turned down and rose petals were scattered across her pillow and the bed spread. A breeze lifted her hair – she felt the soft touch of a lover's lips against just under her ear.
Goodnight.
Wide-eyed, she rubbed her neck, all thought of Eric gone.
How utterly romantic – who was this spirit? She chuckled to herself. He was a hopeless romantic, her kind of guy – er – ghost.
~^~
Chapter Eight
It felt good to wake up without a hangover. Eric liked running on the hard sand in the cold pre-dawn air better than the finest tequila. The gulls and the waves, the smell of the water was enough to make him high. He ran four miles, coming back to the Iroquois with a clear head.
Nothing stirred as he let himself in the back door. Even through the closed connecting doors, he could tell the building was absolutely silent. The silence intensified the feeling of age as he mounted the worn stairs. As he showered and changed the only sounds were guys snoring in their rooms. It had been this way for over a hundred years, he thought as he dressed. It was enough to make the hair on his arms stand up.
Some imagination – Eric made no effort to be quiet as he trotted down the stairs. He was hungry and wanted a big breakfast, not just a couple of doughnuts and coffee. He threw his leg over the bike, bouncing to check the tires. The front tire was spongy.
Swearing, he got off the bike, digging for a tire gauge. It was ten pounds off from yesterday.
The rim must be bent – it didn't take much of a ding to give him a slow leak. He needed a new wheel. He kicked a beer can into the wall. The clatter echoed as the beer can bounced off the wall.
Damnation! He was trapped in this crazy town. His head throbbed, his throat closed and it was hard to breathe. The walls closed in, the hard brick threatened to crush the life from him.
Not trapped, he told himself. Not trapped as long as there were bus-stations and Greyhounds.
He forced his clenched teeth apart, made himself breathe deep, uncurled his fists. It was better to find out now, instead of when he was running down the road. This was a setback, not a disaster.
Inwardly fuming, he walked uphill to the library. He searched the internet for Suzuki dealerships in Ohio. He called several; the dealer in Cincinnati had the wheel in stock. They offered to drop ship it to the nearest post office. He was considering it when his cell beeped with a new email.
The message was from a lab in Lexington. They wanted to know if he could come for an interview. There was a number for him to call. Eric pumped both fists in the air, stifling the impulse to stand up and cheer.
His luck had changed!
Eric made the call immediately and got a slot for Thursday afternoon.
Sweet!
Now he had to get to Lexington, which meant back to Cincinnati to get his Explorer and a better set of clothes. He could pick up the wheel, have his interview and make it back to Ashtabula by Saturday or Sunday. He could leave the bike with Van Man Go until it was restored, then he could trailer it home.
A check of the online bus schedules offered more good news. If he could get to the bus station by three, he could be back in Cincinnati by morning. There was only one thing holding him back – he wanted to see June again. Could he wait a day or was that cutting it too close? As he thought, he rubbed his beard – he couldn't go looking for a job while looking like a Sasquatch. Getting cleaned up would take time.
With a sigh, Eric closed up the internet session. Might as well get this over with – he called June.
"Hello?" Her voice was almost a whisper.
"June, it's Eric."
"I can't talk while I'm at work."
"Okay, I'll make this quick. I – I'm leaving town this afternoon."
"Oh." June sounded disappointed.
Score one.
"Just for a few days. I've got some things to do in Cincinnati. I'm coming back this weekend. Could we get together then?"
"Sure."
Score two.
"Maybe we could have dinner?"
"Yes, I'd like that." Her
Goodnight.
Wide-eyed, she rubbed her neck, all thought of Eric gone.
How utterly romantic – who was this spirit? She chuckled to herself. He was a hopeless romantic, her kind of guy – er – ghost.
~^~
Chapter Eight
It felt good to wake up without a hangover. Eric liked running on the hard sand in the cold pre-dawn air better than the finest tequila. The gulls and the waves, the smell of the water was enough to make him high. He ran four miles, coming back to the Iroquois with a clear head.
Nothing stirred as he let himself in the back door. Even through the closed connecting doors, he could tell the building was absolutely silent. The silence intensified the feeling of age as he mounted the worn stairs. As he showered and changed the only sounds were guys snoring in their rooms. It had been this way for over a hundred years, he thought as he dressed. It was enough to make the hair on his arms stand up.
Some imagination – Eric made no effort to be quiet as he trotted down the stairs. He was hungry and wanted a big breakfast, not just a couple of doughnuts and coffee. He threw his leg over the bike, bouncing to check the tires. The front tire was spongy.
Swearing, he got off the bike, digging for a tire gauge. It was ten pounds off from yesterday.
The rim must be bent – it didn't take much of a ding to give him a slow leak. He needed a new wheel. He kicked a beer can into the wall. The clatter echoed as the beer can bounced off the wall.
Damnation! He was trapped in this crazy town. His head throbbed, his throat closed and it was hard to breathe. The walls closed in, the hard brick threatened to crush the life from him.
Not trapped, he told himself. Not trapped as long as there were bus-stations and Greyhounds.
He forced his clenched teeth apart, made himself breathe deep, uncurled his fists. It was better to find out now, instead of when he was running down the road. This was a setback, not a disaster.
Inwardly fuming, he walked uphill to the library. He searched the internet for Suzuki dealerships in Ohio. He called several; the dealer in Cincinnati had the wheel in stock. They offered to drop ship it to the nearest post office. He was considering it when his cell beeped with a new email.
The message was from a lab in Lexington. They wanted to know if he could come for an interview. There was a number for him to call. Eric pumped both fists in the air, stifling the impulse to stand up and cheer.
His luck had changed!
Eric made the call immediately and got a slot for Thursday afternoon.
Sweet!
Now he had to get to Lexington, which meant back to Cincinnati to get his Explorer and a better set of clothes. He could pick up the wheel, have his interview and make it back to Ashtabula by Saturday or Sunday. He could leave the bike with Van Man Go until it was restored, then he could trailer it home.
A check of the online bus schedules offered more good news. If he could get to the bus station by three, he could be back in Cincinnati by morning. There was only one thing holding him back – he wanted to see June again. Could he wait a day or was that cutting it too close? As he thought, he rubbed his beard – he couldn't go looking for a job while looking like a Sasquatch. Getting cleaned up would take time.
With a sigh, Eric closed up the internet session. Might as well get this over with – he called June.
"Hello?" Her voice was almost a whisper.
"June, it's Eric."
"I can't talk while I'm at work."
"Okay, I'll make this quick. I – I'm leaving town this afternoon."
"Oh." June sounded disappointed.
Score one.
"Just for a few days. I've got some things to do in Cincinnati. I'm coming back this weekend. Could we get together then?"
"Sure."
Score two.
"Maybe we could have dinner?"
"Yes, I'd like that." Her
Similar Books
