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8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

I woke up the next day filled with apprehension.

It was an immediate feeling as soon as I entered consciousness. Someone was watching me sleep. I cracked an eye and there sat Reggie at my desk.

"I have been waiting for ages," he said, then gently lowered the piece of notebook paper he'd been holding. I wiped my face and a dozen itty-bitty balls of paper rolled off my cheek.

"Dude, seriously? You were hurling spitballs at me while I slept?" I snapped as I sat up. Dozens of tiny white bits fluttered to my lap.

"Don't be absurd. I do not produce saliva."

Okay, that made it a little less annoying. Just a little. "You must have better things to do on a Monday morning than bother me."

"Sadly, I do not." He sighed theatrically. "And do not think I wish to observe you in your undergarments. That pair has a rend in the back. I suggest you invest in new unmentionables lest Philip divest you of your trousers and gaze upon that unsightly tear."

"You woke me up at…" I glanced at my phone. "Six in the morning to rag on me about my underwear?" I knew they had a tear near the elastic. Phil was not likely to have been getting into my pants while picking pumpkins yesterday. I'd do better on a more serious date.

"Truth be told, all of your underdrawers should be relegated to the rag bag."

I chose to lie back down and squeeze my eyes tightly shut. When I opened one, he was still there, legs daintily crossed, hands resting on knees, staring at me. "I am still here. I woke you to relay some information that the twins passed over the alley to me evening last." My sight flickered to the window. I wished he would stop gossiping with those poltergeists. "I realize that you dislike the Tewberry girls, and yes, they can be scamps, but they keep an ear to the ground with some of the, hmm, shall we say darker elements of the Liverswell spectral society."

I sat up. "You have a society?"

"In a manner." He waved a hand in the air. "That is neither here nor there. The twins caught wind of some whispers of a most malicious sort and were keen to pass it along to me."

Suspicion ran wild. I rubbed my cheeks. "Oh? And why is that? So they can see me frog off to try to talk sense into some sort of evil entity?"

"I do wish you would stop being so dramatic."

"Me? I'm the dramatic one here?"

Reggie pursed his lips. I cocked an eyebrow. "Do you wish to hear the information I possess, or are you going to carry on berating me for having an expressive manner of speech?"

"Sorry, fine. Please, tell me this important news from the Tewberry twins."

"The eldest by ten minutes, Miss Polly, was having a short little tea party with a dominus that—"

"She was having tea with a lesser demon?!"

He rolled his eyes. "A dominus, Archimedes, is barely a demon. More of a demonette."

"And you wonder why I ask you to stop engaging with those two?" I kicked off my covers and slapped my feet to the floor.

"You overreact." I huffed at him as I stepped into a pair of old blue jogging pants. "Your bigotry toward those of the rings of hell is quite unseemly, if I may say. Given that we are men who enjoy some rugged buggery—"

"I have never buggered or been buggered," I quickly pointed out and tugged a tee over my head.

"I'm sure young Philip will happily end your non-buggered state."

"Can we please stick to the news about the demon—"

"Dominus. There is a difference."

"What. Ever. Please, get to the point. I have to shower, eat, and get to class by noon."

His mouth puckered. "You are not the most congenial person in the morning." I waited, arms crossed, bladder beginning to make itself known. "I hope you make Philip aware of your wretchedness in the morn."

"Reg, please ."

"Yes, yes. Miss Polly was having tea with a dominus she had summoned for some light gossip and a few finger sandwiches." I shuddered at the mental image of the two of them, a demon and a poltergeist in a singed dress snacking on actual sandwiches made of human fingers. Thankfully, most ghosts didn't eat or drink. Demons? Well, that was another story. Also, I made a mental note to visit the Connors ASAP to sprinkle some mugwort and wormwood in the attic. How I could do that exactly remained to be seen. A worry for later. "This dominus mentioned in passing that they'd been hearing vague murmurs amongst the lesser demons about a stirring of great clairvoyant powers by Lake Killikee. Now, this on its own is nary a concern. We all know about the witch that lingers in the depths there and lures men to their watery graves."

"I object. That is an unfounded and unsubstantiated claim." Reggie cocked a brow. "Sorry, I was watching a Law & Order marathon when I fell asleep last night."

"Hmmm, yes, well as I was saying, a miserable old witch hauling humans into a dreary body of water is not the concern of those who dance macabre. What is interesting is the fact that the dominus did not cite that the spirit was the cause of these psychic disturbances. For those who dwell in the dark depths to even take note of such a thing speaks volumes."

