Woo Woo

by Joe Coccaro

  “Quite a story, Cyril.”

  “Yeah, I wish they would have just given him a medal. It would have saved me lots of grief. I think that knock in the head he took from the mortar explains why he’s a flaming liberal.”

  “Well, I only half believe you, Cyril. Somewhere inside you is a heart, whether you want to claim it or not. By the way, thanks for all of your help with the Luzia Douro matter.”

  “No problem. But remember, lips sealed. What I said is strictly between us. Got it?”

  “Yes sir. Now, where’s the spackling again?”

  ***

  Jessep Greyson tipped his homburg and lifted Rose’s right wrist to his lips. He had been delighted when she called to speak with him and even more so when she’d asked to stop by. In preparation for the visit, Jessep had scrubbed the axle grease from beneath his fingernails, shaved with a new razorblade, and flossed. He had plucked a few hairs from his nose and even trimmed his eyebrows.

  “We’ve got a visitor coming, so be on your best behavior,” he had said to his chocolate Labrador. “With any luck, you’ll be sleeping in the hall tonight.”

  The ceiling fan whirred as a breeze tunneled through the windows facing the water. The old cottage was just twenty or so yards from the dock, which was less than a quarter mile from where the creek merged into the Bay. In the summer, winds prevailed from the southwest, cooling five to ten degrees as they passed over the great Chesapeake. In the fall and winter, the estuary served as an insulator, holding heat that warmed dry winds pouncing from the northwest.

  “I apologize if it’s too warm for you, Rose. I believe in living fully within the seasons, and air conditioning is unnatural. It prevents full acclimation and dampens appreciation for cooler months.”

  “How do you stay comfortable at night? I’d imagine sleeping in the heat would be difficult.”

  “I sleep naked with the windows open, as God intended.” Jessep smiled and peered into Rose’s pupils, probing for sparks of titillation.

  He poured Rose a glass of port and joined her on his couch. She looked even more alluring than she had at their first meeting. Her hair was down and her sleeveless T-shirt exposed the definition in her shoulders. Her denim skirt rode high up her thighs, which were as cut and rock hard as her arms. Most impressive were her ankles. You could always tell by the girth of a woman’s ankles how heavy she might become. Jessep called that the “ankle theory.” Rose’s ankles and feet were slender, no wider than her fist—a passing grade.

  “So, to what do I owe this wonderful surprise on this fine day?”

  “Jessep, I’ve come to ask a favor, a rather awkward one.”

  “Your wish is my command, fair lady.”

  “Wonderful. But indulge me while I give you some background first.”

  Rose provided Jessep all the details—all—even those she had been sworn not to disclose. Jessep listened intently, showing not one ounce of dismissiveness or judgment. These were serious matters. He stared into her eyes the entire time she spoke, not longingly or with seductive intent. Rather, he wanted to understand, like a first-year law student trying to wrap his mind around vague legal concepts. When Rose finished, Jessep gently took the glass from her hand and stepped to the bar to pour a second round.

  “Fascinating accounting of your travails,” he said. “Very detailed; very compelling. It’s obvious that some force, or being, with some connection to you lingers in these parts. I agree with your assumption that this entity could be, and very likely is, your long-lost relative. There is no other apparent explanation. You have verification—a priest, Mr. Brown, bar staff. What’s missing, obviously, is a personal encounter. You need to experience this for yourself. Such matters cannot be legitimized secondhand.”

  “That’s why I’m here—mainly. We want to try and make contact with my great aunt, and we think that someone with your elevated sensory perceptions might bring that to fruition. You said when we were here before that you have experienced apparitions on this farm—frequently. I believe you. And I’d like to borrow that ability. I’d like for you to spend an evening with us at Gil Netters. I’m hoping that with your help, we’ll have a communal encounter.”

  “Forgive me, my lady, but may I ask with whom would we be communing?”

  “The two of us, plus Carter Rossi, whom you’ve met, and a woman with heightened sensitivities. Her name is Luciana Alto, but she goes by Lizzy.”

  “Ah yes, Lizzy. She speaks multiple languages, as I understand it. I know of her. Her ex-husband was an acquaintance. He turkey hunted on my farm a few times with two Navy Seal friends of mine. Nice fella as I recall. Ladies’ man too. Spent the night here with a young concubine. No surprise when he and Luciana divorced. The old chap sent me a postcard from France signed by him and his mistress.”

