This is an excerpt from my recently published novel The Falling Circle, available for Kindle and in good ol’ paper book form on Amazon.com

https://www.amazon.com/Falling-Circle-Jeffrey-Matucha-ebook/dp/B07K7NVKBW/

It was with some reluctance that Preston agreed to meet Miss Griffith. The only thing he knew about Miss Griffith was that she had, as Tam put it,     “A weird job that pays really well.”

Tam knew that Preston was looking for extra work. She told him about a temporary job with a woman who was related to Tam in some sort of roundabout way. She had explained how it came to be that she was related to her, but Preston couldn’t remember how the convoluted connection went. Tam had mentioned something about Preston being “qualified” for the job.

    “How d’ya know I’m qualified for the job?” he asked.
    “Because they want someone who’s used to freaks.”
    “Yep. That’s me.”

He had asked Tam some other questions, such as why exactly did you have to be used to freaks in order to have the job? She told him that Miss Griffith would fill him in, and that it was basically some sort of moving job. Tam also mentioned that she lived up in the hills, in one of the swankier neighborhoods.

Preston thought about how much money he had at the moment and when the rent was due. He was doing okay, for the time being, so he decided that the mystery job sounded a little too dubious to consider since he had very little to go on. It wasn’t until he remembered that bills were going to be due next week that he reconsidered the idea.

Preston told Tam to go ahead and tell her relation that he would meet her, if for no other reason than to find out what the job was about.

About an hour later Tam came by his room to tell him that Miss Griffith was on her way over to the house to tell him about the mystery job. 

Later on, as Preston waited in his room for Miss Griffith to arrive, he almost considered bailing out and telling Tam to tell her relation that he changed his mind. Considering all of the ambiguous descriptions he had gotten so far, it almost sounded as if she wanted him to so something illegal, or completely gross, or both.

    As he was thinking about it, there was a knock on his door. It was Tam.
    “Hey Preston. My aunt’s here to talk to you about the job.” She always referred to Miss Griffith as her aunt, even though she wasn’t technically her niece. At least Preston had remembered that much.
    “Okay.”
    “She’s waiting for you in my room. C’mon.”
    Tam started down the hall, but Preston hesitated.
    “What’s up?” asked Tam.
    “What is it this woman wants me to do anyways?”
    “She’ll tell you that.”
    “Yeah, but why can’t she tell me over the phone? Or why can’t you just tell me? I mean, is it something illegal?”
    “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just kind of a weird job, maybe just a little gross.”
    “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”
    “She knows there’s a good chance you’ll turn down the job. That’s okay with her if that’s what you decide to do.”
    “All right, whatever!” By now he was so ruffled by their secrecy and seriousness that he wouldn’t have a problem telling her no if he didn’t want to do whatever it was she had in mind.
    They walked into Tam’s bedroom.
    “She’s in there,” said Tam, pointing to her next room.
    “Aren’tcha’ gonna go in there with me?” asked Preston.
    “Man, she really does have you unnerved, doesn’t she? She doesn’t bite.”
    “Well, I do,” said Preston.

