Some Assembly Required (7 page)

It was Patrick’s turn to flush as he sharply turned away and faked a sneeze. Dammit. Benji was definitely stepping up to the plate. Patrick came to a halt and shut out the noise of customers chatting among themselves. The howler’s voice, carried over the expanse of the floor, was harder to ignore. Benji didn’t seem to notice, but his mind wasn’t fully wrapped around not being on a different plane as everything else.

“Am I going to move on?” Benji asked as he stood at Patrick’s side.

The customers slipped around them, unconsciously shifting just out of the way as they wandered the aisles. A woman stopped next to Benji as she checked the price on a ARDERE nightlight. She turned over the rubbery turquoise cat-shaped light and flicked the switch. She gasped at the changing colors and then dropped two boxes in her cart.

Patrick arched a brow at Benji’s question and then sighed. “Couldn’t tell you, cupcake. CASA is a harsh mistress. She decides who leaves and who stays.”

“But you said you help people leave.”

Patrick pointed a finger. “Ah! Now you’re catching on.”

“But you just said CASA decides. And… that CASA is a she?” Benji knitted his brows. The brow-knitting thing was quickly becoming Patrick’s kryptonite.

“You just said it,” Patrick said and then headed off again toward entertainment.

“Do you know how unhelpful you are?”

“Unhelpful?” Patrick asked over his shoulder. “I’ll have you know I’m employee of the decade.” He patted his hip and snapped his fingers. “C’mon, pup. Let’s go.”

Benji frowned and kept in step. “Unfortunately, I liked cupcake better.” He jogged to keep the pace. “Why don’t you move on?”

It was an innocent question that crashed Patrick’s mood as easily as his interest in Benji had risen.

“I don’t.” Patrick didn’t need to elaborate.

“But you said everyone does.”

Benji’s innocence was very quickly becoming Patrick’s least favorite quality. They had to find the howler and fast. Patrick’s good night’s sleep depended on it.

“Some people are different.” Patrick clenched his fists at his sides, and he stepped up the pace.

“What’s so different about you?” Benji asked, hurrying behind.

And now Benji was rapidly becoming less attractive.

“This way,” Patrick commanded him and snatched Benji by his shirt.

Benji yipped as they took a sharp right through office furniture. Patrick crouched low behind a dividing wall and peered through the network of table legs. Benji stood over him, not getting with the program as quickly as Patrick had hoped.

The howler had claimed the SPÖL TV stand and shambled around it drunkenly. He was a disheveled mess of an older guy with a potbelly and broken glasses. At least he hadn’t shown up covered in dog shit.

“Have you seen my wife?” he asked a customer who passed him by. “Have you seen her? Gray hair? Flowery dress? Her name’s Mary. Have you seen Mary?” Another customer pushed along with her cart. Her beeper sounded that she was needed in Bambini Mondo. “Mary!
Mary
!” he screamed as he burst into tears.

Benji’s lip trembled as he stood out in plain view. “He’s so sa—”

“
Get down
.” Patrick yanked him by the waistband of his jeans.

Benji flopped like a marionette to the floor next to him.

“Welcome to your crash course in showing someone the exit,” Patrick whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Did you have to nearly rip off my pants?” Benji said as he awkwardly readjusted.

Patrick didn’t pay him any mind. “You need a smaller size. I’ll get Karin on it.” He pointed toward the sobbing old man. “Here’s how it’s gonna go. You’re my trainee, so it’s your job to observe on this one. Got it?”

“I’m not a kindergartener. I teach them, you know,” Benji whispered.

“Well, this isn’t painting pine cones time.” Patrick snapped his fingers. “Stick with me.”

Benji nodded. Finally, no witty comebacks. At last he was regaining his attractiveness. Maybe halfway yanking off his jeans had something to do with it. The situation necessitated the chance to cop a feel. That was Patrick’s story, and he was sticking to it—for the time being.

“Okay, the short and sweet of it,” Patrick whispered. “It’s like they said in
Ghostbusters,
we’re made of spiritual energy. But the more we interact with the living world, the more we deplete it. Also, helping other spirits along requires using quite a bit of energy. So we ration it so we don’t dissipate right away.”

Benji thumbed his chin. “And if we dissipate?”

“It’s off to the ball pit.” Patrick turned back to the howler. “Okay. Ready?” He popped up out of hiding and pasted on his best smile.