"So what does it say? All those volumes? What do they tell us?"

He shrugged. "That I cannot speculate. I merely thought it should be brought to your attention. Do with that knowledge what you will. Oh, and when you decide to be buggered, I do insist that your brawny lover wear a johnny."

I didn't ask for clarification. I suspected I knew what he meant. "What makes you think that I'll be the buggered and not the one doing the buggering?"

He laughed himself into disapparation.

***

Two days later, I sat on the plum couch staring vapidly at Roxie, her boyfriend and Lions quarterback Tray Williams, and Phil as they discussed our new enterprise. Reggie was seated by the counter and Caleb was at his side, the two of them intent on what we were saying. Eloise had yet to return to the store, although she did linger outside, seemingly wanting to come in but too sheepish to do so after witnessing that heated clinch. Reg suspected she had never seen two men being amorous before and was trying to realign her rather rigid 60s upbringing. We all had faith that she would come around, given time.

Roxie, a marketing junior, Tray, a graphics designer, and Phil, my cute as a button film student, had been brainstorming big time. They had ideas. So many ideas. All of them made me more and more edgy with each one discussed.

"Also, and this is probably a huge one, you two should tell the world that you're dating," Roxie added as she passed around a logo that Tray had worked on instead of studying for his midterms in his after-effects class.

I glanced from Roxie to Phil with some trepidation. "Why would we need to do that? What possible difference would it make to our viewers?"

"For starters, being out and proud is always a good message to send to any younger people who may tune in," Roxie explained. Okay, that was true. "Also, and this will be a big draw, people adore gay couples." I stared hard at her. "Aside from the boneheaded bigots. Just watch some BL Thai podcasts and you'll see what I mean. And it's not just in Asia, it's worldwide. Queer romances are super popular right now, and you two are about the cutest couple I have ever seen." Tray cleared his throat. "Cutest gay couple."

"I'm bi," Phil reminded us before searching my face for my feelings. "Are you cool with us being open about our relationship?"

"Are you ? I'm just some goofy guy who owns a failing bookshop. You're a football player hoping to be drafted to a big league team. The stigma will hurt you more than me," I replied, my sight locked on Phil.

"I'm not all that into making the pros. My dream is to make films," Phil reminded us. "I just like playing sports. My father, on the other hand…" We all nodded. Parents were funny. They had expectations for their kids. Or so I had seen. "But yeah, I am crazy proud to be dating Archie."

My ears grew warm. I glanced down at the logo in my hand to keep myself from crawling over Roxie to get to Phil and plaster his face with kisses. "Wow," I whispered as I gazed down on an amazing drawn image of a kestrel sitting atop a key. My gaze flew to Tray. "This is incredible!"

"Thanks. I hope you're okay with the kestrel being on top?" Tray asked. Reggie roared in the background, the asshole.

"Yeah, that's totally fine," I said, then passed it over to Phil who raved over the logo. "So, if we do this, we need to do it fast. Halloween is right around the corner. We need to get out to a site where ghosts are reportedly seen."

Everyone began talking at once. Liverswell has had a plethora of paranormal sightings over the past couple of hundred years. As the other three tossed around possible specters we could go search for, I mulled over if I should reveal to our team—having a team was just wild to me—about my spectral sight. I could keep it a secret as I had been. I could simply say I was a firm believer in ghosts and otherworldly entities and wished to try to prove their existence. That would save me ridicule. But would that set us apart from the other hundreds of shows?

"We could go to the pumpkin patch for our first show," Phil suggested with a glance at me. "You saw that ghost farmer guy there when we picked out our—" His face went slack as mine went pale. "Oh shit. Arch." Roxie and Tray's heads whipped in my direction. So much for keeping my gift to myself. "Oh man, Archie, I'm sorry. I never…I meant you said that you thought you saw a ghost farmer guy. Shit." He buried his face in his huge hands.

Roxie looked at her boyfriend. A slow, sparkling smile stole over her face. Tray seemed a little less enthusiastic. I didn't know whether to deny or confirm.

"That is fucking epic!" Roxie squealed. I sat back, stunned. "You playing at being a real clairvoyant co-host for the show will send views through the roof! Holy shit, I need to come up with a new spin for this now!"

Phil peeked out from between his fingers. I sat there agape.

"Oh," Phil softly said into his palms before lowering them. "Right. Yeah, he's not for real. I mean, like no one can actually speak to dead people." His worried blue gaze flew to me. "We're just pretending you're a spiritualist, right, Arch?"

