by Adam Zorzi
She didn't hear Roy's response because she watched Gregg leave by walking through the windowed wall facing the street two stories below. He vanished.
CHAPTER TEN
Sitting in one of the New York Academy of Medicine's marble-walled reading rooms at four in the morning, Bella wished she had someone with whom to brainstorm. She'd never needed a sounding board in her life as a ghost. She was a self-taught ghost who learned to get what she wanted through trial and error. Deep concentration controlled visibility. Visualization allowed space travel. Lying and stealing provided most human needs. She'd randomly seen other ghosts, but so far, none had been worthy of a discussion.
She'd never had a problem she couldn't solve. Even so, beauty, brilliance, and an impressive education and impeccable professional credentials hadn't led her to a solution that could legally get Daniel out of that hellhole in Petersburg, Virginia known as Commonwealth Psychiatric Hospital. He'd been there for almost two years, and she was no closer to her goal than when he'd been admitted.
The most frustrating thing was that Daniel knew how to get himself discharged. All he had to do was lie to a psychiatrist who would in turn call Daniel's criminal attorney, Nina Lombardi. Known as the Barracuda of Virginia, Lombardi would have him transferred, heard before a judge, and released as an innocent man in less than a day. A deal was already in place. All Daniel had to do was act.
He couldn't.
Daniel had lapsed into catatonia immediately upon admission to Commonwealth Psych and hadn't awakened. All that knowledge of how to help himself was on lockdown in his head.
In the early months, Bella had checked on him almost daily until she realized he was beyond her help. He needed a psychiatric genius. She'd searched for one without success. She'd met top psychiatrists in New York. They'd referred her to catatonia specialists in London, Vienna, and Johannesburg. Bella was so prepared for those meetings, she considered herself an expert on this condition first mentioned in Greek mythology and given a name in 1874. The specialists referred her to the best of the rarest specialists in Stockholm and Berlin, who narrowed her search for specialists down to one retired professor in Rochester, Minnesota. They'd all reviewed Daniel's medical records that she'd stolen, copied, and returned to the hospital and recommended no significant changes in treatment. Having seen the conditions at Commonwealth Psych and the almost complete lack of clinical staff, Bella had no confidence that the records were accurate regarding treatment.
Treatment. Daniel wasn't being treated. From what Bella could tell, Daniel was being managed. His medical—which she now knew was medicalese for physical—needs were being met, but he wasn't receiving psychiatric attention beyond anti-anxiety medications. Any family doctor who prescribed Valium could treat him if that was the threshold.
Bella could do it. Her primary attribute as a ghost was invisibility. She was adept at stealing medication. She could go to the hospital, sneak Daniel out, and find a house for them. She could hire nurses. She could give him Valium, but she didn't want that. She wanted Daniel. Her healthy funny sweet Daniel. Her soul mate since they'd met when they were seventeen.
The only reason Bella was still living as a ghost was because she was waiting for Daniel. She couldn't be at peace until she'd gotten what she wanted—a reunion with Daniel Ramsay for eternity.
The fire at Commonwealth Psych had given her a new sense of urgency. Daniel was completely at the mercy of the very sick patients and indifferent staff. She'd taken time off in Bermuda to clear her mind and hope that a new idea might make itself known. Bella realized she didn't have time to rest. Daniel was in danger. She had to get him help.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LouLou awoke feeling fuzzy. Dinner with Roy and Sara and their three pre-adolescent kids just home from summer camp had distracted her from Gregg's revelation that he was a ghost. She wondered if what he'd said was true. Maybe she'd dreamed their conversation while recovering from her fall to the concrete sidewalk. Maybe Gregg, who otherwise seemed so serious and sincere, had a bizarre sense of humor. She could almost talk herself out of believing Gregg's admission except she'd witnessed him walk through her wall. She needed to talk to Skylar.
