SA Payne - New Again.pdf - SA Payne - Katus777

S.A. Payne

Cole Manner, (yes his parents did hate him to

give him a stupid name like that), has been on a

quest to find his place in the world. Over the

past few years he's traveled and worked

whatever job he could find wherever the winds

had taken him and for the most part he's

enjoyed his new outlook on life.

Until one damp day he happens to see an

advertisement for what sounds to be a very odd

job and it makes him curious enough that he

checks it out, just wanting to know what it was.

That stumbles him into a job like none he ever

could have imagined and maybe, just maybe, will

end his wanderlust and show him his place in

the world... of course... his grumpy,

troublesome, drop dead sexy new boss could

have something to do with that too!

Chapter 1

The sunshine was warm but the air was still chilly with the damp of the

night’s rain. It wasn’t like Cole had anywhere to go; he’d gone to great

lengths to see to it that his life was as random and pointless as possible. He’d

been tossing crumbs to pigeons for the last hour, thinking, trying not to think,

pondering fate or free will and if he should stay in the city or move on.

The wind gusted up, blowing a touch of the coming fall into his hair

and around the browning leaves in the trees. It was a sure sign that the winter

was going to be colder than Cole generally liked and if he stayed put even a

few more weeks he’d have to buy something warmer than his thinning jean

jacket. It was a good sign to move on.

“Well,” he said to the pigeons that were cooing out of reach, “What do

you guys think? Should I stay?”

They ignored him; his crumbs had run out.

“Thought as much.” He sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

The wind gusted again and a piece of damp newspaper floated up,

caught the breeze and smacked wetly into Cole’s face. It was just damp

enough to stick to him, clammy and vaguely slimy. He batted at it but when

he went to pull it away, the wet paper shredded, leaving only one piece intact

when he finally managed to pull it from his face and neck.

He glanced at the damp length of paper in his hand and raised an

eyebrow. “Huh.”

Aric hovered outside the small shop, watching for the current visitor to

finish up and be quietly escorted out. He dropped his finished cigarette and

crushed it under the expensive Italian leather shoes he was wearing. The man

that passed him looked stuffy, ordinary, and he didn’t even glance up as Aric

passed. He shook his head at the man’s blindness and opened the shop’s door.

Bells hung over the door rang. “Be right there,” a gruff voice called

from the back.

“No rush, Mike. It’s just me,” he called out and scanned the front of the

shop. It had become a collection of antiques really. Old ink wells, paintings,

books, well polished furniture all sat about. None of it was untended, dust

gathered nowhere and the quality of the items was superb.

Aric paused in front of a centuries old mirror. It was getting flyspecked

now as the silver that made it shine wore away but it was still a lovely item.

The frame had been handcrafted, carved and polished almost as brightly as

the reflective surface. The sight of the glass made him smile warmly but the

sight of his wind tussled hair made him frown.

“You’re such a vain creature, Aric,” a voice called from behind him.

That brightened his smile, showing the line of strong white teeth. He

took his time and soothed the last of the highlighted locks into place. “You’re

just learning this?” He turned and was again shocked by the man’s age. “You

look like a monk, as always.”

Mike glanced down to the tan shirt he was wearing tucked into the

black dress pants. “Well, maybe that’s because I am. What brings you by?”

He flipped the newspaper out, the ad folded to be on top and held it at

arms length toward Mike. In a large, bold advertisement in the help wanted

section was an entry that read:

Archival and Personal Assistant Wanted: Knowledge and background

in theology, mythology, folk stories, ancient history, philosophy, story telling

or related area necessary. Formal education not required, must be willing to

work in an independent manner, be flexible and open minded, skill at dealing

with difficult individuals required. Work environment is varied and often

challenging, travel may be required. Excellent compensation, benefits and

housing option available. Temp position with option for long term, full time

employment for the right person. Apply in person only, today only.

“I’ve seen it, I placed it.”

“I guessed as much. I wanted to make sure you were still breathing after

Hue read the paper this morning. Or did you slip a Mickey into his coffee?”

He dropped the paper onto one of the vanity tables as he walked past.

“He isn’t here.”

“Ah, explains the apply today only part. Where is he?”

Mike rubbed at an aching hand, the cold weather was killing his

arthritis. “Your father is flying in, you know how he hates traveling alone.”

“And you let Hue go without you?”

“He’s a big boy, Aric,” he snapped back and moved to return to the

warmer back room where he could sit near the heater and bake some of the

pain from his bones.

“But father is a pain in the ass, he always gives Hue fits! You should

have gone with him.” He followed the old man and slowly started to notice

the limp.

“And have Hue worry about me as well? Look at me. I don’t travel well

anymore. I’m an old man.” He sighed and lowered himself down into his

chair; the kitchen table in front of him had a small stack of interview papers

filled with his notations.

Aric really did look at him and agreed, Mike wasn’t getting old, he was

old. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Hue’s going to throw a fit when he hears of

this.”

“Let him. I’m a burden now, it’s time for me to retire. I’ve a nice room

arranged through the order down south.” He motioned to the coffee in the

pot but Aric just waved it off.

“You really mean to retire? So close to the convention?” He did sit

down, he needed to.

Mike just nodded. “I mean to, and have. All I need is a replacement.”

“But the convention.”

SA Payne - New Again.pdf

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