Date: Thu, 5 Jul 2001 13:33:44 EDT
From: Aterovis@aol.com
Subject: Chapter 17 of All Lost Things

Chapter 17

	Micah's eyes widened and for the briefest second I thought I saw
something akin to fear in them.

	"What did you say?" he asked in an off-hand manner. His easy-going
smile was already back in place which made me wonder if I had just been
imagining the alarm I thought I had seen.

	"I asked if you were...never mind."

	He studied me a moment and I got the feeling that he was measuring
me in some way. Then he said, "You asked me if I was gay."

	"Um, yeah. Look, I'm sorry."

	"I'm curious, why did you ask that? Do I act gay?"

	I sighed. "How does one act gay? I only asked because, well, I
wasn't sure if you were flirting with me." His eyebrows raised and I
realized how conceited I sounded, so I rushed on. "And my little brother
met you like a month ago at the library. I think you helped him find
something and he thought you might be gay."

	"He actually told you he thought I was gay? And you remembered
that? Are you sure it was me?"

	"He gave me your card."

	He shook his head slightly, looking completely baffled. "He gave
you my card? Why would he do that?"

	I blushed. "He, uh, though that, um-" I stammered and broke off.

	Understanding flooded Micah's face and he finished my sentence,
"And he thought that you might be interested, right?"

	"Something like that," I mumbled, my face felt like I would need a
fire extinguisher to put it out or maybe the whole damn fire brigade. I
couldn't believe I had gotten myself in this situation. I prayed the earth
would open and swallow me whole, but of course it never does when you
really want it to.

	"Hey, there's no need to be embarrassed," he said. He looked like
he was fighting a grin and losing.

	"Easy for you to say."

	"No, really, I'm serious. Don't be embarrassed. A) I'm really
flattered, B) I think it's really sweet and C) I am gay."

	My mouth flew open, "W-w-what?"

	"I said I am gay," he laughed. He seemed to be enjoying my
reaction. "I didn't mean to give you a hard time or anything but since I
moved to the Shore, well, I've been a little careful. Not that I'm in the
closet or anything, but I'm not exactly waving the rainbow flag
either. There's a lot of homophobes around."

	"Yeah, I guess there are," I said. My face was beginning to feel
like it might not burst into flame.

	"One time of almost getting the shit beat out of me because I
flirted with the wrong guy was enough for me. It's really hard to meet
people here." He smiled at me and something in his eyes had changed, there
was a slight twinkle now. "Well, look, I'd better get back inside before
they send out a search party, but I'm really glad we met."

	"Um, yeah, me too," I said vaguely since I wasn't quite sure how he
meant that. I didn't want to send the wrong signals. I'd done enough damage
for one day.

	"Great, so I have your number. I'll give you a call."

	I blinked in surprise for a second before I realized he meant our
business arrangement and not a personal call. At least I think that's what
he meant. I gave a nod as he started backing away from me. There was
definitely a grin playing around the corners of his mouth now.

	"Don't look so worried, Killian," he said, "I'll get your
information for you; you can count on me."

	I smiled back but my mind was already a million miles away. It was
on Planet Asher to be precise, where I seemed to have lost my
residency. Was it really over between us or was there still something there
to salvage? The reason for my sudden interest in the status of my
relationship-or non-relationship as it were-with Asher was still backing
away from me, grinning in that totally amazing way he had. He stumbled over
the curb, almost falling, and I couldn't help but laugh out loud. With a
sheepish smile and a final wave he disappeared into the building.

	As I climbed into my car I thought about Micah Gerber. I hadn't
been that attracted to someone in a long time. It had awakened feelings in
me that I had almost forgotten existed, forgotten what they felt like. The
only problem was I just didn't know where I stood with Asher and I still
loved him...didn't I?

* * *

	The house was in an uproar when I got home later that
afternoon. Mom was loading her car to leave. It seemed my aunt had called
and one of my younger cousins had fallen off his bike or skateboard and
broken something. Mom was a little vague on the details so I was unclear
what exactly had been broken and how.

	Meanwhile, Steve was pacing the hall again, occasionally raising
his voice or yanking at his hair in frustration. From the looks of his
locks he'd been on the phone for a while.

	Kane was frantically running up and down the stairs in his boxers
asking Adam where various items of his clothing were, as if his father
would have some miraculous knowledge of the whereabouts of his good pair of
khakis. I deduced from his semi-frenzied that he had a big date planned for
that night.