“I expected you earlier,” Skylar said mildly when LouLou walked into Vinyl before lunch. Robert gave LouLou a short greeting and continued washing his face. “I assume you have questions for me.” He seemed to be taking the temperature of her feelings.
“May we talk in your office?” LouLou wanted straight answers and hoped they wouldn’t be outlandish enough to trigger a visit from Sick. She was nervous and annoyed, but she needed privacy. She couldn't be interrupted by customers. In order for her mind to accept Gregg's admission, LouLou needed confirmation from Skylar.
“Why didn't you warn me?” She pounced on Skylar before he'd completely closed the office door. “You, I suspected had something like a sixth sense, but I didn't get anything from Gregg. You know how easily Sick can be triggered. How could you let me walk into a relationship with him?”
Skylar eased into his chair and motioned for LouLou to sit. He poured himself a shot of bourbon and offered LouLou a bottle of water from his mini-fridge. “Haven't had all of my breakfast yet,” he said about his drink. LouLou didn't care. She knew he drank, smoked weed, and had residual damage from who knows what he ingested in the 1960s.
“We're friends, LouLou. Let's not turn this into an argument.” He drank his shot in one gulp and pushed the glass aside. “What exactly did you want me to say? The new guy in town is a ghost? Steer clear of him?”
LouLou, dressed in a yellow sundress, looked down at her lap. “Skylar, I don't know, but you certainly didn't discourage him.”
Skylar looked around his office at pictures of his favorite bands as if they might offer suggestions. Apparently, he didn't get any answers, so he continued. “I recognized Gregg as a ghost. Period. In the few short conversations I had with him, I realized he was new at it. That's one of the reasons I bought him clothes. He looked like he was wearing whatever he had on when he passed. I brought him into the twenty-first century. That's it. I don't know anything about his past.”
He stared at LouLou. “I saw what you did. He’s a great musician who has a helluva lot of music in his head that he needs to get out. You were the logical person to introduce him to what music is like now. I couldn't have envisioned the genius of the music the two of you would create. The two of you appeared at Vinyl at the same time for a reason. I'm an observer not a participant or manipulator. Sick is part of you, but you're pretty and bright and sweet. You're also thirty-one. You don't need your hand held. I admit I noticed the spark between you two the day you met, but I also know you didn't dive in without checking the water level. You disappeared for a couple of weeks after you met him. I know that was to recover from the tour, visit your parents, and so forth, but you came back looking for him. He was irresistible to you. That means something.
“Beyond that, I don't think he knows what he's doing as a ghost. He appears here at the same time every day. Same goes for departure. I don't know where he goes when he's not here. I haven't asked. I've seen him make small mistakes, such as opening or closing the door to a listening booth when customers were here, and cautioned him about holding or moving things while invisible. I asked you to return the oboe he rented before you went on tour. I didn't want it to seemingly fly from your loft if Gregg brought it himself. I've made suggestions. Beyond that, I haven't interfered. I don't know much more than you.
“I've accepted being a Sensitive just like you've accepted Sick. I discovered it when I was a child. At first, I read about it and talked to other Sensitives and a few ghosts. I've had about seven decades or so to accept there's more to life than what we see. You just found out. If you need time to think about it, take it, but frankly, it doesn't change anything. You're not going to learn anything. There's a paranormal community of sorts and we help each other out, but we don't admit anything to humans unless we have a good reason.”
Skyl
ar focused his bleary eyes on LouLou. “Gregg is an extraordinary musician and from what I can tell, a decent guy. I don't pick up any bad vibes. I know he loves you and wouldn't hurt you.”
LouLou sat back in her chair. “Loves me? He barely knows me.”
Skylar shrugged. “Ghosts exist for a reason. At the time of their death, something was unresolved. They know what it is. I don't know whether it's voices in their heads or their hearts or whether they just know. My guess is that Gregg couldn't find peace until he met you, specifically. He also had to get that music that's been in his head for who knows how long out. The two of you make a great team.”
