Sticks and Stones (11 page)

            “Yeah,
it was fun, but now I’ve gotta get back to reality.”

            He
chased after her, “Are we still on tomorrow?”

            “Huh?”

            “The
spell so I can see ghosts?” he reminded.

            “Right.
I forgot. Are you sure about this? I mean, it’s not all fun and games,” she
warned.

            “Mmmm,
so he’ll be able to see me tomorrow?” Phyllis crooned next to Grace.

            Grace
laughed, “Yes, Phyllis, he’ll be able to see you so next time you grab his ass
he’ll know it was you and not me.”

            “Yeah,
sure, Grace. Ghosts can’t do stuff like that,” Rick scoffed. Phyllis shot Grace
a sly grin and crept beside Rick and grabbed a handful of his ass cheek,
causing Rick to yelp in surprise.

            “Believe
me now?” Grace teased over her shoulder.

            Rick
looked around and caught up to Grace. “That was the most unmanly sound that’s
ever come out of my mouth,” he muttered.

            She
giggled, “It happens when you’re taken by surprise.”

            He
shook his head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked up the
porch steps. He spotted Emily and Chase watching them from the kitchen window
and rolled his eyes.

            They
quickly scrambled to the back door with flushed faces. “What’s up, kids?” Chase
leered.

            “I
wanted to thank you for a great day and give Emily my phone number so we can
make arrangements to talk about the furniture,” Grace said and cocked her head
at Rick. “I got so caught up dancing that I forgot everything else.”

            “Not
to worry,” Emily assured. “C’mon, I have a note pad in the kitchen.”

            After
the women walked into the house Chase elbowed Rick in the ribs. “So?”

            “Only
time will tell,” he said quietly.

*          *          *

            Since
she had no friends to speak of, a piece-of-shit husband who abandoned her and
no family, Janice went home.

            The
house was dark when she entered, so she quickly turned on the large ginger jar
lamp in the living room. From there, she turned on every light in the house.
Smugly, she grinned and began to think maybe she’d overreacted earlier.

            Then,
she turned to walk down the hallway to her bedroom and saw a white, blonde,
shirtless man wearing black suspenders and blue pants. “I ain’t scared of the
light, missy,” he drawled.

*          *          *

            Rick
walked Grace to her car and she glanced around. When she arrived there were
tons of cars parked here and there. Now only hers remained. “Where’s your car?”

            He
motioned towards the motorcycle. “I rode the Harley today.”

            Her
eyes widened. “Those are dangerous! And you’re going to ride that back to
Chicago? Are you crazy?”

            Rick
shrugged, “I like to live on the edge.”

            She
leaned against the car door, took his hand and placed a small folded piece of
paper in it. When he shot her a quizzical look she lifted a shoulder. “My cell
number and house number.”

            His
lips curved into a sexy smile and he bent down. She licked her lips nervously
and closed her eyes.
Please don’t kiss me!

           
Her
eyes opened when his lips pressed between her eyebrows. “I had a great time
tonight, Grace.”

            “Me,
too,” she rasped, breathily. She shakily got into her car and took a deep
breath. She backed out of the parking spot and rolled the passenger window
down.

            Rick
leaned in, grinning. “Didja forget something?”

            “Call
me when you get home so I know you arrived safely, okay?”

            He
nodded and as she drove away he did something he hadn’t done in months. He
crouched down and pumped his fist like he scored a goal.

*          *          *

            “Not
good, Ryan,” Grace scolded herself. “Remember the age difference! Remember that
he sleeps around! No! You can’t have these thoughts!”

*          *          *

            “Nothing
like a good ol’ fist-pump to get ya going,” Emily teased when Rick walked into
the house.

            “Christ!
You two are the nosiest people I’ve ever met!” he laughed.

            “Well?”
Chase prompted.

            Rick
lifted an eyebrow and flashed his dimples. “She told me to call her when I get
home. She’s worried about me riding the bike.”

