Chapter 7

Manrick

"Guy like me?" Manrick muttered. "What does that mean?"

He stared at his phone like it would bite him.

The text had come from an unknown number, but then he had no contacts other than Archer and Trixie, so anyone else would be unknown to him.

You gave your number to Claudia Scott at the market.

Manrick cringed and pushed his tumbler of bourbon aside. Would she contact him? Surely not. They hardly knew each other. It had been years since they'd seen each other. And she had been married to his friend.

But why else would she ask for his number earlier, if not to contact him? What did she want? To talk about Harold? Manrick had attended the funeral services when Harold passed, but he hadn't thought about him in ages. He wasn't particularly interested in listening to Harold's widow share stories.

But why else would Claudia text him? Unless…

Surely, she wasn't interested in him. Because he certainly wasn't interested in dating anyone, especially her.

And no matter the reason she texted, what the hell did it mean? Guy like him? Old? Is that what she meant? Because Claudia Scott was older than dirt, too. She might not look it, but she was at least as old as Manrick, if not older.

Know of any new clubs?

The second text buzzed in before he could decide what to do about the first. Stalling, he tapped the screen to fire a text back—Who is this?

But he wasn't an experienced phone owner, he had never texted before earlier this afternoon when he texted got it to Archer, and a third text buzzed before he managed to hit send on his response.

Are you there?

Claudia Scott.

"For Pete's sake." Manrick tossed the phone down when she texted yet again. He smoothed his sweaty palms over his trousers and reached for the glass of bourbon. Usually not one to waste fine whiskey, he cringed as he threw it back to burn all the way down his throat. Manrick huffed out a harsh breath, this time blowing the fire straight out, and reached for the damned phone again.

He muttered a few curse words when he noticed the slight tremble in his hand. It had been a long, damned time since he had talked to a woman one on one.

Archer and his girlfriend go to a club called The Zombie Diva.

Zombie Diva. Got it. Where's that at?

Across the

Wait. What? Archer has a girlfriend?

Frustrated yet again by Claudia's rapid-fire texts and his own, poky arthritic fingers, Manrick sighed and tried to focus on his response. One thing at a time. The last damned thing he wanted was for this woman to actually call him.

Across the Bledsoe Drye Railroad tracks. And yes, Archer has been seeing someone for a while now.

Ever been?

No. Not much for clubbing.

Well, neither am I. Just tired of spending my nights with my old lady neighbor. A ghoul can only watch so much Funeral Feud.

Manrick nodded despite himself. He hated gameshows, and that was probably his least favorite. His granddad used to watch it back in the day. His poor grandmother had hated the show, possibly even more than Manrick did.

Still, agreeing with Claudia that maybe he would rather go clubbing than watch Funeral Feud didn't mean he wanted to continue the conversation. Manrick leaned back in his chair, though he was anything but relaxed. Phone in one hand and the empty rocks glass in the other, he stared at the handheld demonic thing hoping to hell it wouldn't buzz again.

When five minutes had passed, and he hadn't heard from Claudia again, he let his shoulders sag a bit with relief. Now, he could go back to watching bowling highlights. Ready for another small pour of bourbon, Manrick put his phone on the table and stood. The tension in his body tightened like someone twisted a screwdriver hard and fast between his shoulder blades when he heard the firm knock on his closed door.

It was Archer. He knew that without a doubt. He also knew exactly what his master was visiting his quarters for. It wasn't enough that he had the phone now. Archer, and very possibly Julian, had come to set up Manrick's account and page on the Love Bites app.

"Coming," Manrick mumbled. No ordinary human would have heard him, but he was sure Archer did. Rather than sip this second pour and enjoy it, Manrick put the bottle down hard enough that the amber-colored liquid almost sloshed out the top. With a frustrated sigh, he threw the shot back, cleared his throat, and went to open the door to let Archer and Julian in.