	Adam seemed an island of calm in the midst of all the confusion. He
expertly juggled helping Mom take her luggage to the car, smoothing Steve's
hair down in vain, and locating Kane's favorite blue Hawaiian shirt. It was
in the dryer.

	I waited for a lull in action, which finally came after Mom had
said good-bye and Kane had disappeared upstairs to fix his hair, to ask
Adam what was going on with Steve.

	"I'm not sure exactly," he said, "but I think one of his crews quit
today and he's having a hard time finding a replacement."

	"Quit? After one week? Good grief! Do you know which crew it was?"

	"I'm not sure but I think I heard him bellow something about
painting so I would assume it's the painters."

	"Why'd they quit?"

	Adam shrugged. "I don't know but I'm sure we'll find out in due
time," he said philosophically.

	Sure enough, we didn't have to wait long before Steve came charging
into the living room with a beleaguered expression on his face.

	"The damn house isn't just haunted, it's cursed too," he announced
melodramatically.

	"What happened?" I asked.

	Before he could answer, though, Kane skidded into the room. "How do
I look?" he asked breathlessly.

	"Great," Adam said without hesitation. Kane rolled his eyes and
turned to face me. I guess he thought he'd get a more impartial opinion
from me.

	He was wearing his blue Hawaiian shirt over a white T, off-white
cargo pants, brown leather sandals and a shell-bead necklace. His hair had
been freshly gelled and unless I was mistaken he'd even shaved, although
what he'd shaved was beyond me. Whoever this girl was, she must be
something special.

	"You look great," I told him and he grinned.

	"I do, don't I?" he said.

	"So who's the girl?" Adam asked.

	"Her name is Stacia and she is so hot."

	"At least you're dating her for the right reasons, son," Adam
commented sarcastically.

	"Yeah, see ya," he said as he started for the door, "Don't wait
up."

	"Eleven o'clock!" Adam yelled after him. "I swear, that kids going
to make me old before my time." Then to Steve, "You were saying?"

	"I was?" he looked up, surprised out of whatever thoughts he'd been
entertaining.

	"About the house?"

	"Oh, yeah. Someone must have talked to crews and spooked them
because one of them quit today."

	"Which one?"

	"The painters. They called me up and just told me they weren't
going back. Said they couldn't work under those conditions."

	"And what conditions would that be?"

	"Strange sounds, footsteps when no one else is supposed to be in
the house, small items missing or moved. I tried to tell them the house is
over a hundred and fifty years old so it's going to make strange
noises. And small items go missing on every job, especially when there are
that many crews on site. Someone borrows something and forgets to return it
or puts it back in a different place."

	"They didn't buy it, huh?" I asked.

	"What's to buy? It's the truth, damn it."

	"Maybe, but it's also the truth that the house is haunted," I
pointed out, reasonably I thought.

	"Killian," Adam began.

	"Don't start, Adam," I cut him off, "You weren't there, you didn't
hear it and...and feel it."

	"You have an overactive imagination, that's all."

	"Meanwhile," Steve said, drawing our attention back to him, "I've
lost my painting crew and so far I haven't been able to find anyone to take
over. If word gets around that the place is haunted I'll be lucky to find
anyone, these guys are so superstitious."

	"Surely they can't all be that irrational," Adam said.

	"It's not all that irrational, if you ask me," I insisted, "And
it's definitely not just a matter of superstition. Maybe Amalie doesn't
like what you're doing to her house."

	"It's not her house! It's mine now. And she's dead so she doesn't
have a say in the damn decorating anymore."

	"I wish you'd listen to yourself," Adam said, "Besides, this won't
really hold anything up will it? I mean, they really can't paint until all
the other stuff is finished anyway. The other crews can keep on working."

	"Assuming they don't quit too," Steve said darkly. "And I still
have to find another painter."

	"Start again in the morning. It won't seem like such a crisis after
you've calmed down and you'll be more apt to catch someone in their
office."

	He sighed, "I guess you're right. There isn't anything more I can
do tonight."

	"You could always just ask Amalie to stop it," I suggested and was
rewarded with a dirty look in stereo.

* * *
	I didn't have to wait long for Micah to get in touch with me. The
very next day at work I got a call mid-morning.

	"I've got something for you," he said as soon as I answered.

	"Micah?" I asked.

	"Yeah, it's me. Can you meet me today at the Plaza Café around
12:30?"

