by Catie Rhodes
“It would do you good.” Hannah leaned forward, excited again. “Plus, I have a surprise for you. Bought it a couple of weeks ago. Been waiting for the right time to give it you.” She leapt to her feet and hurried toward her bedroom, motioning me to follow.
She withdrew a knee-length dress with a low cut, button up bodice and halter neckline from her closet and handed it to me. I heisted before I took it, afraid of somehow ruining it. The smooth, yet crisp, material slid over my fingers. I held the dress in front of my body and examined its lines. The crinoline underskirt lent the dotted burgundy material a little body and swing. I couldn’t help smiling.
“And the perfect shoes.” She pulled the shoebox out of her closet.
I took one shoe out. Black patent leather with a spike heel, an open toe, and an ankle strap. They’d pinch, but I’d look like a bottle of hot damn in them.
Hannah gave me a sly smile. “I’ll do your makeup and hair.”
It was the cherry on top. Hannah knew makeup and hair. I’d look like I was ready for a modeling shoot—albeit one for really short people—by the time we left the museum. It was shallow, but I felt good when I knew I looked good.
My mind called up Priscilla Herrera’s stern face. Screw it. I could worry about her and the vision just as well wearing this cute outfit as I could sitting around moping. I smiled at Hannah.
“Wash off your tramp tracks and we’ll get started.” She pushed me into her custom bathroom, which featured a sit down vanity and dressing area. All built by Chase, my lost friend. Sadness twinged in my chest.
Using Hannah’s eye makeup remover, I rubbed off my dark eyeliner and smoothed some of her high dollar moisturizer on my face. Hannah put on a smock, dragged in an extra chair, and sat next to me in front of the mirror. She took out a box as big as my suitcase and unrolled a bag holding at least thirty makeup brushes.
“Now, hold still.” She spent an inordinate amount of time applying makeup to make it appear I wore no makeup. The overall effect was less hard and more sophisticated. It didn’t fit me, but I loved it anyway. She worked magic on my neck-length shag cut with a flat iron and a curling iron. I looked in the mirror and smiled a real smile for the first time in a long time. Hannah and I hugged.
I threw on my dress, and we loaded into Hannah’s BMW. I sat in the passenger seat, muscles tense, waiting for the worst.
“So tell me about this guy.” I took out my cigarettes, and Hannah flashed me a glare. I put them back and hoped we went somewhere I could smoke.
“Your date is Nash Redmond. He just bought the old Panther Theater. Remember when my daddy owned it? I can’t believe nobody reopened it all these years.” She made the block and headed back toward the courthouse square.
“What’s Nash planning to do with the Panther?”
“He wants to retro it out and use it for events and limited runs of old movies.” Hannah parallel parked in front of the theater. There was already a new marquee with the words “Coming Soon” on it. The red lights danced back and forth around the bright white space.
“One last thing, so it doesn’t catch you off guard. He’s from up north.” She made an eep face.
“Where?”
“Massachusetts, I think. He’s got quite an accent.” Hannah turned to me and ran her gaze over me, nodding with satisfaction. “You look good, Peri Jean Mace.”
We exchanged a smile. I leaned across the car and gave her an impulsive hug.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered into her hair.
She squeezed back. “Not have any fun is one thing.”
Someone tapped on the window, and we broke apart, both opening our doors at the same time and climbing out.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Jay had a narrow, handsome face and a perfect haircut. I would have bet my last dollar the highlights were from a beauty shop. “I’m always up for a little girl-on-girl action, but I couldn’t really see inside. Maybe an encore?”
Hannah threw back her head and laughed too high and too loud. I wrinkled my nose. She normally didn’t like that sort of humor. Did she like Jay enough to tolerate it?
Jay, in his slim pants, untucked pinstriped shirt, and skinny leather shoes was definitely her type. He pulled Hannah into a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. A cool hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped, so caught up in watching Hannah that I forgot I had a date too. I spun around and looked him over. Hannah didn’t lie about the good looking part. High cheekbones, square jaw, and wide spaced eyes. Too clean cut, too much like Dean, to be my type. Still nice looking. I forced a smile onto my face.