    Tam left and he cautiously walked into the next room. He slowly opened the door and a woman who was sitting in a chair across the room stood up.
    She was a somewhat tall middle aged woman who was actually wearing a skirt dress. Her hair was done in short curls and she held onto a small purse in her left hand. She looked as if she just walked out of a Fifties television show and should have been wearing white gloves. She had on a pair of black, thick rimmed glasses, which partially shielded her face. Her pointed nose and dimpled cheeks looked positively preconceived.
     Preston felt awkward, standing there in ripped black jeans, two day old Neurosis t-shirt, and his hair all wild and dangling about his face, as he had not gotten around to shaving his head again
    “Are you Preston?” asked the woman demurely with a smile.
    “Yeah.”
    “Hi. I’m Tammy’s Aunt Jean.”
     Tammy?
     She held forth a hand, seemingly unaffected by the contrast between her Fifties housewife presence and Preston’s scruffy post-punk exterior.
    “Hi. Nice ta’ meet ya’,” said Preston as he shook her hand.
     He wasn’t sure how to act around Miss Griffith. He knew a lot of his friends would act incredulous in the presence of such a person, but he just never had the nerve to behave like that around people such as Miss Griffith unless they gave him a good reason to.
    “Doesn’t Tammy have such a nice place?” asked Miss Griffith with a bright smile.
     Preston suppressed a grin. The thought of Tam being referred to as Tammy was quite amusing. “Yes, very nice. Much nicer than the rest of the house, actually.”
     He knew that Tam liked to keep her place nice and tidy, but he also knew that she kept the place clean for her S&M customers. He wondered if Miss Griffith had any idea what it was that Tam did for a living.
    “Well, have a seat and I’ll tell you about the job,” said Miss Griffith. She sat back down where she had been sitting before. Preston sat down on one of Tam’s waiting room chairs.
     He wondered what Miss Griffith would do if she saw the harness in the next room.
    “I know you must be wondering what’s going on, but I asked Tammy not to tell you about the job before I talked to you.”
     Preston couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “I’m sorry Miss Griffith…”
    “Jean.”
    “Jean, it’s just that you’re the only person I know who calls her Tammy.”
    “Really?”
    “It just sounds kinda funny to me. Like she’s four years old or something.”
    “Well, I’ve known Tammy since she was a baby.”
    “He he.”
    “So, about the job. I think Tammy has already told you that it was a moving job,” said Miss Griffith, “and that much is true, but it’s the type of moving job…”
    She hesitated, as if she couldn’t spit out what she was going to say next. She closed her mouth and sat back in her chair, apparently trying to collect herself.
    “My sister Helen,” choked Miss Griffith, “recently lost her son Devin.”
    “Okay.”
    “We need to clear out his room.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “And we wanted to hire someone to do it for us.”
    “Hm.”
    “Yes.”
    “Isn’t that something she should do? Or, I mean, another member of the family? It sounds kinda personal.”
    “Well, yes, it is awfully personal. That’s one of the problems we’re having.” Miss Griffith shifted in her chair and leaned forward. “You see, her son Devin was, well, I don’t know how to put this. He was into a lot of, things,” continued Miss Griffith, “that we weren’t too sure about.”
    “Things?”
    “Yes, he listened to this, music, and he dyed his hair all kinds of bizarre colors.”
    “You mean he was a punk?”
    “I guess so. I think he thought he was a vampire or something.”
    “You mean he was a Goth?”
    “Well, I think you know what I mean. I don’t know anything about that, those kind of things. I mean, obviously you’re a very nice young man, but you’d know more about that.”
    “About this Devin kid,” interrupted Preston, “Are we just talking about funny looking and listening to weird music or was there something else?”
    ”…Yes…” Miss Griffith sat back. Her face was turning red. “We, think he was into some kind of drugs. and some, sex practices.”
    She practically had to choke out the phrase “sex practices”. She looked for a moment as if she might burst into tears, or possibly throw up.
    “We want someone else to clear out his room,” she continued, “because we’re afraid of what we might find in there.”
    “Okay.”
    “We want someone who…” She stopped. She looked down at the floor and fumbled with her hands. “I don’t want you to think that I’m saying you’re a bad person.”
    “You want someone who wouldn’t be fazed by weird sex and drugs stuff, right?” he said rather suddenly and confidently.
    “Well, it’s just all that music and those horrible t-shirts and, we’re not exactly sure what’s in there.” She looked up. “I’m not trying to say you’re a bad person.”
    “Lady, I may not be a devil, but I ain’t no angel either. I’ve seen a lot a weird stuff in my time, including freaky looking sex and drugs stuff.”
    “Yes.” She was looking back down at the floor again.
    “How old was he?”
    “Sixteen.”
     Now that Preston had finally found out what the job was about, he was quite turned off by the idea of rooting around some dead sixteen year old’s pit of a room.
     But then again, he felt bad for Miss Griffith. She seemed like the kind of person who would be frightened by a Clash t-shirt, let alone a Skinny Puppy album cover.
    “We’d rent you a truck to haul the refuse away,” said Miss Griffith,     “and we’d pay you two hundred dollars for the day’s work.
    That was the clincher. There was no way he could turn down two hundred dollars for one day’s work. He almost felt that it might be too generous, but he wasn’t going to let that get in his way.
    “I’m sorry,” gasped Miss Griffith as a tear rolled down her cheek.     “I know I’m asking a lot.”
     Preston sat there, wondering what to do next, as Miss Griffith looked down to the floor and dabbed her face with a handkerchief.