Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross (28 page)

“At any rate,” John finally spoke, acting as
though they were resuming a conversation that had been rudely
interrupted. “How are things with you?”

“Everything is fine,” Brigit answered. “So,
we’re really close to being caught up? What happened with the
Bailey?”

Brigit listened intently as John related the
going ons of the office during her absence. Seamus had returned to
reaping the harder assignments that were his department. The Bailey
had been put on strict orders to deliver the new files himself
every evening. Brigit felt Mama Dee shudder beside her and looked
at her friend in questioning confusion.

“I don’t like
him
,” Mama responded.
Brigit suppressed the urge to laugh out loud before returning her
attention to John.

“I’m hoping that if he is delivering our
workload himself that it will slow him down and give us the
opportunity to catch up – not to mention beginning to lay the
foundations for new offices around the world,” John explained.

“I can see the logic in that,” Brigit agreed.
“And what about you, Belinda? How do you like the firm?” Her former
protégé looked up from the contents of her mug and shrugged in
half-reply.

“It’s cool,” she said somewhat apathetically.
Brigit left her attention on Belinda as John lauded the young
woman’s accomplishments over the last month. Belinda had secured
the new and permanent position as the official record keeper of
Reaper’s, Inc. The praise, Brigit noted, seemed not to affect the
Goth girl as she let her bright blue eyes return to the contents of
her cup.

“What are you drinking?” Brigit asked when
John had finished talking.

“Hot cocoa,” Belinda sighed.

“
John
,” Brigit formed the question in
her mind and the head Reaper immediately nodded in agreement.
Without another word, he scooped Belinda’s cup from the table and
headed to the bar to refill it for her. Surprised, Belinda looked
after him and then to the two women that were looking back at her
in earnest.

“Why did he do that?”

“I asked him to,” Brigit replied. “What’s
going on with you?”

“Nothing, why? And how did you ask him to?
You didn’t say anything I didn’t hear you say anything,” Belinda
pointed out.

“Don’t change the subject,” Brigit
instructed.

“You have been acting all melancholy lately.
Mr. John, he gives you a pat on the back and you just shrug it
off,” Mama Dee pointed out. “I think you’re distracted by
something.”

“I’m not distracted,” Belinda denied.

“Belinda, we’re not jumping on your case,”
Brigit said gently. “We’re concerned. Sometimes, a girl just needs
to talk it out.”

“I think she’s in love,” Mama Dee declared,
before picking up her own coffee cup.

“I am not,” Belinda suddenly looked surprised
at the old woman’s accusation. The slight blush rising in her pale
cheeks betrayed her.

“At any rate,” Brigit pushed the denial aside
as she watched the color flood her protégé’s face. “We’re a family.
If you need to talk,”

“I’ll let you know,” Belinda interrupted with
a sigh. The blush, however, remained.

“I still think she’s in love,” Mama
persisted.

“Is all well?”

The three women at the table looked up to
find John Blackwick beside them. A fresh cup of cocoa was in his
hand. Brigit exchanged one last glance with Belinda, seeking
reassurance that the younger woman was indeed all right. She grew
more concerned when Belinda looked away.

“It’s as well as it can be,” Brigit
sighed.

“Good!” John slid the refreshed cup of cocoa
before the Goth girl and resumed his seat. “Brigit, I think we need
to discuss further plans for the firm and develop a strategy for
increasing productivity.”

“John, I’ve only been back a few minutes,”
Brigit laughed. “I thought you were taking a break?” John looked at
her in surprise as her words sank in on him. Finally, he allowed a
slight smile to emerge across his thin lips.

“You’re right. Business can wait a bit
longer, eh?”

Things did seem to be flowing easily lately,
John mused as he nodded solemnly to the Bailey. No words were
exchanged as the pale figure in fluttering black robes deposited
the day’s new portfolios on the corner of John’s desk and exited
the office as quietly as he had entered. As he watched the dark
figure glide back down the hall, John acknowledged the tense
underlying energy that seemed to course through the productivity
since Brigit’s return.

