Our Red Hot Romance Is Leaving Me Blue

by Dixie Cash

  The events of the evening before had kept her awake most of the night. Then this morning, after half an hour of tantalizing foreplay followed by mind-numbing sex with Buddy, then bidding him a farewell laced with I love you’s and I’ll miss you too’s, she had rushed to the phone and called her friend and partner.

  The idea of connecting with those who had passed on was intoxicating, and if props and accessories were needed in building a bridge to the other side, no one could be better at filling that need than Edwina.

  The sound of a car door slamming in the back of the salon sent Debbie Sue scurrying to the back door. Just as she reached it, Edwina appeared, her customary quart-size Dr Pepper in one hand and a brown paper grocery sack in the other. Removing her rhinestone-encrusted sunglasses, Edwina handed the sack to a squealing Debbie Sue. “Here’s everything you listed,” she groused. “But Halloween is months away. What are you up to?”

  “It occurred to me last night, Ed, that if a pack of cigarettes can conjure up an unexpected spirit, the possibilities are limitless with other enticements.”

  “Enticements? Hell’s bells, Debbie Sue, you’ve gone from a half-assed skeptic to a full-fledged nutcase. We’re supposed to be connecting with Justin’s sweet little wife, not auditioning for Dancing with the Dearly Departed.”

  Ignoring Edwina’s grumbling, Debbie Sue started removing items from the bag and laying them out on the manicure table. “Oh, wow. This is all perfect, Ed. I knew I could count on you.”

  “I can see you’re dead set on this, no pun intended,” Edwina said and released a big sigh. “At least tell me who to expect.” Sorting through the assortment of items on the table, she lifted up a short black wig, styled in the bouffant look from the sixties. “Why did you want me to bring this? Who do you expect to claim it?”

  “That’s the only thing I could think of for Patsy, plus I brought an album of hers mom left at the house.”

  “You honestly think Patsy Cline will show up in Justin Sadler’s dining room?”

  “Why not? If the only requirement is that you be dead, she fits that category.”

  “Uh-huh, and this?” Edwina picked up the T-shirt she had bought as a joke in a store on Sixth Street in Austin. It was plain white, decorated with the bright red proclamation, FUCKIN’ CLASSY.

  “You really have to ask?” Debbie Sue said.

  “I’m thinking Anna Nicole Smith,” Edwina answered.

  “Right. We can ask her if she took that overdose on her own.”

  “And these?” Edwina held up a pair of red four-inch-heeled Jimmy Choo shoes, which Debbie Sue knew to be one of her most prized possessions.

  “Actually, those go with these,” Debbie said, gathering a silk headscarf and a handful of rhinestone bracelets. “It was hard to figure out what Marilyn would be drawn to, but I knew she’d want to look sexy.”

  “Marilyn? As in Monroe?” Edwina flapped a skinny hand at Debbie Sue. “You’re crazy, Debbie Sue. Why are you interested in digging up these particular people?”

  “Don’t you get it, Ed? These deaths are all mysteries in a way and there are all of these conspiracy theories out there. No one knows exactly what happened to these people in their last moments.”

  Edwina frowned. “No one knows what happens to anybody in their last moments, even if there’s a crowd watching. Patsy Cline’s departure isn’t a mystery. Everyone knows her airplane flew into a mountain in a storm.”

  “Okay, okay. Maybe they’re not all real mysteries. But they were celebrities that people loved and they died young. Seriously, Ed, wouldn’t you love to ask Marilyn how she really died and settle it once and for all? Can you even imagine learning the answer to that question?”

  “What I’m learning, girlfriend, is that you’ve gone off the deep end of crazy.”

  “No, I haven’t. Think about it, we may never have another chance like this in our lifetime.”

  “And thank God for that.”

  “There has to be someone you’d like to talk to, Ed. Someone you’ve never met but always wanted to. Someone you’ve got a question for.”

  Edwina’s heavily mascaraed eyes squinted and she appeared to be mulling over that question. Suddenly she grabbed the sack and headed for the rear entrance. “I’ll be right back.”

