by Rose Pressey
His eyes widened. “Really? Were you involved with the last bass player, too?”
“I’m not sure what you’re implying, but no. If you think I get involved with all the bass players, you’re wrong.”
“Oh, no, no.” He held out his hands. “That’s not what I meant. I was just...talking out of my ass.”
“Well, that’s true, you were doing that.” I grinned.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked that. I thought maybe that was why you broke up with your ex.”
“No, it’s not. He was a jerk, that’s why we broke up. Not because of Johnny. We were just friends, and for the record, I don’t date all the bass players. As a matter of fact, I don’t date any band members. It’s a new policy. It turned out ugly when we broke up and I don’t need that kind of distraction right now with my career.”
“I understand. Again, I’m sorry. I guess now that I’ve put my foot in my mouth I can get out of your hair.”
“I’ll walk you out.” I hesitated. Tension between us was the last thing I needed right now, so I decided to forgive him for the stupid question. “Listen, I understand. You don’t think I date all band members. I forgive you for your stupid guy comment.” I grinned wide.
He laughed. “Thanks.” A smile twitched on his lips, then he winked at me.
I followed him out the door and down the stairs. This time, I checked him out. Just because I didn’t date band members, didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the view once in a while. He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. I had my hand on the knob, ready to shut the door, when he stopped me. He turned around. His face was close to mine. My breath caught in my throat. He parted his lips as if to speak, but didn’t. He moved forward, growing even closer.
“Thanks again for inviting me to join the band. I think you have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.”
Chapter 42
Okay, I forgave him for the comment upstairs…and then some. He was officially off the hook.
“It would be a sin if more people don’t get the opportunity to hear you sing. If this producer doesn’t see that, well, he’s crazy.”
I looked down; I couldn’t even meet his eyes. Heat radiated in my cheeks. He inched closer to where I stood. His faint musky cologne filled the air around us. He did smell good, I couldn’t deny it. I wanted to breathe in more of the masculine scent, but decided against it. Too bad I couldn’t hold my breath for more than ten seconds. I supposed the easiest way would be to get away from him as soon as possible. But my feet didn’t seem to be moving and my brain obviously wasn’t forcing them to.
When I looked up, Buzz pressed his lips on mine. I knew it was wrong, yet I didn’t stop. I couldn’t pull away. His lips were soft and cool and lingered against mine for several seconds, then he pulled away. His leg touched mine and I felt as if I’d been prodded with a hot poker. Heat rushed through my body.
My limbs felt numb. My lips tingled. Was the sky spinning or was that just me?
“I know you don’t want to be involved, but I had to feel your beautiful lips, just once.” He turned and walked away. Halfway down the path, as I stood and watched him, he turned to me and said, “Close the door. I don’t want to worry about you, too.”
I nodded and shut the door. Locking it, then leaning against the hard frame, I felt like a teenage schoolgirl with a crush. Apparently, the love spell book hadn’t bothered Buzz. I didn’t want him to think I went around trying to get guys to fall in love with me. I’d only tried the one spell. And it was only to see if Rick had truly loved me. I guess in a roundabout way it had worked. He left me for a waitress from the bar where we had one of our gigs.
What had I just done? I’d just received the best kiss I’d ever had. Sure it was short, but it packed a powerful punch. My brain said, “don’t trust him,” but my lips had been all over him like Frank was all over cheap bottles of blood.
“I saw you out there making out on the stoop.”
The voice snapped me out of my kiss-induced fog.
“Take that stuff up to your apartment. You’ll give this place a bad reputation. It’s not a brothel we’re running here, is it?” He scrunched up his little wrinkled face.
“No, Mr. Cooper, it certainly isn’t a brothel.” The old fart.
Ignoring the rest of his complaining, I returned upstairs. My cell phone was ringing when I opened the door. Craig’s number was displayed on the screen.
“Hello,” I said, slightly out of breath from my millionth trek up those God-awful stairs.