He was aware of the source, yet, until
something happened between them – John could do nothing more than
keep one eye open to it. He only hoped Seamus Flannery would
eventually come to his senses and let it all go. Brigit had
apologized that day in the café, although, John was sure she had
not meant to be so far reaching in the apology. Seamus had been
slick in his attempt to lure her into an argument of some sort.
John had caught that much. He had been proud that Brigit had eluded
the attempt in such a lady-like manner. Even so, John knew it would
not be the last attempt Seamus would make in an attempt to cast a
bad light on Brigit. He only hoped Brigit would not fall into the
trap…

Brigit had resumed her assignments eagerly,
reaping during the day and returning to Maggie at night. John had
the sense that it might seem unfair to the other Reapers that she
would be allowed to have a dual existence with the firm. It was
part of their agreement, though. So long as Brigit Malone
maintained the efficiency of her assignments and the priorities of
the firm, John would continue to honor their agreement as long as
Maggie Devon still drew mortal breath.

John set the newly delivered files at the
bottom of the stack before him. He was taking his time with them
these days. New recruits were still his first priority and he did
not want to miss the opportunity to find another Belinda Yaris.
Brigit had done well to bring the young woman on. He wanted to make
sure the future members of the firm were of the same caliber.

A quiet knock at the door broke John from his
thoughts. He looked up and found Brigit standing just inside
it.

“I’m heading home,” she announced.

“You’ve dropped your completed
assignments?”

“Belinda’s working on them now,” Brigit
confirmed.

“Very good. Thank you, Brigit,” he said
quietly.

“For what?”

John looked at his assistant for a long
moment. There were so many things he was grateful for in regard to
Brigit Malone. Finally, he smiled and simply said:

“For getting back into the swing so
easily.”

Brigit picked up the short stack of
portfolios John had left on her corner of the desk.

She had paused long enough to wish Belinda a
good morning on her way to the head Reaper’s office. As she looked
around the younger woman’s space, she had noticed the addition of a
black leather sofa and a vase holding an overly large sunflower
bloom on the small table beside it. The bright yellow of the
flower’s soft petals seemed to add all the more light to the
otherwise bleak room. Upon commenting on the loveliness of the
sunflower, Brigit caught the notes of pride as Belinda gushed that
it had been a gift from Seamus Flannery. Mama Dee had been right,
after all. Belinda Yaris was in love.

Biting her tongue to keep from issuing a
warning against the younger woman’s obvious infatuation, Brigit
simply smiled and reiterated how lovely the flower was. Something
inside her warned her to maintain her silence in regard to Seamus
Flannery, if only for the sake of the peace that seemed to mask the
every day operations of Reapers, Inc. Eventually, that mask would
fade away. Brigit had no wish to rush that particular moment into
existence.

As she walked down the hall toward John’s
office, Brigit couldn’t help but revisit the fact that she still
didn’t have her own office space within the firm. Seamus had his
quarters assigned to him almost immediately upon joining the
company. Brigit had planted Belinda in the small room she now
occupied upon bringing her to the main office and even Mama Dee had
an office to call her own. Brigit reminded herself to have a
discussion with John regarding the situation when she returned from
her assignments.

The first portfolio of the day’s assignments
caused Brigit to smile. Mickey Benjamin was finally going to have
his final wish fulfilled. Feeling light, Brigit made her way to the
main entrance of the office as she read the address out loud:
72
St. Marks Place
.

He was seated at a small table in the middle
of the room, one arm resting on the table and his legs crossed at
the knee in patient waiting.

Through the dim light of the morning sun that
forced its way through the dust encrusted panes of glass high up on
the walls, Brigit could see the trails through the dust on the
floor where he had dragged the table from where it had been stored
against the wall. How long he had been sitting there, she was
unsure. A bottle of champagne on the table beside him indicated his
preparedness for the celebration he intended to have once he heard
Matilda Swenson finally sing. Almost a year had passed since the
crossing of Matthew-Matilda Swenson, though. Brigit wondered if a
celebration was still intended after so much time.

