Ghoulish - Joel Abernathy

Chapter 1

“Talk about a seven-point-five,” Chuck Miller grunted, watching the blonde in a skintight red dress walk across the street from the construction site. The high-rise apartment building was only halfway built, a few weeks behind schedule, and Chuck was at least partly to blame for that.

The foreman was in his late fifties, with more scalp than hair, but he smoothed down the gray strands all the same as he watched the young woman stroll by.

“You kiddin’?” Evan scoffed. He was a burly twenty-something going on forty, but he was never shy about his opinions on attractiveness. “With those ankles, she’s a five at best.”

A few feet away, Colt could hear them perfectly, but he was pretending like he couldn’t. He loved his job, and he liked Chuck and Evan well enough when they weren’t being jackasses, but he could do without the commentary they felt the need to make on every woman who passed by, as if they’d both taken the job for the sole purpose of proving the stereotypes correct.

“Hey! Colt!” Chuck barked. “Come over here and settle this.”

“Kinda busy, fellas,” Colt said, jotting down a couple of measurements before he grabbed another board to lay down on his table saw bench. “It’s called work. You should give it a try sometime.”

No response. Just footsteps in the gravel. Colt sighed and straightened up. It was hot, and he already had a migraine. Looked like it was about to be a worse one.

“Colt’s a pretty boy,” Chuck said, giving Colt a pat on the bicep, as if to illustrate his point. “A real solid ten. Guy like that can afford to be picky.”

Evan squinted at Colt and cocked his head to one side like he was doing the math. “Eh, I’d say he’s more like an eight-point-five.”

“Thanks, Evan,” Colt said dryly.

“My point is, our friend here is more equipped to give an objective assessment of the situation,” Chuck said with the air of someone conducting a scientific experiment.

Evan grumbled a reluctant acknowledgement.

“Therefore,” Chuck continued in his most mockingly proper tone, “It falls to the objective third party to break the tie.” In his thick Cranston accent, it came out more like thoid pahty. “If Colt here says the lady’s a seven, she’s a seven. So what is it, Colt? On a scale of one to ten, what’s she rate?”

Colt let out a heavy sigh. “You guys are pigs, you know that? I give any woman who can put up with either one of you for five minutes a ten.”

“But if you were gonna give a rating,” Evan pressed.

“Oh, for God’s sake. If it’ll get you idiots to go back to doing your job, fine. She’s a nine. They’re all nines, now grab a board and start cutting,” Colt said, shoving a plank into Evan’s chest.

“Ha!” Chuck cried victoriously. “Fuckin’ told ya she was at least a seven. Picky bastard.”

“You can’t ask him that shit, anyway. He’s of that persuasion,” said Evan, pointedly wiggling his little finger in the air.

Colt cocked an eyebrow. “You wanna say that shit again, fuckface?”

“Hey, no disrespect!” Evan said, holding up his hands in defense. “I got a gay sister. What you do with another man between the sheets and otherwise ain’t none of my business. I’m just sayin’, maybe you ain’t exactly the best source of objectivity for this sorta thing.”

“Don’t be ignorant,” Chuck scolded. “Colt swings both ways. He’s fancy like that.” He gave Colt’s arm another demonstrative swat. “Y’know, in a good way.”

“Thanks, Chuck. You’re a real forward thinker.”

“Damn right I am,” the foreman said, puffing out his chest proudly. Whether Chuck was impervious to sarcasm or simply oblivious to it, Colt was never sure. He’d been working for the guy for the last six years. Long enough to know he meant well. Usually.

“Now that this all-important matter has been settled,” Colt jeered, “you guys mind if I knock off a little early around four?”

Chuck and Evan exchanged a knowing look.

“What for?” Chuck asked with a taunting lilt to his tone. Colt had never so much as taken a sick day, so he knew his boss didn’t actually care where he was going.

He’d hoped he would be able to get out of it without an explanation. He wasn’t sure why he’d hoped. After six years, he should have known better, but that never seemed to stop him. “Just a belated birthday thing. Dinner.”

“Birthday?” Chuck asked sharply, looking at Evan. “Did you know this douche was havin’ a birthday?”

“News to me,” said Evan.

“Man, we