Haunted (2 page)

Did I just say that?

Ronnie flew at me from behind the checkout counter, arms spread wide. She latched onto my shoulders, shaking me a little. “Would you? That would make this so much easier,” she said, breathing a bit more easily. “But I don't know when I'm going to be back.”

“That's OK. I'm sure it'll be fine.”

Seriously…stop talking now.

“This could run into the next week or two depending on how it goes, possibly longer. You're sure you're flexible with that?” she asked, seeking confirmation that everything would be okay.

I lied.

“Absolutely. Take all the time you need. Cooper and I will take good care of her.”

What am I doing? Cooper can't even take care of himself!

She gave me another quick hug and then ran to the phone to call Peyta and let her know what was going on. Since I didn't really know either, I did eavesdrop on that conversation.

I checked my watch to see how late Cooper was. Twenty minutes and counting. I was starting to feel claustrophobic in the tiny shop and decided to bail. I waved to get Ronnie's attention and gestured that I was heading out. She mouthed back that she'd call me; she had my cell number in case of a store-related emergency. I burst through the door of her shop a little too enthusiastically, almost falling over on the way. As I stumbled to a halt, I looked down the adjacent alley to see Cooper rounding the far corner walking away from me. Where in the hell is he going? I yelled after him, but he didn't seem to hear. I found that strange given his heightened wolf senses. Maybe he just didn't want to hear me.

Making my way home on foot, I enjoyed the downtown feel as I walked. There was so much history in that area and it was apparent from the brick buildings to the cobblestone streets. What I loved most was the town's commitment to keeping the architecture and atmosphere as historically accurate as possible. Street signs and lights were fashioned after a time long past. Storefronts were allowed to be new and modern inside but the building facades were never to be altered. I had a lot of respect for that.

I arrived home minutes later to see the lights on in the apartment. Did he just leave everything on and run out the door? I sighed and shook my head to myself as I made my way into the building and up the stairs. Music echoed through the stairwell, muffled slightly by my apartment door. It was a delightful mix of late eighties and early nineties hip-hop.

I walked through the door to find Cooper dancing around the living room with a vacuum cleaner in his hand. The dancing may have been better described as a combination of one part Flashdance, one part Jane Fonda jazzercise, and one part total awesomeness. I went from confused to hysterical in about zero point five seconds. He couldn't hear my laughter over the deafening sound, so my show continued. I had collapsed to the floor clutching my stomach and trying to breathe without peeing my pants. When the high kicks started I was done for; I crawled to the stereo and turned it off.

Cooper wheeled around and closed the distance between us before I knew what was going on. He towered over me blocking the light, but I could sense his expression and it was not a friendly one.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled down at me.

I was too scared to move initially so I stayed where I sat.

“I had to shut it off before my bladder burst, Cooper. I haven't seen anything that funny since the movie 'Just Friends', which was highly underrated by the way,” I replied, hoping humor would diffuse the situation a bit. I couldn't have been more wrong.

“I'm trying to clean. I want the music on. Don't touch shit unless you're told to.”

Uh…reality check.

I stood up to meet his hostility face-to-face. With all the weird behavior he'd been exhibiting for the last three months, aggression had never been on the list. A check needed to be added to that column.

“Hey, Shit-For-Brains, are you forgetting where you are? Last time I checked this was my house, and that's my stereo, and you're living in my guest room. I'm pretty sure that means I don't have to run shit past you and I certainly don't need your permission,” I yelled in his face. I could feel the anger roiling off of him, my empath abilities in full alarm mode. His rage-fueled response fed my own.

He stood still, breathing rapidly while flexing his hands in and out of fists. I was hoping neither would be coming for my face. Cooper had never been violent with me, not even close, but everything about him at that moment said he wanted a fight, and not a verbal one. I tried to emanate calm as I had in the past with him, hoping it would bring him down a notch or two. Given my own state of rage, however, it accomplished nothing. Eventually he just stormed past me to his bedroom, but not before throwing the vacuum cleaner across the room, ripping the cord out of the wall and taking the outlet with it.

I stood alone in the living room wondering exactly what had just happened. I further wondered how I would keep a seventeen-year-old girl safe in my home when I wasn't entirely sure how to do that for myself. With a sigh I decided to address one problem at a time.

“Guess I need to call an electrician.”

3

I left Cooper alone for the rest of the evening, knowing that he'd soon be going out as usual. Thursday through Saturday nights were for clubbing, while the rest of the week was hit or miss as to whether I could expect him home or not. I had no idea where it was he went. It was probably better that I didn't know.

I got a call from Ronnie saying that she had a flight out of Boston’s Logan Airport first thing the next morning and wanted to double check that it was still okay for Peyta to stay with me. I lied through my teeth as I reassured her that everything would be fine. We decided that Peyta would come to my place after school, and the two of us would get things sorted out from there. Ronnie offered to leave me money for food, as she promised me that the five-foot-nothing waif she called her daughter would eat me out of house and home. Clearly she wasn't harboring a werewolf at her place – I knew all about feeding large appetites.

I refused and said she could surprise me instead with a killer outfit when she got back. She agreed to my terms begrudgingly. She also mentioned that a friend who helped her during holiday season was going to be able to run the store, but she wanted Peyta to check in and help with the ordering and merchandising in her absence. My job was to make sure Peyta followed through with her mother’s instructions. I wrote everything down to be sure I didn't screw things up somehow; creating unintentional mayhem was one of my finer gifts.