“Hey, you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. I need to get in shape or move to the first floor.”
He chuckled. “I hear ya. Hey, listen, Frank is being released now.”
“Oh, you’re kidding. Thank goodness. No offense, but I had major reservations about your friend who could play a little.”
“I know, I know. No offense taken.”
“So what happened? Why was he arrested?
“Suspended license and no insurance.”
“I can’t believe him. As much as he complained that I couldn’t miss this gig and he almost ruins it because he can’t renew his license?”
“Really? Are you all that surprised?”
“I pay my bills. I vote. I return library books on time. Why can’t he even do something so simple?”
“I think it’s part of the badass reputation he wants to present. It’s a vampire thing.”
“Yeah, well, as hard as he tries, it’s not working.”
“Apparently he forgot to go to traffic school and they suspended his license. And he was speeding again without insurance. What if he’d wrecked and hurt someone?”
“Hey, you’re telling me. So where is he now?”
“I’m here waiting for the police to let him out, should be any minute now. Then I’ll drop him off and head home myself.”
“You must be so tired. Is your wife pissed?”
“Nah, she’ll be okay. I’ll make it up to her somehow.”
“Okay, be careful out there.” Literally. I wondered if he was worried about the vampire killer. He didn’t seem concerned. “And I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See ya.” He hung up.
I set the phone down and contemplated what he’d said. Frank really could be a pain in the ass sometimes. Actually, most of the time he was a pain in the ass.
After the call, I trudged across the room and collapsed into bed. The more I stared at the ceiling, the more restless I became. In honor of my dear, sweet, sometimes slightly wacky grandma, I decided to do a protection spell. To say I needed one was an understatement. Yes, I owned a cauldron, sure, but I’d never used it. Unless you count the time I burned all the pictures and mementos from Billy Bob Sparks. He’d been a rat, too. For potions, I always used a saucepan on top of the stove. Yeah, no wonder I was a half-assed witch—a saucepan for heaven’s sake. But really, who wanted to drag out a heavy steel cauldron for a potion that wasn’t going to work anyway.
I put a saucepan of spring water on the stove to boil while I retrieved my herbs from the pantry. Vervain, sea salt, frankincense and myrrh were the necessary ingredients. After the water had come to a steady boil, I poured it into a bowl and brought it into the other room, placing it in the middle of the floor.
With more of the sea salt in hand, I sprinkled the crystals on the wooden floor, drawing a small circle, enclosing myself within. The smell of earth tickled my nostrils and splashes of light—red, green, then blue—covered my vision for a few seconds. A small breeze stirred in the room.
As I placed the herbs in the boiling water, I spoke the words: Protection from all negativity surrounds me. Harm threefold to thee who sends destruction my way. All hateful actions directed toward me, will be inflicted upon thee. So mote it be.
A few pitiful sputters of smoke puffed up from the pot. The water boiled no more, the breeze had stilled, the lightshow in my vision stopped, and the smell of Mother Earth vanished. However, a shiny new tube of li
pstick lay beside the pan. The label read Cha-Ching Cherry—another cheeky moniker for an otherwise ordinary red.
After sprinkling the potion around my windowsills and doors, I placed a small amount of the potion in an amulet and slipped it around my neck. No one could say I didn’t try to hone my witch skills.
What I did next might not have been the best idea considering everything that had taken place as of late, but I did it anyway. I never said I made the wisest decisions. After a short drive, I stood in front of Red’s Tattoo Shop. It was like gossip central—the equivalent of a beauty parlor for the rockabilly scene. Except they talked about music, hot rods, and babes, instead of dentures, fiber intake and grandchildren. The whirring sound of the needle buzzed as I wandered through the door. A guy, who looked as if he couldn’t possibly have room on his skin for more ink, glanced up and nodded.
“You come for a new one?” he asked.
