Read Online Ghoul Interrupted by Victoria Laurie - Free Book Online
Authors: Victoria Laurie
Ads: Link
news.
I clicked Gil’s phone to silent and left it on the bureau, but wrote him a note and set it on his nightstand.
We’ve been paid, it read. Then I left him alone and went to find Heath.
Heath was on the phone with his mom when I got back to our room, and the joy of discovering that we’d finally been paid plummeted when I saw his face. “Yeah, okay,” he was saying, waving me over to sit next to him. “There’s no rush, Ma. If the airlines are willing to let you change your flight without a penalty, and you want to stay there tonight with Aunt Evelyn because you’re too upset to fly, then do it. And I’d tell you to do it even if there was a penalty. You take all the time you need, okay?”
I waited patiently through the rest of the call, and bit my lip when I heard through the receiver that Heath’s mother was crying. Finally he gave his good-byes and clicked off.
He then, quite unexpectedly, reached out and hugged me to him, holding me tightly without saying a word. I was a little taken aback, but I recovered and squeezed back. “It’ll be okay,” I told him, not really knowing what else to say. It’s ironic, isn’t it? My business is all about death, but when personally faced with it, I never know what to say.
The rest of the night and most of the rest of the following day I did nothing but play nursemaid to Gil and comfort Heath, bouncing back and forth between the two hotel rooms like a Ping-Pong ball, and tending to them in much the same way, making sure they ate a little, drank a little, and rested.
During a brief one-hour period in the middle of the afternoon, both of them were asleep, and I took the opportunity to head out for a run, my first real exercise in well over a week.
It felt good and terrible all at the same time, but I kept at it for all five miles. When I got back, I found Gil awake and alert and looking much better, thank God. He was busy typing on his laptop, but still asked me to fluff his pillows and get him a soda. Apparently he took the maid part of nursemaid seriously. When I arrived back with his soda and one for me, he turned the screen to me and said, “I just ordered that!”
I popped the top of my Fresca and squinted at the screen. “An iPad?”
Gil nodded. “Best tablet on the market,” he said, turning the laptop back around.
“Honey,” I said soberly, mopping at the sweat on my brow, “you just got paid. Do you really think it’s smart to spend it so quickly?”
“I got a good deal,” he said without looking up. There was a ding , which came from his computer, alerting him he had mail, and it must have been good news the way his face burst into a sly smile when he read it.
“What?” I asked. I knew that face. It meant trouble.
“Nothing,” he said a little too quickly.
“Gilley Morehouse Gillespie,” I said evenly. “Tell me what.”
But Gil is nothing if not stubborn. Snapping the lid of the laptop closed, he merely widened his smile and said, “It’s a surprise. You’ll find out in a day or two.”
“Great,” I said woodenly. “We all know how I love surprises.”
Gil didn’t say another word. Instead, he leaned back against the pillows and said, “I’m hungry. Can we go for something to eat?”
I got up and headed to the door. “Let me shower and check in with Heath. I’ll call you when we’re ready.”
“Gilley Gilleshpie,” I heard as I exited the door.
Half an hour later we were sitting in a café scarfing down some fantastic fajitas. Well, Gilley and I were scarfing. Heath? Not so much. He mostly pushed his food around on his plate and looked sad.
I swallowed the bite I’d just taken and felt terrible for him. “I’m so sorry,” I said, squeezing his knee.
“Mwf moo,” Gil said. Gil will talk through anything. Fajita, doughnut, muffin, pancakes . . . food is no impediment to his verbal expression.
“Gil’s sorry too,” I said, and saw a tiny quirk at the edge of Heath’s mouth.
“Thanks, guys,”
I clicked Gil’s phone to silent and left it on the bureau, but wrote him a note and set it on his nightstand.
We’ve been paid, it read. Then I left him alone and went to find Heath.
Heath was on the phone with his mom when I got back to our room, and the joy of discovering that we’d finally been paid plummeted when I saw his face. “Yeah, okay,” he was saying, waving me over to sit next to him. “There’s no rush, Ma. If the airlines are willing to let you change your flight without a penalty, and you want to stay there tonight with Aunt Evelyn because you’re too upset to fly, then do it. And I’d tell you to do it even if there was a penalty. You take all the time you need, okay?”
I waited patiently through the rest of the call, and bit my lip when I heard through the receiver that Heath’s mother was crying. Finally he gave his good-byes and clicked off.
He then, quite unexpectedly, reached out and hugged me to him, holding me tightly without saying a word. I was a little taken aback, but I recovered and squeezed back. “It’ll be okay,” I told him, not really knowing what else to say. It’s ironic, isn’t it? My business is all about death, but when personally faced with it, I never know what to say.
The rest of the night and most of the rest of the following day I did nothing but play nursemaid to Gil and comfort Heath, bouncing back and forth between the two hotel rooms like a Ping-Pong ball, and tending to them in much the same way, making sure they ate a little, drank a little, and rested.
During a brief one-hour period in the middle of the afternoon, both of them were asleep, and I took the opportunity to head out for a run, my first real exercise in well over a week.
It felt good and terrible all at the same time, but I kept at it for all five miles. When I got back, I found Gil awake and alert and looking much better, thank God. He was busy typing on his laptop, but still asked me to fluff his pillows and get him a soda. Apparently he took the maid part of nursemaid seriously. When I arrived back with his soda and one for me, he turned the screen to me and said, “I just ordered that!”
I popped the top of my Fresca and squinted at the screen. “An iPad?”
Gil nodded. “Best tablet on the market,” he said, turning the laptop back around.
“Honey,” I said soberly, mopping at the sweat on my brow, “you just got paid. Do you really think it’s smart to spend it so quickly?”
“I got a good deal,” he said without looking up. There was a ding , which came from his computer, alerting him he had mail, and it must have been good news the way his face burst into a sly smile when he read it.
“What?” I asked. I knew that face. It meant trouble.
“Nothing,” he said a little too quickly.
“Gilley Morehouse Gillespie,” I said evenly. “Tell me what.”
But Gil is nothing if not stubborn. Snapping the lid of the laptop closed, he merely widened his smile and said, “It’s a surprise. You’ll find out in a day or two.”
“Great,” I said woodenly. “We all know how I love surprises.”
Gil didn’t say another word. Instead, he leaned back against the pillows and said, “I’m hungry. Can we go for something to eat?”
I got up and headed to the door. “Let me shower and check in with Heath. I’ll call you when we’re ready.”
“Gilley Gilleshpie,” I heard as I exited the door.
Half an hour later we were sitting in a café scarfing down some fantastic fajitas. Well, Gilley and I were scarfing. Heath? Not so much. He mostly pushed his food around on his plate and looked sad.
I swallowed the bite I’d just taken and felt terrible for him. “I’m so sorry,” I said, squeezing his knee.
“Mwf moo,” Gil said. Gil will talk through anything. Fajita, doughnut, muffin, pancakes . . . food is no impediment to his verbal expression.
“Gil’s sorry too,” I said, and saw a tiny quirk at the edge of Heath’s mouth.
“Thanks, guys,”
Similar Books
