Luna-Sea

by Jessica Sherry

  I frowned. “Hard to imagine anyone wanting to destroy such a gorgeous sculpture.”

  “With a little sand blasting, I’m sure she will recover.”

  “Chris Kayne, this is my cousin, Rachel Duffy-Saintly.”

  “You might remember me from school,” Rachel pointed out, her voice two octaves higher than normal.

  “Of course, I remember you, Rachel,” Chris returned. Rachel’s cheeks reddened.

  “This is my cousin, Delilah,” Rachel noted oddly, “she’s kinda a celebrity ‘round here, too, you know. Almost got herself murdered, twice. But, she did solve a murder and a crime spree. Got herself whacked on the head pretty good and proper, though. We ain’t entirely convinced that she’s recovered from that, but I say she’s always been a tad bit crazy anyway.” Rachel laughed.

  “Speaking of crazy, nervous talking is a family trait,” I cut in.

  “Well, it ain’t like there’s much else that’s happened ‘round here,” Rachel defended, “until now.” Her cherry red smile eased up on her cheeks. “This town’s certainly more excitin’ with you here.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Chris countered gently. “Tipee may seem small and boring, but it’s a lot like the ocean. On the surface, everything’s moving along like normal, but underneath, there’s a whole world we don’t see.”

  “That so?” Rachel urged, picking up my drink and sipping it seductively through the red straw. “As Grandma likes to say, you got dirt, then spill it.”

  “Most of these people are my father’s clients, and if you need my father, then chances are you’re guilty of something. Let’s just say that there’s enough drama in this room for any soap opera,” he finished, turning around to the bar, “but that doesn’t interest me.”

  “Why don’t you tell us more about what you do, Chris?” I urged. Rachel cast me a disapproving glance, but I wasn’t in the mood to hear about Tipee Island’s legal or illegal practices. I’d had enough of that.

  “I wouldn’t want to bore you,” he said.

  “Oh, please,” Rachel cooed.

  “Well, most recently, I interned at Pfizer in New York,” he explained. “We were experimenting with ways to trick the human body at a cellular level.”

  “For what purpose?” I asked.

  “Cancer treatments. You see, normally when a person contracts an illness, the body detects the abnormal cells by their foreign markers. This is how the body fights disease. Cancer cells aren’t marked. Therefore the body doesn’t know how to identify the cells in order to fight them. Our team was researching ways to mark the cells to trick the body into annihilating the cancer. You wouldn’t believe the amazing advancements being done. In our lifetime, we will see the cure for cancer, and a plethora of other so-called terminal illnesses.”

  Rachel breathed out heavily. “I think I just had a mental orgasm.”

  “Um, that’s incredible,” I cut in quickly. “I hope you’re right.”

  “If anyone would know, it’d be you,” Rachel flattered. “You’re so gifted when it comes to the human body.” Rachel reached up and tugged slightly at Chris Kayne’s tie. She giggled and slid her tongue over her lips. Chris liked the attention. The generational gap between them and me suddenly felt like the Grand Canyon, and though I appreciate shameless flirting as much as the next girl, I was torn between trying to maintain appropriateness and bailing on them altogether.

  “So, what are your plans?” I asked.

  “Oxford in a few weeks,” he answered. “I’ve been offered a fellowship to study there. I’ll complete another doctorate-”

  “You collect degrees like normal people get new shoes. What’s Oxford got that you can’t get here in America?” Rachel cooed, waving me away behind Chris’ back. “Ya know, I hear European girls don’t believe in shavin’. They’re probably like a bunch of sasquatches over there.”

  I gulped down the rest of my drink. The other shoe had fallen, after all. I melded into the crowd, ready to hide out in the bathroom.

  Chapter Five

  Moonfish

  The moonfish or opah is a prize amongst fishermen looking to decorate their mantelpieces. They are flat, round fish, silver-bodied with red fins – rather devilish looking. They can grow to be three to six feet wide, and look massive when they’re pulled into a fishing boat. Only 35% of their large bodies can be eaten, so they’ve become popular specimens for taxidermy. Moonfish are rare and spectacular catches, stuffed and displayed as trophies.

