The Writer and the Ghosts - 10

With the party planning well underway and in his mother’s competent hands Linc got back to what he loved most, writing. The book was going well and he figured barring necessary interruptions he might have it finished and ready to sent to his publisher by the end of the month, which was his deadline.

Then, two days before the party, Damian and Giorgio reappeared. They had been blessedly absent up until now, much to Linc’s relief.

Giorgio immediately, without asking, went to rifle through Linc’s closet. “No, no, absolutely not, oh my god this is dreadful.” He turned to look at Linc. “When was the last time you went clothes shopping? When the dinosaurs ruled?”

“There is nothing wrong with my clothes,” Linc protested. “They’re…comfortable, and that’s what counts.”

“For a recluse holed up in a dark cave, maybe,” Giorgio snorted out. “Okay, we have shopping to do.”

Damian cocked an eyebrow. “Just how are ‘we’ going to go shopping with him.”

Rather than reply directly Giorgio asked Linc, “Do you have a credit card?”

“Of course, who doesn’t?”

“Me for one,” Giorgio grumbled. “I had a one but gee, somehow it seems to have expired. Wonder why.”

“You’re getting old and senile and forgot to re-up it?” Linc asked with a straight face.

“I’ll have you know I’m only twenty-six which is not that much older than you.”

“And into the whole retro thing from the look of your clothes. You’re the one who needs to go shopping, not me.”

“Unfortunately,” Damian put in, “what we died in is what we’re stuck with.”

“Whoa, that sucks. So if I died right now..?”

“You’d spend the afterlife in too-short cut-offs and a…what the hell is that anyway?” Giorgio looked at Linc’s T-shirt.

“It’s the Tardis. Don’t tell me you don’t know what that is.”

“Looks like a phone booth,” Damian commented.

Linc rolled his eyes. “Where have you been? Don’t you watch television? Dr. Who?”

“Who’s on first, What’s on second…” Giorgio said, grinning.

           “I Don’t Know’s on third,” Linc finished with a laugh. “But the wrong ‘Who’.”

Damian shook his head. “We’ve got better things to do than watch the boob-tube as someone called it.”

“Such as harassing poor humans like me,” Linc muttered.

“You bet.” Giorgio grinned. “So get out the card, Linc, you’re going shopping as soon as we tell you what to buy.”

“Just how are you..? Oh.” Linc sighed when Giorgio pointed to the computer. Reluctantly he saved his file, closed it and logged onto the internet. “WalMart?” he asked.

“Not even. There have to be decent men’s shops close enough to drive to.”   

“If there are, Giorgio, I have no idea where.”

Giorgio looked back at the closet for a second and snorted. “I can tell. So do what you have to to find one.”

Fifteen minutes later Linc had a shopping list of sorts. Giorgio, who seemed to be the fashion expert of the pair, had insisted Linc get some tight jeans for starters. He really wanted him to get leather pants but Linc had put his foot down on that.

“Where the hell would I wear them?” he asked.

Giorgio looked at Linc as if he was dense. “To a club, obviously. When you meet the man of your dreams you’re going to want to take him to one.”

Linc just shook his head. “Even if, and it’s not likely, someone interesting comes to the party, he’s for sure not going to want to go out with me. Besides, I don’t dance.”

Giorgio looked at him in shock. “You don’t dance?”

“Not a lick.”

“Where the hell have you been all your life? In a monastery?”

“Nope. In college then in a relationship that turned out sucky and then here.”

“And it all that time you never once went clubbing. Un-fucking-believable.”

“Now, now, Giorgio, not everyone’s into living the way you did,” Damian said, patting his shoulder. “Sex, drugs and rock and roll.”

Giorgio got a dreamy look in his eyes for a moment. “Hendrix, Joplin, ah the good old days.” He shook his head. “But enough of that, back to clothes. I’ll let you pass on the leathers. Now for shirts.”

The Writer and the Ghosts - 9

Jeanie looked up from her book when Linc came into the living room. He gave her a weak smile as he sank down into one of the chairs across from the sofa.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing, well…no, nothing, I just had an idea but it’s probably a stupid one but still…well…umm…”

“Spit it out,” Richard said from the other end of the sofa.

“Well…umm…”

“Linc…”

“Okay I was thinking that we’ve been here for a month now and well, umm…”

Jeanie shot an amused look at her husband. “Well, umm, what, Linc?”

“You need to throw a housewarming party so you can meet the neighbors because it’s nice to know the people in the neighborhood and this weekend would be good because the weather’s nice so it could be out in the back yard and…and that was my idea. Stupid, huh?”

Richard muttered under his breath, “Who are you and what did you do with our son?”

“Richard, behave,” Jeanie responded with a laugh. “I think it’s a great idea. We could have a barbeque. Invite everyone on the block. As far as I’ve seen they’re all our age, more or less, so we wouldn’t have to worry about having children running around.”

