Black Heart (7 page)

and night for several weeks before Tristan slowly began to trust him. Soon Tristan was

sleeping in his bed without fear and his body for the first time in his life was free of cuts and

bruises.

Not long after that, Tristan began to talk with Shayne, who’d explained that when he’d

been alive he’d suffered the same curse as Tristan. He’d led a tormented life because of the

curse and, as a result, led his life with a death wish thinking only in death would he be able

to find peace. When death finally came at the ripe old age of thirty in a violent act, he was

stunned to realize that he’d been cursed in death as well.

Now Shayne was bound to earth to live as a guardian of sorts. He could touch and move

things when he chose without any difficulty, but he couldn’t be seen or heard by any living

souls except by someone like Tristan. The only thing that changed for Shayne was his loss

of human needs like food, water, and sleep. Other than that nothing had changed at all.

Shayne had been with Tristan ever since that first night. At first he’d stayed to protect

Tristan until he was strong enough to protect himself. Over the years their bond had

strengthened. Shayne went from being his protector and a second father to him to his best

friend. Tristan didn’t know what he’d do without him. He was the only one who knew and

accepted him for the freak that he was. Without Shayne he’d be lost or probably dead by

now, by his own hand or someone else’s, he wasn’t sure.

“Listen, I’m just asking you to do me a little favor,” the man snapped.

“Fuck off,” Tristan said, walking past him to his front door and yanked it open. He rolled

his eyes at the sounds of sex and god-awful porno music blasting.

He turned to shut the door and sighed when he spotted the persistent prick standing in his

foyer. Tristan gestured to the door. “Get out.”

Pipe man folded his arms over his chest, defiantly. “No, I’m not going anywhere until

you do what I want. If you don’t, I promise that I’ll make your life a living hell.”

Tristan shut the door and walked past the stubborn ghost towards the open double doors

of the living room. He walked into the room and plopped himself down onto an oversized

chair as he grabbed a remote to change the skin flick on the television.

“Hey, I was watching that!” Shayne protested as Tristan switched on the Xbox.

“You know how it ends. She fakes and he comes with his eyes closed while picturing

some guy’s tight ass.”

Shayne scowled at him. “I don’t ask for much-“

Tristan cut him off with a chuckle, “Only for your own room, the twenty-four hour

playboy channel, and you make me listen to Sinead O’Connor whenever you get homesick.

That alone is too goddamn much!”

“Hey! She’s a very talented woman! She’s just misunderstood, that’s all!” Shayne

snapped, throwing a pillow at Tristan’s head.

Tristan picked up the other wireless game controller and tossed it to Shayne. “Man up,

bitch.”

Shayne threw him a dirty look before he turned his attention to the television. “You’re

my bitch, lad, never forget that,” he said with a smirk.

“We'll see…..”

“Yeah, we’ll see, lad. By the end of this game ye’ll be good and spanked.”

“Ah, excuse me…hello?” the man with the pipe in his neck said as he stepped in front of

the television.

“No, he didn’t,” Shayne said in disbelief and disgust. He cocked an eyebrow in Tristan’s

direction. “Does he not know that I’ll bitch slap him into the next millennium for coming

between me and kicking yer ass?”

Tristan sighed as he sat back in his chair. “Apparently not.”

“If you just do what I ask I'll leave you alone. Until then I’m staying,” the man swore.

“Yer not threatening my lad now, are ye?” Shayne asked with a hopeful glint in his eye, a

look that Tristan knew all too well.

“Yes, he’ll do what I say or I’ll make his life a living hell,” the man said firmly. He turned

a smug look on Tristan. “You know I can do it. Just look how I drove you away from that

woman and I swear I’ll do it every time. You’ll never get laid again.”

Shayne’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ye met a woman at therapy? Don’t tell me ye

plugged a nutso, lad.”

Tristan dropped his head back until he was looking up at the ceiling, and when that

wasn’t enough to escape the bullshit that was his life, he closed his eyes. “They’re not all

nuts that go there. Hell, I have to go there and I’m not crazy.”

