Stage Fright

by Gabrielle Holly

  Thomas reached into his wallet and pulled out two twenties. “Anybody got a ten?” Mike threw two fives onto the counter and the four hurried out into the cold night.

  * * * *

  Nobody had mentioned the incident in the antique shop. Toni caught them stealing glances at the stick pin she wore on her shirt every day, but it had been two weeks and no one had a said a word. She wasn’t trying to illicit a response from anyone. She just thought it might bring her some answers. So far it had done nothing but worry her friends.

  Today the pin was stuck through the thin cotton of the vintage red punk rock band T-shirt she’d found at the local thrift shop. The collar had been cut out and the hem was riddled with holes. Toni wore it over a bright orange long-sleeved T and she liked the way the undershirt showed through the rips. When she’d walked into the theatre that morning, Bridget had raised an eyebrow. Maybe she was fishing for a reaction after all.

  “Cute shirt,” Bridget said from behind the concession stand. She was giving the chrome a final polish.

  Everything, it seemed, was down to the final polish. Mike had proven a masterful general contractor. He’d orchestrated the deliveries and tradesman with admirable precision. The drywall specialists followed the electricians and plumbers and they all wrapped up their work just in time for the team to paint the ceilings and walls, before the new carpet was installed. A fresh dumpster was delivered less than thirty minutes before the university students arrived to pull down the old drapes and start cleaning the murals. Bridget had just begun to unpack the speciality bulbs when the cherry-picker Mike had hired from a local sign company pulled up to the kerb to install them. Most of the seats in the theatre could stand to be replaced—or at least reupholstered, but Mike said that project would be deferred until after the theatre had some cash flow.

  As well as he’d managed the professionals on the project, Mike had also squeezed every drop out of free labour when he could. From the students restoring the murals to his own team, Mike had inspired them all with free pizza and beer and his contagious enthusiasm.

  Toni was glad to count the modern-day Pied Piper among her friends and it suddenly dawned on her that perhaps he hadn’t come into her life by accident. She thought back to their first meeting at her rundown bed-and-breakfast in Iowa. He’d been a guest and one of the men who blew through town every year to re-enact Civil War battles. Mike had never once since then mentioned an interest in that period of American History. He’d stepped up when Thomas’ original cameraman had unexpectedly quit and had proved a competent replacement. And he’d saved the day when Bridget had fallen ill. Without Mike she wouldn’t have sold the inn, bought the ice cream parlour, met Liam, examined her relationship with Thomas, come here to the Bijou…

  Toni glanced at Bridget as she stood back to admire her work on the gleaming metal. “Where’s Mike?”

  “He’s up in the booth, but I’ve got the punch list if you’re looking for something to do,” Bridget said.

  Toni ignored her and headed for the staircase. She dragged her hand over the refinished railing as she ran up the steps. She found Thomas with Mike in the projection room examining the Whisper Reel Deluxe. The two turned and stared at her as she fought to catch her breath.

  “Hey, Tone. Mike is just showing me the thousand places this behemoth needs to be oiled in order to show a film,” Thomas said.

  Toni pulled in deep lungfuls of air until she could speak. “Thomas, I need to speak to Mike alone for a minute.”

  Thomas looked perplexed, but stepped out of the booth and shut the door behind him. Mike, on the other hand, seemed as if he’d been expecting this conversation. He pulled a padded stool from under the work counter and motioned for Toni to sit.

  She shook her head. “No thanks. I’ll stand.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Toni stared into Mike’s eyes, trying to find answers there when she wasn’t even sure of the question. Finally it came to her. “Mike, are you a fucking ghost?”

  Mike threw back his head and laughed. “No, Antonia, I am not a fucking ghost.”

  Goose bumps broke out over Toni’s skin. “How’d you know my name is Antonia?”

  “Well, your nickname is Toni. You’re Italian. If you were French it would probably be Antoinette. I suppose it could have been Antonietta or Antonina, but Antonia is a much more common derivation.”

  “Quit screwing around, Briggs.”

  Mike dragged the stool a few inches closer, gently grabbed Toni’s upper arm and said, “I really think you should sit down.”

