Dead Girls Are Easy

by Terri Garey

  Joe didn’t hesitate, honest as always, warm and solid beneath me. “I don’t claim to be an expert on the afterlife, Nicki. I believe you believe it…and I believe in you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers linger.

  Not quite the resounding yes I’d hoped for, but better than nothing.

  Then he was actually brave enough to ask me, “Is the hissy fit over?”

  Bravery should never go unrewarded. “For now.”

  “Good,” he said. “Let’s go dancing.”

  CHAPTER 14

  What Joe lacked in technique, he made up for in enthusiasm, and luckily, he didn’t look too much like a geeky white boy while he was doing it.

  Not that it would’ve mattered at the Star Bar. It was just after midnight on a Friday night and the place was packed, loud music and free expression in the air. The stylish and the not so stylish rubbed elbows with tattooed metalheads and punk rockers. The dance floor was jammed, multicolored lights strobing overhead. Joe and I were minnows in a pulsing, gyrating pond.

  Conversation was impossible, but Joe was obviously having a great time, and so was I. For just a moment I got a brief flash of him as I’d first seen him in the emergency room, all serious and intent, trying to save my life.

  I hoped I’d repaid him a little by bringing some fun into his.

  Joe pointed toward the bar and I nodded, letting him grab me by the hand and lead me through the crowd. In jeans and black T-shirt, freshly showered and shaved, Joe drew more than his share of glances.

  Better luck next time, ladies and gents.

  Luck was on my side again as we reached the edge of the dance floor and started threading our way through the tables. We snagged one near the back just as another couple was leaving.

  “I’ll get us something to drink.” Joe’s mouth was close to my ear, but he still had to speak loudly to be heard above the music. “Save me a seat.”

  “Diet Coke with lime,” I answered. When he quirked an eyebrow, I added, “I’m pacing myself.”

  Joe smiled, and my heart did its little trip. He reached out and grazed my cheek with the back of his knuckle, letting his eyes do the talking. Then he turned and headed toward the bar.

  Stop it, I told my heart silently. I’m trying to keep you safe. You couldn’t handle being broken, you wimp.

  I shoved aside thoughts of my defective ticker and my inability to follow my own advice, and turned to the ebb and flow of nightlife. People-watching had always been one of my favorite pastimes. The music switched from techno to R&B, just right for slow dancing.

  “He your boyfriend?”

  The question came from a girl standing beside my table, a girl I didn’t know. She looked to be early twenties, with long blond hair, which would’ve been prettier if she hadn’t gelled up her bangs within an inch of their life. Typical Georgia redneck chic.

  Would the legacy of Farrah Fawcett never die?

  I nodded, giving her a tight smile so she’d go away.

  “Don’t trust him,” she said. “He’s too good-looking.”

  The two words that came to mind weren’t nice ones, but I contented myself with a dirty look. “Thanks for the advice, but nobody asked you.” I angled myself away, making it clear I was done talking.

  Evidently I didn’t make it clear enough, because she slid into the seat across from me.

  “Hey, you need to—”

  It was then I saw her eyes. They were empty, empty and soulless as a bottomless pit.

  “Billy was real good-looking, too,” the girl said, as if I hadn’t spoken. “He could talk you into, or out of, anything just by the way he smiled. ‘Trust me, Tammy,’ he’d say. And I was fool enough to believe him.”

  A chill crept down my spine. She stared right through me, lost in her memories, oblivious to the people and the music and the cheerful Friday night vibe. And suddenly I knew. No one heard her, no one saw her, but me.

  “I try to warn the other girls who come in here, but they don’t listen…they don’t see,” Tammy said. “But you do.” Her eyes met mine, no curiosity at all in their depths as to how that could be possible. She didn’t seem to care about anything except sharing her story.

  “Everybody told me,” she said. “But I didn’t believe them. I thought he’d marry me when I told him about the baby, but he said he wasn’t ready?that we weren’t ready.”

  I listened in silence, an unwilling audience to what I was sure would turn out to be a tragic tale.