“Well, ye do see and talk to dead people. Hell, ye live with one,” Shayne pointed out and

Tristan didn’t need to look at Shayne to know that he had a sly grin on his face.

Without looking up, Tristan pointed a finger in Shayne’s direction. “Good point.”

“So….,” Shayne prompted.

Tristan looked up and muttered something.

“What’s that now, lad?”

“I said I was talking to Marty,” he grumbled louder.

Shayne’s whole face lit up. “Marty, ye say?”

Tristan rubbed both of his hands roughly over his face. “Don’t start that shit again. You

know I can’t.”

“Why? Is yer wee willy not working?” Shayne asked with feigned innocence.

Tristan shot him a murderous glare. “First off, my
willy
isn’t wee and it works fine. You

know that’s not the problem.”

“Ah,” Shayne said in understanding as he nodded solemnly. “Aye, I suppose I do

understand.”

Tristan scoffed his agreement.

“I think he’s gay,” the man with the pipe commented.

“No, I’m-"

Shayne cut him off. “Aye, I’m afraid that has to be the case. That’s the only explanation

for it. I’m afraid I’ve turned a blind eye to the signs for years.”

The denial that was on the tip of his tongue momentarily forgotten, Tristan narrowed his

eyes on his friend. “What signs? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well,” Shayne drawled, making a show of studying his nails, “there’s yer first kiss, lad,

talk about awkward. I could tell ye really didn’t want to kiss the lass.”

“Oh, you could tell that, could you?” Tristan asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “It

probably had something to do with the fact that I didn’t want to kiss her and you knew that.

I told you repeatedly that I didn’t like her, but
noo
,” he stretched out the last word, “you

knew better. What was your reason for making me kiss her? Oh yeah, because back in your

day it was normal to be brought to a whore when you were fifteen and, since you couldn’t

hire one for me, you thought the school slut was just as good.”

Shayne smiled sheepishly. “She did like ye, lad.”

“She liked everything with a dick!” Tristan snapped. “And I told you that I didn’t like

her
!”

“Why are ye yelling at me? It’s not like I made ye kiss her,” Shayne muttered grumpily.

Tristan shot him a look of pure disbelief. “Didn’t make me kiss her? You shoved me into

her!”

“It wasn’t that bad now, was it, lad? I mean she did give ye a go for yer money,” Shayne

said almost defensively.

“She gave me mono,” Tristan said flatly.

Shayne looked thoughtful, “Well, there is that I suppose. Well then, what about yer first

time, huh?”

“You got me decked and kicked in the balls!” Tristan snapped.

“I did?” Shayne asked in mock indignation with his hand pressed to his chest. “How was

I supposed to know ye’d yell out some other lad’s name?”

“You yelled out another guy’s name during sex?” pipe man asked in disgust. “Here’s a

clue, guy. That does make you gay.”

Tristan glared, just glared at the man.

“Ah, go easy on the lad. At least he’s loyal.”

“What do you mean?” Tristan cautiously asked.

Shayne shrugged lazily. “Ye still moan that name when ye spend in the shower.”

Tristan’s mouth dropped open and then abruptly snapped shut. “You spy on me in the

shower?”

He laughed. “Ah, lad, I don’t need to spy on ye. I can hear ye anytime, anywhere. We’re

connected. Besides, ye moan the name really, really loudly.”

Pipe man waved a hand to get their attention. “Ah, hello, if you’re thinking of a dude in

the shower that kind of makes you gay, too. Now that we have that solved,” he clapped his

hands together, “let’s focus on me, shall we?”

But Tristan wasn’t done. “I didn’t call out another guy’s name and you know it!”

Shayne seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Oh, that’s right. I guess yer not gay.”

“Damn straight!”

“Yer just in love with Marty,” Shayne said with a shit-eating grin.