  Debbie Sue followed her to the back door and saw her scooting into the Mustang. “Wait, where are you going?”

  Edwina’s head popped out the open driver’s window. “To my house. My Elvis jumpsuit is hanging in my closet. I won’t be gone but a minute.”

  As Debbie Sue watched Edwina back out and speed away, she couldn’t keep from grinning. “Elvis Presley…cool.”

  By early afternoon Debbie Sue’s excitement had infected Edwina and they were both talking in whispers about the coming evening’s event.

  “You don’t dread tonight?” Debbie Sue asked.

  “Not after meeting up with Little Pearl again. I figure I’ve faced my demon and come out the better for it. I mean, when you come right down to it, what could a spirit really do? I’d most likely do more harm to myself than it would.”

  “That’s right,” Debbie Sue agreed. “So you’re not afraid to attend the séance again tonight?”

  “Scared shitless, but ready all the same. If even one of those people really shows up, it’ll be fun.”

  The Christmas bells tied to the front door jangled and Debbie Sue and her friend looked toward the sound. Sophia’s head poked through the doorway. “Are y’all still open?”

  “Heavens, yes. Get in here,” Edwina said. “What have you been up to today?”

  “Not much, I slept late, went to the mall and walked around. Just killed time mostly.”

  “We were just talking about tonight,” Debbie Sue said.

  “I hope you both plan on being present.”

  “There’s not a ghost of a chance we’d miss it.” Edwina cackled at her own joke. “Get it? Ghost of a chance?”

  “Ed, I think we all got it,” Debbie Sue said. “Listen, Sophia, I want to ask you something.”

  “Sure.” Sophia took a seat on one of the manicure stools.

  “Edwina and I have some things we’d like to bring tonight.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “Just a few items to add to what you had on the table last night.”

  “Oh. Oh, I get it…Sure, that’s fine, but I want both of you to understand that I can’t guarantee whomever you want to see will appear. Inanimate objects are to make a spirit more comfortable and easier to recognize, but nothing is promised.”

  Debbie Sue looked to Edwina and nodded her head. “I think we both understand, don’t we Ed?”

  “Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

  Sophia laughed. “Good. Well I came in for a specific reason.”

  Debbie Sue placed her hand on Sophia’s shoulder. “Ohmi-gosh, here we are prattling on about what we want. How can we help you?”

  “I’ve never had a manicure or a pedicure. Do y’all do that?”

  “You’re looking at the best there is,” Debbie Sue said, waving her thumb between herself and Edwina.

  “Is it expensive, I mean, uh…how much does each one cost? If both are too much, maybe I can have just one of the two if both are too much.” She hesitated, then hastily added, “It’s not that I don’t have the money. I do. I just don’t know if I have enough.”

  Debbie Sue knew exactly where the younger woman was coming from. It hadn’t been that long ago when she had resided in the state of being broke. She gave Edwina an all-knowing wink. “It’s funny you’d ask for those two services. We run a Monday special on spa treatments, don’t we, Ed?”

  “Uh…yes, yes we do,” Edwina replied, taking the cue perfectly.

  “Great. What is it?” Sophia asked.

  “It’s, uh…help me out here, Ed. What is it again?”

  “What is what?”

  “The Monday. Spa. Treatment. Special,” Debbie Sue said, putting emphasis on each word.

  “Oh,
that…it’s, uh…it’s free! Yep, that’s it. It’s free.”

  “How in the world can you afford to do that?” Sophia asked.

  “You’ll have to ask Debbie Sue,” Edwina replied. “She has the business head here. I just go along with whatever she says.”

  Sophia leveled a look at Debbie Sue.

  “Well, we don’t advertise it,” Debbie Sue said. “We give it to the third person on Monday that asks the price of a manicure or pedicure.”

  “And I’m the third?”

  “You sure are,” Debbie Sue said brightly.

  “Congratulations,” Edwina added, patting her thickly padded chair back. “Let’s get started.

  Sophia moved from the stool to the chair and removed her shoes while Debbie Sue rolled the pedicure stand closer.

