Scary Modsters... and Creepy Freaks: A Rock and Roll Fantasy (The Rock And Roll Fantasy Collection)

by Diane Rinella

  Excellent. If the wife wants out of that marriage, I'll soon have the backing for her to get a tidy settlement. All I need is for the kid to submit to a DNA sample. I'll sell it to the wife for my modest legal fees, plus a hefty favor. It's shady but above board, just like Stoddard's slimy tactics. "Great! Where's the kid now?"

  Doris rubs the back of her neck. She must not want to share the next bit of news. "Actually, Niles, I found the information through death records. He lost a battle with cancer a few years ago."

  "Doesn't matter. I just need cells. Did he have any kids?"

  Doris closes her eyes to me. "Lord, give me strength."

  Damn. Mr. Insensitive strikes again. Stupid jerk.

  "No, Niles, he didn't. However, his mother is still alive. Someone might want to try talking to her."

  My butt hits my chair. I'm so tired of being a vile ass and watching people hurt. Protocol says to apologize and move on which makes zero sense. Doris isn't the one who lost the child. Shouldn't I apologize to the mother? But she's not here, which means she doesn't know. So why should I— "I'm sorry, Doris. That was horrible of me."

  Doris nods and takes a seat. It's my sign to move on with the conversation.

  Okay, if I were Stoddard, I'd either pay the lady off or remove the threat. "Doris, if you got pregnant by some guy and feared you could become a mob target, would you list the father's name on the birth certificate?"

  "I guess in the end I wouldn't for the sake of the child, but … but the reality is it would depend on both my inner strength and my feelings toward the relationship. Since the baby was born out of the country she probably thought it to be safe."

  "So she might be willing to talk." Okay, yes, this is totally insensitive, but the woman has to be at least pushing seventy and her son is gone. She may feel she has little to lose at this point.

  Doris shrugs her shoulders and vacates her seat. "With women, Niles, you can never tell. Hearts take a long time to heal, and the deeper the cut, the longer the healing time. However, if she's ballsy enough to list the dad she may be ballsy enough to talk."

  "Where are you going?" I call as she strolls out.

  "To see what else I can clear off of both of our calendars so I can buy two, first-class tickets to Reno."

  "I assume you'll book us in the most expensive hotel with a spa day for yourself?"

  "Damn right!"

  Strange Movies

  Lo and behold, I didn't imagine it. At six o'clock on Saturday, Shane's car pulls up to pick me up for our … our … date.

  Seriously, is this really a date?

  Jacqueline steps up from behind as I peer out the curtain. "Wow. What an odd universe we live in. Are you sure about this? You've been off since that blow out with Niles, and I'm not just talking about how it relates to Joseph."

  "It's fine." No, it's not. It's weird. "It's an innocent little date I wasn't even aware that I was making. Other than the shock I'm not even fazed by it."

  Jacqueline plops herself on the sofa, looking all kinds of cozy in her flannel jammies that she wears instead of turning to food for comfort. "That's the issue. You didn't know what you were doing, which concerns me about what you may do next. Sometimes our judgment gets all funkified when we're on the rebound. Admit it or not Niles got to you."

  I try to soothe my mother hens, both Jacqueline and the one inside who is nagging me to call Niles and try to find the forgiveness I know he wants. "Don't worry. I neglected to shave my legs. Not only does it keep me from caving, it also keeps me away from alcohol for fear I'll lose all inhibitions only to be doubly mortified in the morning."

  "That's my Rox! Now head out there so he doesn't try to come in, just in case he's casing the place."

  Shane looks pretty much like he always does except his jeans don't have holes and his ratty Chucks have been traded in for boots. He's actually wearing a button-down shirt that's—Wow, his shirt has been pressed. Truthfully, it's the most elegant I've ever seen him. However, I put little thought into the matter. I grabbed a white mini-skirt and pink turtleneck and then whipped a white belt around it. Instantly I was done and feeling totally at ease.

  Shane drives his freshly vacuumed, late nineties Toyota Camry to Canter's. It may be just a deli, but to people like us it's like dining in Buckingham Palace while the queen is away. Pretty much all of our idols have eaten here.

