by Lilly Mance
Maya and Helen straightened their perfect little dresses, smoothed out some of the creases done by sitting in a car, and motioned for me to follow them. Loud music coming from the back yard made the impression the house was pulsating. Brad’s face lightened up as soon as he zeroed in on Maya. He left his company, and came to greet us.
“Glad you could make it,” he quipped on our being late, and kissed Maya.
“Helen couldn’t be bothered to hurry up,” Maya grimaced at Helen.
“Where’s Shawn,” Helen asked, glancing around.
“My brother took him on a tour around the house,” Brad said, pointing upstairs. “Can I get you girls something to drink?”
As soon as Brad left to get us drinks, we looked around the place. We were surrounded by a bunch of unfamiliar people, neatly dressed, throwing occasional glances at us over their drinks. Maya shifted her weight from foot-to-foot, nervously twirling a strand of hair. Helen nudged her in the side to stop it. Several unnaturally tanned guys that walked by, ogled me from head to toe, commenting on my not so posh appearance. I gave each of them the evil eye.
An hour into the party, I found myself alone, sipping on a virgin colada. My girlfriends were busy slow dancing with their boyfriends, so I found a refuge on a cocktail bar by the pool. After I brushed off several poor attempts of hitting on me by stuck up college boys, the bartender was kind enough to leave me alone, and not try anything funny. The only thing he did offer was to spice up my drink. The shock on my face made it more than clear he was barking up the wrong tree.
The round of slow dancing was over, and couples dissipated from the podium, leaving room for others to have a go at it. Maya and Helen were busy mingling and leaving impressions, so I didn’t want to disturb them by revealing my position when Helen glanced around to find me. I took a step back into the shadow. It was for the best. I was sure they didn’t need me snapping at the type of crowd they were trying to impress. The type that usually made my inner bitch come out and play.
When Helen stopped searching for me, I stepped out of the shadow, and caught a glimpse of my paranormal stalker. Unlike Helen, he didn’t search for me, his prying eyes knew exactly where to find me. Staring back at him, I ordered another virgin colada, fifth to be exact, wishing it was spiced up this time. He better hold his distance—I thought, because tonight I wasn’t in the mood to play hide and seek with him.
I devoted my attention to my drink, playing with a little colorful umbrella. My stalker was still in my visual field, sticking out of the crowd like an elephant in the hen house. I giggled. At least we had one thing in common, neither of us fit in. He belonged on a cover of Vogue magazine, and I on a milk cart. I twirled the toothpick umbrella between my fingers, pondering how it would be if he were real. Impudently, I scanned him from top down. His lips curled into a smile. As if shielding himself from my impure thoughts, he crossed his arms in front, bringing impeccable biceps into my view. I giggled. I wouldn’t mind having those wrapped around me. I picked up my glance, and stared at him wistfully, biting my lip. Insolently, he stared back, wearing a devilish grin as if he could read my mind. I sighed, saying, “Just my luck,” flicking the little umbrella down the bar. The bartender took that as a sign to get me another drink. Good. This one was finished anyway.
Half way through my sixth colada, I felt the need to sit down. I felt weak in my knees, and almost dizzy. My stalker became blurry although he was still in the same place. Walking away from the cocktail bar, I struggled to keep my balance, thinking it was best to stay away from the pool till my poor legs rested. Nobody used tartan chairs, so I went to crash into one. Oh boy, did I crash. Several heads turned my way, commenting my wasted status. Wasted? I wasn’t wasted! My hands hung loose on the sides, but my legs felt better.
For some odd reason, my stalker decided it would be okay to come closer. With tremendous effort, I raised my glance and stuttered, “Didn’t I...tell you...to get the hell—”
“—you did,” he cut me off, and some heads turned around to see why I was talking to myself. “So this is your idea of fun?” He clasped the back of his neck, ogling me.
I grimaced, “Go away,” I waved my arm, and it fell back to the side of a chair.
“You’re drunk,” he snorted, folding his arms in front.