The echo of her boots on the club’s wooden
floor caught his attention. Mickey Benjamin quickly turned to face
her. Hope filled his eyes as she emerged from the shadows.

“You came back!” the young man gushed as he
jumped from the chair and rushed to embrace the female Reaper.
“I’ve been waiting for so long. I was afraid you had forgotten
about me.”

“I’m sorry it took as long as it did,
Mickey,” Brigit apologized. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Mickey said as he
finally released her. “You kept your promise. That’s all that
counts.”

“I always keep my promises one way or
another,” she replied as she caught the odor that arose from the
collar of his purple silk shirt. “Have you been drinking?” Brigit
asked as she glanced at the champagne bottle on the table. The
cork, she noticed, was still securely attached. Yet, a distinct
smell of alcohol had arisen from the young man when he had stepped
back from her. She didn’t remember smelling it on him during her
first encounter with him.

“What? Oh, that,” Mickey suddenly looked
embarrassed. “No. I don’t drink. The night we,” he faltered,
looking for the right word.

“Passed,” Brigit offered.

“That will work,” Mickey agreed. “The night
we passed, Matilda and me, well, I fell down the back steps after I
told Mr. Pershing that Matilda was dead. I landed in a puddle of
whiskey someone had spilled at the bottom of the stairs. It’s a
terrible smell, isn’t it?” The young man sniffed at the collar of
his shirt and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Mickey Benjamin, are you ready to leave this
place?” Brigit asked as she withdrew his portfolio from her coat
pocket. Quickly, she read the pages of his life as the door
appeared to her left. On the last page, she saw the details he had
just told her. His passing had been the result of a mis-step on the
stairs leading to the club owner’s office. It had been an
accident.

“Yes, finally, yes,” Mickey gushed as he
began to run his hands nervously through his hair.

“Mickey Benjamin,” Brigit reached out and
gently pulled open the door that had appeared to her left. From the
other side, they heard the music and the singing of Matilda Swenson
from the other side. Brigit saw Mickey’s face light up with the
recognition of the voice that reached his ears.

“She’s fantastic,” he whispered in awe.

As she watched him for a second longer,
Brigit realized the depth of the young man’s adoration for the drag
queen she had crossed over almost a year before. She suddenly
regretted not being able to return for him sooner. “I’m really,
finally, going to get to see her sing,” Mickey gushed.

“Here, you’ll need this when she’s done,”
Brigit said. She had fetched the champagne from the table Mickey
had been sitting at and shoved it into his hands.

“Thank you,
so much
. You have no idea
what this means to me,” Mickey said as he threw his arms around
Brigit’s neck once more. The champagne bottle was pressed firmly
between them as he gave her a good squeeze. Brigit smiled and
pushed the young man off again, making sure he had a hold of the
bottle as she did so.

“Get in there already,” she said gently.
“Mickey Benjamin, may you find eternal peace.”

Brigit watched the young man enter the portal
as the sound of a sultry torch song wafted through the air to her
ears. Matilda Swenson did have a lovely voice. As Brigit held the
door open for a few seconds after Mickey Benjamin had crossed over,
it occurred to her that she had managed to catch the show at the
St. Marks Club after all.

“I’m off to Rome again,” John declared as he
shrugged into his suit coat and buttoned it. “I trust that all will
go well while I’m away,” he asked as he leveled a solemn gaze on
Brigit as she looked up from the portfolios before her. She had
easily taken over the seat behind his desk and resumed the work of
sorting the daily assignments. She had glanced up, John observed,
just long enough to grasp the meaning behind his look.

“I’ll call if I need you,” she assured him
quietly before returning her attention to the files. “How long will
you be gone?”

“Just long enough to interview these few
potentials and to make sure all is running well in the office
there. I shouldn’t be more than a couple of days,” John assured
her. “I was thinking that we should begin separating the files by
region so that we can be prepared to open other new offices.”