  Shane and I have only ever talked about music. My eyes circle the room in search of the perfect ice-breaking question. "Tell me a little about you," is the best I can come up with.

  He looks lost, then a bit embarrassed. He shrugs with a confessional expression that he doesn't have much to offer to the conversation. "What's to tell? I work in a record store where you can see what I do every day. That's pretty much about it."

  "Any hobbies?"

  He throws one arm over the top of the booth to counter balance his weight so he can slump more without sliding. I think he's trying to look casual, not lazy. The poor guy is failing. "Working in a record store is sort of a job/hobby combo package."

  Geez, help a girl out here. "Do you ever read any rock bios?"

  "Nah, just the magazines we have in the store."

  "Those things? Those are so outdated my grandmother could appreciate them."

  He shrugs. "I go to movies sometimes."

  Oh, thank God. "What kind of movies do you like?"

  "Pretty much anything that comes out as long as it's got a lot of action in it."

  Oh, seriously? He's such a total guy. "So just modern action films? No classics?"

  He rights himself, suddenly aware of his posture and that he's on a date.

  Are we really on a date?

  "You say it like it's a bad thing. Really, Rosalyn, I'm exactly like you in that I know what I like. Color film was a big deal for a reason. I'd rather watch something colorized than anything in black-and-white."

  Is this guy freakin' crazy? This is a test, right? Maybe Niles paid Shane to make me miss him. "Really? You would dis a movie just because it's in black-and-white?"

  "If there's no color, I fall asleep. It's never failed. Not even once."

  "Really? Have you seen Psycho?"

  "Slept through it."

  "How about Some Like It Hot?"

  "Best nap of my life."

  "Geez! A Hard Days Night?"

  "That I actually made it in about twenty minutes before nodding off when The Beatles got on the train."

  "Sorry, Charlie. They get on the train at the end of the opening credits, so you lasted about three minutes."

  His shoulders dip in disappointment. "At least I woke up for the music at the end. Now Magical Mystery Tour I can do. No problem."

  Seriously, what am I doing here? "Magical Mystery Tour? Without the music it's a bore fest. The Beatles can barely save it."

  Shane shrugs. "What can I say? It looks beautiful. I have an affinity for beautiful things." He gives me an embarrassed slip of a smile before diverting his eyes. Did Shane just call me beautiful? Warmth coats my cheeks. "See? That's exactly why I'll take color over black-and-white any day."

  My fingers start making little tears along the side of my napkin. Okay, so he may be totally wrong for me, but that was sweet. He also looked really cute when he smiled. How have I never noticed his dimples before?

  Now I feel totally awkward. He must too because he barely peeks up to talk to me. "So, uh, there's a two week rock film festival going on at The Egyptian. Wanna check it out?"

  Yeah, I'm painfully aware I was supposed to be there every night this week with Niles. "That'd be a gas. Wait. What's playing? Not anything in black-and-white, right?"

  Shane chuckles. "You know what I like about you, Rosalyn? The fact that you use words like gas."

  "You know what I like about you Shane? The fact that I can use words like gas and you don't call me grandma."

  Shane's touch is sweet yet firm as he takes my hand while guiding me to our seats. The lights dim, and I'm bathed in a glow—the glow of a bla
ck-and-white newsreel. Shane groans. I chuckle. He barely makes it through the five-minute short before salvation in the form of a cartoon covers the screen in color. "See," he whispers, "don't you get absorbed in the excitement color brings? It's like being resurrected from the dead."

  Peter and the darkness into which he was banished come to mind. Never have I compared how Niles is forced to live to Peter's incarceration. Even if I can push the image of Niles living in a cold, empty darkness out of my mind, I can't push the sorrow it brings out of my heart.

  Shane pulls his car up in front of my house and puts on the parking brake. "I had a really nice night," he tells as the engine runs.

  "Me too."

  He pauses a moment then actually face-palms. "I'm sorry." He shuts off the car before running around to get my door and walks me to the porch.