	"You mean afternoon, right?"

	He laughed, "No, I mean midnight. Of course I mean afternoon. It's
my lunch break and I thought we could talk while we ate. Is that ok?"

	"Yeah, no problem."

	"Great, then it's a date."

	"A date?"

	"It's just an expression, Killian. In the words of the great
literary genius, Douglas Adams, don't panic. See you at 12:30...p.m."

	"Way to go, Killian," I thought as I hung up. "Keep this up and
he's going to think you're a total dork." Then I wondered why I cared so
much what he thought of me.

	"Who was that?" Novak asked as he emerged from his inner sanctum
with a stack of paperwork.

	"A possible source," I said distractedly.

	"Ooo, a source. How very cloak and dagger. Are you meeting him in a
dark parking garage?"

	I gave him a look and said, "No, I'm meeting him at the Plaza
Café at 12:30...p.m."

	"And what he is a source of, pray tell."

	"I'm doing what you told me to do, following up on the Rachel Cohen
angle."

	"The Rachel Cohen angle?" he laughed, "You've been reading too many
detective novels."

	"Sure, pick on Killian. That seems to be the favorite pastime
around here."

	"All in good fun, kid. Don't go getting testy on me now. I wouldn't
tease you if I didn't think you knew I was just kidding."

	"Oh, I know. Don't mind me. I just have a lot on my mind."

	"If this case is starting to get to you we'll back off for a
while. You can't let yourself get too caught up in things. It's not worth
it. We're not even getting paid for it."

	"It's not just the case, it's personal stuff too. Don't worry, I'll
be fine."

	"Don't overdo it, kid. If you ever need to talk about anything, I'm
here for you."

	"Thanks, Novak."

	He went back into his office, ruffling my hair as he went. I
realized how fond I was becoming of him. He was more than just a mentor; he
was fast becoming a good friend.

	I arrived downtown a little early; I had overestimated the amount
traffic for that time of day, so I decided to visit Nikki Avanti at her art
gallery, Avant Guard. It was right on the plaza and I hadn't seen her since
Aidan and Will's wedding. Nikki was the person who had given Will his big
break into the art world, which he had failed to follow up on after Aidan's
death.

	She was busy with a customer when I slipped in. Native American
flute music was wafting hauntingly through the air, a perfect compliment to
the prominent display of Native American art. It seemed to be the theme of
the month here at Avant Guard.

	Nikki herself looked unique as always. I don't think I had ever
seen her look the same twice. The last time I had seen her, her bright
yellow hair had been short and spiky. Today she had it platted into
hundreds of tiny multicolored braids that tumbled around her bare
shoulders. She wore a brightly colored peasant blouse over faded
form-fitting jeans that laced up in the front with a leather thong. Her
black horn-rimmed glasses and silver feather shaped earrings completed the
ensemble. Only Nikki could have carried it off so convincingly. She looked
stunning.

	She finished with the customer, who left with a large clay pot that
had been decorated with a geometric design, and turned to me with a
pleasant, generic smile. It took her a second to recognize me.

	"Killian!" she exclaimed brightly.

	"You remembered my name," I said in mild surprise. We had only met
a few times.

	"Of course! How could I forget a cutie like you? Besides, I almost
never forget a name or a face. How's Will?"

	"Better than he has been, I guess. It's a slow process."

	"I can't even imagine. Poor kid. Is he painting at all?"

	"Not since Aidan died. I think he's almost ready, though. It will
be a big step for him. Maybe you should go visit him, give him a gentle
push."

	"Maybe I will. I miss him. Has the baby arrived yet?"

	"Last month. He's beautiful. Will named him Darin. That reminds me,
where's Derrick?"

	"Oh, my dear brother is off putzing around Europe, pretty much
being a processed American piece of Euro trash. Officially he's supposed to
be scouting for some art for the gallery but he's been gone an awful long
time. Not that I'm complaining."

	I laughed. "It looks like you've gone native in his absence." I
said with a gesture towards the display.

	"Oh, that's just for this month. It's all done by a friend of mine,
Lily Little Fawn Snyder. I've been after her for years to do a show and she
finally agreed, bless her heart. Of course I had to sleep with her to get
her to do it." She let out a huge laugh.

      My eyes widened. "I thought you had a boyfriend."

	"Sam? He's ancient history. Decided he wanted to get married and
have a huge family. Ha! Can you imagine me with kids?"

