by Reyna Favis
# # #
I don’t remember exactly how I got home. I think I staggered up the trail and then Ron and Lucas took over the driving to get Cam and me home. Between fighting off hypothermia and having the spirits of the family and the Lenape man drain our batteries, Cam and I were spent. It was all we could do to remain upright. After a few bottles of coconut water and a short, overnight coma, by morning I felt intellectually challenged and physically unfit.
I sat at the card table-cum-dining table and rubbed hard at my face. While the Lenape family had been freed, our two original spirits were still at large. On the bright side, I hadn’t received any messages from Peyton telling me that He-Who-Counseled-the-Chief was making a pest of himself. Flipping through the messages on my phone, I did have a text from Lucas asking me to check in, so he’d know if I was okay after yesterday’s festivities. Gander had left a group message letting everyone on the crew know that the grand reopening of the upscale restaurant was that evening. Because the restaurant management wanted to draw a huge crowd to the event, we were encouraged to bring guests who would each be entitled to one free drink sample, which I took to mean some kind of mini-drink. Maybe this was what we needed, a night off to just have fun. I had no reserves left for dealing with spiritual matters, so it’s not like we could make any progress on that front. So, what the hell? Why not?
I called Cam to invite him and his house guests. “Sure, but what’s a drink sample?” Cam’s voice sounded rough, like he just woke up.
“I predict fancy Dixie cups with minimal alcohol. My guess is that it’s a way to promote a craving to make you buy more.”
“Are you inviting Lucas? Maybe we can talk ghosts with him and get him to put it on his expense account.”
I confirmed that I would call Lucas next, but offered the opinion that the presence of the work crew would make it hard to talk shop and then ended the call with Cam. Bringing up Lucas’s text, I poked at the call back option and then felt a surge of nervousness as the phone rang.
“Lucas? Consider this call my proof of life. Do you need me to send a picture of me holding up today’s newspaper?”
“No, don’t bother. Anyone could photoshop that. I’m going to need something more definitive.”
“How about meeting me at the Meridian tonight?” I explained how the clean up job led to the opportunity for free drink samples.
“Hmmm… Norovirus. If it were anyone else asking, I think I might pass. But okay, let’s – wait, can you hold on? I have another call.” I held on as he asked, but Lord, I hated call waiting. He came back almost immediately, speaking fast. “Sorry, Fia. Producers breathing down my neck again. I have to call them right back. So, it’s a date. I’ll meet you there.” And with that, we hung up.
Chewing on the cuticles of my good hand, I stressed about what he meant by that last bit. Maybe I had date, except that it wasn’t really a date. But maybe Lucas was just using a colloquialism and all he meant was that it was penciled into his calendar. Holy crapping crap. Now what? I couldn’t call him back to clarify, that would be really awkward. I decided I’d just show up and act natural, pretend that there was no confusion and that it was always a group thing. Because it was. But I’d find something nice to wear, just in case.
# # #
I ended up paying a visit to Sandra and Baby Jax. She was about my size, she knew how to dress and she worked at the Lilith Salon. When she and Jax weren’t on a search, I’d see her in clothes that had that designer look and her hair and makeup were perfect. I wanted that look. Maybe I could even pull it off for just one night.
Sandra stood with her hands on hips and looked appraisingly at me before giving a salacious wink. “Hot date tonight?”
Bending down, I ruffled Baby Jax’s ears. “Nah, the work crew is going out for free drinks at a restaurant where we did a job.” I decided to keep it simple. I didn’t want to get into the whole Lucas story, not that I could even begin to tell Sandra about the Hannah complication in all of this.
“Uh-huh. So, there’s some guy on the crew you have your eye on?”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, you got me. Now, can you help me look good tonight?”
Sandra crossed her arms and tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she envisioned the future me. “Something sexy, but not slutty. We’ll do your hair down and play up your eyes. And just a soft pink for your lips.” She unwound her arms and straightened, nodding approval of her fashion choices. “Let me see your hands.”