If only I could move, I'd get up and bite that biceps. Did he say drunk? I goggled my eyes, “I’m not—” I paused, unable to form a coherent sentence. And then it hit me. “That bastard!” I looked toward the bartender. “He messed with...my virgin colada.”
His lips curled to the side, “How many did you have?”
“Six,” I dropped my lower lip.
“And you didn’t taste the liquor?” He said, and I wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face.
“No, asshole,” I glared at him. “That’s what cocktails were invented for. To disguise the liquor.”
Out of nowhere, Maya and Helen appeared with worried looks on their faces. My stalker winked, and distanced himself.
“Lyra,” Helen squealed, sitting down. “What happened? The word got out that some girl in jeans got wasted and is talking to herself.”
“Not myself,” I snorted, having a hard time keeping my eyes open.
“He’s here?” Helen glanced frantically around us.
“Was,” I huffed. “Not anymore.”
“How much did you drink?” Maya said, her face boiling with anger.
“Don’t know,” I breathed.
“What do you mean you don’t know? How much?” Maya growled.
“Freaking bartender spiced up my drinks,” I pointed my finger at him, and they both looked in that direction. All of a sudden, instead of lighting up a line of B-52’s, the bartender started jumping around, and screaming like a five-year-old, because his apron was on fire. I chuckled. He took it off, and jumped on it repeatedly, while the crowd laughed like crazy. Only I could see the man responsible for his trouble. My ghost stalker bowed toward me taking credit for the misdemeanor, and left the scene.
~*~
Days went by without his appearance, but not seeing him didn’t mean he wasn’t there. I was sure he was watching just like he had before I knew he even existed. That state of things was far worse than having to argue with him. Even in his absence, he had an impact on my life, and that bothered me. Anything was better than this status quo. I was glad he made his grand entrance on Brad’s posh party since it was boring, and the bartender stunt did get him some credit, but talking to him where everyone could see did cause some damage. Now I was known in college circles as “that psycho girl”. Maya and Helen did have a point, whichever impression you left on that party would follow you to college. Luckily, I wasn’t going to college, but I did have paranormal situation to deal with.
Standing outside my house in our garden, I decided to resolve that issue. I had to make him go away for good, or be stuck with him for life. Fiddling with a rose petal, I took a deep breath, then said aloud, “Are you here?”
“Mostly,” a familiar, deep voice replied behind my back, startling me although I expected him to be there.
“Oh, that’s creepy! Do you follow me into the bathroom, as well?” It would be totally awkward if he did, and I was powerless to do anything about it.
“No. Why would I spoil my lunch?” He said casually, and I could have sworn there was a hint of a smile on that stern face. His tall, lean figure moved gracefully between the roses. With hands folded behind his back, he bent down to smell one.
“Dead guys eat nowadays?” I replied, rustling my fingers through leaves.
“Will you drop the dead thing? It makes you sound...stupid,” he retorted, straightening his back.
“First you call me a brat, and now stupid?!” I hissed, regretting my decision to call him. “Okay, pal, you’re gonna have to find a new way with words, ‘cuz this ain’t getting you any bonus points.” I crossed my arms, and glared at him.
“Let me lay it out for you, and then you tell me what to call you,
” he crossed his arms as well, rocking back on his heels.
“Fine!”
“Apparently you define the living as being able to interact with you,” he paused as if he expected my reaction, so I confirmed with:
“Uh-huh.”
“Further, you define the dead as the opposite of being alive, which would make them unable to interact with you,” seeing where he was going with that, I opened my mouth to contradict, but he continued, “As I’m clearly interacting with you, that would make me very much alive. And you calling me dead would then make you, what?”
“Misguided,” I huffed. “Certainly not stupid!”
“And calling me dead repeatedly, even though I told you I wasn’t, would make you, what?” He tilted his head, raising a brow.
“Deaf?” I narrowed my eyes, not happy with the way that conversation was going.
