Dead Girls Are Easy

by Terri Garey

  “The funeral,” Joe repeated. He took a swallow of scotch. I sipped mine with a grimace, feeling the burn from throat to belly.

  “You went to your friend’s funeral and you met some old couple who say they can drive away spirits.” Joe listed the facts dispassionately. “Then you go off with these two total strangers to the scene of a murder and let them cut up your clothes to make you a good-luck charm?” He didn’t even try to keep the skepticism from his voice. “C’mon, Nicki. This is crazy—even for you.”

  I shot to my feet. “Did you just call me crazy?”

  “It was dangerous, Nicki. It was stupid. You put yourself in a vulnerable position—you could’ve been mugged…you could have been hurt! You ask me for help, and then you go off alone.” Joe’s voice had risen. He lowered it. “I was honest with you last night about Kelly, and you repay me by going off like a spiteful child. That’s not fair, Nicki.”

  My mouth fell open. “Who are you, my father? No wait…you’re my brother-in-law, right?” I could tell he didn’t like the way that phrase sounded coming out of my mouth. “You think that gives you some kind of right to tell me what to do?” I swallowed the rest of my scotch and put the glass on the coffee table. “For your information, I didn’t do this on purpose—it just worked out that way.” I coughed a little at the burn of scotch. “I only meant to ask Granny Julep if she knew of an Obeah woman. I didn’t know she was one. But then she said we had to use the grave dirt right away, so I went with the flow.”

  Joe looked at me incredulously. His eyes moved to the gris-gris bag.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  My hand closed around the bag, which I was suddenly tempted to throw at him. My explanation might sound bizarre, but it was the truth.

  “You know, for somebody who just recently told me the most unbelievable little tale I’ve ever heard about a twin sister and a missing wife, you’re a fine one to talk,” I said waspishly.

  Joe met my eye, refusing to look away.

  I had him there.

  “Touché,” he said.

  The almost imperceptible easing of his shoulders reminded me that this situation didn’t need to turn into a fight. He really had done me a favor today, and I couldn’t blame him for being pissed if he thought I’d blown him off on purpose.

  He had a right to his opinion. Even if he was wrong. About everything.

  “Look, Nicki…” His voice softened. “I was worried about you today. I was really…worried.” He put down his glass and straightened, looking me in the eye. “I know we haven’t known each other all that long, but I like you. A lot.” He glanced away briefly, shaking his head. “When I heard you scream, I thought my heart would stop.”

  How was a girl supposed to resist that?

  I flashed him a smile. “That’s my department, remember?”

  He apparently was in no mood for teasing, and didn’t return my smile. Instead, he asked me the same question I’d asked him in the car last night, after I’d kissed him. “Who am I to you?”

  I reached out and touched his face, barely grazing his cheek with my fingers. “You’re a lot of things, Joe Bascombe.” My hand slipped down to rest lightly on his chest. “Today you were a friend when I needed one. Even if you’re being high-handed about it now.” I gave him a tilt of the head. “Where’d you come from, anyway? How’d you know where I was?”

  “Evan,” Joe murmured. His dark chocolate smell was in my nose. My palm covered his heart. “Evan called me.”

  I let my gaze slide down to rest on his lips, and felt his heartbeat speed up beneath my hand. I swayed closer, leaning some of my weight against him. “Did he offer you a pair of glass slippers, by any chance?”

  Joe had no idea what I was talking about, and obviously cared even less. His hands came up to catch me about the waist, and he took my lips with his, drinking in my teasing along with the smoky taste of scotch.

  I met him more than halfway, arms twining around his neck, body pressed against him as closely as clothing allowed. He couldn’t have hidden his arousal if he tried. He gasped into my mouth as I arched, rubbing him there with my body.

  It was enough to turn me to liquid heat. I flowed over him, kissing and touching, and everywhere I touched I wanted more. I wanted his clothes off and us naked, warm and soft beneath each other’s hands.

  And before I knew it, I had want I wanted, accomplished in a jumble of feverish kisses and scattered clothes.