Chapter
4

“Denny, can you give me a hand with the dishes?” Beth asked as she moved to push her

chair away from the table.

Denny pouted pathetically while he made a show of rubbing his flat stomach. “I wish I

could, Mom. Really, I do, but after that third helping you shoved down my throat, I’m

afraid that I just can’t seem to move.”

“I forced you, huh?” she asked with a tolerant smile.

“That’s the way I see it,” Denny said in agreement as he leaned back in his chair.

Beth looked at Tom expectantly.

“Sorry, hun, can’t move,” Tom said sheepishly.

Marty smiled at the two men as she stood up and picked up her plate and Denny’s. “I’ll

help, Beth. We should really give these old timers a break.”

“I knew you loved me,” Denny said with a wink.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Marty said dryly as she helped clear the dishes. Since they were eating

in the large kitchen, it wasn’t too difficult a task. Beth threw her a wink as the two of them

worked together to clear the table.

Denny ran a hand over his short curly brown hair, trying to tame the untamable. “So,

where’s my little brother and why the hell isn’t he here to see me?”

Tom sipped his beer. “I think he needed a break from your mother’s fussing.”

“I don’t fuss!” Beth argued.

Both men shared a knowing look.

“I don’t!”

Marty bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. When that didn’t work she turned away

and became suddenly busy with scraping plates. Fussing and Beth went hand and hand. If

she loved you, she fussed over you. Marty had learned that a long time ago.

When Marty had her appendix taken out when she was ten years old, Beth fussed over

her like a mother hen. It took her father, Tom, Denny and Tristan to calm Beth down in the

waiting room and stop her from attacking every nurse and doctor that made the mistake of

walking through the waiting room. Beth took it as her responsibility to mother Marty after

her own mother had abandoned her when Marty was six. Marty loved Beth like a mother

and appreciated it, even those times when she went a tad overboard. Like the time Marty

had her first period.

Beth decided to combine Tristan’s driving lesson with taking Marty to the pharmacy.

Poor Tristan had no idea why his mother was damn near hyperventilating in the front seat

or why Marty was cowering in the back seat. He discovered the source of her

embarrassment when Beth dragged them both down the feminine product aisle and started

handing Tristan boxes of tampons and pads all while asking Marty if she wanted scented or

unscented, applicator or applicator free. Tristan choked on air as he dropped the boxes. He

tossed his mother the keys and, without a word, walked out of the store and the five miles

home. For the next two months Tristan had trouble making eye contact with her. Now poor

Tristan was the subject of Beth’s focus, poor bastard.

“Well, sweetheart, you did try to give him a sponge bath,” Tom calmly pointed out while

giving his wife a small sheepish smile.

“You what?”
Denny nearly shouted.

Beth stood stubbornly in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, glaring at the men.

“He’d been shot. He needed to be taken care of. Besides, he’s my baby. It’s not like I

haven’t seen him naked before,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, twenty years ago you might have seen him naked. For Christ’s sakes, Mom, he’s

a grown man. He was shot in the shoulder, not paralyzed. I doubt he appreciated the

effort,” Denny said in clear disbelief. He shot a look at his father. “If I ever get bedridden

you keep this woman and her sponges the hell away from me. Hire some busty blonde to

tend to my wounds,” he said with a lecherous grin.

Tom just chuckled as Beth narrowed her eyes on her oldest son. “That’s nonsense. I

would take better care of you.”

Denny shot his father a look of pure panic. “I’m serious.”

“Well,” Beth said with a sniff, “I don’t think that’s the problem anyway. Tristan

appreciated me taking care of him.”

Tom raised an eyebrow at that. “Sweetheart, he barricaded himself in his bathroom and

refused to come out until Hank and I dragged you and your sponges out of his house.”

At that, Denny started laughing. Beth folded her arms over her chest, glaring at him. “It’s

not
that
funny.”

He held up a hand while he tried to catch his breath. “That’s not why I’m laughing. I

think that was the night he called me up to suggest that we have you committed.”