’t blow a gasket.” He shoots a withering look at AJ. “Make sure he knows.” With that, he turns on his heels and vanishes through the wall.

Bernie, for his part, gives me a contrite nod and a sincere, “See you soon, kiddo,” before leaving the same way.

No, not disturbing at all.

“Sorry about that.” AJ’s voice breaks the sudden quiet. I meet his eyes, which are no longer playful or glinting. “You have to understand, they grew up in a way different time than us. They’re proud of the man you’ve become, even if they suck at showing it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I check my phone. God, can’t Sydney just get here already?

“Look, I know you gotta jet, so I’ll just say what I came to say. Something’s coming. Something bad.”

This gets my attention. I approach him, stopping a yard away. I want to reach out, to grasp his arm, but instinct tells me I’d end up only grabbing air. I’m not sure I want to deal with that right now. “What?”

AJ’s face falls. “I…can’t tell you that.”

I take it back. If he weren’t dead, I would totally gut-punch him right now. “Why the hell not?”

“I just…can’t.”

A loud knock comes from the door, followed by a sweet, “Baxy? You ready to go?”

“Be right there,” I call, then face AJ again. “Let me see if I’ve got this…first you say you can answer my questions, then you flake out. You warn me about this ‘bad thing,’ but you can’t tell me what it is. So do me a favor—don’t come back until you can be of some actual help.”

With that, I walk straight through him and out into the hallway. Whatever I expected to happen—a sensation of icy fingers pricking my skin, a three-aspirin headache, a flash of color or light—I get nothing. My brother has no more substance than a hologram.

“B,” he calls after me in that brotherly tone I’m unable to ignore.

I glance over my shoulder, waiting expectantly.

“Gina’s right. You have the potential to do a lot of good. But you got lucky last time. If you’re determined to keep playing this game, you need to be more careful from now on. You read me?”

I nod, even though I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about.

“Just…watch out is all I’m saying.”

“Whatev.”

I fling open the front door to be met by a gust of chilly wind that nearly blows me backward. A second later, Sydney envelops me in a warm embrace. I barely have time to register the red-and-white striped sweater that hugs her body in a way that makes my mind go someplace dirty.

I close the door behind her, casting a wary glance down the corridor. Thank God, we’re alone. I’m so relieved I practically crush her to my chest, and we share a heartfelt kiss.

“Ooh, someone missed me,” she coos.

“Well, naturally.” In a heartbeat, the ghosts of Christmas-Never fade from my mind, and all I can see, think about, is the beautiful girl in front of me. I run my fingers through her straight, dark blonde hair, and my cares melt away.

“Is the plan still IHOP, and then that new Sophie Devereaux movie?”

“Nothing but the best for my girl.” I grab my thick brown leather jacket from the chair next to my dining table, hearing the jingle of keys that I know are in the pocket, before tapping my grinning girlfriend on the tip of her nose. “After you.”

I smile and slide into the passenger seat of Sydney’s car. As we drive away, my thoughts creep back to the cloud enveloping my mind. With Sydney lost in the refrain of some new pop song the radio stations insist on playing to death, I work through what suddenly feels like the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders.

I have a second psychic ability.

I’m seeing ghosts. Who are forecasting my doom. Or something.

Hoorah for me.