  “So I did what he asked,” the girl shrugged, “because he promised we’d have other babies. Lots of babies, he said. And I believed him.”

  She was pretty enough, in a “Southern comfort” kind of way. She must have laughed and smiled once, dreaming of a future with her Billy.

  A future that obviously never happened.

  “When I heard he was down here with another girl, bragging how he’d knocked me up and then talked me into getting rid of it, I had to come see for myself. I found him here with my younger sister, Sue Ellen.” Her eyes moved listlessly over the crowd. “They were making out at a table in the corner.”

  I felt like an insect frozen in amber. I wanted to get up, to run away from the monotonous drone of her words, the relentless depression that radiated from her in waves. But I couldn’t, and I knew why.

  Because she had no one else. No one but a total stranger out looking for a good time, who’d come face-to-face with tragedy.

  “What happened?” I asked quietly. It didn’t matter how loud the music was. She could hear me.

  “They laughed. Billy told me he was done with me now that I couldn’t get him for child support. Sue Ellen was drunk—said she’d tell Daddy about the baby if I didn’t leave them alone. He woulda killed her if he’d known she was out drinking with Billy—she was only seventeen. Daddy woulda killed us both for what we did with Billy, I think.”

  She raised those empty, soulless eyes to me again.

  “I saved him the trouble, at least with me.”

  It was all so clear. Maybe my brush with death had left me with more compassion for those who had to deal with it. After all, if I needed help passing over, I’d want someone to help me.

  “You don’t have to stay here, you know,” I said.

  The girl looked at me dispassionately.

  “This isn’t all there is. You can go into the Light. You can be happy again.”

  The first emotion I’d seen flickered in her eyes. It looked like fear.

  “No. There’s no Light. There’s only lies.”

  “But there is a Light. I’ve seen it.”

  “No!” She slammed her hands on the table, startling me. “Don’t you get it? There’s no Light for me!” Her voice started to crack, along with her composure. Her outburst should’ve been heard by everyone. “I killed my baby! I killed myself! I’ve seen what’s waiting for me and I won’t go!”

  Shocked, I waited to hear what else she had to say.

  “I hear them whispering. They say, ‘Come with us, Tammy, come with us…it’ll be okay…you don’t need to be afraid, we’ll take care of you.’” She glared at me now, frightening me. “But I’ve seen them from the corner of my eye. Dark, ugly little things. And there’s a smell…an awful, putrid, stinking smell…they think I don’t know they’re lying. But I know. I know. If I go with them—” She looked away, glancing around as if someone were listening. “—then I’ll burn in Hell for what I’ve done. Eternity in a juke joint don’t seem so bad compared to that.”

  I had the oddest sensation. It took me a moment to realize what it was, and when I did, it nearly overwhelmed me.

  Pity.

  Pity for this poor girl who didn’t understand that she’d condemned herself to a living Hell, not because of her actions, but because of her beliefs. She believed what she’d done was unforgivable.

  Take unto ye the armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand evil.

  Granny’s words came back to me, as clear as if she were standing the
re, and I knew what I had to do to help this poor lost soul.

  Feeling like a hypocrite, I asked, “Tammy, did you go to church when you were…well, when you were alive?”

  Her anger was gone as quickly as it came. “’Course I did. Daddy was a preacher.”

  I’ll bet he was. The fire and brimstone type, unless I missed my guess.

  “Then you should know that if you ask for forgiveness, you’ll receive it.”

  She shook her head stubbornly. “Some things are beyond that.”

  “No.” I shook my head in return. “No, they’re not.” The glimpse I’d had of the afterlife showed me a place where guilt and self-hatred didn’t exist. Neither did revenge or punishment. I’d hardly lived my life as a saint, yet I’d been taken someplace warm and welcoming. Surely this poor girl could go there, too.

  “You can be forgiven. But I think…I think first you have to forgive yourself.”

  Tears filled her eyes but her expression didn’t change.

  “You’re lying,” she whispered. My brain registered the noise and music all around us, but my ears seemed tuned to her alone.

  “I’m not.”