  “Men. That one sounds like a selfish bastard to me,” Rose huffed. “Are men even capable of being monogamous?”

  “Honestly, my dear, it’s quite unnatural.”

  Rose stiffened and sat up straight. Her eyes widened. “Do explain, Mr. Greyson.”

  “Rose, it’s biological. Male homo sapiens were engineered to spread their seed among as many females as possible, and until death. That’s why we have an unending supply. It’s survival instinct in the raw. We as individuals don’t live forever, but through propagation our DNA can. Philandering provides eternal life. It is one of the cruelest, yet most delightful dichotomies of nature.”

  “No doubt a man came up with that stream of logic. An excuse for cheating proffered as scientific inevitability. Impressive, insidious, but impressive. But if I thought you truly believed that bunk, I’d leave right now. So, indulge me. Let me at least believe you’re not a complete Neanderthal.”

  “No, just slightly more evolved.” Jessep smiled. “But, yes, for the sake of civility and mutual admiration, let’s move on. So, your friend Carter will be joining us. Nice chap, but mediocre poet. I’ve studied the work he gave me and have a few suggestions. I hope he takes criticism constructively. His word choice is clever in parts. But the poem lacks continuity and feels like a shallow pool in places.”

  “You mean it’s superficial?”

  “Your word, my dear, not mine.”

  “You can provide constructive criticism when we’re all cozily sitting around Gil Netters awaiting my great aunt. I’m sure Carter will be receptive.”

  ***

  As the afternoon waned, Rose felt herself adjust to the heat and relax with quiet conversation. Jessep is Jeffersonian, she thought. Gentlemanly, well read, and curious. She’d never known a man who preferred Walt Whitman over the NFL, but who could timber his own trees, shaw a horse, rebuild a tractor motor, and drop a deer with a bow and arrow from fifty yards. Man’s man. Total man.

  “Would you be so kind as to join me for dinner, Miss Rose? I’ll be serving fresh rock fish, snap beans, and white corn. Please accept.”

  You had me at “Would you.” “Thank you, Jessep. I’d be delighted.”

  “Excellent! Well then, let’s go get dinner.”

  “Get?”

  “Yes ma’am. The snap beans are in that field, and the corn is over there,” Jessep said and pointed.

  “And the rock fish.”

  “The tide is in. So, with some luck we should be able to hook a cod right off the point. It’s a ten-minute boat ride down the creek. Boat’s at the dock ready to go.”

  CHAPTER 22

  A NIGHT PASSED, and Carter had not heard one word from Rose, despite texting her three times and calling twice. He stopped by the Topp Kat, and she wasn’t there. Nor was her car. She hadn’t been by Saint Mary’s, and Gil hadn’t seen her at the pub.

  “Another fish off the hook,” Gil quipped to his friend.

  Carter reasoned that Rose had either left town or was at Jessep’s. He boiled at both scenarios. Or maybe she and Lizzy . . . no, no way.

  Carter thought about driving to Jessep’s but didn’t want to appear as the smitten, pathetic would-be boyfriend. Technical
ly, he wasn’t. They’d slept together a few times, and the sex was as hot and salty as a California sulfur spring. But that didn’t make them an item. So, Carter did what Carter does: He let it go.

  He certainly wasn’t going to duel with Jessep Greyson to defend his honor. Carter had none to defend. He’d act nonchalant, indifferent, even dismissive. Acting hurt would only validate what Rose had probably already concluded: Carter Rossi is a nice guy, but not the guy.

  I knew it when she called me cute. Guess I’m gonna need more couch time with Dr. Kate.

  ***

  Carter and Lizzy met at the appointed time at Gil Netters. It was almost two, and the place was empty, except for its owner, who stood behind the bar closing out the cash register.

  “Well, well. If it ain’t Sparky and the beautiful Miss Lizzy. So, you’re going through with this madness I take it.”

  “That’s the plan—if Rose shows up that is,” Carter said.

  Gil thought about further chiding his friend about yet another failed relationship, but figured the wounds were too fresh to salt. Besides, he didn’t want to embarrass Lizzy, just in case she had a thing for pathetic Carter.