I mutely nodded. Then I shook my head. "I, uhm…" I looked around the shop. Everyone, including Reg and Caleb, was staring at me to stop stuttering and say yea or nay. Would letting people know I had this gift be an advantage or a detriment? I'd been so ashamed of being this freaky kid who grew into a gawky, freaky teenager and somehow became a weird college student, that I'd never seriously considered letting anyone know. Grandpa, on the other hand, had always said to be forthright about who I was. Be that Asian, which was kind of hard to hide, or queer, or a medium. Always be proud. He liked to quote Michelle Obama to me when I began to feel like a total outcast. I wasn't trying to dim my light to make others comfortable. Okay, maybe I was. Maybe I was living my life under a basket. But if I didn't keep my bizarre gift hidden, I might lose the new friends I was making. Damn it. "Phil misspoke. I didn't actually see an apparition in the pumpkin patch. I said that if I were going to try to find a ghost, that old farm seemed like a good place to nose around."

"So you're not going to say you're a powerful psychic? I mean, that could pull in lots of views from people who believe in that kind of stuff," Tray said as his girlfriend nodded.

"No, I don't think I should claim to have any occultic powers." I felt the ghosts behind me gawking at me. I prayed neither one of them took offense. I just was not ready to have the whole world think I was weirder than it already thought. It was gutless of me to crave friendship so badly that I denied a large part of what made me unique. "I think us just going out to find ghosts and document them will be enough. Besides, we have that whole cute gay couple thing working in our favor."

I hurried to kiss Phil's soft lips. His arm fell over my shoulder and he tucked me into his side. I nuzzled his neck with my nose. Roxie made googly heart eyes at us. Tray gave us a pleased bob of his head.

"You two are so cute! Okay, so I think we should get on this," Roxie stated. "The sooner we get the pay-per-view people signed up and send in those bucks, the sooner you start raking in the cash to save your bookstore. Also, this will drive foot traffic to this place." She motioned to the dimly lit shop. "I'm sure you'll see profits rise in no time."

"I hope so," I whispered, letting my head drop to rest on Phil's burly shoulder. When I chanced a peek at the register, Reggie and Caleb were gone. While the other three were busy setting up a website to host our PPV adventures, discussing marketing, and laying out what kind of extra lighting equipment Phil should invest in, I sat there chewing on a hangnail.

"Okay, so if you do happen to capture something inexplicable on film, try to see if you can get it to talk to you," Roxie was saying when I drifted back into the discussion. Someone had left to bring snacks. Wow, I needed to stay better engaged with my surroundings. "Oh!" Roxie tossed a corn chip into her mouth, chewed rapidly, and swallowed. "If it won't talk, see if it might be interested in taking over one of you so the other can interview it!"

My eyes went as round as a trash can lid. "No, no, we cannot offer an undead entity the use of our body. That would be catastrophically bad," I hurried to say. Phil's sight flew around the shop, nacho cheese dripping off his corn chip to his pant leg unseen. "Possession is off the table."

"It wouldn't be a real possession. Just a fake one," she argued. Tray had said that once his girl got her teeth into something she did not give up easily. I admired that kind of temerity. "Let Phil do it if you're scared."

I was scared. They had no real idea how horrible even putting that offer out into the world could be. Point in case. Not but a week ago, a ghostly child had invited a dominus to a tea party. For finger sandwiches. A hell spawn sat not a thousand yards away, pretending to be sipping tea while dishing all the shade from the netherworld. Granted, no one eating nachos knew about this, but I knew.

"If Arch is uneasy, then we don't do it," Phil interjected just as Roxie opened her mouth to argue her point more. "Talking to the ghosts will be cool enough."

"I mean, guys, come on. It's not like it would even be real. People don't get possessed by devils. It would all be a stunt to pull in more views," Roxie claimed, cleverly changing tactics. "What harm can there be in pretending to be taken over by a fake phantom?"

"Nope, Archie's gramps believes in water ghosts and would be upset if he saw Archie asking one to chill out inside him for a one-on-one interview," Phil interjected and quite cleverly if I did say so myself. "I'm not going to upset Gramps. He's super cool and makes the best little snacks with cream cheese and veggie crackers when we study."

I smiled uneasily at Roxie, who shrugged and huffed but then let the idea drop.