  Tammy stared at me, ignoring the tears that now slid down her pale cheeks. “But how can I? My baby’s dead and—”

  I interrupted her. “No, he’s not. He’s waiting for you.”

  She gasped, shaken from her apathy.

  “Or she. I don’t know.” I spoke quickly, before she could refuse to listen. “It doesn’t matter there. Nothing matters there, except joy and acceptance.” She was trembling now, pressing a hand to her mouth. “You were young…you were in love…you made some mistakes.” I tried my best to convince her of the truth. “Mistakes can be forgiven.

  Be brave, and go past those little dark things. Ignore them, and go into the Light.”

  I had no idea if what I said was possible, but somehow I believed it to be so.

  The Light had made me feel as if anything were possible. I wanted to keep feeling that way.

  “Man, it took forever to get the bartender’s attention.”

  Joe’s voice broke through the odd bubble of silence, letting music and nightlife pour in with a rush. I jumped, startled, as he slid a drink in front of me.

  “You okay?” he asked, moving around to Tammy’s side of the table. Except Tammy wasn’t there, and Joe slid into the empty seat with no hesitation. “You look a little spooked.”

  Oh, that’s too easy.

  “I’m fine. Just didn’t hear you come up behind me. It’s noisy in here, you know?” I drank half my Diet Coke before putting it down, both thirsty and thoughtful.

  Poor girl. We all make mistakes. I wondered how many years Tammy had been paying for hers, here at the Star Bar.

  Joe was smiling at me across the table, the music was loud, and I was young and alive?I didn’t want him to lose that smile. There was no need to tell him about Tammy now, not when we were having fun. But I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d taken my advice and gone into the Light.

  “You’re beautiful,” Joe said. “Have I ever told you that?”

  Now there was an attention grabber.

  I rested my elbows on the table, feeling a rush of pleasure at the compliment. “I don’t think you have.”

  “Well, I should’ve.” He shook his head. “And you are. Sexy, too—did I mention that?”

  “I don’t think you did.”

  “Look at you.” Joe’s eyes traveled over my hair and face, roving over my body. “You’re gorgeous and stylish and sexy and smart. And spunky.”

  “One more s word and you win the prize,” I teased. “Where’s all this coming from?” Not that I minded. “And I’m not spunky, I’m spirited.” I grinned at him, ignoring my own double entendre. “Maybe I should get the prize.”

  “You are the prize.”

  My usual quick wit deserted me at that point. I leaned back, eyeing him with a smile as I drank the last of my Coke. He grinned at me, unrepentant, as he drank his own. I stood up and grabbed him by the arm.

  “Let’s dance, sweet cheeks.”

  Joe leaned close to my ear as he got up. “I love it when you treat me like a sex object.”

  I laughed, enjoying the way his body brushed mine. He took my hand and led me toward the dance floor. I slapped his butt with my free hand and gave it a quick squeeze. I was still laughing when I saw Tammy, standing by the door marked FIRE EXIT.

  She was watching me, biting her lip.

  I stopped laughing and dragged Joe to a stop.

  “What is it?” We were almost on the edge of the dance floor now, right in the middle of a shifting knot of people, but I didn’t care. I even ignored Joe for a moment as I smiled at Tammy, nodding my head encouragingly.

  You can do it, I urged her silently. Be brave. Go.

  And she did. Tammy closed her eyes and turned, walking straight through the fire door as if it were wide open. For just a second—one tiny, brief second—I thought I saw a flash of white, the tiniest glimpse of a brightness beyond description.

  “It’s nothing,” I said to Joe. “My shoe was slipping, that’s all.” I smiled, glad to be there, now, with him. That life would be waiting, but I wasn’t finished enjoying this one yet.

  “Let’s go shake some booty.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  Ivy crossed her legs, crisply tailored in gray pinstripe, and eyed me intently. The leather loafers were Prada, for sure. The tape was rolling and I was under a microscope again, but this time I didn’t mind it so much. Ivy’s question was the latest in a series about my encounter with Tammy the night before, and now she wanted to know how I felt about helping the girl pass on.