  Everyone at the Peacock party was looking for a prize, a rare catch to perch on their mantels, but like the moonfish, I wondered how much of them were all stuff and no substance. I weaved through the crowd toward the hallway in the back. Between the bar and the wall of windows, an opening led to a wide corridor. An elevator at the right end waited for use. Bathrooms took up the center. Down at the end was a closed door marked Study. And while that perked my interest, I stayed on task and went to the ladies’ room.

  The heavily tiled, lengthy bathroom finally gave me peace. I took a stall at the end around the corner from the vanity. I was ready for home. Now that Rachel had Chris’ attention, perhaps it wouldn’t be too much longer.

  The squeak of the door and laughter interrupted my hopeful musings. “I know, right?” a woman’s voice chuckled. Two sets of heels clicked into the room and hovered near the vanity. I heard the clicks of compacts opening, but couldn’t see anything from my back corner.

  “Can you believe that bookstore brat had the nerve to show up here?” one of the women asked the other. I didn’t recognize their voices. I froze.

  “I know, right? As if she’s just a regular ‘ol islander,” the second woman returned.

  “I suppose Rachel needs a babysitter,” she giggled, “and her poor mamma ain’t got the time or energy to do it.”

  “I heard Clara say that as soon as Beach Read’s closed, she’s goin’ to throw a party, bigger than this one.”

  “Won’t be long now, I hear.”

  “Maybe that’ll put that gorgeous cop back on the market, too. Kill two birds with one stone.” She laughed loudly, her voice echoing in the cave-like bathroom.

  “I don’t know ‘bout him,” the other said. “He’s cute ‘n all but I done heard some serious stuff about him-”

  “From who?” the other asked. I leaned closer to the door of my stall, trying to hold my feet up. I nearly slipped off the toilet seat.

  “Mutual friends in Nags Head,” she answered authoritatively. “He lived there with his wife for awhile, until he had her sent away.”

  “Sent away?” the other woman asked, reading my mind. “Whatcha mean?”

  “Had her committed to a looney bin,” she answered. “Drove her crazy and had her put away, like they used to do in the old days when women spoke their minds and tried to be independent. Then, he moved back here like nothin’ ever happened.”

  “Hmm, well if I was with a guy that hot, he’d drive me crazy too.” Giggles and clicks against the tiles erupted as the women made their way out of the bathroom.

  I sunk in my hiding place. I knew better than most people not to believe such talk, as I had so often been the subject, but still their words were a shadow that fell over me. I pushed my way out of the bathroom, nearly running over Delores Kenning.

  “Watch it, missy,” she ordered curtly. She wore a thick mink stole around her shoulders that she petted incessantly. Delores Kenning was the town’s most notable crazy person. She lived in a ramshackle cottage in between the Breakers and the Peacock, and when she wasn’t going on about her wayward garden gnomes, she was hassling me about books I didn’t have and that didn’t exist, at least as far as I could find.

  “You order Grayson and the Pointed Hat?” she asked with irritation.

  “Out of print,” I returned, brushing by her. Out of print had become my stock answer for Mrs. Kenning.

  “What’s the use of havin’ a bookstore when you ain’t got any good books?” she yelled after me. I turned the corner near th
e bar, weaving myself back into the crowd. I beelined for Rachel, still chatting with Chris at the bar. I came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Let’s go,” I insisted urgently.

  “Must be close to midnight,” Chris kidded.

  “Delilah, we was just gettin’ cozy here,” Rachel protested.

  “Well, get a room then because I’m leaving,” I told her sternly. Rachel was about to argue, but her mother swooped in and took care of it for her.

  “Delilah, honey, you’re monopolizin’ the guest of honor. You know, you’re too old to be flirtin’ with him!” Clara sauntered over, shadowed by Charlotte and Candy. My shoulders fell.

  As if they’d trained for this, Rachel seized the opportunity to cozy up more with Chris, while Clara zoned in on me. “Let me introduce you to a few of our Tipee Island Business Association officers.”

  Marla Britt, whose cleavage was just as pronounced as her daughter’s, shook my hand as if afraid it would bite her, even after I told her how much I loved her donuts. Lionel Waters of the Sparkling Gem looked stiff in his bow tie. Jeff Travers of the Family Arcade and Moira Kelly of Mystic Delights handed over muted hellos. I was surrounded.

