Graveyard Games

by Sheri Leigh

  "That was uncalled for." Julia’s cigarette winked. "I care about you, Dusty. The Starlite isn’t the place for someone in our family to be working. I worry about you."

  Dusty watched her stab the half-finished cigarette out into the ashtray sitting on the kitchen table. Dusty closed her eyes and an image of Nick emerged sitting at that very table, in that very spot, and she winced.

  "You don't ask about me or my life." Dusty met Julia's eyes. "Maybe if you were really interested, really worried about me, you would have known a week ago where I was working, but you're not. You're worried, all right—about yourself, and what this town is going to think about you having a daughter who works at the Starlite."

  "Look at you!" Julia hissed. "You look like a streetwalker in that outfit! Are you sure it wasn’t true, what they fired you for? Were you turning tricks, Dusty? Were you?"

  "Will you listen to yourself?" Dusty blinked in hurt surprise. "Let's get something straight. I'm not quitting this job. Period. End of discussion."

  "It certainly is not the end of the discussion!"

  Dusty turned away from her and started toward the stairs.

  "I won’t have you working there! Dusty, did you hear me? Get back here!"

  Dusty went up the stairs and she didn’t look back.

  * * * *

  Slanted shadows from her half-open bedroom door made lines of sun on the wall. Dusty stood and looked at it, reading Murphy's Law. Somehow she never got past the first sentence. She found herself standing here a lot lately, just outside his door.

  Anything that can go wrong will anything that can go wrong will anything that can gowrongwillanything—over and over, the same sentence.

  Her hand trembled on the doorknob. The scene had the same, surreal quality of her dream. Her hand felt disconnected, her heart throbbed in her throat and the world was somehow tilting sideways. She started to turn the doorknob.

  the holes where his eyes had been… looked like he got himself caught up in a meat grinder… the holes… looked inside out… the blood…

  The dreams continued. Night after night, he came to her, sightless, begging her to help him, do something, do something!

  Her hand dropped away, and she backed up until she felt the wall behind her. When she turned away from the door, she tasted her tears.

  Chapter Seven

  "Gu-gu-guess who?" Sam asked, leaning against the bar.

  Dusty glanced at him. "Two Millers, Lee…what’s that, Sam?"

  Sam nodded toward the door, his face screwed up, looking like he had bitten into something very sour. "Lu-lu-look whose huh-here."

  She turned her head toward the door. Shane was making his way toward a table—alone. She checked her watch. Seven was early for him.

  "Here you go." Lee handed her two beers. She put them on her tray.

  "Don't worry," she told Sam with a smile. "I can handle him."

  Dusty set the beers on the table of the two women who’d ordered them, and then she started toward Shane's table.

  "Well, here comes the Princess." Shane leaned back in his chair as she approached. "I figured you’d have run out of here with your tail between your legs by now, fraternizing with the likes of us.”

  "No such luck." Her eyes flicked over him, recognizing the words he threw back at her from their conversation the night before. "I’m tougher than you give me credit for.”

  “No doubt.” Shane inclined his head toward her. “Nick always said you were hard as nails.”

  She felt her jaw tighten at his words. Whenever anyone mentioned Nick, it felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach.

  “So, I hear you’ve been hunting on Native land again.”

  His eyes widened and now it was he who looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “Who told you that?”

  Dusty shrugged. “I overhear things.” So she had asked Lee about Shane’s hunting excursions and he had been more forthcoming than she imagined. She wasn’t going to tell Shane that.

  “So do I,” he replied, recovering. “Where’s your gun and your badge, officer?”

  “Way to change the subject.” Dusty rolled her eyes, trying to cover the pain. “So how’s your brother? Still in jail?"

  He shook his head. "You really hate me, don't you?"

  Dusty shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I would—if I ever gave it any thought."

  “Gimme a beer,” he said with a sigh.

  "What do you want?"

  "World peace? Win the lotto? Nick alive again?" He met her eyes and she frowned.

  “Very funny.” She balanced her tray against her hip. Dusty felt something constrict in her chest when she looked into his eyes but she ignored it. She almost felt sorry for him.