  I should have made a break for it while I had the chance by getting out of the car with a simple thank you and saying that I appreciate his friendship. I don't want to be cold, but I can't be with anyone until I clear my head. Shane is the perfect comrade, and even if he were boyfriend material, I certainly couldn't give him a proper chance now.

  A smirk pops on to Shane's face, and he goes in for a hug. "Hang in there. You'll find the right guy someday. Call me any time you want to hang out, or just drop by and harass me. You always make my day, even if you are like my annoying little sister."

  Oh, thank God this wasn't a date.

  I playfully punch his arm and nudge him toward his car. He watches me get safely inside before driving off.

  Jacqueline reclines on the sofa with her nose still in her book. I don't think she's moved a millimeter. "I take it from that lack of a passionate display outside that you could have shaved your legs after all."

  "My non-date was very nice. How was your evening?"

  "Peaceful. After the last few disasters I needed a break." The book meets the coffee table with a thumping skid. "You know, you're already kind of like a boyfriend, only better because you don't make me feel guilty for spending time with my friends. We go out on dates. We finish each other's sentences. Lord knows we hug each other enough. I'm even your emergency contact. Maybe I'm just not ready to see anybody else."

  "Yeah, and there are more pictures of us on your phone than of your family."

  "Not to mention when I went to that party without you the other night everyone wanted to know where you were. Janis and Catie asked, completely independently of each other, if we were fighting."

  "Did you miss me?" I bat my eyelashes.

  "Maybe just a little." She sends me an air kiss.

  "Yeah, we're totally dating."

  "So it was okay, huh?"

  "Yeah. It really was."

  "Good. I'd put out, but you didn't shave your legs." Jacqueline strolls off, wiggling as she goes. With moistened lips she turns and eyes me. You'd think I was a chocolate bar wrapped in solid gold. "However, if you go shave them, I may or may not have left my door unlocked."

  "Tease!"

  Flight 505

  An emergency suit. Two extra shirts. Where the heck is my neck pillow? This suitcase is too small. Damn, where did I put the files for the Aoyagi case?

  "Skipping town?" Peter suddenly appears next to my suitcase, and my feet stammer at the surprise. Now I know how Major Nelson felt. Why couldn't Peter be a cute genie who grants wishes?

  "Hardly, Peter. For once your timing is perfect. If all goes well tomorrow, we're going to make Anne Stoddard one hell of a happy woman." Those files are key to that case. If I lost them—Oh! I put them by the door with my keys so I wouldn't forget them. Crap, I've turned into my mother.

  "Well, I'm certain Annie hasn't had a good shagging in a long time, though I hardly thought her to be your type."

  Eww, that's vile! "I'm not touching his wife, Peter. However, I am going to make it so that she can get the quote shagging of her life by someone else, if that is what she chooses. Now I just need your help in finding out when the best time and place is to get her alone. Preferably not anywhere near the house, because I'm assuming a guy like this has cameras and guards everywhere." Damn, I forgot to pack underwear.

  "And what exactly will you be doing in the meantime?"

  Six, maybe seven, days. A pair each day. Blue to go with the blue shirt, green to go … Where are my green—screw it, just grab all black. "The breathing can't travel as quickly as you, Peter. I'm off to Reno for the day. I'll be back for court tomorrow before hopping on a red eye for England. Meet me at The Village Green Hotel in Dunchurch on Tuesday afternoon."

  "Dunchurch? That's nowhere near—"

  "Exactly. If all goes haywire, no one will think to look for me there. Besides, Village Green Preservation Society is one of The Kinks' most brilliant albums. Be prepared to have the information as to where I can find the wife, alone. Meanwhile, can you contact people who have completely crossed over?"

  "Like sit down and have a chitchat? Hardly. I couldn't get over here until Rosalyn yanked me. Getting back won't be easy, unless you die. In which case I'm ghost." Peter does a little soft shoe to punctuate his minuscule slang play. Lord, if this works, please let me keep my own sense of humor.

  "Don't they provide some type of liaison?"

