Dead and Breakfast

by Kimberly G. Giarratano

  Liam stripped off his shirt and threw it to the concrete below. It made a loud smacking sound, the way wet cotton did when it connected with cement. Autumn returned and froze, her eyes locked on Liam’s bare chest. Liam watched her cheeks color before setting the first-aid kit on the table. She opened it up and drew out peroxide and gauze. She stood directly in front of him, but averted her gaze from Liam’s torso, and tilted up his chin. In doing so, Liam was able to appreciate Autumn’s warm brown eyes and long lashes.

  “Hold still.” She dabbed the peroxide on his cheek, and he winced. “So, a cat, huh?”

  Liam didn’t meet her gaze. “That’s what I said.”

  Autumn squirted ointment onto a cotton ball and pressed it onto his cheek. “Was this cat also pretty? About five-foot-six? See-through? Perpetually stuck in the 70s?”

  “Girl.” Timothy’s voice dragged out the letter r. “You think Katie did that?”

  Autumn appraised Liam, her hand hovering over his cheek. “I know it wasn’t a cat.”

  Liam pushed Autumn’s hand away from his face. He held her hand for a moment before saying, “I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but you’re freaking me out.”

  Autumn straightened. “You know the Cayo is haunted, don’t you?”

  He stared at the cracked concrete. “Everyone says that.”

  “Well then, why don’t you admit that it was Katie who hurt you and not some cat?” she asked.

  Liam squinted at her. Was this girl for real? Did she really believe this crap? “I don’t believe in ghosts if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not a freak.”

  Autumn blanched. She turned away and closed the first-aid kit. “Course not. I was kidding anyway.” Her voice trailed off. “I’ll just go put this back.” She opened the shed door and slipped inside.

  “Damn, boy,” Timothy said. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

  “I don’t believe in ghosts,” Liam said again, this time more forcefully.

  “No one said you had to,” Timothy said. “But we both know it wasn’t a cat that hurt you. So, if pretty Miss Katie attacked you, then let us know. She can be downright aggressive when she wants to be.”

  Liam leaned back against the chair’s worn plastic. He knew that whatever it was that scratched him was not a ghost. That was total bullshit. But, it was also not a cat. He traced his fingers back over his face and counted five long scratches. He must’ve hurt himself in his panic. He was tired and had drank too much punch at the beach party. Plus, he had arrived home only days ago. He hadn’t adjusted to the time difference and all that traveling on the bus. He felt slightly relieved. He was exhausted and hung-over. Of course, I thought I saw a woman in the water. I’m not crazy. Just still drunk.

  Timothy sighed loudly and started back toward the lobby. Liam cleared his throat and Timothy paused. “This Katie,” Liam said. “I’m just curious. What does she look like?”

  Timothy’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Katie’s a blonde. Unmistakably blonde.”

  So, then not the girl from the pool.

  Liam gave a slight nod. Timothy didn’t say anything after that. He waited for Autumn to join him and together they went inside the Cayo, leaving Liam alone to puzzle out his thoughts.

  #

  Autumn entered the lobby and slumped into a wicker chair near the window. She shouldn’t have been so bothered by Liam’s freak comment. After all, what did the opinion of a high-school dropout mean to her? And yet, it stung. So what if she bought into the notion of ghosts? They spoke to her! Well, Katie did at least. If the Cayo had other ghosts, they sort of kept to themselves.

  Autumn wasn’t exactly sure why she could see spirits, although she suspected it was an inherited trait. Evelyn used to talk about her weird grandmother who would have conversations with the air. Aunt Glenda claimed to see spirits too, but she was only Autumn’s great aunt through marriage.

  Timothy compared ghosts to radio waves and people to radios. Each ghost had its own frequency and some people could tune into that ghost’s frequency, like adjusting the dial on an old radio. But most people were broken radios. No matter how much they tried to clear the static, they would not get reception. Autumn, on the other hand, was a universal receiver. There wasn’t a ghost around that she couldn’t spot. Or at least, that was how it seemed.

  In her old home in New Jersey, Autumn was sensitive to the odd noises in the house. When she was little, she’d often see a young girl in braids and a white smock dress playing outside. A little girl who had lived in the house over a century ago. Autumn knew spirits existed, but her mother didn’t believe. In New Jersey, the strange noises in the house were made by the wind. Or a squirrel in the attic. The little girl in braids was just a dream. Her mother never took her seriously. Evelyn was a broken radio. She never saw spirits.