The shop owner barely looked up as he continued the tattoo. The customer watched me from the worktable as I walked closer. The noise was hard to talk over.
“Not yet. I’ll be ready for a new one soon. What I really wanted was to ask you a few questions.”
“I don’t think I can help you with vampires,” Red said.
The guy on the table smirked.
“I try to keep my distance.” Red scoffed.
Great, a couple of smart-asses. Word sure did spread quickly. I bet wildfires spread slower. These guys didn’t waste any time. Was I the talk of the town already? I hoped the chatter wasn’t lies, though. That was the last thing I needed.
“This has nothing to do with vampires. I know you know just about everyone in the rockabilly scene around here.”
“I guess you could say that.” His focus on the arm in front of him was intent.
“I’m looking for someone who drives this old Cadillac I’ve seen around town.”
“What do you need with them?”
He asked almost as many questions as Detective Walker. I didn’t feel I needed to answer them truthfully.
“I’m interested in buying it.”
As I scanned the room, I waited for his answer. I’d expected more of a crowd in the place. Having more people in there would have made me feel less uneasy.
“An old Cadillac doesn’t tell me much. You want to give me a little more to go on?”
“It’s a fifty-seven. Gray, but it needs a paint job. There’s a fake skull on the dashboard.” Please let the thing be a leftover Halloween decoration.
“A skull, huh?” He stopped the machine and looked up at me, then started working on the tattoo again. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen it around a few times. You know that vampire who was killed a while back. Not the one you found, but—”
“You know about that? Who told you?” My mouth twitched.
“I do read the newspaper. I’m not illiterate. Front-page news. You’re a celebrity. Too bad it’s not for your music.”
It was as if I held a sign that read I discovered the staked vampires. I blew out a harsh breath. He was a pain in the ass just like Frank. Maybe they were brothers and I didn’t know it. Nah, he wasn’t a vampire and Frank would probably eat this guy for lunch. I could tell he thought he was tough, but I knew better. He was all show.
“Anyway, not that vampire. I’m talking about the bass player for The Hillbillies. Did you know him?”
“I didn’t know the guy personally. I’ve heard of the band.”
“Yeah, well anyway, I think it was his car. I heard he sold it. But before you go asking to who, I don’t know.” He paused. “You know, it’s funny you’re asking about that particular car…since he was killed, too.”
“Coincidence, I guess.” I shrugged.
I didn’t like this guy. By the way he eyed me up and down, it didn’t appear he liked me much either. The guy receiving the ink didn’t speak, but he stared also. I looked at his arm. The tattoo was a leopard. I wondered what special meaning it had to him, but I didn’t care enough to ask.
“If you find out who bought it, will you let me know? You know how to find me.”
“Yeah, I can do that.” He paused and stared up at me again.
“Maybe you could ask around,” I said.
“What do you want it for anyway? Don’t you still have that sweet Bel-Air?”
Sometimes being part of a little sub-culture was unsettling. People knew way more about me than I wanted them to. More than I was comfortable with.
“Yes, I still have it. My dad is looking for another car to restore. I thought that one would be perfect.”
The lie slipped from my lips easily.
“Hey, if he’s looking for something, I could probably find him a good car. I don’t charge much of a finder’s fee.” He wiped excess ink off the guys arm, then resumed his work. I stared down at one of the tattoos on Red’s arm. It was a sword, or a dagger, not sure which, with blood dripping from it. A disturbing sight, considering what I’d been through. I’d have to remember not to come to this guy for a tattoo. He was a snake—I sensed it. I needed to get out of there.
Chapter 43
At least the trip hadn’t been a complete waste. My mouth probably dropped when he told me who had owned the car. So, more than likely, the bass player had known his killer. They say it’s usually someone close to you who commits the crime. I wondered who knew all the victims. Someone within the music business was the only link I could think of and I hoped the police had figured that out as well. Had the person who bought his car been the killer? It would make sense. But now this car was following me and that was bad. Not good at all.
