The heist was going great, no problems except I was a little feverish and had some sweat accumulating on my forehead but I powered through. I knew all too well the stakes at hand. Never mind the idea of getting caught and jail time. I was more worried about Grandpa Joe and whatever punishment he dished out. I shuddered but I wasn't sure if that was because of the fever or Grandpa Joe, probably both.
I had just removed the staples when one of our new partners came to check in on me. Why he did this I couldn't tell you but he did.
"Coming along ok?" he asked. It sounded like he was singing it in a whisper I had to strain myself to hear. I nodded, too focused to articulate words.
"Feeling alright? You look a little pale"
A laugh escaped my mouth. This guy, who I only met two hours ago, was now concerned about me. Not the job, me. To top it all off, he was now asking if I was alright because I was pale. "First of all Casper, you're pale!" I thought to myself. "Secondly you don't know me, who is to say that I don't just get pale when I'm working?"
"Alright, well let me at least get the sweat from your brow. Don't want anything to stand out indicating someone was here." As he said it, he reached down and wiped my forehead off with his bare hand. Had I not seen the hand in front of my own eyes, I would have thought he brought a hand towel for the simple reason that, its gross to wipe another person's sweat with your own bare hand. I might have even thought he kept it stored in a portable cooler it was that cold and thankfully effective. My relief was almost immediately replaced by disgust.
"Did you just use your hand?" I whispered with enough force to show my anger but not trigger the noise detection alarms.
"It doesn't matter, do you feel better now?" he retorted, ignoring my anger. As if what he had just done to a stranger wasn't disturbing.
"Yeah I guess but, ew"
"I'm sorry but let's just move on and finish what we came here to do"
"Came here to do?" I hissed. "I came to finish a job, didn't you?" I looked at him and saw he had his painting already rolled up and in the container for transporting. Wow, this guys worked fast.
"Anyway," I continued. "Didn't you also come to help keep lookout?" Again, a stupid imposition from Grandpa Joe. Uncle Frank could map out any security guards route down to the millisecond. If he had just let us be, I wouldn't have caught some creepy germ from the unwanted add ons tonight. If using too much antibacterial created superbugs, his hands probably cultivated and bread them the old fashioned way.
"I did," he said slowly. It was as if he was trying to keep from singing again, was that an accent? If it was, it wasn't one my mom taught me how to duplicate. "but I have a pretty good sense of where I need to be and what I should be doing. It's almost like a sixth sense or esp. Either way I knew I should come here and wipe your sweat away. If I didn't you would probably set off the heat sensors and we would all get caught. I turned and rolled my eyes. "Great," I thought. "Casper isn't here as a friendly ghost. Instead he is here as a friendly psychic."
Almost in an attempt to get out of here faster I attached my painting to the frame. Then after I hung it against the wall, in its new home, he wiped my neck. The cringe that came this time was so involuntary that if he had done it four seconds earlier, I would have dropped the painting and ruined the night. Again though, I felt so much better following his icy touch. Ugh, when all this was done I would have to be on Vitamin C for weeks to fight off whatever Germy Gerald gave me. I could really feel myself coming down with something. I started walking to the rendezvous point, Criss Angel following me. Now that the task was completed, I could noticeably feel my energy fading. Whatever my body was fighting, it felt like the ground troops were at a standstill and had called for air support to start dropping bombs. Uncle Frank was walking to us at the same time our other unwanted guest was making his way to the meet up. I tried to glare at Germy Gerald, certain that I had caught my bug from him. Now that I thought back, his hand was unusually hot. I bet he is also fighting whatever he gave me and of course he came anyway. Although if he was working for Grandpa Joe too, I couldn't really blame him for still coming. "If Grandpa Joe wants you to do something, you do it" I guess that rule applied to those outside the family as well.
I handed Uncle Frank the painting and turned to say a silent goodbye to mine as we left the museum. Uncle Frank was trying to check in with me while simultaneously grilling our lookout who had stopped looking out.
"The guard had just checked in at the renaissance exhibit so I knew we had about seven minutes. Given Michael's state, I felt like I should be there to assist rather than wait for his fever to get us all caught." He was so calm as he sung to us about why he left his post. "He is going to need to see a doctor at this point."
"He'll be fine" my uncle shot at him. We weren't fans of doctors. Not just because of all the questions they ask or the complexity to insurance scams now. No, we also hated it because it was at a hospital that Grandpa Joe put the first tear into our family picture.
"He won't be actually," Dracula corrected him. He went to wipe my forehead again and I could feel that his hand was much warmer now. "Something is happening and it will require a doctor's diagnosis to fix. There is a hospital nearby that we can bring him to. In time, I feel like he will get the help he needs if he goes there."
No doctors, that was all I could think before blacking out.