I hung up after wishing Ronnie well. She promised to call in a couple of days once she was settled in to make sure the arrangement was working out for all parties. I was surprised that she was okay with her seventeen-year-old staying in a house with a gorgeous twenty-five-year old man, but I remembered that she had really grown fond of Cooper. She wasn't aware that he was a sinking ship.

I put the phone down and went into the kitchen. There were a million things to do before my newest roommate showed up, but I felt that procrastination in the name of feeding myself was in high order. I was waist deep in the refrigerator when the “sinking ship” emerged from his quarters. His footsteps echoed down the hall, stopping when he entered the kitchen. I didn't realize he was hanging over the fridge door when I pulled last night's takeout from the back and stood up quickly, slamming the door behind me. As I turned to leave, I ran right into the wall-that-was-Cooper who was waiting. My noodles flew backwards into the kitchen wall, creating some delightful abstract art as I screamed.

“Seriously, Cooper,” I yelled, clutching my chest while my heart pounded in it. “What's with the Creepy McStalkerson routine? It's like a bad episode of Seinfeld.”

“I just wanted to say I was sorry for snapping at you earlier. I'm heading out,” he said, not looking very apologetic.

“Cooper, what's going on with you? Why won't you tell me?” I asked, my eyes pleading for understanding.

“Nothing. I'm just having trouble adapting, that's all,” he answered curtly.

Liar.

“Are you still having the night terrors?”

“NO! Geez, Ruby, what's with the interrogation? I'm leaving,” he said, turning his back to me mid-sentence. “I'll see you when I see you.” I felt his anxiety level spike through the roof at the mere mention of his post-Utah nightmares.

“Fine, Cooper. Do whatever you need to do, but you need to get your shit together before Peyta gets here tomorrow. She's staying with us while her mom's out of town helping with a family matter. She'll be here for a while and I need you stable. Can you manage that?” I asked as condescendingly as possible.

Cooper had always like Peyta, right from the moment he met her. She was nearly as charming as he could be. She was also highly intelligent, and seemed far more mature than her actual age would indicate. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like she may have had a small crush on Cooper, though he seemed to regard her as a younger sister.

He turned to face me, sporting a frown. He was clearly contemplating the issue at hand, uncertain as to whether or not he could pull off what I had requested.

“Peyta will be staying here?” he asked rhetorically. “Yeah. Yeah, I can pull it together.”

He looked troubled at the thought but said nothing more on the matter. He gave a nod as he walked out the door, leaving me to clean up the mess yet again.

I was getting really tired of that job.

4

I spent Friday at the shop alone; Cooper never came home. It wasn't surprising, but it sure as hell was irritating. He had quite a fan base with the ladies who came in, and they were never too skilled at hiding their disappointment when they saw my platinum blond fro pop up from behind the counter. I'd learned not to take offense.

It was also frustrating because I couldn't actually get anything made while working out front. I was going to have to hire someone to do it for me since my current help was unreliable at best. An accountant would also be necessary, since letting Cooper near the books in his questionable state seemed like an IRS audit waiting to happen, and that wasn't a radar I wanted to be on.

At three p.m., a tiny girl with a chin-length black bob came strolling into the shop.

“Hey, Ruby. Ready for some serious girl time?” Peyta asked, smiling from ear to ear. I couldn't help but smile back.

“Sure am, but don't forget that Cooper is in the mix too. He may be offended by the girl time exclusivity,” I said in jest.

She flushed ever so slightly at the mention of his name.

Aha, she's crushing for sure.

“He's got long enough hair to join the girl club. We can make him an honorary member,” she said, putting her backpack down behind the counter.

“I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear that,” I said, visualizing how that conversation was likely to go. It didn't look pretty.

“What time are you done here?” she asked, perching her butt on the counter. I gave her a scathing look, but let her stay where she was.

“I usually close up around five on Friday. I can shut down early though if you're jonesing to do something.”

“No, it's cool,” she replied. “Can I hang out? I love your jewelry…maybe I could learn how to make something?”

Maybe if my degenerate employee was here…

“I can't show you design today, but I’ll be happy to at some point while you're staying with me,” I responded, trying to encourage her. It was then that I had an employer epiphany. “Hey, what time do you finish school?”

“It depends on the day. Typically it's around two, but if I have a study hall for last period I can get out shortly after one,” she said, eying me quizzically. “Why?”

“You want a job? I need help in the afternoon because it's getting busy,” I responded, hoping she'd say yes.

“I thought Cooper was helping you?” she asked, looking a little dreamy-eyed.

“He is…kinda. He doesn't really have a firm schedule. I need someone I can count on,” I said, trying to fudge the truth.

She looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking.

“How's the pay?” she asked, trying to stifle a smile.

“Lousy. You in?”

“Absolutely!” she squeaked.

“Then it's settled. I guess now I can let you eat while you're staying with me.”

She grinned in response.

We spent the next two hours going over the basics of employment at REWORKED. By the end she was able to properly answer the phone, ring someone up, order materials and tools, and cash out for the end of the day. She was a quick study to say the least and I was thrilled to have her on board.

Shortly after five p.m. we closed up and made our way upstairs to my apartment to get some dinner together and figure out what we were going to do for girl time.

“I'm a terrible cook,” I admitted to her. “Dinner usually consists of takeout or popcorn…sometimes both.”

“No worries. I'm a whiz in the kitchen,” she said nonchalantly. “What do you have in the fridge?”

I was silent as she made her way to the refrigerator, cringing while she opened the door.

“Holy cow, Ruby! You have condiments, that's all!” she yelled, turning to me with a face of utter disbelief.

“Takeout it is then!” I said as I opened my magical drawer of menus.