Andrea and I quickly move toward the call to see what the unexpected house guest is yelling about.
We find her in my room of all places, with her bottom in the air, pulling bins out from under my bed. “These are so funny!” She holds up different sized embroidery hoops, which I have been working on for the Craft Bazaar. “Welcome to the Shit Show! I Cross Stitch so I don’t Kill People! O-M-G, Can I have this one?!”
Andrea and I share a look as I reply, “Umm yeah. Sure.”
She gives a high-pitched squeal before standing to prance in place.
Andrea actually fights back a laugh, most likely at my expense.
“Mairead, I’d really like to settle in, since I just got back. Do you mind… if we hang out another day?”
I am too exhausted to question why the energetic girl is in my room, let alone being confrontational, it was just not in my wheelhouse.
“Okie dokie,” she replies, clutching her embroidered art and happily making her way toward the front door.
Andrea follows behind, quietly taking in everything as it unfolds.
As I go to close the door, wishing Mairead a final farewell, she pops her head back through. “Oh shit. I forgot to tell you. Remember Craig?”
Well, yeah how could I forget the awful manager that tried to manipulate and assault me, before I quit. “Yeah. What about him?” Now, I need a nap.
“He’s dead.”
Okay, now I am awake.
“I heard he died during a closing shift. One of the cashiers found him in the morning all blue and unresponsive. The cops thought he choked while eating, but the coroner found something that points to a homicide!”
Craig was an absolutely repulsive human, but I don’t think he deserved to be murdered. Well… maybe. No. God, my moral compass is fucked up. “Did they figure out who did it?”
She examines her perfectly pink, manicured nails like this kind of discussion bores her, instead of being the heinous topic it is. “Not sure… BUUUT, do you want to hear what they found in his throat?!”
I’ll bet my collection of embroidery hoops, it was tuna.
The words tumble from her, like she just can’t hold onto it any longer. “An earbud! Isn’t that wild?!”
My head begins to tingle. It feels cold, as if all the blood rushed from my face.
“K, bye!” Mairead turns and frolics down the hall, and her red waves bounce out of sight.
“Your friend is… weird,” Andrea says, as I close our apartment door.
I don’t feel much like going to work this evening. I try to relax, but instead I just feel ill. I’ve felt this way sense Mairead’s visit. Not sure if it was the diet of soup and candy over the weekend, or the news she casually dropped on her way out, but there is no point in trying to nap. Painkillers didn’t even help diminishing this splitting headache and I rarely take anything, even ibuprofen.
I replay Mairead’s visit, trying to sort out if I too, was in immediate danger. It was obviously my music stalker who murdered Creepy Craig. Oh crap, what if I had the matching earbud in my possession? Was I considered an accessory to murder? Could I be charged or even arrested!? I wasn’t even in town! I was hours away in the Catskills. He must have killed my ex-manager then came out to the woods to mess with me. Is that why Eamon wouldn’t respond to me? Could he be behind all of this? Is my boss a murderer?
Geeze, this sounded closer to the premise of a B-grade slasher movie that would play at the discount theatre. Focus! I tell myself.
Ugh. I am so drained. The last thing I need is for Jada or Brittany to be just as spicy as they were the last time I worked. How am I going to get through this shift? Oh right… I'm a manager. My mind jumps to Cassie. The sassy, yet wise woman, who was wonderfully predictable to work beside. I never had a proper moment to grieve the fact that I will never hear her clipped, sarcastic voice again. Why do my managers keep dying?
I reapply my under-eye coverage twice, because my dark, puffy eyes keep exposing how truly exhausted I am. Andrea left at some point when I was in the bathroom, so I guess I’ll have to wait to give her the soap and dressing from my parents.
While walking to The Black Sheep, I go over the questions I would like Eamon to answer when I see him next. I also opt for leaving the earbud at the bottom of my purse, instead of actually putting it in my ear. It’s been a whole day since I last heard from my stalker or should I say Eamon. Speak of the devil!
I enter the bar to find Eamon comfortably nestled at a back table with the same two men that always seem to be by his side. Garron and Dax, I believe? They’re always around. Were they like bodyguards or something? Why would the owner of a bar and club need protection?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I march right up to the group of men and address Eamon. “Can I talk to you… alone?!”
The men both look to Eamon. The one with the toothpick smirks like he’s delighted to see his buddy in trouble, while the quiet one just scowl, as per usual. Eamon lifts his hand to indicate for the other men to leave the table.
