Heaven Help Me, Or Hell Have Me (Heaven Help Me #1) (3 page)

I almost say ‘Ducks?’, but
bite my tongue. Man, it’s hard though. I sooo want to say it.
“Ducks?” Stupid mouth.

But she takes it in stride
and somehow manages to not laugh at me in the process. I don’t know
that it’d be that strong if it were me. No, I’d definitely be
laughing, maybe even pointing a little, a slight mocking. Nothing
mean, but enough to tickle my fancy.

“
Since you were the
employee he harassed the most, I thought we’d start with your
experiences and then build from there.”

Ohh. “Ohh.” There goes that defective
mental filter again. Plus, I can’t seem to stop the one syllable
responses. I bet I’m really impressing her, being an employee of
this company and all.

I decide to pull it together, if for
any other reason than to prove I’m smart enough to be working here.
She is HR after all. My fate is in her hands. “Umm...”

Okay, so my brain decided.
And my mouth has yet to catch up.

“
I have a few questions.
Maybe that will help things along.”

“
Yes. Thank you. Please.”
More words, but wrong order. Dammit.

Heaven help me, or Hell
have me. Heaven help me, or Hell have me. The chant soothes me. So
does fiddling with the flat stone on my bracelet. Alright, this is
good. I’m cool. I’m chillin’. Let’s do this.

“
Let’s do
this.”

She opens her almighty portfolio, and
I crane my neck to sneak a peek.

Damn. No go.

“
Very well. Now, how long
has the harassment been going on?”

“
Two years.”

Now her jaw drops. “And you never
reported it?”

I shrug, unapologetic.
“Everyone knows he’s a friend of the CEO’s, and I need this job.
Besides, if he’d ever caught me, believe you me, everyone would’ve
known.” I imagine him on his knees, cupping his man parts with a
red face. Such a lovely image.

I grin.

She shrugs in response, as
if agreeing with my no-tattling logic without saying it out loud.
And then I glance around wondering if the conversation is being
recorded.

Eh. Who cares if it is?

“
What would he reprimand
you for?”

“
Huh?”

She rolled her eyes a
little. Yeah, Red rolled her eyes. And I glare. Just a bit, so she
knows I caught her. “Sorry. What I meant was, what type of
infractions did he accuse you of? He had to reprimand you for
something to get you in his office, correct?”

Ohh. Gotcha. “Yeeeah, at
first it was when I was late. I’d get called in for that. The
bastard actually took to doing rounds every morning, just to be
sure.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re
late on a regular basis?”

Whoops. Now, that doesn’t look good.
“Actually, no. It was just his excuse. He came up with other ones
once he figured out I was almost never late.”

She scribbles down some notes. “And
what was the new excuse?”

“
Er...excuses. He had
several.”

“
Like...?” She waved a
hand in the air.

“
Bathroom breaks. He’d
actually time me. It was weird, like he had a sixth sense about
when I had to go to the bathroom. Every time I walked out, there he
was looking at his Rolex. I had it down to a science, though. I’d
only go at certain parts of the day—less traffic—bing, bang, boom,
two minutes later, and I’m done. Easy breezy.”

“
And you were okay with
that?” Her eyes were big, her mouth hanging. Again.

And so I shrug, play it off. “You do
what you have to.”

“
You said excuses—what
else was there?”

“
Messy desk, so I kept it
bare. Oh, and pencils.”

“
What about
them?”

“
He called me in one day
because my pencils weren’t sharp enough. And, apparently, neither
were his. He not-so-succinctly asked me to sharpen his pencil, if
you catch my drift.”

“
He... And what did you
do?”

“
Started using
pens.”

She tucked her lips in as
she smothers an appreciative smile. “Very resourceful.”

And I’m liking Red again.
Not only did she fire the scumbag, but she’s going to make sure he
stays that way, too, and doesn’t hurt, pursue, grope or drool over
any employees ever again.

So we talk, and she
documents, and we laugh, and we mock, and we get through all the
crap and come to an understanding. And yeah, my day is looking up,
and I’m forgetting all about that second shoe I was waiting to
drop. In fact, I’m picturing the first shoe that fell, and how
someone must’ve picked it up. Nothing wrong here. Life is
good!

Nope, scratch that. Life
is great!

Chapter 4

My day ends with a bang,
and I’m smiling and practically skipping through the grocery store.
Now, I say practically, ‘cause even I know better than to go with
the impulse. I made it through the day without any major
instances—minus the mishap with Cat this morning—and I’m going to
keep it that way.

Ain’t nothing
bringing
this
girl down!

I wait for it, nothing
happens, and keep smiling. And if
that
thought didn’t tempt the fates,
then nothing will. I giggle, then snicker, grabbing the groceries I
need and scaring the Hell out of the locals. ‘Cause,
really—giggling solo screams nutcase. I know this, you know this,
and they most definitely know this. And yet, I can’t bring myself
to care.

I hum and smile straight
through my walk home, while I get some laundry done, cook dinner
(without burning myself, I’ll have you know), and all the way until
Cici knocks on my door.

She comes in, crashes on the couch,
and I flop down next to her, gushing on and on about my day and how
Mr. Hand-Off got canned and I got a raise and how he’s never
getting his job back. And then we kick back with some wine, and
talk about guys and the world...and about how the world would
sometimes be a better place without them. Or at least a helluva lot
simpler.

And then the news comes on, and I lose
her. Completely.

Cici’s a news junkie, but
I know it and expect it. So I watch, too, mainly for something to
do, though I know I should probably be more aware of what’s going
on in the world around me.