  Timothy went to lobby desk and retrieved a sketchbook and a set of colored pencils from a black attaché case. Even in the heat, Timothy appeared polished. His charcoal vest was perfectly tailored to his thin frame and his tie lay flat, only a small silver pin to adorn it. His dress shirt held no hint of perspiration, nor was there a line of moisture along his brow. His black hair shone of pomade, not sweat. Must be that young Bahamian blood. Autumn plucked her damp tank top from her sweaty chest.

  Timothy’s head bent over his paper, his pencil scratching furiously. Autumn stood, went over to the desk, and rang the brass bell to be annoying. Timothy didn’t even glance up.

  “Whatcha doin’?” she asked.

  He swiped the bell before Autumn could ring it again. “Sweet child, leave me alone. I’m drawing some ideas for the D and B website.”

  Autumn rolled her eyes. She hated it when he called her “sweet child.” Timothy was nineteen, only two years older than her. “My mom wants you to redesign the website?”

  “Uh-huh,” he said. “She’s paying me to revamp it. It’s called rebranding.” He smiled and held up his sketch. “This should be a nice addition to my portfolio.”

  It was a new logo. A picture of a pristine Key West Victorian with white paint and teal shutters. In reality, those teal shutters would be hanging on for dear life by a lone rusty screw and that white paint would be peeling off in ribbons. More interesting, though, was what was written inside the logo. Cayo Hueso Bed and Breakfast. Not Dead and Breakfast as Aunt Glenda had named it.

  “She wants to change the name? Aunt Glenda can’t be too happy about that. It’s a haunted hotel. Not some cottage retreat in Vermont.”

  Timothy shook his head. “I just do what I’m told.”

  “Well, someone should tell my mom the ghosts aren’t going anywhere just because she wants them to,” said Autumn.

  “Go tell her yourself. She’s in her office.” He nodded toward the back room.

  Autumn thought about doing that, but decided against it. What did she care if her mother wanted to reinvent this place? Autumn wasn’t planning on staying here long enough to see that plan through. Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

  Thumps came down the stairs and the large silhouette of Mrs. Paulson emerged in a tight, floral dress. Apparently, Mrs. Paulson hadn’t left for her booze cruise yet.

  “You there.” The woman pointed at Autumn. “That darn ghost will not make herself known to me, but she sure as hell has no problem playing jokes. She stole my brooch and set it on the chair with the pin sticking up.” She rubbed her buttocks and Autumn bit her lip to stop from laughing.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Paulson.” Autumn couldn’t help but stare at Mrs. Paulson’s sausage toes, her nails painted bright orange. “Katie can be very, uh, temperamental.”

  Mrs. Paulson puffed out her chest. “I don’t care. I paid to be haunted, not annoyed. And there’s something going on with my water. One minute it’s cold, the next minute, it’s boiling like a Georgia summer.”

  Autumn’s mother popped her head out of her office and approached the reception desk. Timothy slunk down on his stool.

  “Mrs. Abernathy,
I expect better accommodations or I’ll be posting a negative review on Vacation Raters.” Before she could wait for a response, Mrs. Paulson adjusted her straw hat on her bloated head and stormed out the front door.

  “Another satisfied customer,” Autumn said.

  Evelyn Abernathy glared at her daughter. “You think this is funny? It’s women like that who can destroy our business. Another negative review and this place will go bankrupt.”

  “What are you worried about?” Autumn asked. “We have a full house for Fantasy Fest.” The Cayo Hueso had twelve guest rooms, each named after a month. And last time Autumn checked, all the rooms had a booking for Fantasy Fest, Key West’s ten-day bacchanalian party. Granted, it would be a few weeks before they’d be occupied, but it was something.

  Evelyn sighed. “If we make it to Fantasy Fest. Anyway, ten days a year is not enough to keep us afloat. This place needs to be booked all the time.” She softened her eyes. “And please stop encouraging your Aunt Glenda.”