“You must be Nash.” I held out my hand.
He took my hand and, to my horror, kissed it. I barely managed not to jerk it away.
“Interesting rings.” He held my hand up to the light coming from the marquee. Boy, Hannah wasn’t lying about the accent. Nash and I could have had a weird accent contest. Hannah noticed my rings and widened her eyes, the smile melting off her face.
“I forgot to take them off.” I pulled my hand away from Nash and twisted at the chunky silver crosses, skulls, and revolvers. The Six Guns gave them to me as a gift after I started working at Long Time Gone. King told me I’d be happy I had them if I got into a fight.
Nash put his hand over mine. “Don’t. They match your outfit.” He turned to Hannah. “I wish we were having an event here at the Panther. You ladies look the part.”
Hannah and I murmured our thanks. Nash led us down the block and stopped at an impossibly gorgeous classic Cadillac. My oooh of appreciation wasn’t fake.
“I told you she appreciates old stuff.” Hannah nudged Nash.
Nash took my elbow, opened the passenger door, and helped me get inside. “She’s a 1941 Cadillac Series 62 sedan.”
Hannah and Jay slid into the backseat, giggling and whispering.
Nash slid into the driver’s seat. “I had the seats professionally re-upholstered, but everything else—the gauges, the radio, the steering wheel—is original.”
I leaned over and admired all the gadgetry, fascinated it had once been considered high-tech. I glanced into the backseat and found Hannah and Jay totally engaged in one another. So much for her being a buffer between Nash and me. He started the car.
“I heard there’s a band at Bug Juice tonight,” he said. “Everybody okay going there?”
Jay and Hannah barely acknowledged him. He turned to me, and I nodded and made myself smile again. It was going to be a long night.
THE GASLIGHT CITY OLD TIMERS, which included me, loved speculating about whether Bug Juice would last more than a year.
Nash parked in front of the sprawling Italianate style house, which the new owners had painted white, using primary colors on the trim. The sign used a wine glass with a bug perched on the rim to represent both the “u” in bug and in juice. Cute in a hip, yuppie way. Locals, including me, joked it meant the owners were too cheap to exterminate.
We got out of the car, and Nash rushed around to take my arm, holding it lightly as we walked up the steps. He opened the door for Hannah and me.
“Redmond. Party of four,” he told the hostess.
The hostess seated us in a dark corner of the courtyard and lit the two candles on our table. The gaslights and strands of white Christmas lights gave the flagstones a romantic glow. Nash pulled out my chair. I stood and stared for several seconds before sitting down. O-kay.
The band, a country act called Flashback, was between songs. The lead singer, who went to high school with me, smiled and nodded. He played a few notes on his electric guitar and stepped up to the mic.
“I just saw a blast from the past walk in here. Seeing her brings back a flood of memories for me.” His voice echoed over the courtyard. A lot of the conversation stopped.
I tensed and held my breath.
“When I was a teenager, I used to play in a band with this guy, name of Chase Fischer.” The singer looked at his feet. “Most talented guitarist I ever met. I learned all the good
stuff from him.”
The crowd laughed politely. Embarrassment crawled over my skin, hot and prickly. I had a feeling what was coming and prayed to the god of dignity it wouldn’t happen. Skin hot and damp, eyes locked on the holes in the metal table, I did everything I could not to squirm in my uncomfortable metal chair.
“Despite his talent, Chase Fischer had some serious demons. They eventually ate him alive.” The lead singer tightened his hand on the neck of his guitar.
My breath came in panicky hitches. Please, please, please don’t call me out.
“We’re usually a country-and-western band, but tonight I want to play a rock song in memory of our fallen amigo, Chase Fischer.” He stared though the darkness at me. “Peri Jean Mace, it’s good to see you tonight. You look gorgeous.” The band commenced to play a country version of Chase’s favorite Led Zeppelin song.
Across the table, Hannah gasped. Every head in the room turned to look at me. I wished I could crawl under the table and seep through the cracks between the flagstones. Since it wasn’t an option, I did the only thing I could do—pretended not to notice.