  Toni did as she was told, but her mind raced. She replayed every uncanny moment she’d spent with Mike. She realised that even when he’d been a complete stranger to her she’d trusted him implicitly. He’d told her to sell the inn—she’d sold the inn. He’d told her to buy a rundown ice cream parlour sight-unseen—she’d asked who to make the cheque out to. He’d suggested she take a break from the relationship she thought she wanted with Liam and she’d packed her suitcase. “God, Mike—are you like the Pied Piper? If I remember correctly that story didn’t end so well for the ones that followed him.”

  Mike reached out and patted her knee. “I will never harm you, Toni. I will never harm anyone. I can’t.”

  “So what, you’re an angel?”

  Mike shrugged, “You’re on the right track, but not exactly. I’m a guardian. I was born to human parents and I’m essentially human. I’ll age and die just like the rest of you. The difference is that while I’m here, my job is to look after someone and guide that person on their ultimate path—in this case you. Then after this task—this life—is over, I’ll do it all again. I’ll be born, grow up and be guardian to others, live, grow old and die.”

  Toni laid her hand on his. “That sounds awful. What about heaven and eternal rest and all that?”

  Mike laughed again. “Toni, this is heaven. I’m immortal. Though my body goes through the trial of human death every hundred years or so, my awareness, my being never dies. From the moment I’m born into a new body I have complete knowledge of who I am. I go through diapers and toddling and finger painting and—good God—even junior high with the full awareness of my purpose.”

  Looking into his serene face, Toni realised that she’d never seen Mike anything but happy and bursting with an unbridled joy for life. She remembered his excitement at the inn when she’d told her guests about the mysterious hauntings. She remembered his giddiness and awe when he lay on his back on the floor of the ice cream shop—covered with sour, melted ice cream—and stared up at the old tin ceiling. She’d never heard an angry or unkind word pass through his lips. “So, I got you because I’m a psychic?”

  Mike shook his head. “No, Antonia. Every human has a guardian. You saw it because you’re psychic.”

  “So if you’re magic—or whatever—how come you haven’t been able to catch the ghosts on camera, or tell me if Kip Monroe really started the fire or just tell me exactly what I’m supposed to do?”

  Mike laughed. “I’m not magic, Toni. I can’t see your future and I certainly can’t change it. That’s against the rules. I can see options, guide you on your path and hope you make the right decisions, but ultimately the choice is up to you. I can’t read minds either, but I can communicate with other guardians if their charge has some connection to mine.”

  When Toni levelled a sceptical stare at him he continued, “Bridget’s guardian was her first-grade teacher who let her sit on his lap and turn the pages as he read, ‘The Little Engine That Could’ to the class. To this day when she faces something daunting she repeats, ‘I think I can’. Thomas’ guardian was his grandmother who taught him to live life to the fullest even if it sometimes means bending the rules. He’s still in the learning stage, but he’s almost there.”

  “Thomas’ grandma?”

  Mike nodded. “She left that form many, many years ago and she’s on to her next assignment. But she still influences him. In fact, she’s in there.” Mike gestured to th
e metal locker in the corner of the booth.

  “She’s in the cabinet?” Toni asked.

  Mike smiled. “Just wait. You’ll see. Dry your tears now. He’s coming.”

  Toni hadn’t realised she was crying until Mike told her she was. She swiped the last tear from her cheek before Thomas re-entered the room. “Are you two about done in here? We’ve got a grand opening in less than twenty-four hours.”

  In a wink Mike was back to his usual, goofy self. “Absolutely, mon frère. I just need some celluloid to test the old Whisper Reel and we’re good to go. I think there’s some footage in the locker back there. Why don’t you see if there’s something we can use to put this baby through her paces.”

  Thomas walked to the cabinet and Mike nodded at Toni, indicating that she should follow. She stood at his side while Thomas opened the metal doors and tilted his head to read the labels on the film canisters inside. “‘A Sailor on Holiday’, ‘Jessica’s Great Adventure’, ‘Rolf the Talking Dog’, and…” Thomas paused and swept his fingers over the yellowed paper label. “I can’t believe it.” He backed up and Mike slid the stool behind him. Thomas sat down hard, shook his head and stared into the cabinet. “I just can’t believe it.”