  Autumn balked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, telling her the things Katie did.” Evelyn used air quotes when she said Katie’s name. “I overheard you before. Your aunt believes so strongly in these spirits, she won’t consider turning this into a proper guesthouse. She’s afraid she’ll upset the ghosts, not to mention Uncle Duncan. The poor man’s been dead ten years, let him rest in peace.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “No more of this haunted nonsense. It brings in the nuts.” She tilted her chin at the door Mrs. Paulson had sauntered out moments earlier. “It’s you who broke the music box while you were dusting, just admit it.”

  Autumn wondered if her own mother thought she, too, was a nut like Mrs. Paulson and Aunt Glenda. She now knew Liam thought so. “I didn’t break the music box.”

  Evelyn gave another exasperated sigh. “If we don’t get decent paying customers in through that door all year round, then we’ll all be out of a job.” She frowned at Timothy and then to Autumn. “And a place to live.”

  Autumn brightened. “Then it’s back to Jersey?”

  Her mother shook her head. “Nope. El Paso.”

  “With Grandma?” Autumn groaned, her smile gone. “You’re joking.”

  Evelyn lightly patted Autumn’s cheek. “Like most things in this place, I’m dead serious. Now why don’t you go upstairs and study? You have school tomorrow.”

  “I know.” The heat of frustration crawled up Autumn’s body like mercury in a thermometer. Why did her mom always have to treat her like a child?

  Autumn started to head upstairs to her bedroom, but instead, she smacked right into Liam’s wet torso.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Liam didn’t see Autumn, or he would’ve prepared for the impact. She slammed into his chest, and he instinctively embraced her, wrapping his arms around her while still holding on to his wet T-shirt.

  “Oof.” Autumn pulled away. Liam glanced at her flushed cheeks, and he wondered if he looked as embarrassed as she did.

  Even after Liam had spent several minutes putting back the pool supplies, his shorts were still soaked. They dripped water on Autumn’s shoes. Liam glanced down at the puddle on the old wood floor. “Sorry about that.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I should be more careful where I walk.”

  Well, he couldn’t argue with that. There was an awkward silence before Evelyn cleared her throat.

  Liam suddenly felt the need to cover himself up. “Can I borrow a dry shirt?” He wasn’t sure who would offer to help. Timothy was so lean, Liam imagined ripping one of his shirts Incredible Hulk-style.

  Luckily, Aunt Glenda barreled around the corner. A navy polo shirt with thin white stripes on the collar and sleeves lay draped over her arm. She held the shirt out to Liam. “It belonged to Duncan. You kids would call it vintage now.”

  Liam hesitated to accept the shirt. Pops told him how the old lady felt about her dead husband. He would’ve preferred a simple, white cotton T-shirt so he could slink back to work with dignity or out the front door never to return. He couldn’t believe he had fallen into the pool. It’s crazy to think I was dragged in. Ghosts don’t exist and they definitely don’t drown people. Right? His headed pounded as if a coal miner had taken a pickax to his skull.

  Liam turned his body away from the prying eyes and slipped the polo shirt, which smelled faintly of mothballs and mildew, over his head. He smoothed the shirt’s hem over his hips and then looked up to see Timothy, Autumn, Evelyn, and Glenda all watching him curiously. His skin crawled under their gaze. I bet they’re thinking I’m just another Breyer loser. Liam wondered if this job was worth the awkwardness.

  Glenda gently placed her hand on Liam’s shoulder. “You probably should just go home.”

  Liam wasn’t prepared to be fired. But part of him knew to expect it.

  “Don’t worry,” Glenda said kindly. “I’ll still pay you for a full day. You come back tomorrow when you’ve had a good rest.”

  “Oh, okay,” Liam said, surprised. So he wasn’t being fired. He still felt reluctant. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable taking the old lady’s money without finishing the work. “I’ll make up the hours tomorrow.”

  Glenda smiled broadly and clapped. “Wonderful. I must say, in that shirt, you look just like—” but before she could finish, there was a strange rattle and a loud crack.

  “Watch out!” Autumn cried, just before she rammed Liam into the reception desk. His back stung from the force. A brass chandelier crashed down onto the floor, right where he had stood.

  “Jesus!” cried Evelyn as she stared up at the ceiling. She whirled to Liam. “Are you all right?”

  For a moment, her concern touched Liam until he realized she was probably only worried about a lawsuit. He nodded.

  “How the hell did that happen?” Evelyn asked, breathless.