  “Surprised to see you at this shin-dig,” Marla Britt remarked. “You ain’t a local-”

  “Rachel asked me to come with her,” I defended, instantly regretting it.

  “My daughters are so sweet,” Clara explained to the group, “to be takin’ Delilah under their wings, like she’s an abandoned, retarded squirrel.”

  I huffed. Chris checked his phone again, a bad sign for Rachel. Behind them, at the bar, Valerie Kent, the triathlete, was having a stern conversation with her husband, the Chief of Police, Jason Kent, and while her tone shoulders and arms looked fabulous in her sleeveless dress, her face was pinched and irritated. I wasn’t the only one having a rotten time.

  “Another drink, ma’am?” Hugh Huntley offered, and I nodded briskly. He checked his pocket watch and told another patron the time.

  “Is there a point to you cornering me over here with your lackeys, Clara?”

  “We were wondering when would be a good time for us to stop by-” Lionel Waters started slowly, softly.

  “We’re comin’ by the store tomorrow for an inspection,” Charlotte announced, more to the point.

  “Inspection?”

  “Is there a parrot in here?” Clara laughed. “Yes, an inspection.”

  “What are you inspecting?”

  “Beach Read is now under the purview of TIBA, and as such, we need to perform our mandatory inspection, as we’re doin’ with all businesses,” she cooed.

  “Inspecting what?” I insisted again.

  “Didn’t Joe Duffy give you the TIBA orientation packet?” Marla Britt questioned. I shook my head.

  Nearby, Valerie Kent’s green eyes flashed with anger. Her husband finished a short swallow of whiskey and drifted back into the crowd. In the far right corner of the ballroom, Lucius Kayne faced an antagonist of his own. A man with a large bald spot crowning his head pointed his finger forcefully at Kayne’s chest – the same man Rachel had pointed out earlier as her science teacher’s widower. His words were loud enough to catch the attention of the awkward man near the orchestra, who headed over in long strides, like he was about to go Hulk. Rachel’s high-pitched laugh turned me back to the group, while my head was back in the bathroom. I scanned the room again. Who were those two women who so shamelessly gossiped about Sam? I simultaneously wanted to beat them up and have a drink with them.

  I sipped my new drink. “I’m busy tomorrow. Maybe I can squeeze you in next week.”

  “The inspection’s mandatory,” Charlotte reiterated. “Don’t do it, and Joe’ll get fined. You’ve already cost him enough, don’t ya think?”

  “I don’t need an inspection,” I retorted. “I don’t require a health inspection and the fire guy was out last month and gave me the all clear.”

  “We’re lookin’ for aesthetic compliance,” Lionel Waters chimed in softly.

  “‘Bout time we got some standards ‘round here,” Marla Britt added distastefully. “Can’t have weeds overtakin’ all the roses.”

  The open bar and the late hour started oozing their grim effects. Valerie Kent stormed by – marathon style – and made for the door. The man confronting Lucius Kayne grew louder. “You have no idea what you’ve done!” he yelled, as the bearded Hulk man grabbed his left arm. A tray of glasses crashed to the floor at the other end of the bar. Rachel’s high-pitched giggle echoed. Clara laughed at one of the insults she tossed at me, something about how Beach Read and me took the chic out of shabby chic.

  “You alright, miss?” Hugh Huntley leaned over and asked. He eyed my shaking hand. I hadn’t even noticed, but seeing it brought my attention to my heart, thumping wildly in my chest, and the sweat beaded on my forehead.

  As everyone else slipped into tipsiness, I slid into a tunnel. All I heard was static and the occasional echoes of Mavis’ voice cursing me. My ears were filling up with water, at least, that’s how it felt. What was happening to me?

  Images of the moonfish flashed in my head. Its red fins and silver body spasming violently as it was pulled from its home, its life source. These people were trying to snag me, stuff me, and turn me into their dead centerpiece.

  “Fine,” I eked out. Behind me, where Rachel had Chris cornered, he asked, “So, what were you saying about your cousin’s near-death experiences?”

  “Oh, Delilah’s got more lives than a cat,” Rachel laughed.