The humid night air hit me as I hurried out of the shop. I could have sworn I heard the men laughing as I left. I didn’t turn around to find out. What a jerk. I had no idea why he was so rude. Did he treat everyone that way? Not the best business practice, in my opinion.
After leaving the tattoo shop, I headed down the sidewalk, but something caught my attention right away. A neon red sign blinked, advertising tarot and palm readings. If I couldn’t manage the visions on my own, perhaps someone else could. How much credence I could place with a psychic reading, I wasn’t sure, but I’d give it a shot. I’d had accurate readings in the past. Then again, I’d had readings that would make nine hundred number fortune-tellers seem gifted.
The cool air blasted against my face as I pushed the old wooden door and entered the shop. Blues music with its haunting lyrics and melodic lilting voice played in the background. The front section of the store was devoted to Voodoo paraphernalia. It covered every available surface of the walls and every shelf; it was hard to focus with so much stuff. Items hung from the ceiling, too. Voodoo dolls, masks, gris-gris bags, herbs, and incense, plus things I’d never seen before. My heels clicked against the hardwood floor as I made my way through. I scanned the area, but didn’t see another soul.
“Come in, child. Don’t just stand there. Your feet are gonna hurt from da heels. Have a seat.”
I jumped and clutched my chest as I looked over my shoulder. I hadn’t realized anyone was sitting behind the counter. With so much stuff, the woman was camouflaged, kind of like E.T. in the closet with the stuffed animals. The table she motioned toward was at the back of the room. She rounded the corner of the counter and approached me.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You got too much on your mind. If you want a readin’, then follow me.”
I never told her I wanted a reading. Was I that obvious?
I followed her as she shuffled down the aisle. Her lavender tank top revealed skinny tanned arms and her long, white flowing skirt dragged the ground as she made her way toward the table. She had a warm, crooked smile and a lifetime full of wrinkles surrounded her kind eyes.
She pulled out the chair next to the table and said, “Sit. Now do you want palm or tarot reading?”
“I want you to use the crystal ball.” I looked at the clear globe on the table and back to her.
She hesitated, eyeing me up and down, then nodded. “
Fine. Fine.” She patted the seat again and I reluctantly eased down. “Don’t many people ask for it. I got it as show, you know. The tourists like to see it. But you ain’t a tourist now, are you?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not.”
My gaze was drawn to a sign on the wall above her head. It read: Voodoo unto others before they voodoo unto you. I grinned. A skull rested on a small shelf above the table. The sight of it sparked a flash of the mystery hot rod in my head and wiped the grin right off my face.
“So tell me what you want to know, child.”
“What do you see?” I asked.
She was silent as she gazed into the ball. For a moment, I wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
Just when I contemplated shaking her to see if she’d died, she raised her head, opened her eyes, and said, “You are in danger.” She gazed into the ball again, then frowned, deepening the lines on her face. “Beware of the music man. He likes dark magic. And blood.”
I was pretty sure my face turned white. At least I felt as if the color had drained from my cheeks. My muscles went limp and I wondered if I’d be able to walk out of the place. She’d spoken the same words that had flashed in my mind during my spell. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Who is the music man?” I choked out.
She closed her eyes again, then her lids sprang open and she glared at me. “I don’t know.”
“What? What do you mean you don’t know?”
She was worse than me. And here I thought I was a half-assed witch. She had me beat; I was actually better than her.
“He’s all in black. Black pants, black shirt, and black mask.” She shrugged. “I can’t help what I see. You should know that.” Was she insulting my witchy ability, too?
“But it is a he?”
“I sense male, yes.”
“Thank you,” I said as I stood and pushed the chair under the table.
“Listen to what I say, child, you hear?”
“I will. Thank you.”
I paused.
“There is something I found. I don’t practice Voodoo, so my knowledge is limited. Can you tell me?” I pulled the doll from my pocket.