  Everyone followed Evelyn’s gaze, except for Liam. He’d had enough of this place. He didn’t care what strings or favors Pops had called in; he wasn’t coming back here. Not ever.

  Evelyn stared at the broken chandelier, which sat on the floor in a heap of brass. She clucked her tongue. “How much do you think that’s going to cost to replace?”

  Glenda clutched her chest. “That chandelier’s been in the house for decades.” She frowned at Liam, grabbed a paper bag from the reception desk, and shoved it into his hands. “Here. Take some of Cora’s cookies for your grandfather. They’re key lime. Her specialty.” Glenda’s voice trembled as she pushed him toward the door.

  “Okay.” Liam tried to catch his breath. He wanted to tell the old lady that he’d return the shirt, but he knew that wasn’t likely to happen.

  Glenda waved him out the door. Liam didn’t need to be told a second time. On his way out, Evelyn hissed, “That boy is bad luck. We should hire someone else.”

  “Pish, Evie. His grandfather and my Duncan were close friends,” said Glenda. “Besides, the poor boy was attacked.” He didn’t wait to hear the rest.

  Liam strode over to his scooter, a beat-up 1984 Honda Elite with scratched gold paint and a torn leather seat that he had bought cheap. He kicked a palm leaf out from under the bike and unbuckled the helmet from the handlebars. He took the paper bag and his cell phone and tossed them in the small trunk space on the back of the bike. He was just about to snap on his helmet when Autumn came barreling out of the Cayo.

  “Wait!” she cried.

  Liam sat up straighter. What did she want now? Couldn’t he just get out of here? The humiliation seemed never ending.

  Autumn halted at the bike and pushed a strand of hair from her face. She handed him a bunch of crumpled bills.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s your day’s pay. Aunt Glenda thinks you won’t return. She wanted you to have what she promised.” Autumn’s face soured, and Liam couldn’t help but think she looked pretty.

  Liam wasn’t used to such generosity. He was more accustomed to glares and suspicious glances. He peeked back and saw Evelyn watching from the window. Y
eah, like that.

  Liam returned the money to Autumn’s palm. “Tell her she can pay me weekly like we agreed.”

  Autumn appeared thoughtful for a moment. “So you’ll be back?”

  Liam buckled the helmet’s strap under his chin. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, I’ll let Aunt Glenda know.” She hesitated before turning to leave.

  Liam gently caught her wrist. “I’m sorry I implied you were a freak. I didn’t mean for it to sound that way.”

  “Sure you did.” Her smile drooped. “It’s not the first time a guy has called me that. It doesn’t bother me.”

  “It should,” Liam said. “It was rude, and I apologize. Also, thank you for pushing me out of the way of that falling light fixture.”

  “Chandelier,” she corrected.

  “Whatever. I could’ve been hurt. We both could’ve.” The words hung in the air.

  Autumn nodded and gave a slight wave before heading back inside the Cayo Hueso. Liam watched her go and caught another glimpse of Evelyn’s disapproving face.

  Liam was sick of those looks. He didn’t want to be some divorcee’s minimum-wage lackey. He wanted to work for himself. He wanted to create something of value so that if his father or his deadbeat mother ever came back to Key West, they’d regret running out on him. Unfortunately for Liam, he just didn’t know how.

  #

  Autumn entered the Cayo’s foyer with its ornate moulding and antique rug. She stared up the long carpeted staircase and blew the bangs off her forehead. The last thing she wanted to do was homework, but if she was ever going to get into a decent college back north, she needed to keep her grades up. She rested her hand on the bannister when Evelyn, who was fussing with brochures on the hallway table, cleared her throat.

  “I need to talk to you about something.” Her mother motioned toward her office. “Can you come into the back?”

  Dreading a talk with her mother, Autumn stalled before following on Evelyn’s heels like a Cocker spaniel.

  Her mother’s office was nothing more than a glorified storage closet, although it did have a small circular window that let in natural light, but little air circulation. Evelyn had claimed the office the minute they had unpacked from their move, grumbling something about never having a proper place to work at the Abernathy’s hardware store. Autumn scanned the pile of folders stacked on the desk and the packages of toilet paper shoved into the corner. Autumn didn’t think this was a proper place to do anything, let alone manage a hotel.