Linc deflated when she said that. “All your age?”

“Well there are some ‘boomerang kids’ I think. At least I’ve seen a few young people your age around and about.” She grinned. “We’ll be sure to invite them too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes she does.”

Linc tried not to jump when he heard Damian’s voice behind him and almost answered him. Instead he put on his best face and told his mother with a shrug, “I guess it would be nice to meet some people my own age.”

“That’s the whole idea,” Giorgio said from beside Linc.

“Will you stop,” Linc growled sotto voce.

Richard looked at Linc in surprise. “Stop what?”

“Sorry,” Linc mumbled, “I was…umm…well…”

“Thinking about your story?” Damian suggested; laughter in his voice.

“Yeah that’s it; I was telling myself to stop thinking about my book and concentrate on planning for the party.”

“We’ll do it in the morning,” Jeanie told him. “It’s a bit late to do it tonight.”

“Okay, good.” Linc stood up quickly. “I have to get back to what I was working on before I got the brainstorm.”

“All right, dear, we’ll see you for breakfast then.”

“You bet.” Linc kissed his mother’s cheek and said good-night to both of them before going upstairs.

Jeanie watched him leave and smiled. “I think maybe he’s decided to get back to living again.”

“Looks like,” Richard agreed. “I wonder what brought that about.”

Giorgio looked at Damian and laughed. “Think we should tell them?”

“Umm, no, not if we don’t want Linc trying to kill us.”

“Been there, done that, once is more than enough thanks. Now, speaking of bedtime…”

Damian grinned and vanished with Giorgio right behind him.

“Now that was weird,” Jeanie said. “I could have sworn I saw something move out of the corner of my eye.”

“You’re just tired.” Richard stood and held out his hand. When Jeanie joined him he put his arm around her waist and winked as he said, “Your bed or mine.”

Jeanie laughed. “Ours?”

“Sounds perfect to me.” He kissed her quickly, then once again with more enthusiasm, before they headed upstairs.

The Writer and the Ghosts - 8

Damian faded back in again, sitting a foot above the floor with his legs crossed as he stared at Linc. “Don’t you want to meet some nice man or woman?”

“Man, and no, yes, maybe, no.”

Giorgio snorted. “Conflicted much?”

“Look, if I go along with this will you promise not to interfere?”

“Depends. What does ‘go along’ mean?”

“I suggest to my folks we have a…umm…”

“Housewarming party,” Damian said when Linc seemed stuck. “Remember?”

Linc ran his hands through his hair. “Why me? There have to be a hundred houses just in this area alone, why did you have to end up here?”

“Gee, I don’t know, ‘cause this was our home maybe. Now it’s yours so you’re stuck with us until that changes.”

Linc tapped his fingers on the desk then grinned. “I could always perform an exorcism.”

“Been there, done that, didn’t work,” Giorgio told him, smirking. “No bell, book and candle for us.”

Linc snapped his fingers. “Got it! You two don’t really believe you’re dead. That’s why you’re hanging around. Well you are, so scat.”

Damian doubled over with laughter, which ended up with his butt hitting the floor hard when he lost his concentration. He grumbled as he stood up and rubbed it.

“You can feel that?” Linc asked with interest.

“Well, yeah he can,” Giorgio replied. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I just figured being a ghost and all…”

“Trust me, we can feel when we’re totally visible. I mean come on, what fun would it be if we had sex and couldn’t? Feel that is?”

“You two actually…Whoa.”

“Yep, and it’s great,” Damian told him, now sitting on the floor not above it. “He’s got the most talented mouth and…”

“I know how to use it for…well I’m sure you can imagine, Linc.” Giorgio’s grin was wicked as he watched the young man.

“Stop it, just stop. Damn it.”

Damian leaned forward to pat Linc’s knee. “See, you need a man in your life, and it’s not happening if you, we, don’t do something to make it happen.”

“And he means a real, live man. We’re not up for grabs,” Giorgio said quickly when he saw the way Linc was looking at them.

“You mean we couldn’t..?”

“Linc,” Damian said quietly so he’d listen, “Giorgio and I have been together for fifty years give or take. We’re very committed to each other, trust me. So even if it was possible, and I doubt it is, we’re not looking for a third in our bed.”

Linc sighed. “And you’re not going to drop this party idea.”

“Nope,” Giorgio assured him. “So why don’t you accept it and go down and talk to your folks.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Now,” Giorgio said, pointing to the door.

Blowing out a long breath, Linc got up. “Now.”

The Writer and the Ghosts - 7

“Okay. Well it’s like this, Linc.” Damian began. “You’re lonely. You never really go anywhere that we can tell. You need to find someone. We’re going to help.”

Linc looked at them in shock then threw back his head and laughed.

“Now what’s so funny about that?” Damian sounded insulted.

“First off,” Linc replied when he gained control again, “who says I want someone and secondly how are two ghosts going to manage to help me find someone even if I did? I suspect neither of you can leave the house if all the stories I’ve read are true.”