	"And now you're seeing..."

	"Lily, yeah, although it's not all that serious on either of our
parts. I can see you're a little confused. I'm what I like to call
omni-sexual. I go where my heart, and my libido, takes me. Usually it's
with a man but occasionally it's with a woman. When it does she's almost
always a strong independent woman, like Lily. Not exactly the best type for
a long term relationship, but then I'm not really built for long term
relationships."

	"Oh," I said. I sounded a little lost even to myself.

	"So, are you still with that hot little package? What was his name?
Ashley?"

	"Asher, and...no."

	"Oops, sore spot. Sorry. Well hey, if you're available Lily has
this absolutely adorable nephew..."

	"I'm not exactly on the market," I said quickly.

	"Ah, one of those, huh? My advice is move on, sweetie. Don't dwell
in the past. Get yourself a new beau, even if he's just a rebound guy."

	"Um, thanks," I said as I started edging towards the door. I'd
better get going. I'm supposed to be meeting someone at..." I glanced down
at my watch and gasped. "Holy shit! I'm late. I gotta go! It was good to
see you again, Nikki."

	"You too, Killian. And I'll definitely go see Will, take him a gift
for the baby or something. Bye."

	I dashed out the door and ran down the plaza to the café where
Micah was already seated at a table inside in the air conditioning, waiting
for me.

	"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," he said with a grin
as I slid into the seat across from him. "Either that or you were still
mixed up on that whole a.m. /p.m. thing."

	I laughed, slightly out of breath. "Sorry, I was talking to someone
and I guess I lost track of time."

	"It's cool. Your boyfriend?"

	"Huh?"

	"Were you talking to your boyfriend?"

	"Oh. No. I'm not, I mean I'm...I'm single."

	"Ah," he said simply, but the sparkle in his eye spoke volumes. I
realized that was what he had been fishing for to begin with.

	"So what did you find out?" I asked.

	"Not so fast. Let's order first. I was waiting for you." He
signaled a waitress over and we placed our orders.

	"Alright," he said when she has left. "Here's what I have." He
produced a manila folder from under the table and flipped it open, sliding
it across the table to me. The top sheet had the name Rachel Cohen printed
in large letters. "You were right, there were no death notices for a Rachel
Cohen and there would have been, even if the family couldn't afford a full
obit. I did manage to find her maiden name in the marriage records; it was
Gill. Both her parents were dead at the time of the wedding so that's a
dead end. The announcement was placed by an aunt though, and I have her
name and Ira Cohen's parents' names."

	"This is great, Micah!" I exclaimed.

	"Hang on, I'm not done yet. Take a look at the next page."

	I did. This page had three names and addresses printed on it:
Olivia Purnell, Quincy Evans and Fatima Bahi. I looked up at him
quizzically.

	"Those are the names and addresses of the kids Walters talked to
from the school after Caleb was arrested. He just got the usual pull quotes
from them, you know, 'He was a quiet kid, kept to himself', but they may be
useful to you if you know the right questions to ask."

	"I didn't even think of that!" I was delighted to have the names. I
flipped the page to find one last sheet, this one with three numbers
printed on it. "What are these?" I asked.

	"My numbers: home, work and cell. I was hoping you would call me
sometime and we could get together, not about the case. Like dinner or a
movie or whatever." I blushed and opened my mouth to speak but he hurried
on. "You don't have to give me an answer right now, just think about
it. Hang onto my numbers and if you feel like doing something sometime,
just call me."

	"'k," I mumbled, still blushing.

	Our food arrived at that moment, sparing us from what had promised
to be a very awkward moment. While we ate we talked about general topics,
movies, music, etc., and discovered that we had a lot in common.

	"Well, I better get back," he said when we'd finished eating, with
a trace of reluctance if I wasn't mistaken. He insisted to paying for my
lunch. "Got to get back to the grind."

	"Me too," I said, "And Micah, thanks again for all the information,
and for lunch."

	"Hey, you're welcome. It was kind of exciting. Just don't forget
that you owe me now. I want first crack at the story when it breaks."

	"If it breaks."

	"It will; reporter's instincts."

	I laughed. "See ya, Micah."

	"Bye, Killian. Call me."

	"I will," I said without thinking.

	"Good," he grinned, "I'm going to hold you to that." With that he
spun around a jogged off down the plaza.

	What was I getting myself into?