I froze and then tucked my gloved hands behind my back. I still had my coat on, so it seemed normal that I also still had gloves on. “I kind of bashed my hand on something. It looks pretty bad. Do you think we can do something to hide it?”
“Let me see.” She made ‘give me’ motions with her hands.
Sighing, I brought my hands forward and peeled back just enough of the glove on my dead hand so that I could show her a hint of the purplish black marbling. “It’s pretty gross.”
“Ugh! Cover that up. That is disgusting.” Turning away, Sandra walked toward her bedroom, Baby Jax at her heels. I followed mutely, feeling self-conscious about my deformities and nursing my growing unease about going out that night. Before the unease could blossom into full-blown anxiety, Sandra flew into action. “Fortunately for you, I have just the thing.” She flung open a door in her bedroom and we entered into a cavernous walk-in closet, clothing hung like a rainbow along each of the walls. “I’ve only got the fall/winter apparel stocked right now and I’ve arranged everything by color, so it should be easy to find.” She made a beeline to the cluster of black clothing at the back of the closet, clicking hangers aside until she pulled out an outfit with a small triumphant cry. A long top and leggings floated on the hanger, the fabric shimmering coolly with dark, delicate beadwork sewn in intricate patterns along the bodice and sleeves. Holding up a sleeve, she explained the outfit to me. “See the sleeves? They’re made extra long with attached fingerless gloves that covers the hands to the last finger knuckle. It’s designed to draw attention to the artwork on your nails.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it. Where’d you get it?” I was sincerely curious. This must be some kind of high fashion piece and I wondered how Sandra could afford it.
“I made it.” She grinned proudly, holding the clothing up for inspection. “It’s nylon-spandex and tight and low on your upper body, so be prepared to show off some cleavage. I cut it so it drapes around the leggings tunic-style.” Turning the hanger, she admired her work. “See, classy, sexy clothes are all about balance. If you’re going to bring attention to your boobs, you should cover up your legs. If you go around with both showing, you’re going to end up looking slutty.”
I nodded my head, as if I understood anything about fashion philosophy and took the clothes from her. She next selected a pair of black boots with a low heel to go with the outfit and handed these to me. “Okay, you put these on while I set up my makeup kit.” After Sandra left, I did as she said and then quickly used some mortuary makeup to touch up the dead hand.
“Reporting for makeup, ma’am.” I gave Sandra a quick salute and she turned from her table of bottles, brushes and palettes of eye shadow to look me over.
“Nice. I like your black polish, it goes with the outfit. Let’s leave your nails that way. Here, sit.” Sandra brushed the bangs out of my face. “You been working nights? What’s up with these dark circles under your eyes? And you need to take better care of your skin. You don’t look healthy.”
“Yeah, I’ve been working a lot lately.” I felt another pang of self-consciousness and wondered if all this effort was going to do any good, if I would be able to pull off the appearance of being young and carefree and normal. I just wanted one night…
After what seemed like hours of fussing, Sandra finally said she was done. “And just like that, you’re Cinderella before the ball.” I stood up and she marched me in front of a full-length mirror.
“Oh wow.” She really did know what she was doing. The
look was dramatic without being ostentatious and it had a refined sophistication that I wasn’t sure I could do justice. I bit my lip, wallowing in uncertainty, but then made my decision and swung around to grasp her hand. “I can’t thank you enough for this, Sandra.”
“Sure, sure. You just go have a good time tonight and maybe bring home your Prince Charming.” Sandra made a quick move, grabbing her dog by the collar as he wagged his tail and advanced towards me. “Don’t you dare shed on her, Jax.” Giving his flank an affectionate rub, she pointed to the front door with her free hand. “You better get going before he decides he wants to lick your face.”
