I scanned the NBA and NHL standings, but couldn’t concentrate. I had a feeling the woman was still staring at me, so I looked up, and sure enough she was, only now her lips had curled into a playful smirk.
I was wondering if I should continue to ignore her, or get up and leave, when the front door opened and Elizaveta strolled inside. She would be turning forty in February, but she looked ten years younger. She saw me and waved. I waved back. She came over and sat down, setting her leather jacket and shopping bags on the chair next to her.
“What did you buy?” I asked her.
“Christmas presents,” she said, pushing her sunglasses up her forehead.
“For who?” I tilted open one of the bags.
She slapped my hand. “For you. So do not peek.”
“What did you get me?”
“Why do you always want to ruin surprise?”
“Did you get Alexa something too?”
“Of course. One of those new iPads.”
“Like she doesn’t spend enough time on her iPhone already.” I glanced past Elizaveta to the woman in the sweater and skirt. She was still staring at me.
“What?” Elizaveta asked, turning in her seat.
“Don’t,” I said quietly.
She turned back. “Don’t what? Are you checking out that girl?”
“She has the hots for me.”
“Has the hots for you?” Elizaveta laughed. “She’s about half your age, Jack.”
“I guess she’s a fan or something. She’s still staring at me.”
“You’re encouraging her. You keep looking at her.”
“Not on purpose.”
“You can’t control your eyes?”
“It’s weird having someone stare at you.”
“She’s very pretty, Jack. Perhaps I better go see what she wants.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe she has something to tell you.” She stood.
“Eliza!”
She ignored me and crossed the room. She spoke with the woman briefly, then gestured to the spare chair at the table and sat down. She said something else, then pointed at me.
The woman smiled and waved.
Mortified, furious, I focused on the newspaper and waited for Elizaveta to return. What was she talking to the woman about? Was she telling her how I thought she had the hots for me? Probably. Elizaveta didn’t have Pita’s proclivity for jealously when it came to pit lizards and female fans, but that wasn’t to say she didn’t get jealous. She did. And she would sometimes do silly things like this to prove to me she wasn’t jealous, which of course only underscored the fact that she was.
Abruptly Elizaveta stood. She pointed at me again. The woman nodded and stood also.
Then they were both coming over.
I set the paper aside and smiled pleasantly.
“Jack, I’d like you to meet my lovely friend,” Elizaveta said. “You were right. She really is a big fan of yours.”
I felt my cheeks redden. “I didn’t say that.”
“It’s true though,” the woman said. “I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve been following your career for years.”
“Please,” Elizaveta said to her. “Have a seat.”
“Actually,” I said, “we probably should get going.”
“Nonsense, Jack,” Elizaveta said.
She and the woman sat. They exchanged amused glances, and I realized I was the butt of a joke I didn’t understand.
“I didn’t get your name,” I said to the woman.
“Rosa,” she said, holding out a delicate hand.
I shook. “You have an accent—” The words died on my lips. “Rosa?” I said. And it was. She looked completely different than she had when she was eight years old, but somehow she looked the same too.
“Hi, Jack,” she said, appearing self-conscious for the first time.
“Surprise!” Elizaveta said.
“My God, Rosa, what are you doing here? In LA, I mean? Do you live here now?”
“Rosa has just started her freshman year at UCLA,” Elizaveta explained. “I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to catch up.”
“Catch up?” I said. “So you organized this? Today…the whole setup?”
“It wasn’t a setup, Jack.”
“Actually,” Rosa said, “I was early. We weren’t supposed to meet for another half hour. But I was too excited to see you, Jack. I didn’t mean to go all Fatal Attraction on you. I just thought you might recognize me.”
I looked at her more closely. Big almond eyes, nutmeg skin, svelte cheeks and chin. She wasn’t attractive; she was beautiful—beautiful and, to be honest, sexy. I didn’t want to think this. She was still eight years old in my mind. But I couldn’t deny it.
She was, as Nitro might have said, a ten.
“Wow,” I said. “This is blowing my mind. You used to be so small, Rosa.”
“That was a long time ago, Jack.”
“Yeah, I know…” I looked at Elizaveta. “How did you guys get in touch?”
“Facebook, Jack. Ever hear of it? Maybe you should get an account.”
“You never told me you and Rosa were Facebook friends.”
“We weren’t. Not until recently anyway.”
“When I found out I was accepted to UCLA,” Rosa explained, “I looked you up on Facebook, Jack. You know there are actually a bunch of other Jack Goffs in the world? I thought it was a one-off name. Anyway, there was a Jack Goff plumber, a Jack Goff accountant, a Jack Goff blogger. But no Jack Goff race car driver.”
“Jack is too famous for Facebook,” Elizaveta said. “He would have too many girls with the hots for him tracking him down.”
“I’ve never said that,” I said truthfully.
“You should see all the pit snakes that try to talk to him at races.”
“Pit lizards.”
