Seeing is Believing (Cuttersville #3)(21)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Smart-ass.”

The weight of her stare fell on him hard. “So what’s new in Cuttersville?” he asked.

“Just the usual. Your aunt has a new boyfriend she met on the Internet. She’s all atwitter because he’s five years younger than her, but I think she’s lying. Or more likely he’s lying. The man is sixty if he’s a day. Nicole Platner got divorced. She was your age, right? Abigail Murphy is having a baby.”

“Oh, yeah?” Abby had been his girlfriend his senior year in high school, and while it shouldn’t surprise him that a peer was procreating, it was jarring.

“About time. She’s been married seven years. We were all starting to think she was missing a uterus.”

Brady laughed. “Maybe they just wanted to wait.”

His grandmother made a sound of dismissal like that was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. “So what’s life in the big city like? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No.” Brady drummed his thumbs on his thighs. “And I got laid off from my job three days ago.” He shrugged, wanting to give the impression it wasn’t as big of a deal as it really was. “The economy, you know.”

His grandmother gave a sharp nod. “Well, we all know the economy sucks donkey dicks, but I’m sorry to hear that. Did they give you a severance package?”

Leave it to Gran to say it like it was. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Donkey dicks about sums it up. I just get what was left of my vacation and sick days. About three weeks’ worth of pay.” The thought had his ass cheeks forming a fist. He was f**ked. “I’m thinking I’m going to have to break my lease because there’s no way I can afford my rent, and jobs just aren’t that easy to come by. Not in three weeks. Not in marketing.”

“So you came home.” Gran nodded, like this made complete sense to her. “You can look for a job in Chicago from here with no expenses. Makes sense.”

That hadn’t exactly been his plan. He hadn’t really had one. But now that she said it, it did make sense. He could stay with family and look for a job. Most companies would be willing to do a first interview on the phone. Maybe he could even get a part-time job here while he was surfing online for a real job. “So can I stay with you? I don’t think Shel has the room.”

“Hell, no, you can’t stay with me. I like my space.” She crossed her ankles. “I haven’t lived with anyone since Shelby moved out fifteen years ago, and I’m not about to start now. Besides, I host my book club here on Mondays and belly dance on Thursdays. Then Richard and I have a standing date on Saturdays.”

Brady stared at her in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You’re letting your own grandson be homeless because you have some dude named Richard over for meat loaf? That ain’t right, Gran. I’m not going to cramp your style, I swear.” Nor was he going to reflect on the fact that his grandmother had a more active social life than he did.

“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m not going to let you be homeless, though I should, given that you couldn’t be bothered to come home once in ten years. But I won’t. I just meant you can’t live here with me. But you can stay in the blue house I own over on Swallow Street. It’s vacant right now.”

Brady sank back in his chair, relieved. He hasn’t realized how much he’d been wanting a bailout of some sort. His grandmother had always owned a number of properties and he was glad one was tenant free. “Okay, cool. Thanks. Does it have furniture?”

“No.”

Great. He was going to be living in an empty house while he watched his bank account shrink. Well, it gave him three weeks anyway. Three weeks to figure out what the hell he was doing with his life. Because when the money ran out, he was going to have to make some tough choices about his apartment back in Chicago. He bit his fingernail, wondering how long it would realistically take to find a job. Word on the street was six to nine months. If that were the case, he might just find himself back in Cuttersville for the duration. It was really the most affordable option. Hell—only option. “Do you think I can get a part-time job here? Maybe do those ghost tours or something?” Even if he made a few hundred bucks while he was there, it would help him pay for the gas back to Chicago.

The seriousness of his situation started to dawn on him. He had no savings to speak of and he still owed a year’s worth of payments on his car. Sweat broke out in his pits, and his hands went clammy.

“Shelby hasn’t run those tours in years. She’s too busy since the twins came along. And while there was a spike in business after Darius Damiano had the Murphy house on his TV show, the last few years haven’t been very lucrative for tourism here. I guess every ghost gawker in the Midwest has already checked us out.”

Well, shit. “Is there a cell phone store or something I can work at?”

“You should talk to Boston. He’d be more helpful with that than me.”

Reality was definitely sinking in with Titanic-like speed, and it bit the big one. He was going to be living in his grandmother’s vacant house on Swallow Street. This wasn’t exactly where he had pictured himself at thirty-one years old.

“By the way, the house needs cleaning up. In exchange for free rent, you need to paint the main rooms on the first floor and redo the landscaping out front.”

Seriously? He guessed it was only fair, but at the same time, he felt like he was being fleeced just a little by his own grandmother. “Fine. But you supply the paint.”

“Of course. So Shelby says you’re sniffing around Piper Tucker.”

Brady sighed. Was this worth free rent? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t help that he had been sniffing around her. He’d sniffed and buried his bone. “I am not sniffing around Piper. She was at Shelby’s last night babysitting. It was a coincidence.” That he happily took advantage of. “But what would be the objection to me dating Piper, by the way? Shelby acted like I was a convicted child molester.”

“Piper is Danny’s daughter.”

Well, that was stating the obvious. “It’s kind of insulting, you know. I’m getting the message loud and clear that no one thinks I’m good enough for Piper. If I were interested. Which I’m not.” He was offended. So maybe he was a thirty-one-year-old unemployed guy living at his grandmother’s, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He had charm. He was nice enough. He worked hard. Sort of. And he had good biceps. Brady reached for his gran’s drink, suddenly feeling the need for fortification. He took a big swallow and choked. “Holy shit, Gran! That’s whiskey.”