  “I can tell ya right now, you’re gonna need to paint the buildin’,” Charlotte rambled. “It’s an eyesore.”

  “And get a new sign,” Marla Britt added.

  “New lighting,” Charlotte went on.

  “New awning,” Clara contributed with a smile, like it was a game and she was blurting out the answer. “Maybe a new front facade altogether.” My mind flashed to Cinderella’s wicked stepsisters, ripping off pieces of her homemade gown, breaking her pearl necklace and the beads falling and bouncing on the floor and skidding into dark corners.

  Lucius Kayne’s angry party guest was being escorted out, yelling curses the entire way to the door. “You’re an evil man! Damn you to hell, Kayne!” he belted out before hitting the front door. Several in the crowd navigated toward the lobby, ready to leave, the angry display being the final shoe to drop.

  Clara laid a warm hand on my clammy shoulder. “You could always just turn turtle.”

  I swiped her hand away, anger and anxiety surging within me. To her entourage, I said, “Are you sure it’s wise to align yourselves with piranha like the Duffy sisters? At first they seem like small, innocent fish, but as soon as you’re not looking, they’re flashing teeth and ripping you to pieces.” I moved around my aunts, and closer to the other business owners, finally quiet. Even Rachel and Chris gave me their attentions.

  I went on, “And that’s what they do to family. Imagine what they’d do to someone like you. You might end up with more than just dead snakes hanging from your awnings and broken windows.”

  “We had noth-” Clara started.

  “You, Ms. Kelly, should be particularly nervous,” I continued over Clara. Moira Kelly’s eyes grew wide beneath her glittery eyeshadow.

  “Me?” she stammered out. “Why me?”

  “When these three witches fail to steal my business again,” I reasoned, “they may come after yours. You’re right next door, too, or any of you.”

  “She’s paranoid,” Candy decided with a dismissive wave of her hand.

  “Crazy,” Charlotte added.

  “Mark my words,” I told the others. “Who’ll be next? The Duffy sisters don’t smoke hookahs, don’t play video games, don’t eat donuts-”

  “Too many carbs,” Charlotte defended.

  “I might be the first target,” I said, trying to hide my shaking hands, “but I won’t be the last.”

  I bolted for the door, where I nearly took out the
doorman when my shoes slipped out from under me. He graciously held me up, and I fled to the front deck.

  Chapter Six

  Sea Smoke

  When warm water meets cool air a dense fog forms called sea smoke. It reaches inland like ghostly fingers grasping at land before sinking into the black abyss. I had fled the crowd, but the voices followed as if the sea smoke had made them echo.

  I circled the deck away from the commotion in the front, passing by a kitchen person having a smoke out the back door, and stopped at the far left corner, where there was no one to see me. The moonlight made the sea smoke glow. I breathed in heavily, letting the damp air invade me and bring me back to something resembling well, normalcy.

  I’d been panicked near the sea, near the cape, riding on the ferry. I’d been panicked in bed, waking up doused in sweat from my tidal wave nightmares. Tonight was the first time I’d panicked without water as a trigger. It felt like drowning.

  The cigarette smoke mixed with the fog. A light flicked on and off in the room behind me. I pictured the mermaid’s red heart bursting into flames, and my hand went to my chest. The smoker slipped back into the kitchen closing the bulky door behind him with an echoing clank.

  I was alone, but strangely it didn’t feel that way. Voices followed me. Turn Turtle. Turn turtle. He had her sent away. Then, he moved back here like nothin’ ever happened. I’m not done with you yet, you bitch!

  I gripped the railing. Calm down. Breathe. In the distance between the fog hands, the moon glittered off the cape. To the left, I spied the shadow of a lighthouse that wasn’t holding true to its name. In between here and there was an expanse of trees, thickets and sand, patched with grasses, and blanketed with fog. My heart faded back into a normal rhythm. Everything’s okay.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, trying not to let the panic have me again. My eyes drifted out to the sea smoke. Something moved. Twitched. Something unnatural. I squinted to see it better, though it was no use. I heard shuffling, a rustling of branches, and spied movement again. A voice cut through the fog, a voice without words. Was I hearing Mavis again?