  And when I was naked, hair mussed and lipstick smeared, I stopped kissing him and smiled. I took a step back, reaching for his hand. My eyes widened.

  “Oh my.” I gave him a devilish look, very impressed. “What have you been hiding, Dr. Bascombe?”

  “Nothing you haven’t seen before, I’m sure.” Joe grinned, breathing ragged. He was obviously pleased by my pleasure.

  “A nipple ring. Who woulda thunk it?” I murmured.

  Joe stood still, giving me every ounce of his attention as I traced a fingernail over the tiny loop of metal.

  “A college whim,” he said, “the only sign of rebellion I’ve kept for myself all these years.”

  His skin prickled with goose bumps beneath my hand, the nipple erect and sensitive. I stepped closer, grazing his hardness with a hip, and felt him shudder. The feel of his male body was exquisite—an exquisite torture of forbidden fruit and cherry chocolate decadence, all mixed up in one mouthwatering package named Joe.

  “You’re full of surprises.” I leaned naked against him in the middle of the living room. My head fit nicely into the space beneath his chin, and I nuzzled him there, punctuating each word with a warm kiss. “I could just”—kiss— “eat”—kiss— “you”—kiss— “up.”

  Luckily, Joe couldn’t stand it anymore. He swept me up behind the knees and held me to his chest. I swooped and giggled, feeling light as a butterfly in his arms.

  “You broke your last promise to me, woman,” he growled, burying his face momentarily in my hair. He was strong, and very, very hard. “I’m not taking any chances on this one.” He kissed me again, quick, before carrying me toward the bedroom.

  I sighed, completely at ease being nude in his arms. I kissed his shoulder, then lay my cheek against it.

  “Mmm…smart man.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “Don’t worry about the store, Evan—Jason and Heather have it covered. College students always need money, and they were happy to get the extra hours. Monday afternoons are never busy.”

  I sat in a deck chair, enjoying the fresh air as well as the view of the lake behind Butch’s house. Despite Peachtree’s cookie-cutter facade, the house was great. Evan was being doted on in the middle of some beautiful Georgia countryside.

  “Huh,” Evan snorted. “Jason will be smoking dope by the back door and Heather will be yakking on the phone to her boyfriend.” He shrugged, resigned. “But whatever. You’re the boss.” He leaned over from his deck chair and squeezed my hand. “You look tired, Nicki. Did she?” Evan shuddered, and I didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. “Did she bother you last night?”

  I shook my head, grateful for that, at least. I hadn’t told Evan where I’d spent the night yet, or why I had a reason to look exhausted. “What about you?”

  Evan leaned back, smiling at Butch, who manned the grill on the other side of the deck. Bald and muscle-bound, Butch wore an apron that said KISS THE COOK over his shorts and sleeveless tee, and waved a spatula at us cheerfully.

  “No, thank God,” Evan answered. “I’ve only seen her that one time.”

  “You should stay here with Butch for a while. Granny Julep says that Caprice can’t go very far from where she died. She can’t reach you out here.”

  Poor Evan looked so relieved I thought he was gonna cry.

  “She did?” Relief immediately turned to annoyance. “Why didn’t you call and tell me that last night? I had a hard enough time sleeping in a strange bed. It would have been easier if I hadn’t been so scared. Just look at the bags und
er these eyes.” Despite the whining, Evan looked much healthier, more relaxed than the last time I’d seen him. Love with the lovestruck bouncer obviously agreed with him.

  “I’m sorry.” I knew I should’ve told him sooner, but I’d been caught up in my own drama for a change. “I was with Joe.”

  Evan’s eyes got big. He smiled, forgetting his complaints.

  “As in the biblical sense?” he teased.

  Unbelievably, my face heated. I ducked my head but couldn’t hold back a smile.

  Evan’s mouth dropped open. He gave a delighted shout of laughter.

  “You’re blushing!” he gasped. “The naughty Nicki Styx is actually blushing!” He sat up and stared at me like I was an oddity from outer space.

  I rolled my eyes but let him have his fun.

  “What’s so funny?” Butch wanted in on the joke, flipping our burgers expertly, making them sizzle. The scent of grilled meat came to me on the breeze, making my mouth water.