“You do have a point there, so I guess we’ll have to have a talk with your folks. Maybe suggest they throw a party. Humm,” Giorgio tapped a finger to his lips. “A housewarming party to get to know the neighbors should work.”

“Now just a damned minute, first off you do not talk to my folks, you’d probably give them heart attacks. Secondly I detest parties.”

Giorgio smirked. “Too bad, because one way or another there’s going to be one and it’s going to be your idea as far as your family’s concerned. We can be sneaky little devils when we put our minds to it.”

“No way! Besides, aren’t you two supposed to be, I don’t know, finding out who killed you so you can move on or something like that?”

“I know how I died,” Damian said quietly. “And I know why I’m still here.” He smiled his ‘Thanks’ when Giorgio gave his hand a squeeze. “But that has nothing to do with the discussion at hand. What sorts of parties do you like, Linc, ones with food, drinks, snacks, dancing?”

“Ones with no people,” Linc replied with an exaggerated eye role. “Told you that.”

“Can’t be a party without people you ding-bat,” Giorgio told him.

“Exactly.” Linc got up to go to his computer. “So, just vanish, literally, so I can get back to work. Please?”

Giorgio looked at Damian, Damian looked back, and they both shook their heads. “Not happening, Linc. We’re determined little ghosts. What we want, we get, and you are our project de jour.”

“He’s bored, and restless, Linc, so don’t argue with him,” Damian said wickedly. “Never works for me so I doubt it’ll work for you.”

When Linc started typing, his back to them now, Giorgio shook his head. “Check it out, he’s ignoring us. I think I’m insulted.”

“Guess I just have to go talk to his mother. I bet she’d love an excuse to throw a party.” Damian started to slowly fade away.

“Have at it,” Giorgio told him. “I’ll take his father. I’d hazard a guess that between us there’ll be a party here this weekend.”

“Stop, both of you,” Linc growled as he spun around. “Stop him.” He pointed to Damian who was almost invisible by then.

“Well, I don’t know…”

“Come on, have a heart. Don’t do this.”

The Writer and the Ghosts - 6

Linc stretched, reached for his coffee cup which he discovered was empty, again, and sighed. Then he scrolled up to where he’d begun writing three hours ago and began to read it over, making necessary changes as he did. He got to one sentence and muttered, “What the hell was his last name?”

“Singer.”

Linc spun his chair around, searching for whoever had said that. “Not again. Shit!”

“Again.” The voice chuckled softly. “You shouldn’t be able to hear me though.”

“Who the hell are you? Where the hell are you? What kind of game is this? Whatever it is, stop it and show yourself.”

Another voice said, obviously asking the first one, “Should we? Do you think he’ll believe it if we do?”

“That or he’ll faint and then put it down to imagination when he comes to.”

“I’m not the fainting kind,” Linc growled. But he did get up. Whatever was happening he wasn’t about to take it sitting down.

“You sure now?” the second voice said. Linc could almost hear the smile in it.

“Yeah. Come out from wherever you and your friend are hiding.”

By now Linc had backed up to the window seat as he continued searching for where the men could have concealed themselves. Or, he thought suddenly, where someone could have hidden a microphone.

Then he saw what looked like a very faint haze in the center of the room. Slowly it coalesced into a figure, still hazy but definitely male. Moments later a second figure began to appear. Soon two men stood in front of Linc. One had long, dark hair held by a hippy headband. He reminded Linc of someone out the movies about the 60s. The other man’s hair was dark blonde, short, parted in the middle and slicked back. He wore a collarless shirt, unbuttoned partway down his chest, and tight, pegged pants that had seen better days, in Linc’s opinion at least.

“You’re…” Linc pointed a finger at them. “Okay, either I’ve gone totally around the bend and I’m seeing things as well as hearing voices, or the two of you are the resident ghosts I’ve heard stories about. Quite honestly, I hope you’re ghosts.”

“Because that’s better than being crazy?” the dark-haired one asked.

“Much. I happen to believe in ghosts, well more or less, sometimes. I mean I’ve done enough research for my books to…and why the hell am I telling you this?”

“Why not?” Giorgio smiled and introduced himself. “And that’s Damian,” he added.

Linc nodded as he studied them. “You died in the sixties I’d guess from your clothes, Giorgio. Damian I’m not so sure of but it was much earlier.”

“Eighteen ninety-three,” Damian replied. He crossed to sit on the edge of Linc’s bed now that he was fully corporeal. Giorgio joined him, leaning against his shoulder. “Getting possessive?” Damian murmured with a grin.

“Well he is cute, in his special, nerdy way.”

“I am not…” Suddenly Linc chuckled. “You called me that a while ago. I heard you.”

“Yep, and it still holds true. That’s why we’re here, well sort of.”

Linc sat down in the window seat, pulling his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

Giorgio glanced at Damian. “You field that one.”