Nash raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He picked up the wine menu, which was thicker than the food menu. The waiter appeared like magic, and Nash ordered a bottle of wine. I told the guy I’d stick with water.
“You don’t drink?” Nash turned to me, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “Is it a religious thing? I’ve noticed a lot of people down here don’t drink for religious reasons.”
“It isn’t with me.” Instead of offering an explanation, I sipped my water and glanced at the short menu in amazement. It had ten items, maybe. It was hard to read because of the blocky, multi-colored font. Other locals had mentioned the odd, high priced food. They weren’t kidding. It was stuff like nachos topped with barbecue brisket and goat cheese, bison hamburgers with bacon and guacamole dip, “veggies” topped with bacon and cheese, and oysters “all the way.” Everything cost more than I’d want to pay if I were alone.
“The bison burger with guac is amazing.” Nash leaned close to talk to me. The smell of his cologne hit me. Something clean that made my nose itch. “Order the mac and cheese with it. It actually has barbecue pork mixed in it.” His gaze met mine, and I noticed his eyes. Hazel and very clear. Not bad at all. “Or are you one of those women who don’t eat?” He surveyed my body. “With that tiny waist, I’d believe it in a second.”
I didn’t want to have fun with this yuppie, not after that cheesy singer threw Chase Fischer in my face. But the compliment made me smile anyway. “I promise you I’m not one those women.”
“You kidding? Peri Jean can eat you out of house and home.” Hannah said over the top of her menu. I noticed she and Jay still held hands on top of the table. Must have been a love connection. The waiter came back with his pen poised.
“Order for me,” I said to Nash. None of this stuff particularly appealed to me. What I really wanted was a nice, nasty cancer stick.
His face brightened. He ordered exactly what he suggested and then doubled it.
The Led Zeppelin song finally ended, and the lead singer gave me a little salute. I nodded, swallowed the lump in my throat, and tried to move forward. The band started playing their regular country lineup. People quit sneaking looks at me, and I let go of some of the tension in my shoulders.
Nash leaned close again. “You know we’ve met before.” His breath tickled my cheek.
I shook my head. Had he seen me tending bar and trading insults at Long Time Gone? Or worse?
“When I first got to town, I did the tourist thing. I came into the museum one night to hear your talk on the Mace Collection. You’re really one of the Maces, huh?”
I nodded, waiting for the inevitable round of questions.
“I wanted to talk to you afterward, but you got on some guy’s Harley and roared off.” He smiled. It was tight around the corners.
I smiled and nodded, not sure if he expected a response.
“I’ve seen those guys—the Six Gun Revolutionaries—around town with their vests.” Nash patted his chest where members wore their club rocker. “You date one of them or something?”
“Or something,” I said. “The president of the Six Gun Revolutionaries owns a bar outside town called Long Time Gone. I bartend there. You probably saw Wade Hill giving me a ride to work.”
“I’ve been to LTG too.” Nash scooted even closer.
I just stared. What the hell is LTG? Then it hit me. It was the initials of Long Time Gone. First guac and now LTG. How about cray cray or awks for a bonus round?
“Saw the place and went in for a beer. One of those YOLO things.” He chuckled at whatever he saw on my face. “You only live once. Rough atmosphere.”
“It’s a paying job.” I shrugged and played with my rings.
Nash took a white box with a fancily tied pink cloth ribbon holding it together out of his pocket and handed it to me. “For you.”
I untied the ribbon, took off the box’s lid, and stared at the tiny silver long-stemmed rose laying on the bed of white cotton. The rose was still in bud stage, instead of fully bloomed out. “Wow. I didn’t expect this. Thank you.”
“Matches your tattoo.” Nash took the rose from the box and pinned it on the bodice of my dress and winked. “Which I’ve been thinking about since the first time I met you. It’s obvious the one bud was left not colored in on purpose. Gotta be a story there. What is it?”
“Uh…” I never talked about the reason I had the rose tattoo to anybody, not even Hannah. My thoughts fluttered like a panicked bird trapped in a chimney. I tried to rein them in.