# # #
I splurged and took a cab to the restaurant. The driver was taciturn, maybe pissed that he had to work while the rest of the world partied. I sat in the back seat, alternating between ecstatic thoughts of being the belle of the ball and dreading that I would melt under the heat of that kind of scrutiny. It was a short trip and the cab pulled into the circular drive at the restaurant’s entrance before the butterflies in my stomach had fully settled. Stepping out into the night, I shivered slightly. Maybe leaving my ratty coat at home was not one of my brighter ideas, but it ruined the outfit and I was hell-bent on having the perfect night out. Besides, this small chill was nothing compared to my recent dip in the icy stream.
The Meridian was packed with well-dressed revelers and once I was in the thick of things, I blended right in. I was dressed well enough to get admiring glances, but then the admirer moved on to the next fashion-forward woman or man, typically someone more at ease in the role of the savvy style prophet. I walked the length of the long, narrow room looking for anyone I knew. The room appeared larger thanks to mirrors placed behind the infinitely long bar, elegantly reflecting the pattern of a Victorian-inspired wallpaper of striped dusty rose and burgundy. The walls were even decorated with sconces shaped to look like gaslights from the era.
Groups of strangers crowded around small tables that studded the area near the outside wall. Others sat along the gleaming, solid oak bar that traced the full length of the interior wall, resting their polished shoes on the brass foot rails. Music pumped with bass made my breastbone vibrate as I surveyed the faces and tried to disregard the discordance of modern music paired with Victorian décor that fed through my eyes and ears.
A gentle hand touched my elbow and I turned to see Lucas. He leaned close and spoke into my ear, so I could hear him above the music. “We’re over here.” Grasping my hand, he led me towards the bar and away from the thrumming speakers. Ron and Lenora sat sipping mini-drinks from small, plastic shot glasses, while Cam nursed a cup of coffee.
“Looking good, Fia.” Cam raised his mug to toast me. “Whose closet did you raid?”
“Sandra helped me out. She made this by hand.” I smiled and swept my hand over the outfit like a seasoned game show hostess.
“She does good work. The beading stands out.” Lenora gestured toward the neckline. This was as close to anything flattering as I was likely to get, so I thanked her.
Ron handed me my own drink. “You cleaned up nice.” He looked steadily at me for a moment and then raised his eyebrows and made ‘gimme’ signals with his hands when I didn’t return the compliment.
“All right, all right. You’re pretty too.”
“Thank you.” He smoothed back a lock of hair with an extravagant gesture, as Lucas watched our exchange, a thoughtful expression playing on his face. I raised my drink to salute Cam and Lenora and then touched plastic glasses with Ron, grinning and laughing at the tiny, complimentary beverages.
Lucas’s eyes lingered on me as I extended my shot glass to also touch his before I took a sip. My eyes drank him in as I peeked over my cup. He wore his hair loose and it shone softly in the faux gaslight. His eyes were a stormy gray, reflecting the dark blue shirt that draped appealingly over broad shoulders. His gaze flicked briefly toward Ron and then settled on me with an intensity that took my breath away. A faint smile played on his lips as a blush rose to my cheeks. Waves of desire surged through me and Lucas was the moon beckoning this tide.
Forcing myself to look away from him, I pretended to people watch, so as not to stare so obviously and so hungrily at Lucas. The scent of ammonia told me that Hannah was near and hadn’t missed the exchange. I ignored the smell and watched the crowd. A priest and a rabbi walked into the bar, accompanied by a large group of young adults and I wondered what that was all about. Surely, there was a joke in there somewhere. When Gander entered the bar escorting a handsome woman of a certain age, I waved to bring them over and made the introductions.
Gander presented the woman on his arm to the group. “And this is Denise, my wife.” Glancing toward the door, he smiled. “And here comes Goose and JoJo.” Gander beckoned and Goose approached the group with a jaunty stride, JoJo bringing up the rear, grining broadly. Arriving at the door, Rory saw the commotion and followed behind them, joining our group without invitation.