“I went to your webpage, Jack,” Rosa said. “But the only contact was for your publicist. She wouldn’t give me your email address, so I searched for Eliza on Facebook. I didn’t know her surname, but Pepper told me—”
“Pepper!” I said. “You still talk to him?”
“All the time. He’s still doing Mexico’s Scariest Places. It’s really popular, and he’s actually thinking of doing some episodes set in the US. There’s this mansion in California with over a hundred rooms he was talking about. It was built by the widow of the guy who invented the Winchester rifle, and it’s supposedly haunted by a bunch of ghosts. He wanted me to ask you if you would be in his show.”
“No way in hell.”
She laughed. “He said you would say that. But, yeah, he told me Eliza’s last name. I did a search, and imagine my surprise when Elizaveta Grechko-Goff turned up!”
“Yeah, well…” I shrugged. “She was going to be sent back to Russia to work in a pre-World War Two ammunitions factory, so I decided to help her out with a green card.”
Elizaveta glowered. “Funny, Jack.”
“Anyway, she and I got in touch,” Rosa said. “And I decided instead of her telling you I was moving to the States, maybe I would keep it a surprise. After all, it’s been almost ten years. What’s another few months?” She smiled. “So here I am.”
“Here indeed,” I said. “So how have you been? I mean, after Xochimilco, you just sort of disappeared. I asked about you. I asked the cops and stuff. But they wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“My mom didn’t want me involved in the media circus that followed. She was really upset about my brother. We moved to France to be with my father, and we stayed there until I was fifteen.”
I said, “I’m sorry about Miguel, Rosa.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Jack. It’s strange, you know. I was so young. I barely knew him. Sometimes now I can’t even remember what he looks like. But at the same time, he’s still such an important part of me. I think about him all the time. I just wish, you know, that I actually did know him, or could get the chance to…” She shook her head. “Anyway,
I’m not here to talk about Miguel. I’m here to see you guys. And to…I never told you this…but I wanted to say thank you. That night on the island…it was pretty fucked up, pardon the language. I still remember you finding me under the bed, Jack. I was so scared. I thought you were a ghost at first.”
“You seemed pretty brave.”
“Because I was too young to know better. But if it weren’t for you guys, both of you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. I mean, I don’t think María would have done anything to me. But I was eight. I just don’t think…I’m not sure I would have…coped for long.” She wiped a tear that had sprung to her eye. “God, that was harder than I thought it would be!”
Elizaveta gave her an awkward hug.
I didn’t want to offer up some platitude, so I said, “Speaking of María, did you ever hear what happened to her?”
Rosa nodded. “I’ve seen her a few times.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“Yeah, she’s in an institution. To tell you the truth, it’s pretty damn depressing. Just the condition of the place, how the staff treat the patients. Some of them don’t have shoes. And there was this one old woman I saw tied up in her wheelchair.”
“Did she recognize you?”
“María?” Rosa shook her head. “I told her who I was, but she was completely out of it, all drugged up. She was just sitting in the common room with her doll—that same one she had on the island. I feel really bad for her. She doesn’t have any family, no one to visit her.”
“Poor woman,” Elizaveta said. “I mean, what a terrible life. You know, I used to think my life in Russia was bad, but I guess there’s always someone who has it worse off than you do.”
“What about the island?” I asked. “You haven’t by chance gone back to it?”
“Are you kidding?” Rosa said. “It’s a freaking tourist trap now.”
“What!”
“Don’t you ever go on the internet, Jack?”
“Sure, but I’ve never…wanted to…I don’t really google ‘Island of the Dolls.’”
“Well, you should, you’ll see what I mean. It’s a tourist trap. Especially with foreigners. The legend is still the same: it’s haunted by a ghost of a girl who died there fifty years ago. The locals want to keep it that way. A ghost brings more tourist bucks than a disabled woman wearing a doll face. By the way, you know it was Solano who made up the entire legend? Yeah, to keep people away from the island, and to explain María’s presence if she was ever spotted.” She glanced at her silver wristwatch. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you guys. I just wanted to say hi—and thank you for saving my life and everything. But we should definitely stay in touch. Next time you race in California, Jack, I’m going to be there, cheering you on.”
“Let me know which race. I’ll leave you tickets.”
“For my girlfriends too? They think you’re super sexy.”
I raised my eyebrows at Elizaveta as she rolled her eyes.
We all stood, and I said, “Where are you heading, Rosa?”
“Back to my dorm on The Hill—the northwest edge of campus.”
“We’ll give you a lift.”
“You sure—?”
“Positive. All we have planned for today is a big fiberglass chicken.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
We left the Starbucks together and walked the half block to where my midnight-black ’79 Monte Carlo was parked alongside the curb.
“Wow!” Rosa said, running her hand along the hood. “That’s a pretty mean looking car, Jack.”
“Don’t tell him that,” Elizaveta said. “It’s older than me. I hate it.”
“Can I give it a spin?” Rosa asked.
“Do you even have a license?”
“Come on, Jack.”
“It’s a manual transmission.”
“So what?”
“That means it has three pedals.”
She held out her hand for the keys.