The meeting ended around eleven. Roxie and Tray left hand-in-hand, stopping on the sidewalk to speak to Grandpa as he returned from the monthly jitterbug night at the senior center. For an old duff with a cane, he could cut a pretty mean rug if the tunes were slow dances. Grandpa never had an empty dance card. Maybe when the sight skipped a generation that person was given extra in other ways to compensate. I'd gladly swap out being able to hear Reggie go on at length about his time spent romancing a burly and well-hung stable hand at Lord Rich British Dude's estate in Sussex. Maybe I would have more self-assuredness. My grandfather had it in bucketfuls.

"Do not leave for me," Grandpa said before climbing the stairs, a cloud of cheap perfume wafting off him as he passed by us lounging on the plum sofa. "I'm going to bed. Those women wore me out!"

"You go, Gramps! Total ladies' man!" Phil called out. Grandpa pumped the air with his cane. The door to our apartment clicked shut. Phil turned to me, his knee bumping my thigh, and grabbed my hands. "I hope you're okay with me making shit up about your grandfather and the water ghosts. I meant no disrespect of any kind. I just…it was the only thing I could think of that would get her to back off after I totally let my stupid mouth run. I love Roxie but she's always so sure that her way is the only way, but she would not want to make your grandfather upset because she loves old people a lot, so I kind of jumped in and—"

I took his face between my hands and kissed him on the mouth.

His mouth was tight with surprise for a moment and then softened. I pulled back just enough for a heated breath to tickle our lips.

"What you said was totally fine. And true. He does believe in water ghosts." I studied his eyes, slowly getting lost in the beautiful shades of darkest navy and clear robin's egg blue.

"But it sounded like I was making light of your parents' deaths and—"

I stole another kiss. This one lasted longer. Phil leaned into the second one, and the third, and the fourth. By the time we had arrived at kiss number five, I'd somehow levitated to sit straddling his lap, his fingers tickling my spine under my sweater.

"So you're not mad?" he asked on a hot exhalation.

"I am not mad," I whispered before growing brazen enough to lick a wet path down the side of his neck. His hips rocked upward as his fingers bit lightly into my lower back. "So not mad…"

"I…shit…that's really nice," he panted, his grip moving downward to cup my ass. I bit down where shoulder met neck. Just a quick nip that I hurried to kiss to lighten the sting. I had no damn clue if what I was doing was sexy or just annoying, but Phil seemed to be enjoying things, so I must be doing something right. I'd not thought of any end goal when I'd stolen that first kiss. I'd just been moved so deeply by his concern. I'd never had a guy want to shelter me from the world like Phil did. Truly, the only person I'd had in my corner was my grandfather. Unless you counted Reggie who, looking back, had kind of served as a nanny of sorts. A lecherous nanny. A randy governess. A naughty au pair. "I like it when you do that."

So I did it again on the other side of his throat, this time with a bit less bite and a little more suction. Phil was moving under me in wickedly tempting ways, his hips rolling in tight circles that rubbed his stiff prick against mine. Each bump of hard cocks made me shudder.

"Fuck, this is…Arch, we need…are you okay with me maybe touching you?" Phil asked, his hands now pressing me down tighter to his dick. A move that I was fully into. My briefs were damp, I was so into it. "Your dick. I want to touch your dick."

"Yes, please, yes," I gasped and then joined in the gyrations as my mouth crashed over his. Phil had big, meaty fingers. It took him several attempts to free my cock and then his. The first brush of the velvety head of his dick over mine nearly had me coming then and there. Phil hoisted me up and to the side, falling over me like a big, burly blanket, then recaptured my mouth with his. He licked in deep as he wiggled a hand between our bellies, his hand closing around both of our dicks with ease. I whimpered. He began stroking us, his tongue sliding over mine, and within seconds, I was spilling all over his hand. The slickness of my cum coated our cocks, and he rocked into his fist with frantic speed while sucking on my tongue. Tremors rolled through me, curling my toes in my slippers. My fingers fisted in his hair, keeping him locked against me as he came. I never wanted this moment to end. It was perfection.

"Oh shit," Phil huffed as his large frame shook. "That was…shit that was…"

"Amazing," I filled in, my hold on his hair slacking, so I rubbed at his scalp. "Sorry if I pulled too hard."

"Nope, I loved it. Everything. I loved every damn thing, Arch." He kissed me softly a few dozen times, milking us until I had to ask him to stop. He did, instantly, dropping little pecks to my cheeks, eyelids, and nose before he eased back to flop on the other end of the sofa. I laid on my back for a moment, then slowly sat up, my gaze falling on a sight that would play over in my dreams for eternity. Phil Kestrel splayed out, arms draped over the side of the sofa, cheeks reddened, lips pinked, and cock out, slick with our combined spunk. If I could have crafted the most beautiful visage of male perfection, like Michelangelo did with marble or Caravaggio with oils, I would have created Phil. "I could love on you all night."