“Howzit, brah?” Goose greeted Gander with a modified handshake that ended in a shoulder bump. To cover his confusion and slight discomfort at this strange greeting, Gander started another round of introductions.
Cam stared fixedly at Rory when he was introduced in a perfunctory manner by Gander. No one seemed to notice as I moved to put Goose and JoJo solidly between us. When Lucas was introduced to the crew, the inevitable recognition of celebrity followed.
Goose’s eyes went wide and he jabbed his finger towards Lucas. “Dude, your show is epic, totally ballsatic.”
Rory shrugged and pursed his lips, looking like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “I don’t know. The show’s okay, I guess. But I don’t have time for that stuff. I’ve got more important things I have to do.” If he was hoping for someone to follow up on his self-proclaimed importance, he was in for a disappointment. Lucas merely gave him the non-committal head tilt, allowing for differences of opinion.
Goose continued with his commentary as if Rory had never spoken. “I’ve seen other shows like it, but they’re just bammerwee. I’d rather watch yours.”
Lucas squinted, cocking his head and listening hard, but no understanding reached his eyes. Lenora and Gander exchanged a look that seemed to say everything about how young people spoke their own language these days. Grinning, Cam finally offered a way out of the confusion with an impromptu translation. “Looks like you have another fan. He likes your show best.”
Lucas erupted in a million dollar smile when he caught on to what Goose was saying. “Well, thanks. That’s really kind of you. Can you tell me – ” Just then, Lucas’s phone rang and he was forced to excuse himself from the conversation to take the call.
After we’d consumed our allotted mini-drinks, we decided to move on to some old fashioned beer. Cam got the attention of the bartender, who informed us that the tap was broken and draught beer was out of the question. The crew exchanged knowing glances, all of us thinking that this might have been something that hadn’t gotten sterilized in time for the big event.
As the bartender handed out a variety of bottled beers, Goose pumped him for information. “Dude, Angela around?”
The barkeep sized him up and decided he was okay. “Yeah, she’s on break. You’ll find her out back.”
Goose asked for a bottle of something non-alcoholic for Angela, then laid down some bills and grabbed his bottles, waving farewell to the group as he made his way out. “Yo dog, latronic. I’m going to find me some sweet nectar.”
Ron laughed. “That’s a man on a mission.”
“Yeah, he’s had a thing for Angela since he first laid eyes on her.” I raised my open beer at Goose’s retreating back in salute and silently wished him well before sipping. The beer was good, and I was about to say as much, when a young woman approached our group and tapped Rory on the shoulder.
“My name is Suzie. Would you like to dance with me?” She had sparkling blue eyes that were partially hidden by the epicanthal fold on the inner side of her eyes. Her words were slurred by
a tongue that protruded slightly from her mouth, but she smiled widely, her face the picture of trust. The rabbi stood behind her, patting her back and telling her how well she was doing.
Rory returned her entreaty with a look of horror. “What? No way.” He turned away to lean on the bar. “Get away from me, you freak.”
Suzie’s face crumpled and her whole body sagged as she turned to the rabbi’s protective embrace. The rabbi could not even speak to comfort her. His face had gone white and his eyes glared at Rory, while he compressed his lips, maybe to prevent whatever bad words he was thinking from becoming audible. Those of us with the misfortune of being associated with Rory stood there shocked and unable to even apologize to the poor girl.
Ron took that moment to stand up, knocking Rory to the side and sending him staggering with only a twitch of his muscled shoulder. He grasped Suzie’s hand and spoke gently to her. “Don’t you pay any attention to that mahtënu. Will you dance with me? I think they’re playing our song.”
The rabbi smiled gratefully at Ron and encouraged Suzie to go and dance. After they departed, the holy man confronted Rory. “There was no need for that. You could have declined politely.”
Rory’s face was red and splotchy, his mouth hung open and spittle flew as he launched his retort. “She’s a retard!” He did something spastic with his hands and contorted his face to convey what he thought about people with disabilities. “She has no business being here. Those people should be locked up.”