Skylar reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out the bourbon bottle, poured two more fingers of the rich molasses-colored liquid, and again downed it in one gulp. “LouLou, walk away or not. I'm not going to ask him to stop coming to Vinyl. He's lost and needs help from other musicians. You're the best, but not only, musician in town. I'm not in the romance business.” He waved her out.
“I have questions.”
Without looking up from his desk, Skylar responded. “Ask Gregg. I'm not his spokesman.” He lifted his head and seemed to realize he'd been too harsh. “I don't have Gregg's answers. If you want to know the truth about Gregg, the only way to get answers is to ask him.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
LouLou headed straight for Richmond's Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden. Aside from Vinyl, it was her favorite place in Richmond. With more than five hundred acres divided into gardens, there was always something in bloom. There was even a reading library where gardeners, botanists, and visitors could sit quietly and read about the wonders of the flower kingdom, as LouLou liked to think of it. It felt magical to her.
Even in July's heat, LouLou knew she'd find lilies, hydrangeas, and cooling water features. She headed to the conservatory pools, where she drew beauty and a sense of calm from the water lilies. They were lovely by themselves, but they evoked memories of growing up in Paris and going with one or the other or both of her parents to see Monet's works at his home in Givenchy. She'd no desire to garden, but she understood the restorative powers of nature. Flowers had a cycle. One bad spring might lead to a so-so summer and fall but a great winter. She favored musicians like Debussy who created music that she imagined flowers could sing.
After a stroll, LouLou found a shaded area and sat on a bench near one of the restaurants. She'd seen several photographers silently working in the conservatory. She'd never thought about bringing a sketch pad with her. Next time
She checked her phone that she'd turned off for her meeting with Skylar. When she turned it on, she saw that her dad had sent a text requesting she call him as soon as she could. Her heart stalled for a moment. He never called. She always called them. She'd just spoken to them, so she immediately was on alert. They were older than most couples when she was born. She knew their ages made them more vulnerable than the parents of her childhood friends, but there couldn't be anything wrong. There couldn't. She couldn't survive that.
Her mom answered. “LouLou, are you eating enough?” Things couldn't be that bad if food was her mother's main concern.
“Yes, Mom. I'm just getting ready to have lunch.” She'd barely eaten breakfast because she was jittery about what Skylar might reveal. She'd have lunch here at the restaurant.
“Good. I'll let you speak to your father. He's standing next to me in quite a stir.”
“LouLou,” said her dad without giving her mom a chance to say goodbye, “You've become enormously popular, like Britney Spears popular.”
“Oh, Dad, please don't compare me to her.”
“Sorry. At least you wear panties. Brooks has been fielding offers for your new works like mad. The stuff you debuted in Asia apparently has sent the music world into a feeding frenzy. They want to sign you, promote you, book you. Companies want you to be the face of their clothes, perfume, and cars. He's overwhelmed. He said he's never seen anything like it.”
Probably not. Brooks was her lawyer and a friend of her father's. He fielded the occasional promotional and endorsement offers she received and reviewed all her performance and recording contracts. She had a booking agent to handle dates and fees. Brooks made sure her work was copyrighted and registered with the right associations to collect royalties. Otherwise, he was an intellectual property litigator who handled copyright and trademark infringements.
“Wow.”
“That's what I said until he named the companies. They're major players. What do you want to do, LouLou? He's going to have a heart attack.”
LouLou stifled a smile. “Dad, it's not uncommon when the industry sniffs the next big thing. Why don't I come up next week and meet with Brooks? The offers that are still on the table by then are legitimate. The rest are just noise.”
“How can you be so calm?” Brooks had clearly passed on his excitement to her dad.
“I'm your daughter. I'm unflappable.” She smiled even though she knew he couldn't see her.
“Aside from being my daughter, how can you be so calm?” She could hear him breathe a sigh of relief.
“It's the way the music industry works. Offers happen all the time. By the time whatever deals come to fruition, I may be old news. Legitimate offers are made for the long term. Tell Brooks to stall everyone. Tell them I just got off tour, I'm getting ready to go back in the studio, and I'll be available to review offers soon.”