  “Supposed to get another thunderstorm tonight,” Gil said. “Should be a nice mood setter for your little quest. You guys going to do some satanic ritual?”

  “Oh Gil, come on now. You know better than that. This is for real,” Lizzy admonished. “You know it is. We’re here because of what you told us.”

  “Okay, Lizzy. I get it. Just seems a bit extreme to me. No one knows for sure if what we saw or heard is imagined or real.”

  “Precisely,” Lizzy said. “Maybe they’re one and the same.”

  “We’re gonna have a long night, Sparky. Want some coffee?”

  “We’re? What do you mean we’re?”

  “I figured I’d stick around awhile. Free entertainment. Stories to tell the drunks and morons. Who knows? Maybe the ghost lady Gina has a thing for me. I wouldn’t want you to steal her away; but I’m guessing the odds of you taking another man’s woman are slim to none. Usually works the other way around for you.” Gil couldn’t resist.

  “Stop being so mean to Carter, Gil. He’s a nice guy,” Lizzy said. “A bit of a chauvinist, but aren’t all men?”

  “Loaded question, Lizzy.”

  Just then the front door swung. Jessep Greyson held it open for Rose, who immediately approached Carter and gave him a hug.

  “I’m sorry, Carter,” she whispered as her chin rested on his shoulder. “You’re so sweet. I should have called.”

  Carter stepped back, smiled, and said only, “Glad you and Jessep could make it. I think our double date is being crashed. Gil says he wants to hang here with us tonight.”

  “Do you mind?” Gil asked. “I think Gina the ghost may have the hots for me. I could be an asset.”

  Rose and Lizzy hugged and rolled their eyes. “It’s your bar and your ghost, Gil,” Rose said. “Who are we to evict the owner? Gil, this is Jessep Greyson.”

  “How do you do, sir?” Jessep removed his hat and shook hands with Gil across the bar.

  “You’re a legend,” Gil said. “I’ve heard lots about you over the years. Glad we could finally meet, although under peculiar circumstances.”

  “Peculiarity makes life interesting,” Jessep said. “It’s to be embraced, never shunned.”

  “Well, you’ve landed in the right cabbage patch then, my friend. I know of no other place more peculiar than this bar and its patrons.”

  “So,” Carter piped. “When do we start?”

  The group agreed it would be best to remain together at the bar. From there they could see the booths and tables in the vault and beyond. An entrance to the kitchen was in plain view. Gil decided to have a beer. Carter, Lizzy, Jessep, and Rose had Cokes on ice.

  For the first hour the five ghost hunters chatted lightly and joked. By three thirty, boredom had set in. Just as Gil had said, thunder started its march across the Bay toward the Peninsula. The wind picked up, and rain started pelting the cathedral windows by the pub’s front door. The lights flickered once, twice, and then the pub went dark.

  “Christ! Here we go, Sparky,” Gil said. “Load the guns and empty your bladders.”

  At first, the gentle taps sounded like more rain. Then, all five heard the tapping grow louder.

  Rose grabbed Jessep’s hand. Lizzy pressed against Carter, and Gil stood, his eyes scanning the pub like searchlights in a prison yard.

  Bang, bang. There it was again. Jessep stood, undaunted by the darkness or noise.

  “I believe it’s coming from the door,” he said. Calmly, he strode toward it. He unlocked the turn bolt. “Well, looky what we have here.” He pushed open the door and there stood Jed and Elroy, Hattie Savage’s nephew and his friend.

  Just then, the lights flickered back on.

  “Mind if we join ya?” Jed asked from the doorway, soaked. “Me and Roy here figured you might need some help tacklin’ that ghost if it shows up. Plus, I gotta write a report for English class ’bout something I did over the summer. I figured nobody could top this.”

  “You wanted peculiar. Well you got it,” Gil said to Jessep. Then he turned to the boys. “No one was supposed to know about this. How’d you boys find out?”

  “Aunt Hattie. She said there was gonna be a say-ounce at the pub.”

  “Say-ounce. Oh, you mean séance.” Gil laughed. He looked at Carter and mouthed moron. “You’d better do that English paper. Sounds like you’ll need the extra credit.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, boys,” Rose said, “but nothing exciting has happened yet. We’re just sitting here . . . waiting quietly, until a few minutes ago.”