  What am I getting into? SNIP

  “I’ll take you then.” His gaze moved over the front of her blouse. "Do you come in a bottle?"

  "I don't know, I never tried," she replied smartly.

  Shane did smile then. "Give me a Stroh’s," he said, admitting defeat.

  She turned away from him but he reached out, his fingers brushing her back, tugging on the edge of her vest. "Come keep me company during your break?"

  "Maybe." She shrugged. He nodded and she moved away.

  "Strohs," she told Lee, turning back to look across the tables, meeting Shane's eyes. Every time she looked at him, she saw Nick's face, heard Nick's voice, and the memories were sharp and clearer than ever.

  She’d hated Shane Curtis for as long as she could remember, and now he was just a reminder of her brother. Nick had known how she felt and did his best to keep them apart. He hated conflict, and couldn’t stand the sparks that flew every time they were in the same room together. She wondered, now, if Nick ever knew the real reason she hated Shane. The fact that he wasn’t the world's most outstanding citizen had always been a good enough cover.

  Until now. But what’s the real reason. Come on, Dusty, fess up! You were Nick’s sister, but Shane was Nick’s best friend and you—SNIP

  "Here you go, Dusty." Lee handed her the beer.

  "I could use a break." She balanced the beer on her tray. He glanced behind him at the Strohs wall clock.

  "Twenty minutes." Lee shook his head, looking over at Shane who was leaning back in his chair watching them, hands laced behind his head.

  "Du-du-Dusty?" Sam asked from his usual spot at the end of the bar. She looked at him, waiting. He opened his mouth a few times, looking at her, and there was something in his bright blue eyes that made her uncomfortable with its intensity.

  "What, Sam?" she asked with a sigh, impatient.

  "Nuh-never muh-mind." He shook his head, eyes downcast. "It was nothing."

  Dusty glanced over where Shane was waiting, and then sighed again, slipping onto a bar stool next to Sam. “I’m sorry. It was something. What?”

  “Uh-I… have something.” He looked up at her shyly, and then took something out of his pants pocket. It was a necklace, something on a long leather string. “It was muh-my mother’s.”

  “Oh.” Dusty watched as he held it up. She cradled it in her hand. It looked like it had been carved out of wood. She turned it over, seeing a face staring back at her, a man’s face with wild white eyes and hair and rows of sharp teeth. Gasping, she drew her hand back as if it burned.

  “It’s a druh-dream eater,” Sam said with a smile. “I know it luh-looks scary, but its guh-good magic. It protects yuh-you.”

  “From what?” She made a face as she looked at it spinning at the end of the string.

  Sam made a gesture, as if he wanted to put it over her head. “Nightmares… you said you wuh-were having buh-bad dreams.”

  “Well… thanks.” She let him put it around her neck, vaguely remembering mentioning something about her dreams about Nick. When she looked down at the figure, she shivered and tucked it into her blouse so she wouldn’t have to look at it. It was strangely warm against her skin.

  “Yuh-you’re welcome.” He gave her another shy smile. Jack was watching
them, polishing glasses. Dusty smiled over at him and then leaned in and kissed Sam’s cheek.

  “You’re very sweet.”

  Balancing her tray, she wound her way through tables. Behind her, Sam's eyes followed her toward Shane, who greeted Dusty with a smile.

  "Here." She set the beer on the table.

  "Have a seat." Shane patted his lap. She sat in the chair across from him.

  "So, have you broken any laws since I saw you last night?" Dusty asked, crossing her legs. Her skirt rose invitingly up and Shane's eyes stayed glued to her hemline.

  "Nothing too serious," he replied. "So what was that all about? You and the palsied kid?”

  Dusty glanced over at Sam. He was watching them. “Nothing.”

  “Looked like something to me.”

  She shook her head, reaching into her blouse and pulling out the “dream-eater” necklace. “He just wanted to give me this.”

  Shane leaned in, fingering the pendant, and he gasped when he turned it over and saw the face carved into the other side.

