Chapter Text
Somewhere in New York City, a new paranormal extermination formed. Three friends…colleagues…took up residence in a firehouse, making plans to study the containment of the paranormal, the effects of their residue, and the nature of their existence. Elsewhere, a newly moved young woman toured an indoor/outdoor track facility. She walked shoulder to shoulder with its owner, a slightly stout man who had no business owning a track with his physique, and she loathed every moment of it. Neither the exterminators nor the athlete knew that as the other’s event began, so did a crash course intent on sending each party hurtling towards the other, ultimately changing their lives for good.
“You know I’m absolutely ecstatic that you decided to settle down in the area Ms. Adams, your presence at this facility will bring in many new faces!”
Of course, because that’s all she was, promotional material. Maxine Adams, former Olympian, nothing more and nothing less.
“Well New York seems like quite the interesting city Mr. Donahue, the hustle and bustle are exactly what I was looking for when figuring out where to move.”
Hustle and bustle, code for ‘busy-enough-to-avoid-being-noticed’. If John Lennon could live in the Big Apple with relatively little bothering, so could she. Strategically ignoring, of course, that John Lennon had been shot four years earlier. Rounding a corner, the two parties came to a back hallway. The stout man, Mr. Donahue, gestured to the doors as they passed.
“These are your changing rooms, generally three or four will be open for tournaments, and there’s 60 half-lockers in each. Your bathrooms are over here, and here…” He threw his arms into the air for what Maxine assumed was flourish, but just looked like he was shooing a fly. “is the storage room! I’ve had a separate shelf built in just for your implements, so we can keep them separate from everyone else’s.” Mr. Donahue grinned like a farmer who thought he had a firm grasp on a new cash cow, Maxine found it sad.
“Mr. Donahue, I-”
He placed a hand on her forearm in what he must’ve thought was friendly and caring. It was gross.
“Please, call me Jim.”
“Well Mr. Donahue,” she shrugged his hand off and his face fell. “I keep all of my equipment at home when I’m not practicing. It’s a bit expensive, so I like to keep it where I know it’s safe.”
“Nonsense! I’ll have a personal locker added in place of the shelf, you’ll have the only key!” He clapped her shoulder this time. “You’ll be a wonderful fit here Maxine, can I call you Maxine?” No. “And I look forward to when you start practicing next week. Now is there anything else you’d like to see before you go?” Not particularly, thank you.
“No, not particularly. Thank you though for such a thorough tour! I would love to check it out more, but I have to get back to my studio and finish unpacking,” she began to turn towards the exit, hoping Mr. Donahue would take a hint and leave her to be. He turned to follow. “So I really must be going now.”
“Wonderful! I’ll walk you there!”
Media face, that’s what she called the polite smile she put on around people she would rather walk away from. Preparing for Olympic coverage taught her that one, never show someone you dislike them if you want them to like you. It also taught her never to wear makeup while competing, because the media will call you vain and unserious, but she followed that rule much less frequently.
The walk back to her car consisted of a lot of media face as Mr. Donahue talked all about how exciting it was that she moved to the Big Apple, how much the other athletes will love having her there, how careful she should be when it comes to who she trusts because “Just today I saw an ad for a ghost extermination service on the television. I mean, I know some stupid New Yorkers, but how stupid do these nutjob con men think we are?”. She just politely laughed, wondering what the hell ghost extermination would even entail.
Finally, the parking lot arrived. Her red Dodge Omni sat nearly alone in the parking lot at this hour, only accompanied by the maintenance men’s cars, and she could hear it calling out to her like her very own private island: safe, solitary. Reaching for her keys in her back pocket, she tried to find a way to politely interrupt the track owner.
“-and that’s why I think you should be coming here more than just Tuesday, Thursday, Sat—”
“We’re here, Mr. Donahue! I appreciate your advice greatly and will keep it in mind while I set up my studio tonight! Now I really must leave so—”
“That’s the thing Maxine, I’ve been wondering why you haven’t continued on as a professional athlete.” If only she grabbed the door handle faster.
“Well, I just wanted a change of pace, you know?” She could feel media face melting off.
“But a pottery studio? I mean, where did that even come from? You were an incredible athlete.”
She froze.
“Why’d you even decide to join the team if you’re so intent on tearing it apart? She could’ve been an incredible athlete if you just shut your fucking mouth!” The wet towel Maxine’s teammate was holding was thrown against the floor.
“You’re a cunt and a snitch. Stay home with your fine fucking arts, leave the competing to the people who work for it.”
She was left gaping for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times like a goldfish while she tried to recollect herself.
“I- I don’t know, Mr. Donahue, it just felt right.” She took his silence as the right moment to open her door. She slid in, buckled up and turned the ignition before he spoke again.
“Again, call me Jim.”
“Have a good night Mr. Donahue.”
A sigh. “You as well Maxine.”
— — — —
It was nearly dark when she returned to her studio. It looked like the construction crew came by and hung the sign while she was gone. ‘This Throws’ hung in crisp, navy blue letters against the brick building. She was thankful for the parking lot conveniently placed behind the row of storefronts, perfect to access both the studio’s back door and the entrance to her second floor home above it. It also was conveniently located against the back entrance to the Chinese restaurant next door, and Chinese sounded quite nice at this hour. Teriyaki beef, sesame chicken…crab rangoon… yeah Chinese sounded great right about now.