Shrugging, I tossed them to her.
We got in, Rosa behind the wheel, me in shotgun (somewhat nervous), and Elizaveta in the backseat. Rosa turned the key in the ignition, and the engine gurgled to life.
I said, “Careful not to stall—”
Rosa clutch-shifted to first, rev-matched, and engaged the accelerator, swerving aggressively out of the parking spot onto the street. She upped to second gear, blipping the throttle to match the engine speed to the wheel speed, keeping the engine in the sweet spot of its powerband.
“Not bad,” I said, impressed.
“Like I keep telling you, Jack.” She glanced sidelong at me. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“No,” I said, slipping on my Wayfarers to cut the glare of the morning winter light. The sky was streaked with brushstrokes of pink and gray. “I guess you’re not.”
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Thank you for taking the time to read World’s Scariest Places: Volume 2. If you enjoyed the story, it would be wonderful if you could leave a review on the Amazon product page. Reviews might not matter much to the big-name authors, but they can really help the small guys to grow their readership.
Also, please check out the other books in the award-winning “World’s Scariest Places” series below:
BOOK 1: SUICIDE FOREST
SUICIDE FOREST IS REAL - ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK
CLICK HERE TO GET IT NOW (FREE WITH KINDLE UNLIMITED)!
Just outside of Tokyo lies Aokigahara, a vast forest and one of the most beautiful wilderness areas in Japan...and also the most infamous spot to commit suicide in the world. Legend has it that the spirits of those many suicides are still roaming, haunting deep in the ancient woods.
When bad weather prevents a group of friends from climbing neighboring Mt. Fuji, they decide to spend the night camping in Aokigahara. But they get more than they bargained for when one of them is found hanged in the morning—and they realize there might be some truth to the legends after all.
“In Bates’ (The Taste of Fear, 2012, etc.) horror novel, a simple excursion into a reputedly haunted forest turns into a nightmare when people start dying in conspicuously unnatural ways. Ethan Childs, an American teaching English in Tokyo for the last four years, plans to climb Mount Fuji with girlfriend, Mel, and a few pals. But when a looming storm nixes the outing, Israeli tourists Ben and Nina convince the group to join them on a hike through nearby Aokigahara Jukai. The forest is infamous for an incredibly high number of suicides, reportedly in the hundreds per year, and some believe the ghosts of the dead haunt it. What begins as an unsettling ambience (there are no sounds of animals or any trace of wind) quickly gives way to serious, tangible threats when one of the party members dies from an apparent suicide. Ethan and company are soon lost, and the noises they hear in the woods either confirm the existence of ghosts, or perhaps worse, mean that a murderer is tracking them down. Readers may recognize a slasher-film vibe—people willingly go into the creepy woods—and familiar characters...But Bates’ approach to the story is surprisingly restrained, cultivating impressive frights in the unnerving environment...No one is sure whether the unseen villain is human or apparition or whether they are simply victims of unfortunate circumstances...Bates’ choice to avoid brazen scares makes for an understated horror story that will remind readers what chattering teeth sound like.”
- Kirkus Reviews
BOOK 2: THE CATACOMBS
WELCOME TO THE EMPIRE OF THE DEAD
CLICK HERE TO GET IT NOW (FREE WITH KINDLE UNLIMITED)!
Paris, France, is known as the City of Lights, a metropolis renowned for romance and beauty. Beneath the bustling streets and cafés, however, exists The Catacombs, a labyrinth of crumbling tunnels filled with six million dead.a
When a video camera containing mysterious footage is discovered deep within their depths, a group of friends venture into the tunnels to investigate. But what starts out as a lighthearted adventure takes a turn for the worse when they reach their destinatio
n--and stumble upon the evil lurking there.
“Some books use different approaches to characterization as their ‘hook’ and others have a twist to their plot, but few sport the attraction of The Catacombs, a novel in ‘The World’s Scariest Places’ series, set in the catacombs of Paris. Why should the setting be such a draw? Because in creating a story that revolves strongly upon a sense of place (and an unusual place, at that), it succeeds in making a horror story like none other. There really could be no better place for horror than the Catacombs, when you think about it: an ancient burial place for the dead, they hold antique mysteries and a foreboding reputation as “the world’s largest grave”...The first-person story of growth and challenge fuels the underlying horror in The Catacombs: readers live every footstep, every decision, and every uncertainty in a gripping story that is hard to put down. The protagonist, a feisty female whose new moniker is ‘Stork Girl’, is anything but staid and retiring and drives a story replete with as many twists and turns as the Catacombs themselves hold. It’s the ‘you are there’ feel that creates compelling tension throughout... Readers don’t just follow the story line; they are in the Catacombs right there with the protagonists, reliving the decisions and choices that come with exploring the unknown...If it’s one thing that can be said about The Catacombs, it’s that the combination of a back-and-forth perspective that enhances overall events and a focus on action that is less than anticipated makes for a read that will delight horror fans who want their novels steeped in psychological suspense as well as action.”
World's Scariest Places: Volume Two Page 52