“Come with me to the ladies’ room.” Hannah grabbed her purse and stood.
I pushed back my chair and followed her out of the courtyard, through the house, and into the original bathroom, which had been remodeled to house two stalls. We took care of business and reapplied our lipstick in the mirrors.
“Don’t you know how to date?”
I shrugged. I didn’t date. Not like this. The whole getting-to-know-you thing made me uncomfortable.
“Ask him questions. Then he won’t ask you so many.”
I made a face.
“I saw the way you looked at Nash. You can’t tell me you don’t like the way he looks.”
“He’s good looking.” I turned my back to the mirror and looked over my shoulder to make sure I hadn’t tucked my dress into my panties.
“I hear the but.” She turned to me, her lips mashed together. “Might as well let it out.”
“He’s reminds me of Dean.” The words didn’t quite express what I wanted to say, but they were close enough.
“He’s most certainly not like Dean.” She rolled her eyes. “He knows exactly who you are and what you are, and he’s interested.”
“How does he know about me seeing ghosts?” This was the part I didn’t like.
“You know how people love gossiping in this town.” She shrugged. “It’s not important. Here’s what is. He loved your talk about the Mace Treasure. And the way he’s been looking at you? He thinks you’re gorgeous.”
“He is too like Dean. Expensive haircut, clean shaven…” I trailed off, trying to put my finger on why I didn’t want to fool with Nash. “He’s bland.” I waited a beat and imitated Nash. “‘Try the burger with the guac.’ Because saying the whole word is uncool. I bet he has a tattoo of the school mascot where he went to college. Because YOLO.”
“And these are the reasons you don’t want to give him a chance? They don’t even make sense.” She raised her eyebrows. “What if he’s your happily ever after?”
“I don’t think I get one of those. Not this lifetime, anyway.”
“You’re a lost cause.” The smile slipped off her face. “Sorry I bothered.”
“You wanted a date with Jay. Me going on a date with Nash was the price. I’m here, and I’m being nice.”
“But I wanted this to be good for you too.” Little red dots glowed all over Ha
nnah’s neck. I called it her mad rash. It appeared when her temper heated up.
“Look, I’m sorry it’s not love at first sight.” I tried to keep my voice light. A shouting match in the bathroom of Bug Juice was not on my bucket list. “The night is still young. Maybe I’ll go back to his house. After all, YOLO.”
The anger drained off Hannah’s face. She clapped her hand over her mouth, but her giggles came anyway. I joined her, and we laughed until she snorted like a pig. Another pair of ladies came in, and Hannah took me by the arm and led me out of the restroom.
“You know what?” Hannah widened her eyes and dug in her bag. “I just remembered Rainey Bruce is already doing some research on Priscilla Herrera. I’ll send her a text message and ask when she can share it with us.”
I stood up as straight as I could and looked down my nose at Hannah. “I will not share my hard work. While you two were watching movies and crying into bags of fattening potato chips…”
“You sound just like her.” Hannah started laughing again, holding her sides. It took the hostess asking her if she was okay for her to get hold of herself. She calmed down enough to send Rainey a text message about her research on Priscilla Herrera. We went back to our table, still snickering, and found our food waiting. Realizing I hadn’t eaten since the day before, I dug in. The food was surprisingly good. Or maybe I was just hungry.
“Hannah wasn’t lying.” Nash gestured at my empty plate. “Do you want dessert?”
“No, thanks. What I really want is to smoke.” I dug out my cigarettes and lit one.
Nash winced away from me, wrinkling his nose. “Can you do that here?”
“Sure. We’re outside.” I drew hard on the cancer stick and turned away to exhale the smoke. Hannah bared her teeth at me across the table, and I showed her my middle finger. Jay laughed.
A couple sat down a few tables over. There was something familiar about the way the man moved, the set of his shoulders. The dimly lit courtyard mixed with my growing fatigue made it impossible to identify him. The man, helping his date into her chair, turned to face us. Dean Turgeau’s eyes widened at seeing me.