            Emily
hugged him. “That’s great Rick!”

            “Yeah?”

            “Oh
yeah! It shows she cares about you! And the kiss on the forehead? Very smooth!
It shows that you care, too, but in a friendly manner,” Emily said
encouragingly.

            “Okay,
you two, let’s not start reading too much into this,” Chase warned. “One day of
dancing doesn’t mean shit.” He pointed a finger at Rick. “You have to take
things slow and not rush into anything.”

            “Advice
coming from a guy who took a hell of a long time to figure out what Emily meant
to you. I’m not you Chase. I was smitten with Grace the night she fell into my
arms.”

*          *          *

            When
Grace got home she quickly went into her office and pulled out her rune stones.
She sat in the blue chair, clutching the bag. Chewy jumped onto her lap and
watched her curiously.

            “Focus,
Grace!” she commanded herself. “What’s happening to me?” She closed her eyes
and shook the velvet bag taking a deep breath before withdrawing a stone.

            She
held the stone tightly in her hand and simultaneously opened her eyes and hand,
revealing the stone. Releasing her breath she gaped at the stone for several
moments. Chewy mewed, breaking her from a reverie.

*          *          *

            “Aunt
Tilda! I chose the Uruz stone!” Grace shrieked.

            “You
need to calm yourself Poppet, drink this, it’ll settle your nerves.”

            Grace’s
hand shook when she brought the glass to her lips.

“I’m
not familiar with the runes, so tell me again what this stone signifies,” Tilda
muttered, holding the stone between her fingers.

            “It’s
the rune of endings and new beginnings,” Grace mumbled with closed eyes.

            “So
why are you so upset? New beginnings are wonderful!”

            “It
means my life’s going to change!”

            “Well
it’s about damn time!” Tilda cackled.

*          *          *

            “Who-o-o
are you?” Janice trembled.

            “Ratman,”
he replied, simply. “You called for help.” He patted his chest and grinned,
“And here I am.”

            She
walked towards him and reached out a hand to touch him. The air around him was
cold and smelled funky. Janice’s nose scrunched. “No offense, but you smell.”

            An
eerie laugh escaped from his lips. “That’s why I’m called ‘Ratman’.

            She
extended her hand, plunging it into the putrid air that enveloped him. Images
filled Janice’s head of everything she wanted. Money, status, but more
importantly, having everything Grace Ryan has.

*          *          *

            An
hour later, Grace walked home, dejected. Usually Aunt Tilda would snap her out
of her funk, but tonight she only fed it.

            Grace
liked her life just fine. Okay, maybe it could improve. She didn’t miss Ben
like she had a few months back. Business was booming. But then there was
bat-shit crazy Janice casting spells she found on the internet conjuring up
only the Goddess knew what. Zee was a slight issue now. Could she trust her?
Then there was Rick. She was having thoughts about him that she ought not have.
Damn my luck!

            The
phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts.

            “Hello?”

            “Hey
Grace! I’m home, safe and sound,” Rick murmured into the phone.

            “That’s
a relief!” she shook her head. “I don’t understand the fascination with
motorcycles.”

            “Because
you’ve never been on one! It’s very liberating to be on a bike. The wind
blowing through your hair…”

            She
cut him off. “You don’t wear a helmet?”

            He
held the phone between his neck and chin while he twisted the cap off a water
bottle. “Pfft, no.”

            “You’re
certifiable! You could end up with your brains all over the roadway!” she
screeched.

            Rick
paused for a moment. He’d been in the same argument last summer with Emily and
Coach Banks.

            “Rick?”

            “Yeah,
still here.”

            Grace
sighed, “Sorry, I probably sound like your mom.” She thought a moment and
amended, “Or your big sister.”

            Rick
bit back a groan.
Mom? Older sister? She’s too hung up on age for fuck’s
sake!
“Point taken. Let’s move on to something else, shall we?”

            Grace
plopped down on the sofa and crossed her legs beneath her. “Sure. Like what?”