There was a tiny bell on the door that rang whenever it opened, heralding the next patron’s entrance, like a tiny invitation for whoever came next. Maxine decided she should get one for her studio too when it announced her entrance. The only other customer in there was a slightly disheveled man writing in a pocket notebook in the corner. He couldn’t have been much older than her, but she couldn’t really tell because whatever had him looking so…tired…aged him quite a bit.
“I’ll have one order of teriyaki beef, one order of sesame chicken, and one order of crab rangoon please. To-go.”
She sat herself only a few seats away from the man. Not intentionally, usually she’d give more distance if there was only one other person, but something gravitated her towards him. Listening to his pencil scratching across the notebook could’ve put her to sleep if the cashier didn’t call out his name just minutes after Maxine sat down.
“Order for Ray.”
“That’s me.” He announced, as if there were another man in the room. Maxine chuckled lightly.
Two large bags waited on the counter for him, brimming with takeout containers and fortune cookies.
“Thank you very much ma’am!” He cheerfully called, lugging the bags off the counter. They looked a little heavy.
“Is that all for you?” Maxine joked from where she sat. She couldn’t tell why she suddenly felt inclined to talk to a stranger. This wasn’t like her at all.
The man, Ray, seemed surprised she was talking to him. Looking around at first to see if anyone else could have been calling out.
“Me?”
‘Yes,’ Maxine thought, ‘the lone man carrying two large bags of food.’
“No, the other guy carrying that much Chinese food at ten pm!” She responded, smiling slightly. Ray smiled back, moseying over to where Maxine sat. He had a nice smile.
“It’s actually for me and my crew, we work a block down. I swear Peter eats most of it.” He chuckled. He had a nice laugh too. “How about you? Not that what you ordered was exactly a feast!”
It was Maxine’s turn to chuckle.
“Just me, I just moved in above the pottery studio next door and there’s nothing in my fridge. I’m banking on those crab rangoons being my breakfast tomorrow.” She stuck her hand out, realizing she hadn’t introduced herself yet. Usually she was much better about this sort of thing, she must be tired. “I’m Maxine.”
The man shuffled his bags so both were in one hand and returned the handshake. “I’m Ray. Do you own the studio?”
“Yes! It’ll be open in two days, I just have to finish unpacking first but I’m nearly there!”
“Well I’ll have to stop by once it’s open! And you should come by our business sometime, here!” More bag shuffling as he moved to pull a business card out of his pocket, passing it over to Maxine eagerly.
‘Ghostbusters’
Professional Ghost Extermination
555-2368
We’re Ready to Believe You!
So these were the ‘nutjob con men’ Mr. Donahue had seen on TV.
“Well Ray, I will call you for any of my busting needs.” She immediately winced and Ray chuckled. “Yep, heard it as soon as it exited my mouth.”
“Order for Maxine.”
Ray redistributed his takeout so one bag was in each hand, giving Maxine a slight nod as he headed towards the door.
“Well Maxine, I’m sure I’ll see you around! I’ve got to get back before Peter’s egg rolls get cold!”
“Goodbye Ray, have a great rest of your night.” She started heading towards her comparably small order, pocketing the card.
“You too!”
The tiny bell rang as he exited. Yep. Her studio absolutely needed one of those.
— — — —
Tuesday’s grand opening was only so grand. A young couple came in to paint matching mugs, there were a small number of college students and retirees in attendance at the beginner wheel throwing class, and two artists appeared for open studio at the end of the day. In a seven hour work day, Maxine made five mugs, two spoon rests, and a catch-all tray. Well…she wanted to start selling her ceramics in the front anyways.
She was in the process of locking the back entrance so she could go get changed for training when the front door’s bell chimed.
“I’m sorry, we’re about to close!” She called out, hanging her smock up on her way to the front. She knew she shouldn’t necessarily turn away customers, but she really wanted to get to the track on time and brush up on her weight throw. When Maxine got to where she could see the front of the store, however, there in the doorway was Ray.
“So it’s too late to drop by for a hello?” He smiled. Ray still looked tired, maybe that’s just how Ray looked, but definitely less disheveled.
“I fear just a little, I need to get moving towards my training.” Maxine leaned against the checkout counter, maybe Mr. Donahue’s coaches could wait a few minutes.
“Training?” Ray raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe himself.
“Yes, I compete in track and field and I’m starting at a new facility tonight.”
“I didn’t take you for a runner.”
“Well then you took me correctly, I throw. Spinning around with heavy metal objects is my game.” She flexed, and her studio t-shirt let Ray see the amount of muscle her long-sleeve shirt had hidden the night before.
“Christ, you could take a man’s head off with those things!”
“And I will, if a certain man doesn’t let me leave for my training!”
He threw up his hands in mock surrender, grinning the entire time. Maxine knew she was grinning too.
“Well I’m not exactly holding you hostage here! I just wanted to see how the first day went, but if you have to go then you have to go. Can I come by tomorrow? Teach me to throw and I might just give you a free ghost extermination if you ever need one.”
Maxine got up from where she was leaning, folding her arms but smiling all the while. “I doubt it will come to that.” She turned to leave out the back and head up to her house to get changed, turning around at the last moment. “But I have a beginners class tomorrow at noon if you’d like to learn to throw a bowl.”
“I’ll be there! Have fun training, Maxine!”
“Have fun busting, Ray.”
The bell chimed along with Ray’s laughter as he exited, and Maxine chuckled along.