  "Like a crossing guard at a primary school? Oh, sure. Instead of a big red Stop sign they carry one that says 'Hold Please', oh so politely. Are you barmy?"

  "I wonder if my friend could help us." At the thought I start humming "Ain't That a Shame." Why didn't I think of Steven before?

  Niles has just answered my question. He is indeed nuts. "You want to call a psychic?"

  "No, Steven's a dead, seven-year-old kid who used to play with me. Every now and again he still visits."

  Steven? No, it's not poss— "Tell me more about this Steven. And why are you humming that song?"

  "Steven hums it all the time. He told me hearing it was the only thing that made him happy while he was sick."

  Yes, and entertaining him during his illness is the reason I started singing. "Would that Internet device have pictures of me at his age?" Niles gives me a funny look. Did he drink spoiled milk?

  "It might. Why?" I motion the slow lad to the computer. He goes to some colorful site with a funny name and types, Peter Lane childhood photo. A bunch of snaps pop up. Niles may be unfazed by me, but now it looks as if he's seen a ghost. "How the heck?"

  "Steven is my twin brother. He used to watch out for me. If he's doing the same for you, he probably knows what's going on. How do you reach him?"

  "Sometimes he appears when I think about him a lot. I'll try to reach him. Meanwhile, pop in on Rosalyn and make sure she's okay. Tell her I miss—Don't tell her what's going on. If all this fails, I don't want to hurt her all over again."

  Warm water sprays down on me, washing away a fraction of my pain. So many sleepless nights have taken their toll that even the simplest task leaves me fatigued. Joseph's birthday is fast approaching, making me an emotional wreck.

  With the push of the knob, the water halts. Purple Egyptian cotton embraces me, and a memory of Joe helping me out of the shower the day I went into labor hits. I miss what we had—the rat bastard. With the force of anger my hands smack the shower door open. I shriek in surprise as I step out and literally walk in to Peter. The towel falls, causing my nerves to frazzle while I scramble to cover myself. "Damn it, Peter! You have a talent for picking the worst times." I don't know if I'm more embarrassed or frustrated.

  "Sorry. I'm depressed." Without the slightest reaction to my peep show his butt plops onto the toilet seat.

  I quickly tighten the towel around me. "What's got you so worked up?"

  "Since I've time on my hands I went to one of those big department stores and looked at the new electronic doodads. I expected to be overjoyed by my findings."

  The towel stays tightly wrapped as I slip on my bathrobe. God, I'm so embarrassed! At least when he walked in on me with the vibrator he was clueless as to what I was doing and didn't see anything. Th
ere is nothing like a man discovering you naked to make you forget your woes and feel fat. "You weren't impressed by the technological advancements of the last fifty years?"

  "That part was amazing. It's what I saw on those enormous TVs that's got me." His elbow hits his thigh at the smack of his chin into his palm. "I can't believe we've been so foolish as to get ourselves into yet another war. Also, did you know they're poisoning your food? They claim it's to help end hunger, which makes perfect sense because in doing so they'll kill everyone off."

  My words groan out. "Thanks. I needed that dose of cheer."

  "I take it you're rightfully still upset from the other day."

  The water that sprays behind me as I brush my hair has a perkiness I can't even dream of. I blot my damp tips, then watch the towel as it sags from my fingers and drops onto the counter. Its bleak drape mocks me. "I know Niles didn't mean it, still … Add in that I miss yet another guy who hurt me, and that I can't seem to take more than a baby step forward at a time, and I'm more disappointed in myself than him."

  Peter's gaze races toward me. "Really? You actually miss him? So you're not seeing that Shane fellow again?"

  "With all of the madness in my life it's kind of nice to have someone to hang out with." I take a good long look in the still steamy mirror while hating the facts of my existence. "I need to move forward at some point."

  "What exactly does that mean?"

  Great question. "Peter, I need to get ready for work. Would you mind?" I nod towards the door.

  Peter drags himself off of his seat. His lips are pressed together tightly, not in a pucker but more like in a sign of annoyed concern. "Promise me you'll be careful, okay?"