  “Nicki’s in love,” Evan gushed.

  “No, I’m not,” I said quickly.

  “Are, too.”

  “Am not.”

  Butch grinned and raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between us. He shook his head and went back to his cooking.

  “Stop it,” I hissed.

  Evan knew the signs of my temper well enough, so he shut up while he rearranged himself in the deck chair. But he grinned at me the whole time, and by the time he was comfortably settled on his cushions, I was reluctantly grinning back.

  “Okay. Tell me everything.”

  “You’re kinda nosy, you know?”

  “I know. Tell me.”

  “Well, after Joe came riding to my rescue yesterday, I could hardly resist him, now could I? Thanks for that, by the way, you little tattletale.”

  Evan looked supremely pleased with himself.

  “You should have given him your cell-phone number. Then he wouldn’t be calling me.”

  “You called him,” I clarified. “You told him where I was.”

  He waved a hand as if at a gnat. “Whatever.”

  I shook my head, knowing it was hopeless to reason with him. “We went back to his apartment. I shouldn’t have, but I was too scared to go home. If you’d seen that snake…” It was my turn to shudder, remembering how the wooden statue of Damballah had begun to move, to slither, to speak. But I’d already told Evan about what happened in the back room of Indigo, and I didn’t wanna go over it again.

  “At first Joe was mad because he thought I went off without him on purpose, but he got over it pretty quick.” I smiled at the memory of Joe telling me he “liked” me. The man was so sweet?he’d been mad at me, but still came looking for me. “And I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a nutcase. He made me an appointment with some shrink friend of his on Wednesday afternoon. But other than that…” I paused, trying to sum up my evening with Joe. “…it was…nice.”

  “Nice.” Evan made a disgusted sound. “Getting a manicure is nice. Taking your grandma to lunch is nice. Are you telling me there were no sparks,” his hands starting waving, “no fireworks?” The fairy godmother was beginning to look worried.

  I thought about Joe’s body, warm and firm beneath my hands. Of his long, hot kisses and the rasp of his hair against my legs. I thought of his hard length and what we’d done with it, and the cherry candy taste of his skin.

  “It was sweet.”

  “Sweet? That’s all?” Evan sat up, clutching the arms of the deck chair.

  I looked at him and smiled, drawn away from my memories of the night just past.

  “Oh,” Evan drawled, comprehension dawning. He leaned back, smiling big. “It was sweet.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Burgers are ready,” called Butch.

  I drove back to Joe’s apartment in the gathering dusk, joining the slow trickle of traffic on the outskirts of Atlanta. Loud music usually helped on the highway, but right now Siouxsie and the Banshees was too intense. I slipped some Sheryl Crow into the CD player instead, smiling as I remembered Evan’s parting shot.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  As if that cut down on my options. Evan was hardly a poster boy for restraint when it came to matters of the heart, and for some reason he’d decided I should give Joe a chance.

  Maybe it was just the starry-eyed romance in Evan’s life oozing over into mine that had me thinking the same.

  It had been Joe’s weight that woke me that morning, sinking onto the mattress as he leaned in to let me know he was on his way to the hospital.

  “Don’t get up,” he’d murmured, nuzzling my neck. Dawn was filling the room, seeping past the blinds, and I remembered a sense of relief that the night was past, and regret for the very same reason.

  “Stay here, get some sleep.” His face had been against my hair, hand warm on my bare shoulder.

  I’d smiled and rolled over, letting him kiss me despite my potential morning breath.

  “I gotta go anyway,” I’d told him drowsily. “Evan’s taking a few days off and I need to open the shop.”

  Joe had kissed me again, and I sensed he wanted to stay, to climb back in the warm nest of covers and make love again.

  “Come back tonight,” he’d said. “I’ll be home by eight, and I’ll make us a late dinner. We need to talk.” He’d paused, smoothing the hair back from my face. “You’re welcome to stay here, you know.”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

  “I know you’re tough, Nicki,” Joe had said. “But it’s okay to be weak now and then.”