“So, will you withdraw your claws and act like an adult?” He demanded, maintaining a perfect posture.
“No!” I said deliberately. Surprise flashed in his amazing eyes, revealing a few dark teal specks that I didn’t notice before. “You may have partially proven your point, Mr. Spock, but there are other things besides logic to consider.” His upper lip curled slightly, but that pissed me even more. “You see, I’m a teenage girl, and acting as an adult isn’t exactly what average teenage girls do! We have the right to be irrational, illogical, spoiled, have fun, make repeated mistakes, and not think of not-dead ghost’s problems. Would you care to define what to call an adult that expects rational behavior from a teenager?” I put my fists on my hips and spread my elbows as wide as I could. Swiftly, he turned his back on me, and started slowly hovering down the garden, but before he managed to turn in full, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a repressed grin.
“I’m glad you find my logic hilarious,” he said, and then turned back around to face me, “But it’s the only thing keeping me sane in this extraordinary situation. On the other hand, calling yourself average is quite amusing,” he smirked, piercing my victory bubble. Annoyingly, nothing slipped by him. He clung to my every word.
“I’m pretty sure we’ll never be able to get along, so why don’t you make yourself scarce again.”
“Since you’re exhibiting cat-like behavior, I should have known you’d get a thrill out of playing cat and mouse.” Completely unexpectedly, he swished right into my face, stopping only inches away. I could feel his breath touching my lips. I knew he must have done that on purpose to throw me out of balance, so I stared back at his mesmerizing eyes without blinking, then took a step back and said, as calmly as I could:
“I’m not the one playing games here.”
“Oh, no?!” His brows shot up. “You send me away, then you call me back, and then you push me away again. Kind of resembles yo-yo, don’t you think?” A smug grin spread over his face.
“Didn’t we cover that? I’m a stupid, average, teenage brat, with irrational behavior. You’re one cocky, arrogant, alive ghost that got glued to my ass, and you bounce back and forth as I walk. That must be the yo-yo effect you’re experiencing,” a victory grin hijacked my face. At first, he looked at me baffled, then his lips curled, and finally he burst out laughing hard. In the midst of it—puff!—and he was gone. Ripples of his laughter lingered in my ears as I watched an empty space in front of me. “That was odd!” I said aloud.
Obviously talking got us nowhere. At least I wasn't afraid of him anymore. He lost that scary edge, and now I felt in control. I smiled to myself. Hell, I even felt a bit curious about his not-dead situation. He was far more interesting than any guys I knew; I had to give him that. Not to mention drop dead gorgeous. The drop dead part made me chuckle.
~*~
Chapter #4
Several days earlier, I saw our favorite hanging place down at the beach was looking for a waitress. I never waited tables before, but it would be a good starting point. Dad had said he would help me find a job upon his return, but I was sure he wouldn't mind me taking an opportunity such as this one. It would be a perfect summer job until I looked for something different. I called them and scheduled an appointment, and Maya agreed to drive me there.
“Hop in, working girl,” she said, opening the passenger door.
“Thank you, ma'am,” I grinned.
“Hope you don't mind. I arranged a support to meet us there,” Maya giggled.
“Maya! You didn't! I'm nervous enough as it is!” Great, I thought, more material to stress over.
“Yes, I did. And no-one's gonna make fun of you while you serve us.”
Serve them? I cringed. “I don’t think I’m gonna get to serve anyone today, let alone you guys,” I forced a smile. Thinking of serving them made me reevaluate my decision to work in a place full of familiar faces. Was I up for that challenge? “Besides, I’m just going in for an interview.”
“You never know,” Maya winked. “That's exactly why we decided to come. If you can handle us, you'll be able to handle anyone,” Maya flashed a confident grin, and she was right. It would be some sort of a controlled experiment.
Entering Mario's beach bar felt as if I had never been there. Suddenly, I noticed so many things I overlooked before. It seemed a lot bigger and unfamiliar. Maya hugged me in support, looked significantly into my eyes, nodded, and then joined the rest of the gang waving toward us from our usual table. My pulse picked up, and I had to wipe clammy hands before entering personnel area. I took several deep breaths, and knocked.
