Page 4 of Ghost's Obsession

I pick up the last fry and toss it in my mouth as our conversation veers off into all my various side hustles.

Chapter 2

Heather

Iwake up early and turn my alarm off. Stumbling out of bed, I feel nauseous and sick to my stomach again. It’s been happening a lot lately. I’ve got it in the back of my mind that maybe my stressful living situation has given me an ulcer, though now I’m out of a bad relationship I should be starting to feel better.

I manage to get myself ready on time and hit the road, because I really need this job—maybe more than I’ve ever needed a job in my whole life. Since I left my ex, staying in a hotel has eaten through my savings in a matter of weeks. If I don’t get this job, I might end up truly homeless. Climbing into my truck, I check the address twice before pulling out of the hotel parking lot.

I’ve already looked up the address online and know it’s in a relatively isolated area on the outskirts of Las Salinas. It takes me close to forty minutes to get to the place. The house is located on a sprawling piece of land with nice, if dated, landscaping. There’s a bunch of siding sitting in the driveway, like the owner’s doing some work. The house looks spacious from the outside and has a lot of potential. A large man climbs down off the ladder wearing a leather vest which looks like the type bikers wear. The house isn’t the kind of place I expect a biker to own. I realize that assuming things about my potential new employer is a shitty thing to do, and I make a mental note to be better.

Once he’s in front of me, I freeze, realizing just how massive he is. His big, intimidating form is wrapped in a black t-shirt, faded black jeans, and a leather cut that says, ‘Savage LegionMC’. The patch stitched across the front says ‘Ghost’. His thick arms are covered with ink. Intricate designs crawl up both arms and into the sleeves of his t-shirt and back out and up his neck. He’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

He stares down at me for what seems like forever and finally says, “Good food and exercise, not steroids, in case you’re wondering.”

That snaps me out of whatever stupor has overtaken me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“No problem. Everyone does it. When I started packing on muscle, I didn’t realize it would go this far.”

“O… okay. Well, I’m here to interview for the position. I’m Heather Bryant,” I say, clutching my portfolio. “You’re Mr. Ross, right?”

He responds politely, “You can call me Ghost. Everyone does.”

“Right,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “Mr. Ghost, I brought my portfolio for you to look over.”

“No mister, just Ghost.”

I force myself to give him a firm nod.Be professional, calm, and for God’s sake stop staring at his biceps,I tell myself. “Right. Ghost it is, then.”

He gestures towards his front porch. “I set up an area where we can meet.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, following him up to the porch. He sits in an armchair, and I take up space on the sofa. He pulls out a bottle of water and passes it to me, taking one for himself as well.

“Thank you,” I tell him, keeping my tone polite and professional.

“You’re very welcome,” he replies, matching my tone.

“Do you want to start with asking questions, inspecting my credentials, or looking over work I’ve done for other clients?”

“Definitely looking over the work you’ve done. Let’s start with any compact designs you’ve done.”

I open my portfolio and slide out a handful of floor plans, interior photographs, and building supply lists I worked up for each job. Ghost takes them eagerly and begins flipping through the stack.

“You do good work,” he comments absently. He lingers over one design in particular. It’s a renovation I did to create a small apartment—the most compact of my designs.

“This one is closest to the renovation I have in mind.”

“You want a full conversion of the detached garage, right?”

He tears his eyes away from my floor plan to look at me. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s a two-car garage, but it’s deep. The former owner used it as a woodworking shop. I think you’ll find there’s plenty of room to work with. Enough for an efficiency or one bedroom.”

I clarify, “You’re looking to turn this into a short-term rental, right?”

“Yeah, that’s my plan for right now.” He goes back to looking at the floor plan. Then he murmurs thoughtfully, “At some point in the future, I want to make it into a space for my mom.”

That takes me by surprise. “Your mother?”

He nods, glancing at me and then back down to the floorplan. “Yeah. My mom’s really independent. She’s always been that way. When she gets too old to take care of herself, I don’t think she’d move in with me. She’d see that as crowding me and taking advantage. So, I have to trick her into letting me help her out when the time comes. I figured if I let it stand empty for a few months when she starts going downhill and tell her that helping me take care of the place until rentals are in demand again, and that my homeowner’s insurance would go down if someone lived there, might get her to accept the help she otherwise wouldn’t.”

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