  Positioning themselves, Debbie Sue and Edwina went to work on their new client. Before long, the conversation came around to Justin, and Sophia relayed the story of the previous evening’s events.

  “I spoke to Justin a couple of hours ago,” she said. “There’s been no change in his brother-in-law’s condition. He’s still unconscious. The neurologist they called in is stumped. All the testing they’ve done shows nothing. They’re supposed to be getting an opinion from a cardiologist.”

  “Good Lord,” Debbie Sue said. “John Patrick’s a young man, close to my age, what in the world do you think happened to him?”

  “It has to be his heart,” Edwina said smugly, her tone dripping with confidence.

  “Why do you say that?” Debbie Sue asked.

  “Just look at him. His growth is stunted. It’s understandable he would have other health problems too.”

  “So now anyone that’s short needs to live in fear of a premature heart attack? Is that what you’re saying? And where do you get your medical information, Ed, the Enquirer?”

  “No, Miss Smarty Pants, I’ll have you know I don’t read the National Enquirer. I saw it on one of my soap operas.”

  “Now there’s a bank of knowledge to rely on,” Debbie Sue said.

  “From what I’ve heard of John Patrick, he was probably dead drunk when y’all found him. He was drunk, wasn’t he, Sophia?”

  Sophia nodded. “Justin said he’d been drinking, but it was more than just that.”

  Edwina’s right eyebrow arched into a high peak. “Really?”

  “I don’t have, I mean I don’t know of—I’d…I’d rather not say.”

  Debbie Sue exchanged looks with Edwina. Sophia wasn’t telling them everything and Edwina had to have figured that out too.

  Debbie Sue was trying to decide the best way to frame her next question when Sophia said, “I can’t tell you what happened to John Patrick. I’ll just say to you what I said to Justin. Please trust me. Conjuring up the dead is never predictable and shouldn’t be taken too lightly. Dealing with the other side is not a parlor game.”

  Debbie Sue exchanged another look with Edwina. This time, both of Edwina’s brows moved up her forehead and she mouthed, “Oops.”

  Debbie Sue moved to where the bag of paraphernalia sat, the rhinestones on the Elvis jumpsuit glistening enough to catch anyone’s eye. She nudged it further under the counter, out of sight. “We’d never ask you to tell us anything you don’t want to, Sophia. And as far as taking things seriously, we’re totally on board with that. We understand it’s not a game.”

  “Totally,” Edwina agreed, nodding.

  twenty-eight

  Sophia stayed at the salon longer than she had expected to. The hours with Edwina and Debbie Sue had flown by. The stories of their exploits as Domestic Equalizers had her in stitches. The two women were so uninhibited and entertaining.

  Eventually they closed the salon and went to Hogg’s Drive-In for a plate of mile-high nachos, an order of French fries heavily sprinkled with garlic salt and some of the best beer-battered onion rings Sophia had ever eaten.

  They parted, agreeing to see each other again in a couple of hours at Justin’s house. The time with the women had been good for her; she had a better feeling about tonight than before.

  Enroute to the hotel, she called Justin. She hadn’t spoken to him in hours and was anxious to hear any updates.

  “Hi, Sophia,” he said, a voice that elicited a smile from her every time she heard it.

  “Hi, how are you?”

  “Good, thanks. I’m tired, but good.”

  “Are you home?”

  “Yeah, I got here about an hour ago. Dealing with Felicia has worn me out. There was a time I thought I’d like to be a crisis negotiator, but after today I’ll never think that again.”

  “Is there news of John Patrick?”

  “He’s still unconscious. Sophia, is there anything you can tell me that the doctors should know?”

  “Me?”

  “You told me he was in a post-traumatic state. Apparently, you were right. All tests have been perfectly normal. What did you see when you touched him?”

  Sophia closed her eyes and drew a breath. “I’ll tell you when I see you later.”

  “But if it’s something that would help—”

  “It wouldn’t help, Justin. I believe what I saw is what caused him to go into shock. He’s experiencing emotional trauma, but there’s nothing the doctors can do about the cause. They can only deal with the effect.”