“Come in,” a male voice said from behind the door.
“Hello, I called you earlier about a job—” I said, still holding a door knob.
“Yes, yes. Lyra, isn't it? Please, enter,” a slightly bald, round faced, middle-aged man I never saw before was sitting at his desk, motioning for me to sit across him.”You're one of the high-school kids that come here all the time, right?”
Was I so up in the clouds that I never noticed people who clearly watched me? “Yes, that's right. I just finished high-school and am looking for a job.”
“Is this your first job?”
“It will be if you give me a chance—” I smiled, and he returned a smile.
“Well, I don't know what you've heard, but I believe in giving chances to people without experience, so you've come to the right place,” he stood up. “As a matter of fact, whether someone is fit for this job or not can be seen in first half an hour,” he motioned for me to follow him.
“Like now?” I was confused. Did he mean I should start right away? Fear spread through my veins.
“Yes, no better time than now. Let's see how you handle this kind of pressure. Lisa, give this girl an apron and fill her in on the basics. We have a trainee!”
A girl named Lisa smiled and took my hand. Her voluptuous body rhythmically swayed in front of me as I followed her to a changing room. She handed me a small, white apron and said: “Relax, it's easy. Just focus, try to write down everything a table orders,” she handed me a pen and a scratch pad, “and give it to the bartender. The only thing you have to remember is which table to deliver it to.”
We went back, and she introduced me to the bartender. “Jake, this is Lyra. She's on trial run here, so take it easy on her.” Yeah, that made my ears start buzzing again. Like Lisa, Jake seemed thirty-something, with the exception of fresh shaving cuts on his left cheek, and not at all likable face. He nodded, and continued to wipe a glass in his hand. “Lyra, which table would you like to start with?” She pointed out those in need of service. Immediately, I remembered Maya's comment and picked her table. What the hell, if I can't do it now, I never will.
My heart thumped hard on my way over, but I held a confident expression and walked firmly, clutching pen and paper in my hands.
“Hello guys,” I grinned, proud of myself for not fainting midway. “May I take your order?”
“Wow, Lyra! Did you get the job?” Helen asked. Seeing a mix of hopefulness and pride on my friend’s faces melted what was left of my fear, and boosted my self confi
dence.
“Not yet. I'm on probation.” They each proudly recited their orders, I wrote them down, and went back to the bartender, feeling kind of good about myself. I broke the ice! Meeting Jake's cold expression wiped the grin off of my face, though. Not your friendliest bartender, I thought. Moments later, he filled my tray with drinks, and second test had begun. Lifting it of the bar without spilling the darn thing all over. Wow, it was heavy! I had to carry it with both hands, but I managed to get it to my friend's table without making a mess. Good thing I already knew what each of them liked to drink, because I would have been in trouble if I had to remember who ordered what. I made a mental note to pay attention to that next time.
Several other tables went smoothly, and I was thankful to Maya and the gang for coming. If it weren't for them, I would have failed. Now, Mr. Thompson, the manager, congratulated me on passing the test and becoming one of Mario's team members. I was starting first thing in the morning. It was time to call Mom. She'll be thrilled that I got the job.
After phoning Mom, I went to join my friends. As I was walking over, Maya mouthed silent “you got it?” and I nodded. The entire table stood up and cheered. They all patted my back as I was sitting down, and congratulated me on my first job.
“I owe you guys,” I confessed.
“For what?” Brad asked, putting his arm around Maya.
“For being here. You have no idea how much it meant to me,” happiness and pride filled my chest.
“Nah, it's what friends do,” Helen said, slurping the last of her smoothie.
“I was freaking out, and seeing you all here grounded me enough to make it through. Drinks are on me,” I signaled Lisa to come take our order. She smiled, and came right away.
“Are these your friends?” She said when she came to our table.