Page 2 of Get A Fix

And now I understood where he was coming from.

“What about you?” I asked Benji.

“I felt bad delivering upsetting news and didn’t want to injure anyone on top of that. I mean, that’s like adding insult to injury, don’t you think?”

I squinted at him.

“Actually,” Benji amended, “that would be adding injury to bad news, if we’re being literal. That idiom doesn’t really work here, does it?”

“No,” I agreed, and now was fully rounded out with how and why the situation had escalated. I always liked to know the whole story before I offered any insights.

The four guys were looking to start their business, and between them and their envisioned success stood Benji and Owen. I would have been pissed off too, especially since the paranormal component was what was getting in the way, which was, absolutely, a pile of crap. On the flipside, Owen, who didn’t want to harm anyone, had gotten Benji to go on a however long mad dash through the city in hopes of tiring the guys out to the point where they could engage in dialogue about their present predicament. It was a good plan. Physically drained people normally weren’t homicidal and were far more likely to be reasonable.

Returning my attention to the guys chasing my friends, I cleared my throat. “Would you all like to sit down, join us, and we’ll eat something, have some drinks, and discuss?”

The four men stared at me, then glanced around, took the temperature of the upscale restaurant they were at, and then all returned their attention to me. I was waiting. Staring at them and appearing, I was certain, somewhere between resigned and annoyed.

They all nodded and started around the fence toward the entrance. Owen and Benji followed me to the table, where Matt…Mark…Mace?…was staring at me wide-eyed.

“That was amazing. You single-handedly avoided disaster.”

“Not yet,” I replied as the excited waiter brought over more tables so six more people could be seated with us. Normally that wasn’t the case at most restaurants, but it was a Monday night, and we were outside. I was guessing that had a lot to do with it.

“Hi, I’m Benji,” my friend said cheerfully, offering Maybe Micah his hand. “Sorry to be ruining your dinner.”

“Oh no, not at all, this is very exciting,” he replied, smiling at Benji because everyone, always, smiled at Benji. “I’m Miles.”

Miles… God, me with the names. Miles introduced himself to everyone, and there was water all around because they’d all run for blocks, and cocktails ordered before Owen began to explain that there was no scientific reason for the cold spots, flickering lights, strange sounds, and the odd smells in the industrial space.

“What does that mean?” Miles asked, riveted.

Owen shrugged. “I checked the wiring, the plumbing, the furnace, the AC unit, the water heater… I checked everything, and nothing physical is wrong with it.”

“On the other hand,” Benji chimed in, “I did the lemon test where you cut a lemon into quarters, cover it in salt, and put several bowls of them all around the space. They all molded.”

“Why does that matter?” Miles was into it now.

“It should simply dry up,” Benji explained, and everyone seemed fascinated. “But they all molded, which means there’s a presence there that needs to be cleansed.”

“Won’t any food, left out, eventually mold?” one of the guys asked.

“Not if it’s infused with enough salt, as it’s a preservation agent,” Benji said. “But more importantly, never in one day or two. That couldn’t happen.”

I was thinking it could happen, just as it had in this instance. There were far too many mitigating factors that might have occurred.

“He’s not saying the negative entity—energy—will remain,” Owen clarified for everyone. “He’s just saying that at the moment, you have something in there.”

Three men turned to Raglan, who, it appeared, was the ringleader of this particular circus. Even with it being Patrick’s mother’s space to give, or not, that didn’t matter. Raglan was the one in charge of the venture. “So you’re saying,” he began, questioning Benji, “that once whatever it is, is out, Patrick’s mother could then turn over the property to him?”

“Unless you have a haunting, as opposed to a ghost or poltergeist,” Benji clarified. “I’ll have to do some research on the building and get back to you.”

“But only if you want,” Owen told Benji, then to Raglan, “You and your buddies can just go buy something else if you don’t want to wait on us.”

Raglan had to decide.

I just wanted to eat, leave, and go to Miles’s place and have sex. But from how interested he was in the conversation, I could feel our alone time slipping away.

It was funny, but I wasn’t all that upset at the prospect of going home by myself. There were shows I needed to catch up on, and the books were stacking up as well. I could maybe even get in a late-night run before the rain started.