  “Creepy, isn’t it?” Dusty met his eyes and realized how close they were sitting. She could smell the beer on his breath.

  “What is it?” he asked, letting it fall against her blouse with a frown.

  “Sam said it was a ‘dream-eater,’ whatever that is.” Dusty glanced down at the necklace. It felt heavy around her neck. “Some special magical charm that’s supposed to protect against bad dreams, I guess? Probably something like the Native American dreamcatcher?”

  Shane raised his eyebrows. “Been having bad dreams?”

  “Since Nick died...” She sat back in her chair and saw Shane’s gaze fall once again to the curve of her thigh.

  “I’ve had a few myself.” Shane shrugged. “And I’m no psychologist, but I think it’s probably a normal response to a death in the family.”

  “Nick wasn’t your family.” Dusty narrowed her eyes at him and Shane smiled sadly.

  “Right. My mistake.” He sat back, grabbing his beer and taking a long swig. She fought the immediate feeling of rising guilt and was unsuccessful when she saw the sad look on his face, his gaze scanning the bar.

  “I know he loved you,” she relented.

  Shane met her eyes, looking startled. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he always put you first.” Dusty bit her lip, tracing the wet ring the beer bottle had left on the table. “You were his best friend.”

  Shane nodded. “I miss him. I missed him when he left town, and I miss him even more now.”

  “Did Nick tell you why he got fired?” She hated asking—having to ask—but Nick had always told Shane more than he ever revealed to her. It had been that way forever. Well almost forever. Since Shane came along and you become just—

  SNIP

  Shane frowned. “Fired?”

  “From his firm,” Dusty went on. “He told me he was fired. That’s why he moved back here with Dad and Julia…”

  “No.” Shane shook his head, but he didn’t meet her eyes. “You know, Dusty, he loved you more than anything.”

  She smiled, feeling tears pricking her eyes and fighting them. “I know he loved me.”

  I don’t know about that last part, though…

  “He just wanted to protect you.” Shane’s voice was soft and he moved his chair in closer, so their knees were touching.

  She gave a little laugh. “From what?”

  His hand moved through her hair and he lifted her chin so he could see her eyes. They were full of tears.

  “Everything, I guess.” His thumb wiped at one of the tears making its way down her cheek. “That’s what I would want to do, if I was your brother.”

  “Protect me from everything?”

  He nodded, the emotion in his eyes making her whole body soften as she looked at him. “But you’re not my brother.”

  “No.” Shane shook his head, leaning in closer, his eyes searching hers. “Thank god for that.”

  “Why, because you wouldn’t want to be related to me?”

  “Kind of.” A small smile played over his lips. “If I was your brother, there would be no way I could even attempt to persuade you out of that outfit.”

  She fought her own smile. “And into what?” Dusty asked, playing along. They were both familiar with this game.

  For how long? How long can you keep up this game? How long is he going to put up with—SNIP

  "My bed?" he suggested.

  Dusty laughed. "Does that work with all the girls?”

  Behind them the Pac-Man game had come to life with the aid of someone's quarter.

  "God, you’ve always been such a tease," he told her, moving away and tilting back in his chair. His eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at her.

  "Me?" She touched her chest where Sam’s gift necklace felt like it was burning and felt her heart thudding against it. "I'm not teasing."

  "No?" He slowly let his chair back down, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light.

  "No," she repeated, her gaze never wavering.

  "Want to prove it?" Shane leaned forward again.

  Yeah, Dusty, are you ready to prove it? Just what are you thinking about—SNIP

  Shane's eyes rose to look at something behind her, somewhere above her head and she turned to look for herself.

  "Twuh-twenty minutes is uh-uh-up," Sam told her, looking at Shane.

  "Luh-Lee said," he added, almost in self-defense.

  Shane continued to look at him, and Dusty recognized his cool expression. It was the same one she’d seen on his face before he swung the cue stick at the guy with the buzzcut.

  "Thanks, Sam." Dusty stood and took his arm, more for his protection than anything else. "Gotta get back to work."

  "Are we going to finish this discussion?" Shane asked.