I scurried over him after tucking my dick back into my pants, eager to taste his plush lips again and again. He was happy to oblige. We lay there touching, kissing, and whispering silly little things as lovers do.

"I've never had anyone touch my dick before," I confessed as I rested atop him, my cheek on his chest. His fingers moved through my hair.

"I hope I touched it good," he answered. I lifted my head to find his sight locked on me.

"You touched it super good," I replied and got a smile that could illuminate the entirety of Liverswell. I longed to just stay here in the nook with him, but the slight shifting of something over in the direction of the classics section reminded me that reality could only be kept at bay for so long and that someone in a fancy red coat was probably spying on us from the dusty ceiling fan. "Next time I want to touch your dick, if you'd like that?"

"I would love it, but even if you never touched my dick, I'd be happy. I just…I like you, Arch. I mean…like really like you. Am I being too eager? You'll tell me if I am so I can curb my enthusiasm, right?"

"I don't think you could ever be too eager for me," I confessed. The tension creeping into his jaw eased. Another rustle of papers, now over by the register. I glanced that way. Nothing to be seen other than a pen scribbling on something beside the till. "Maybe we should wash up?"

Phil held his spunky hand in the air. "Yeah, maybe." He sat up, stole a fast peck, then tucked, zipped, and padded off to use the bathroom. I watched him climb the stairs, rose, and walk over to the register. Reggie had left a rather ribald drawing: two spurting penises with a note in his flowery script.

Oh glory! How doth the spend flow when young love ripens the air in autumn!

I sighed, balled up the drawing, and tossed it into the trash. "There are laws against peeping, you reprobate!" I yelled into the ether and got only a faint little giggle that floated into nothingness. Mumbling to myself, I dug out an old package of antiseptic hand wipes from the pandemic to swipe at my tacky belly. I was still muttering when Phil snuck back down the steps all neatened up.

"Grampy is in his room watching Jimmy Kimmel," he informed me as he swept me into his arms for a hug. I melted into the embrace. "I should get back to the dorm. I have a paper to finish."

"Yeah, he loves Guillermo. Phil, you should have been working on that and not here wasting time on—"

He placed a finger that smelled of lemon on my lips. "I'm here because there is nowhere else I would rather be. The paper will get done. I have a six-pack of Raging Red energy drinks in the fridge. It'll be fine. Saving your home and livelihood is more important than some dumb essay for classical film theory." I wanted to argue. Instead, I licked his finger. I wasn't sure where this brazen side of me had been lurking all these years, but I kind of liked it. So did Phil, it seemed. His eyes flared, then darkened with desire. "None of that, or I won't be leaving until sunrise."

I snuggled into his side, walked him to the door, and went to my toes for a goodbye kiss that left us both breathless. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Oh, we'll have to shoot on Friday night. I have an away game on Saturday. Do you want to go talk to the farmer in the pumpkin patch?"

"Sure, that's fine." The Mennonite fellow seemed like a nice, easy first episode.

"Cool." He touched his brow to mine. "I am so glad we're dating."

"Me too." I waved him off, watching him jump into his car and drive off. Eloise was at the corner. She raised a hand at Phil as he sped past and then cautiously floated down to me standing on the cold sidewalk, hugging myself to keep warm. "Evening, Eloise."

She pointed a finger in the direction that Phil went then poked a translucent digit at me. "Yes, we're dating. I know that queer couples weren't out much in your time, but—" She waved a hand to silence me and made a heart that she peeked through. "Yes, we do have very strong feelings for each other."

After hearing that, she wrote an ‘O' and a ‘K' in the misty air. Then she drifted off. I let her go, my breath fogging, and when she moved through the wall of the laundromat, I turned and began cranking the security grate down as I replayed the tender moments just shared on the plum sofa, followed by that short exchange with Eloise. It was rather sad how people who had been dead for years could seemingly come to grips with same-sex couples, but so many living souls refused to open their hearts. Maybe death clarified things. If so, what a damn pity that some fools clung to their hate until they passed over and saw the light. I couldn't imagine carrying such darkness in my breast for years and years. Or, perhaps, it was only Eloise who was open to being kind to all.

I'd have to speak to Reggie about that. And the damn dirty drawings.

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