  “L-like de-deer hunting,” Roy said. “Sittin’ and waitin’ for one to come by.”

  “Something like that, yes,” Rose said.

  “Hear that?” Jed piped. “Sounded like a door slam.”

  Heads turned in every direction. Gil checked the bathrooms and kitchen. “Nothing here,” he called. Another door slammed, followed by thunder.

  “This is gettin’ good, Roy,” Jed said. Roy stiffened.

  The pub door opened slowly, first just a crack and then the width of a body. “Hey there, y’all, anybody home?”

  “Aunt Hattie. What you doin’ here?” Jed called.

  “Guess I could ask the same of you boys. Stopped by to make sure you people don’t hurt property values with all of this ghost stuff. Any luck?”

  “Well, if it isn’t the town gossip. Pull up a barstool, Hattie. What are you drinking?” Gil asked.

  “Dark ‘n’ Stormy. What else?” Hattie smiled.

  Gil walked around the bar and poured the ginger beer and rum over ice. “Sparky, I thought this was supposed to be kept quiet.”

  “Me too,” Carter said. “And I’ll have a Dark ‘n’ Stormy too, since you’re pouring.”

  “Me three,” added Rose.

  “Okay. Drinks on me,” Gil said. “Boys, you can have the ginger beer.”

  “You should know by now that nothin’ stays a secret ’round here more than a few minutes,” Hattie piped. “Lizzy here asked her neighbor to let her dog out in the middle of the night. Her neighbor is my cousin, on my mother’s side. She thought that sounded suspicious, so she told me.”

  “And how’d you know we’d be here?” Carter asked.

  “I checked with Cyril at the hardware store,” Hattie said. “He told me about the goings-on. I figured there was a connection, so I told Jed and Roy here to keep an eye on Lizzy. They said she’d been hanging around with you, and that you’ve been hanging around with Rose, who’s been spotted staying with my cousin Jessep here. Hello there, cuz. You hooked yourself a nice one.” Hattie winked.

  “That’s a big reason I no longer come to town,” Jessep said. “People here track your every move like a bloodhound on the trail of a fugitive.”

  “Jessep always had a way with words—and the ladies,” Hattie said. “Charmer, a real charmer.”<
br />
  I guess that makes me a loser, a real loser, Carter thought. He could see Gil smirking and shaking his head. He’s gonna bust my balls relentlessly when this ends.

  A knock rattled the door. This time three people filed in. Smitty the cop, Cyril Brown, and Lil the barmaid. Apparently, Smitty and Lil had been hooking up. Six more people showed up after them, then another dozen. By four in the morning, the bar was packed with at least fifty locals hoping to see Gina the ghost, or at least witness the séance. It would go down in Cape Charles lore.

  Smitty told Gil he could serve drinks as long as the door was locked and it was considered a private party. Gil had just one drink on the menu: Dark ‘n’ Stormy.

  “We’ll call it Gina’s Going Away Party, because we all hope she’s gone and never comes back,” Gil said.

  “Works for me,” Smitty said. “By the way, Gil, you can’t charge for drinks at a private event. Guess you’ll be hiking prices this week to make up the difference.”

  Gil poured himself a shot. “Goddamn ghosts.”

  ***

  The party raged until sunrise, which seemed appropriate. Throughout the night, the crowd had grown and become more raucous. James came dressed as Jamesetta, donning his best Marilyn Monroe wig. Tank Top forgot about the apocalypse that night, wondering, if only for a few seconds, whether it would actually descend. Benny Frier and Cousin Nate told ghost stories and argued about the details of hauntings on their family farm.

  Thin Lizzy decided to harness the townspeople’s energy to, perhaps, liberate the spirit of Luzia Douro from Gil Netters and Cape Charles. She needed to remind the crowd that’s why they were there. She stood on top of the bar and led the chorus in the Beatles song “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” Dude, the drummer, joined her. Gil found the tune on the pub iPad and played it twenty times that night. The townies hooted and mangled the song. No one cared, and few knew what the song was about anyway. It was weird but cheerful, like the town. They substituted Luzia for Lucy.

  Picture yourself in a boat on a river

  With tangerine trees and marmalade skies