  "Sure," she replied. Sam's eyes were also on her, soft and concerned. Shane's gaze was cool and distant. "I think we definitely have some things to finish."

  * * * *

  "You're coming." Tom stood in front of her so she couldn’t get past him. He had gone from asking, to pleading, to commanding.

  "Tommy, will you go away?" Dusty swerved around him with a tray full of beer.

  "Please, come on," Tom pleaded, following her, changing tactics yet again. "We’ve all hardly seen you since you’ve been in town, and I know you need a night out."

  "My nights are spent here," Dusty told him. "Sorry."

  She put the beer on the table, and Tom waited until the four guys dug out their wallets and paid her.

  "You can take the night off." Tom followed her back to the bar. "Lee won't mind, I know he won't. He'll agree with me."

  She sighed as he grabbed her by the arm, stopping halfway to the bar. "Tom, I don't feel like the night out. I really don't. I'd rather be here. Okay?"

  "No, it's not okay." Tom shook his dark head. "We miss you hanging out with us. I miss you. Isn't it enough that we had to lose Nick? I don't want to lose you, too."

  Dusty looked up at him, no longer annoyed. Now she felt guilty.

  "The movie theater finally got something new, and we're having a party, and you're coming. That's all there is to it," he said.

  "I don't know." Dusty shook her head, looking over her shoulder at the bar. "Lee won't give me the night off on this short notice."

  "Yes, he will," Tom said firmly, dragging her by the arm toward the bar. Inwardly, Dusty groaned.

  "Hey, Lee!" Tom called, taking a stool.

  "What can I get you?" Lee asked.

  "Her." Tom grinned, pointing to Dusty. "We need her tonight to celebrate the new movie over at the Lawrence."

  "Oh, yeah, that's tonight, isn't it?" Lee asked, glancing at Dusty. He looked at the clock and then around the bar.

  "Turn in your profits and you're off." He shrugged. "I'm not doing great business tonight, anyway. I forgot about the damned movie opening."

  "Go to it," Tom said with a smile, turning to Dusty. She sighed.

  "I can't afford
this, Tommy," she told him, still trying to think of excuses. Tom took her arm and led her aside, away from the bar. Dusty looked behind him, toward the pool tables. Shane was playing pool with Jake, occasionally glancing over at them.

  "Dusty, hon, I know you miss him," Tommy took her hands in his. "I miss him, too, but life goes on, okay?"

  "You sound like my parents," she said, her voice full of bitterness. "Let's forget all about it, why don't we? Let's forget he ever existed."

  "I'm not saying that.” He shook his head. "But he is gone, and you're still here. Stop killing yourself, babe."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "It's like you're withdrawing from the entire world, trying to punish yourself and everyone else for Nick’s death," Tom said. Dusty shook her head, looking away, but not speaking. He touched her hair, resting one hand on her shoulder.

  "Look at me," he said softly. She did. "We were..." he hesitated. "We were involved once, and I will never forget the times we had, Dusty. You'll always be special to me, and I'll always have those memories. It's the same with you and Nick. He'll always be with you."

  "I can't..." She took a deep breath. "I'm not ready to let him go like that."

  "You have to try. Take it one step at a time," he told her. She shook her head again. "If it's too hard for you, then we'll leave, okay? Just give it a try. For me?"

  "I can't, Tommy," she said, turning away from him.

  "Damn it, Dusty," he swore, turning her back to him. She looked up at him. "I miss you. Come with me."

  "Tommy," she said with a sigh, shaking her head. She glanced past him toward the pool tables and saw Shane watching them with interest, cue stick in hand. She met his eyes, seeing his brow knit as he looked at her. Dusty smiled up at Tom and said, "Okay. Let me get my coat. I'll meet you in the car."

  Tom smiled and touched her hand. "Great! You won't regret it." He started toward the door.

  "Tommy," she called after him and he turned to look at her. "It can't be—we can’t be…like it was before."

  Tom, sensing her meaning, glanced at Shane. "I know."

  She watched him walk out the door, and then went to turn in her profits and get her coat. She decided she would get Tom to stop by her house so she could change.