  “Weird. Very weird. I mean, who am I to tell some poor, lonely spirit what to do?” I’d thought about this so much, and still didn’t understand it. “I’m not exactly Virgin Mother material, you know. I went to church as a kid, but that’s it. What I know about God could be written on the head of a pin.”

  Ivy smiled. “Interesting reference. A medieval theologian named Thomas Aquinas once posed the question: ‘How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?’”

  I’d never cared for riddles. It was just a saying, anyway.

  “I don’t know anything about angels.”

  “Don’t you?” Ivy adjusted her reading glasses and read to me from her notes: “‘There were others all around, bright shapes pulsing and flowing.’”

  “I didn’t say they were angels.” I didn’t know why, but I was uncomfortable with the thought of claiming I’d brushed elbows—or wings—with celestial beings.

  But I had, hadn’t I?

  “It’s obvious that this experience has had a profound effect on you, Nicki, whether you wanted it to or not.”

  Now there’s an understatement.

  “It would be easier, I think, if you just accepted that it seems to have heightened your psychic abilities.” I blinked at her, surprised to hear it put so bluntly. At least she didn’t think I was making up ghost stories because my brain was fried.

  “Believing one has crossed the line of death and back again is enough to change anybody.” Ivy took off her glasses and rested them in her lap. “And sometimes change can be a good thing. Sometimes not. But the ability to accept change, and move past it, will free you to better deal with the here and now.”

  I had a sudden, horrifying vision of a withered old woman in the back room of a run-down vintage clothing store, reading palms and holding séances. Madame Styx Knows All, Sees All. I shook my head, dispelling the vision. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “Let’s get back to your near death experience.” Ivy cocked her head at me like a well-groomed parakeet. “What is it that troubles you the most about the event? The fact that you almost died, or the fact that you didn’t?”

  Oh, man. Ivy was cutting me no slack.

  I thought about it. “I’m not nearly as afraid to die now, but I can’t say that I want to, either. What troubles me the most
is, ‘Why me?’”

  Ivy waited, saying nothing as she slid her glasses back on her nose.

  “I’m pissed off.” I knew as I said it that it was truer than I realized. “I’m pissed off that anybody could think I should be sent back to make some kind of difference in the world.” I held out my arms, knowing I looked like a vampy tramp in my oversized red silk shirt, red and black beads glittering over black tights, and chunky combat boots. I had to draw Granny’s veve today, and I wanted to make sure I was ready for anything. If Caprice showed up, I’d either stomp her flat or hide my head under the shirt.

  “I don’t know if I even believe in God, so why should I be given any responsibility for cleaning up after Him?” Ivy’s eyebrows went up at my snarkiness. “Blasphemy, I know, but I’m sure there’s plenty of Little Polly Purebreads out there who would be better suited to this kind of thing.”

  A trendy Zen fountain trickled in the background, but I wasn’t interested in being soothed. “And what do I get out of it? Scared shitless and sleepless, that’s what. Dead people jumping up like Pop-Tarts to impose their unfinished business on me. Dying isn’t what scares me—it’s living like this that does.” I leaned forward, hands clasped. “Do I look like Mother Teresa to you?”

  Ivy’s lip twitched, but her professionalism never slipped.

  “Saving lost souls has never been on my ‘to-do’ list.” I shook my head, rejecting the thought. “I just wanna run my store and live a normal life.”

  “Do you?” Only an idiot could’ve missed the skepticism in Ivy’s voice. “It seems to me you’ve made a career out of avoiding a normal life.”

  Dammit. Why do smart people always make things sound so simple?

  “You’re obviously a free spirit, Nicki. You seem to have more than your share of self-confidence and self-reliance.” Ivy’s eyes twinkled. “You’ve done well for yourself. But if I may make an observation, you may also have a slight unwillingness to commit emotionally. You have no family, and the person you spend the most time with is a gay man. A normal life for most women would include thoughts of husbands and babies.”

  “I’m not even thirty yet,” I said indignantly, “and who said anything about babies?”