Then I get that feeling
again. You know the one. And I’m thinking there’s something going
on around me all right, as in
right here,
right now
. And that’s when I see him,
milling around the kitchen, his back to me.

“
Oh, my God.” My breath
chokes off and I get a good death-grip on Cici’s arm.

She squeals, assumingly
from my nails, but maybe it’s because she sees him too. “What?” Or
maybe not.

“
Him.
There
.”

Cici looks around, and
there’s no way she’s missing him. But, apparently, she
is.

“
Don’t you see
him?”

A bright light shimmers
across his body as he spins, and my eyes—God bless their
reflexes—snap back to the TV. I’m watching him in my peripherals,
and he does that shimmery thing again. And what the hell is
that
?

Cici pulls at her arm.
“Don’t I see
who
?”

“
Umm...
Him
,” I say, jerking my chin at the TV, extracting my nails from
her skin.

“
George Mathus? The
weather guy?”

I glance and see Mr.
Shimmery staring at me. What...? A ghost? And then I’m thinking
it’s wise to not piss off a ghost, so I say, “Yup, George. That’s
who was I was talking about.”

“
What about
him?”

So I say the first thing
that pops into my head. “Isn’t he hot?” And then I mentally cringe.
Gag. But hey, nobody ever accused me of being quick on my
feet.

Cici is speechless. Even
the ghost is looking at me like I’m nuts. And maybe I am. I mean,
who the hell sees ghosts? Okay, well, besides Haley Joel
Osment.
I see dead people.
I snort at the thought. Yeeeah...I just did that
out loud, didn’t I? I cringe again, this time with my whole
body.

I take a sip of wine,
casual-like. “Yeah, maybe he isn’t so hot. My bad.”

She gives me a funny look,
but before she can say anything, the world news comes on and
effectively gets me off the hook. Thank Heaven! Alright, that’s
one... I glance at the spook, and he’s looking just as confused as
I am.

And then I groan.
He’s
the other shoe! A
freakin’ ghost. Are you kidding me? And how did I get a ghost? And
better yet, how do I get rid of one?

“
You okay? You
groaned.”

“
Yup. Just had a thought,
is all.”

“
And
what’s that?” Her eyes are glued to the TV, but Cici is a master
multi-tasker if I ever saw one. She could follow ten conversations
at once. Okay, so that
might
be an exaggeration. Nine, then.

“
I was just wondering if
anyone died in the building.” I dig my iPhone out of my pocket, my
one truly cherished possession.

Cici glances at me, then away. “What
are you doing?”

“
Looking it
up.”

Her eyes snap back to me,
and I want to cringe under the weight of her stare. And I
just
know
she’s
going to make an excellent mother one day. “You’re checking to see
if someone died in your apartment building? Right now, you’re
looking it up.”

Realizing this isn’t
exactly
normal
behavior, I blow it off with an extremely valid excuse.
“Sometimes a girl just needs to know these things.” I added a
shrug, ya know, to show it was no big deal and stuff like this
happens all the time.

She looks at me like I’m
nuts. Okay, so maybe I could’ve come up with something better. But
really—what could I say?

I try to do a search on my
phone, but my eyes keep darting to Mr. Ghosty and I see he’s paying
more and more attention to me, too. That can’t be a good
sign.

And then he gets close
enough to wave his hand in front of my face. And oh-my-God does he
smell good. Like I-wanna-climb-him-to-get-a-better-sniff good.
Sandalwood and wilderness, fresh cotton and the mountain air. Who
knew ghosts smelled so good? Um, okay, so who knew ghosts existed
in the first place? But even though he smells good, doesn’t mean I
want his hand flopping around in my face. I feel like I’m going
through the Twilight Zone with his fingers darting through my
vision, only catching snippets of the TV in the space between his
digits.

Since I can’t tell him to
stop waving his ghosty hand at me, I shoo at him like a fly. Only,
instead of my hand passing through his, I smack right into him. I
looked right at him with wide eyes. I couldn’t help it! I just
smacked a
ghost
for crying out loud
! Hell yeah, I’m
gonna look at him.

He jumps back like I just
bit him. And now that I’m really looking, like full-on looking, get
a load of that body—white cotton tee hugging ripped contours, and
soft worn jeans hugging muscled legs. Hot damn, I sooo
could
bite him. Yummy. I
chin-check for drool as my eyes drag up. Broad shoulders, strong
jaw, prominent cheekbones, blazing green eyes, dark wavy hair. Then
the skin bunches up between his eyes like he’s mad.

Oops! Pissed off ghost
alert. And my eyes shoot forward.

“
You
can
see
me?” His voice is smooth and strong and deep, and yeah...it
does something
deep
inside
me
.

But I ignore him. And so
does Cici, though I think mainly ‘cause she doesn’t hear him. I
glance for confirmation. Yup, oblivious. Ha! Wish I was.

“
Hey, Kassie.”

Heaven help me, or Hell
have me. He knows my name?!

And then he claps his hands and says
it again.

Jee-sus. I’m not a dog! But I keep my
cool, and I don’t react.

“
KASSIE!”

Yeah buddy, and yelling it
is going to produce results. Just ask my mother if that ever worked
for her.

“
Kasandrae Marie
Dane.”

I flinch. Dammit! Maybe he
didn’t notice.

“
I saw that.”

Crapola! Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t
look. And so I don’t.

And he backs off, leaning
against the far wall, and seems okay with dropping it.

For now.

Chapter 5

I can feel his eyes on me,
boring little holes in the side of my head. I shift, stretch and
yawn, but I’m fighting it. I’m not getting off this couch. No way
am I going to bed with him creeping around, looking, seeing,
listening...maybe judging, poking in things, being
nosey.