“Wait, wha—” Benji squeaked.

Patrick toed him with his Nike, trying to urge him into following his lead.

The howler turned, eyeing Patrick with hunger and panic in his eyes. Patrick relaxed his stance and drooped his shoulders, portraying a nonthreatening posture.

“May I help you find something, sir?” Patrick asked sweetly.

Benji peeked out from behind the divider, and Patrick nodded to him.

The howler, thankfully, stopped howling. “I’m… I’m looking for Mary,” he said, confused.

“Mary?” Patrick repeated, feigning committing the name to memory. “I’m sure I can help you find her. Now, tell me where you saw her last.”

The howler looked down at the SPÖL and ran his fingers over the surface of the walnut particleboard. “We were building the TV stand. And we were missing a screw. I came back to see if I could get an extra. I think? And that man over there, he’s going to buy the same thing. But there aren’t enough screws.”

Patrick snapped his fingers. “Ah! Yes! I have seen just the screws you’re looking for. If you head out to the exit, I’ll have them delivered, all right? And I’ll make sure the gentleman across the way picks up a pack of extra hardware. You should get going. Mary is probably getting dinner ready.”

The howler nodded. “Dinner. Yes, dinner.”

Patrick rubbed his stomach. “Mashed potatoes with extra butter, am I right or what?”

The howler brightened. “Oh yes! Definitely. Mary makes the best roast. Just like my grandmother.” He stepped back into the aisle, flowing with living customers. “You’ve been most helpful, young man. What’s your name?”

Patrick offered a bright grin and tapped two fingers to his forehead in salute. “Patrick, sir. Have a good dinner. Bring me the recipe some time.”

The howler nodded and turned one last time. He vanished into the crowd, leaving only a trail of smoke.

Patrick took a breath and then coughed. The cold of the overactive air-conditioning seeped into his skin. Nothing a hot shower wouldn’t cure. Patrick flicked his fingers and watched his hands, noting the graying of his fingertips. He concentrated and flexed his fingers into fists and then unfurled them. The pink of fictional blood flow returned.

Benji whistled a low note. “That was awesome.”

Patrick crossed his arms and nodded. “And that, my dear Benji, is why I’m employee of the decade.” He stalked over to the customer who’d been looking at the TV stand and reached into his own pocket, fishing around until he found a small packet of screws. He tucked them into the customer’s pocket unobtrusively. “Ten thousand saved….” Distantly the entryway bell sounded over the showroom. He nodded with satisfaction. “Ten thousand and one.”

Benji chuckled. “I gotta admit, you’re pretty helpful.”

Patrick pulled a long stretch of the shoulders and yawned. “Yeah, y’know. Some things just come naturally.” He reached to pat Benji on the back and then rethought it. He grunted with another fake stretch. “Now you give it a go.” He pointed across the floor to the living room section. Agnes sat on her usual pristine white couch, knitting away. She paused to count stitches and then nodded at her findings.

“Her?” Benji asked.

“Ten bucks says she’s not here waiting on family.”

“But money doesn’t matter here.”

“Eh. Semantics,” Patrick said and shooed Benji forward. “Go on. It’s an easy one.”

Patrick would feel guilty later, but right now he refrained from pissing himself with giggles.

Benji nodded and straightened his shirt, then readjusted his jeans. The way they hung on his hips was definitely a nice touch. Patrick tilted his head as Benji took the lead across the floor.

“Remember what I said about expending energy!” Patrick called as he hung back.

Later, he would think back on sending Benji into Agnes’s domain and marvel at the fact that he hadn’t laughed himself silly, giving away the joke. Benji strolled by her, trying to play it cool. Patrick scratched his chin. The oddball strategy was a touch charming. Patrick would work that out of Benji’s system soon. As Benji pretended to straighten items, Agnes caught on and shot Patrick a warning look. He shrugged in mock innocence.

“I hope you know how much of a shit you are,” Karin said just behind him.

“The newbie’s gotta learn, y’know,” Patrick said.

“You need to stop being so willfully oblivious. He’s more than just a newbie.” She laughed softly. “Cupcake? Honestly?”

“Get off it,” Patrick warned her.

“You’re going soft.”

“Just need something to pass the time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t you have kitchens to take care of?” Patrick scowled.

Across the floor, Agnes glared at them both as Benji approached her.