            “Have
you ever ice skated?” he asked, settling onto his leather couch.

            “A
few times, when I was younger.” She pursed her lips. “I remember falling down a
lot.”

            He
laughed, “It happens. I could teach you. I happen to know a bit about skating.”

            “I’d
probably fall and break a hip,” she snorted.

            Rick
lifted his eyes and sighed. “Not if I’m there to catch you.”

            “Maybe…,”
she murmured. Chewy jumped onto her lap and mewed into the phone. “Chewy says
‘hi’,” she giggled, scratching the cat behind the ears.

            “Well
tell her I said ‘hi’ back.” He took a sip of water. “You were very ambiguous
about what kind of music you like earlier.”

            Grace
stretched out on the couch and Chewy settled herself on Grace’s stomach. “I
tend to prefer the older stuff.”

            “Such
as...,” Rick nudged.

            “My
favorite song of all time is
In the Evening
by Led Zeppelin. A bit
before your time.”

            “It’s
before your time, too, but I’ve heard it before. Is it significant to you?”

            “Aunt
Tilda got me into it when I was younger. We dance to it still and when I hang
out with Blake and Max at Gypsies, the DJ spins it for me,” she grinned. “It’s
kinda cool because the regulars have learned my dance moves and join me.”

            Rick’s
face scrunched. “Isn’t Gypsies a gay bar?”

            “Yeah,”
she replied with a lifted chin. “You have something against that?”

            “Nope.
It’s the first bar Blake took me to when I came to Chicago. He and Max took
bets as to how long I’d stay,” he laughed.

            Grace
giggled and closed her eyes lazily, “How many times did you get hit on?”

            “Too
many,” Rick groaned. “Okay, back to music. What else do you listen to?”

            “Being
Irish, I happen to like Van Morrison and U2.”

            “Aye,
lass, I, too, enjoy them,” Rick replied in an Irish brogue.

Grace’s
eyes shot open and her heart skipped a bit. She loved Irish accents. “Grace?”

            She
cleared her throat, “I’m a sucker for Irish accents and that just threw me.”

            “Hmm,
I’ll no’ be talkin’ the Queen’s English the rest o’ the evenin’ then, gel,” he
replied.

            Grace’s
mouth went dry. “Stop and be serious.”

            Rick
chuckled deeply. “A wee bit too much for ya, lass?”

            She
sighed. “You’re probably going to laugh, but since I was ten I’ve dreamt about
the man of my dreams and he just happens to speak with an Irish brogue.”

            “What’s
this guy look like?”

            “That’s
just it. I’ve never seen his face or heard his voice, but I know he speaks
Irish. I know, it sounds lame.”

            Rick
ran a hand through his hair. “Do you still dream about him?”

            “Occasionally.
They hit at random times.”

            “Wow,
so do you think you’ll meet him eventually?”

            Grace
shrugged, “Yeah. My dreams always come true.”

            “Weird,”
he noted.

           
You
have no idea
, she thought. “Tell me about your folks. Blake doesn’t talk
too much about his family.”

            “That’s
probably because our dad had a hard time when Blake announced he was gay. Since
then, he’s accepted it, but I think the hurtful things he said to Blake still
weighs heavy on his mind.”

            “Blake’s
or your dads?”

            “Blake.
Anyway, my dad was a dairy farmer and we’re from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Mom
didn’t work so money was always tight. Being a farmer isn’t an easy life.” He
took a sip of water. “Do you want to hear more?”

            “Only
if you want to share.”

            Rick
would rather hear her talk, but continued with his story. “Okay. We had a small
pond in the back that’d freeze during the winter and I started ice skating when
I was about five. My mom taught us. Eventually I got into playing hockey with
school friends and later, played on the school team. It was very costly, but
somehow my parents managed to scrape enough money together to get me the proper
gear because they knew I had potential. I later found out my mom did side jobs;
sewing and cleaning other people’s houses to help off-set the costs.”