  There’d been a house key and a note on the table by the front door when I let myself out a little while later. “Just in case…” the note had said. I’d left the key there, unwilling to admit I might need it.

  I wanted to stay detached, to stay objective—but in reality, I was touched. And the even bigger reality was, I was afraid. Here I sat in rush hour traffic with a gris-gris bag full of grave dirt in my purse and no desire to go home to a dark, empty house. I’d been there this morning to shower and change, clinging to Caprice’s “Day for you, night for me” remark as comfort. But then I’d packed an overnight bag “just in case.”

  While Sheryl Crow sang “Are you strong enough to be my man?” I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell I was getting myself into with a guy who just might be married to my hitherto unknown twin sister. Except he wasn’t just a guy…he was Joe.

  Jeez, talk about a bad soap opera in the making.

  “Throw in a few ghosts and I’ve got myself a regular All My Children meets the Sixth Sense,” I muttered. Suddenly even Sheryl got on my last nerve, and I shut off the CD, leaving me cocooned in welcome silence.

  And what about that hitherto unknown twin sister? I’d deliberately avoided thinking about her, but now—alone in the quiet—I couldn’t help but wonder.

  Was there really someone out there who looked like me? Someone who shared the same nameless, faceless biological parents that I did? The concept was bizarre.

  Even more bizarre was the thought that someone existed who might have shared the very same womb with me…a yin to my yang.

  Joe was right. We needed to talk.

  When I finally made it to the apartment, it was full dark. I could see from the parking lot that the lights were on even though it was nowhere near eight o’clock. Joe’s BMW was in its assigned space.

  He opened the door with a smile, looking harried and happy and sexy as hell in T-shirt and jeans.

  “Not many men can pull off an apron,” I teased, admiring the kitchen towel he’d tucked in his waistband. “But at least it doesn’t say ‘Kiss the Cook.’”

  “No, but you can do it anyway,” he answered, leaning in for a quick one. There was a streak of something white on his cheek. “Mmm,” I said, touching it with a finger and then licking it. “Whipped cream? Are we into the kinky stuff already?”

  Joe pulled me inside and locked the door. “Only if you ask me very nicely.” He grinned wic
kedly, obviously picturing something extremely naughty. “But for now, I’m using it on our dessert. Strawberry shortcake.”

  “Wow.” Something smelled great, so I followed my nose into the kitchen, noticing the candles lit in the living room and the background music on the stereo. “Somebody’s hoping to get lucky.”

  He handed me a glass of red wine, already poured. “Drink this, funny girl,” he said. “It’s good for your heart.” Then he turned back to his cooking, lifting a pot lid and releasing a cloud of fragrant steam. “Do you like chicken cacciatore?”

  “Love it,” I lied, never having eaten it in my life. “Chicken cacciatore and strawberry shortcake—my two favorites.”

  An hour later the lie was true. I’d just enjoyed one of the best meals ever, made by a man who couldn’t stop smiling at me. The lighting was soft, the music was softer, and there were fresh flowers and candles on the table. I’d never been romanced like this before?none of my previous boyfriends had ever thought past a sappy card or a box of candy.

  A girl could get used to this.

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t be back until eight.”

  Joe shrugged, swallowing the last of his shortcake. “I got someone else to cover my shift.” He grinned, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. “I’m told I can do that sometimes—I’m the boss.” Pushing away his empty plate, he added, “I couldn’t concentrate today, anyway, and that’s not a good thing in my profession—wouldn’t want to order a hysterectomy for a man who needs his gallbladder removed.”

  I toyed with the stem of my glass, watching the candlelight gleam red on the remaining dregs of wine. I looked up and met his eye. “Tell me about Kelly.”

  Joe sighed, as if the conversation weren’t something he were looking forward to. “What do you want to know? I’ve already told you most of it.”

  “No, you haven’t.” I leaned in, resting my elbows on the table. “What’s she like? What kind of music does she listen to? What kind of person is she? If your theory turns out to be right, this could be my sister you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about her except her name.”

  “Ah.” He smiled, looking relieved. “Feminine curiosity. Here I thought you were worried about what she might mean to me, but you just want to know how she wears her hair.”