“That's it? That's what he should do?”
“Dad, do you think he should do something else?” She valued his input.
“I hadn't thought about it. Brooks is concerned you might lose opportunities.”
“That's entirely possible, but you know my health comes first. I struggled after this last tour. Mostly, I'm focused on staying healthy and getting new stuff ready for the Scandinavian tour. That's all I can manage right now.”
“I love you. I want you to be healthy. I don't care if you're famous or rich or the face of Chanel.”
“Chanel?” she squeaked. “Dad, you didn't say Chanel called. Didn't you run these by Mom? She'd know that was important.”
“Oh, yes, she did say to mention that first.”
“Tell Brooks to stall everyone except Chanel. Get whatever they're offering in writing. I'll be there next week. Text me if Mom thinks anyone else is important.”
“I will. I forget how alike you and your mother are sometimes. Stay healthy.”
LouLou did a happy dance. She texted Sara and her best friend in Paris to tell them about Chanel. The men in her life wouldn't care a whit. Men. She'd included Gregg in that group even though she now knew he was a ghost.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
With her decision to accept Gregg for who he was, LouLou invited him to visit that evening after she had an early dinner with Roy, Sara, and the kids. She was nervous but not stressed. She wore jeans and a white tee-shirt. She wanted to be comfortable.
The first few minutes after Gregg's arrival were awkward. They interrupted each other, talked about inane things like weather and the mayor's plans for new tolls throughout the city before they settled on the green striped sofa. Recognizing that she'd invited Gregg and he was letting her take the lead, LouLou got on with what could be a scary conversation.
“Gregg, I've got a lot of questions. I'm calm, but please be truthful. I hate liars. If you lie to me, I don't care what you are—human, ghost, werewolf—you're out of my life. If you don't want to answer something, just say so, okay?” She forced a smile.
He leaned back with his hands on his knees. “Deal, if you promise this isn't going to be an inquisition.”
That made LouLou genuinely laugh. Gregg was a serious guy. She probably had made it sound like she was going to question him as though they were in a courtroom. She relaxed. She held a glass with iced water in her hands on her lap that calmed her.
“I don't know anything about you.”
He shifted his position. “You know what matters.”
She closed her eyes. She was
n't going to force him to talk, but she couldn't accept vague answers. She tried again.
“I need basics. Who are you? How long have you been a ghost? How did you become one? When did you become one?”
Gregg sat so still, LouLou wondered if he planned to answer. “My name is Gregg Waites. I was born and grew up in Norfolk. I drowned near here when I was about thirty-two.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-two. I'll never be older than thirty-two.” He seemed puzzled by the question and then amended his answer. “I guess I died about 1980.”
LouLou thought about that in musical terms. “You were alive when all the music you listened to when we first met—Joni Mitchell, Carole King, James Taylor—was heard on every radio station in the country. You were what? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? How could you have missed them and all the great stuff around the late 1960s through mid-1970s?”
He looked down at his hands. “I'd like to save that for later. Ask me ghost stuff.”
He wasn't lying. Okay. They'd go in the order that worked for him. It was his story. “Where do you go when you're not with me?”
He smiled. “I don't know. I'm with you, and then I'm not. I'm at Vinyl, and then I'm not. I haven't been anywhere without either you or Skylar.”
“So, your mind is just blank then?”
“Exactly. Just blank. It's not like there's a club where ghosts sit around during breaks from human communication. I'd describe it as sleep, except I don't have a physical bed.”
“Do you see other ghosts?”
“I think so. I'm not completely sure. It's not like heaven, where you see everyone who ever lived and died. Once, I felt like there was another ghost in the park near Vinyl. He was watching a bunch of kids having a birthday party and crying. I don't know whether he noticed me. We didn't acknowledge each other.” He paused. “Do you mind if I stand? I do feel a little like I'm in a witness box.”