Karin whispered to Patrick. “Here we go. Three… two….”

Patrick flicked his attention to Benji just at the right second. Like an idiot, Benji reached out to touch Agnes….

And then the poor schmuck promptly dispersed in a puff of spiritual smoke.

Agnes threw down her knitting needles in a huff. “
Patrick Harrison Bryant
!” she bellowed.

Karin chuckled. “Ooh. You got Harrison.”

Patrick waved her off. “C’mon now, wanna come along as we fish Benji out of the ball pit?”

Karin stepped back and held up her hands. “That’s all you, big guy. I don’t tread on Agnes’s turf.”

“But it’s fun.” Patrick batted his lashes.

“Until Agnes decides to throw you in and not pull you out.” She slapped his shoulder. “Now, go get your precious sweet cupcake.”

Patrick happily gave her the customary salute of the middle finger.

Benji felt weightless. But also like he was lying in bed, if bed was a cloud that smelled like plastic. He shifted, his stomach swooping like he was falling as the small movement dipped him lower.

His eyes shot open. The darkness around him felt like it had weight. He moved again, managing a breathless shriek when he sank deeper into the nothingness.

“Welcome to drama queen, population one,” he heard from somewhere above him.

“You have no business here. Don’t you have someone to haunt in the café?”

That voice was unfamiliar, but the first one—Benji racked his brain, trying to figure out how he knew it. It gave him something to focus on aside from the blinding terror he’d felt a moment ago, which was nice.

“I’m not bringing him up until you’re gone. Go,” the second voice said. Benji recognized the tone. She had to be a teacher. No one could nail disappointed condescension quite as well as a teacher.

“He needs—”

The woman snorted. “What he needs to do is accomplish what he was put here to do so he can move on.”

“I’m wounded, Agnes. That feels like a dig at me, not a statement about our dear Benjamin.”

“We hear what we want to hear, Patrick,” the woman said.

Patrick! Benji took another breath, grimacing when the inhalation brought more plastic-scented air into his lungs. He was in the ball pit at CASA. Because he was dead.

Jesus.

Benji went limp, letting himself sink deeper into the balls. He didn’t want to see Patrick. He didn’t particularly want to see this Agnes woman either, but needs must. He’d rather the devil he didn’t know than the one he did in this instance.

Though Patrick had been adamant that this wasn’t hell. Were there devils in purgatory? Probably. And Patrick, with his sinful good looks and screw-everything attitude, was definitely a prime candidate to be one.

He stayed under a few more minutes until a bejeweled and wrinkled hand thrust down into the balls.

“Patrick’s gone. It’s time to come out,” Agnes said.

Benji put his hand in hers, wincing at her surprisingly tight grip as she pulled him up. He gasped when his head broke the surface, the open air tasting sweet and light on his tongue after the heavy, fetid atmosphere at the bottom of the pit.

There wasn’t any accompanying relief in his lungs, though. He took another cautious breath, alarm spiking through him when he realized his chest wasn’t moving.

“We don’t need to breathe. Most of us do, just because it’s familiar. But that’s a corporeal need, son, and we’re most certainly not corporeal anymore.”

He’d only met Agnes briefly before everything had gone dark, but she sounded much kinder than she had when she’d been dressing Patrick down a few minutes ago.

Benji swallowed hard. There was saliva in his mouth, but he probably didn’t need that anymore, either. If they didn’t need to breathe, he doubted they needed to eat or drink. That revelation made Patrick’s obsession with sitting in the café even more curious.

“New Guides are usually paired with Karin, but Patrick got to you first, I’m afraid,” Agnes continued, her expression dour. “We used to have someone else who—” She shook her head. “The past is the past. Karin should have been the one to greet you, but we didn’t want to get between you two. You’re the first person he’s shown any interest in meeting in a long time.”

Patrick didn’t give off the loner vibe at all. He was so—loud. But that did shed some light on his general ineptitude at actually explaining anything at all about their situation. Not that things would have been any less traumatic with Karin, but at least he’d be better informed. He still had no idea what was going on, aside from the fact that he was somehow dead.

“I wouldn’t call it interest as much as amusement,” Benji said dryly.

“Well, that’s been lacking too.” Her smile managed to be fond and disappointed all at once. “At any rate, I’m sorry you were the one to suffer for it. Patrick’s a good man, but he’s… conflicted.”