  “That’s pretty much what they’ve decided. I told them he experienced a personal tragedy and his condition is just the way we found him.”

  “You didn’t lie.”

  A beep came through the phone. “Hold on a minute,” Justin said. “I’ve got another call coming in.” Several seconds passed before he returned to the line. “Sophia, I gotta go. It’s Felicia. She’s convinced that John Patrick’s condition is the result of an alien abduction. She wants me to get in touch with a group out of Roswell, New Mexico, that specializes in kidnappings by aliens.”

  “Oh, my goodness. You’re kidding, right?”

  “I only wish I was. I’ve got to try and talk some sense into her, but don’t hold your breath. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay, later.”

  Left with nothing but the road stretching ahead of her, Sophia thought about Felicia’s theory for her husband’s condition. She supposed it wasn’t really any more far-fetched than what had actually happened.

  Seeing a ghost, an extremely angry ghost, could throw any unsuspecting human into a catatonic state. Alcohol consumption reduced a person’s ability to think logically, to filter sights and sounds, and John Patrick’s ill-prepared mind had simply snapped from the overload.

  When the time was right she would tell Justin about the kerosene can in the trunk of John Patrick’s car and the reason he had gone to Justin’s house. Apparently weary of his plots against Justin always producing the less-than-hoped-for result, John Patrick had decided to burn him out, corral and horses included.

  At that, Rachel’s ghost had presented itself. And when John Patrick bragged of his intent, his sister’s ghost had gone into an unearthly rage. No earthbound creature could ever be forewarned sufficiently of a spirit’s fury and the justice it was capable of delivering.

  Sophia could still see the vision in her mind. Rachel’s specter had swept toward John Patrick, no longer in the human form he last remembered his sister, but in her present condition in the grave—rotting skin clinging to bone, black vacant holes where eyes had been, strawlike hair and decaying clothing flying and flapping. An icy wind had accompanied her and the screams of banshees. Teeth bared, she had screamed a sound too horrific for description and swooped down and around and thrust her icy apparition through John Patrick’s flesh-and-bone body twice before his mind shut down.

  Sophia had concluded from listening to Justin talk that Rachel had been a wonderful human being, capable of great love and humanity, but, as she had pointed out to him, a spirit just wasn’t the same personality as the living being. Its frustrations could be many, ranging from not being allowed to cross over, to its own brother abusin
g the former love of its human life, not to mention its human life being snuffed out fifty years too soon. An unsettled spirit could experience great anger and resort to anything.

  Stopping in a parking space at the hotel, she turned off the ignition and reached for her purse in the passenger’s seat. “Sweet Justin,” she said aloud. “I hope you never have to see that.”

  And at that moment, her peripheral vision caught movement in the backseat. Her gaze shot to the rearview mirror, now fogged over from a sudden drop in temperature. The rear seat was empty, but she was sure she had seen or sensed someone or something. The hair on her forearms stood at attention and a discernable shiver, not related to the car’s chilly interior, ran down her spine.

  The thick accent of Gran Bella whispered in her ear. “Come inside, Sophia. We’ll have an opportunity to meet Rachel later.”

  Debbie Sue sat at the gated entrance to Justin’s home, listening to a duet between Tim McGraw and his wife, Faith Hill. She never heard Faith Hill these days without thinking of Avery Deaton, whom they had met two years ago while investigating the disappearance of Elvis’s blue suede shoes. Avery was almost a dead ringer for the famous singer.

  Debbie Sue and Edwina had agreed to meet here at Justin’s gate, but neither of them had wanted to arrive at his house first or alone. The bag of accessories sat on the passenger’s-side floorboard. Being the chosen body in the previous séance and not having actually witnessed a spiritual visitation with her own eyes, Debbie Sue had mixed emotions about another session. Her hope was that this time someone other than herself would be chosen as the receptor.

  Buddy had persuaded her to film this event with a higher grade camera that those used for surveillance or the throwaways she usually bought for photographing crime scenes. If he couldn’t be present he wanted to know what to expect and how to deal with the aftermath.