  Thomas bent his head and his handsome face contorted as the sobs overtook him. Toni looked to Mike for guidance. Her guardian just nodded then inclined his head towards the cabinet. Toni read the label that had so shaken Thomas, “‘The Gentleman’s Wish?’”

  With his head still bowed, Thomas held out his hand and Toni went to him. He drew her close and buried his face into her breast. Toni glanced up at Mike and wrinkled her forehead, silently asking him what she should do. Mike winked and walked quietly from the room.

  Chapter Five

  Telling Toni the truth about Claudette was a life-changing moment for Thomas. He felt as if a millstone had been lifted from his chest. When he’d told her that his late grandmother had been speaking to him since the day she’d died, Toni had accepted the admission without judgement. And when she’d confessed that her encounter with the ghost of Kip Monroe had been intimate, Thomas had willingly shown her the same grace. He loved this woman—this curvy little Italian-American fireball of a psychic woman. He felt certain that every choice he had made in his life up to this point had led him to her.

  Now as he sat next to her in the renovated theatre, he wondered how he’d been so lucky to find her and what he would have to do to spend the rest of his days at her side. The house lights dimmed and the art on the walls glowed under hidden black lights. Thomas’ mouth dropped open as he scanned the restored murals. Dreamlike scenes of couples enjoying moonlit picnics seemed to come alive. Toni squeezed his hand and he knew she was looking too.

  The speakers crackled and Mike said, “Okay folks, take a deep breath and look up.”

  Thomas craned his neck and looked up at the coved ceiling. The illusion of a starry night appeared overhead. Thomas felt at once small and limitless at the sight of it. The notion of a boundless universe was not lost on him and he was filled with awe. In a guileless moment he turned and pressed his mouth against Toni’s. Her soft, warm lips opened to him and he allowed himself to get lost in the kiss.

  Mike’s voice interrupted them. He’d made his way down from the projection booth and stood on the stage, with Bridget at his side, speaking without the benefit of a microphone. “Does everybody have champagne?”

  Thomas and Toni raised their glasses. Toni shouted, “Woo hoo!” and Thomas whistled through his teeth.

  Bridget kissed Mike on the cheek and he tugged her close. “I am so grateful to have all of you in my life. We’ve done good things here. Together we’ve restored a piece of history. Your hard work has brought this movie palace back from the dead. This is the realisation of a dream for me. That it was accomplished with the love and devotion of good friends is nothing short of heaven. I love you. I thank you. I share this moment with you.”

  Thomas raised his glass and couldn’t help but notice that Mike gave an extra moment of attention to Toni. He didn’t feel threatened or jealous. He was somehow proud that the woman he loved had been the catalyst for so much positive change. He gulped down the champagne and thought for a moment of being alone with her.

  Mike cleared his throat. “And now, Bridget, my love, if you would be so kind as to distribute the hors d’ oeuvres.”

  Bridget strode off stage left and emerged on the theatre floor with a tray full of hotdogs and accoutrements. “Dig in!” she shouted.

  Mike jumped from the stage and joined the others as each customised their snack with onions, mustard and sweet relish. The four took their food and drink and perched on the front of the stage with their feet dangling over the edge.

  Toni elbowed Thomas. “You’d better put some onions on that dog, Becker. I’m loading mine up and I fully intend to kiss you tonight.”

  Thomas spooned a mound of chopped onions on his frankfurter and tore into it with a feral growl.

  “That’s more like it,” Toni said.

  Mike uncorked a second bottle of champagne and the four were soon well lubricated. They’d started on their third bottle and had long since disposed of the hotdogs when Bridget pressed her fist against her sternum and unleashed a colossal belch. The drunken redhead flopped back on the stage and dissolved in a fit of giggles.

  “That’s my girl,” Mike said and climbed on top of her, showering her freckled face with kisses.

  As soon as Thomas and Toni had recovered from their bout of laughter, Toni jumped off the stage and gathered up the food wrappers. “Tomorrow night is the grand opening and we don’t want this place smelling like—well—like O’Malley. I’ll run these out to the dumpster.”

  Thomas watched the seductive sway of Toni’s round ass as she sashayed to the alley door. His cock stiffened and he couldn’t wait to get her back to the hotel.

  * * * *

  Toni’s mind was reeling—from the champagne, from Mike’s admission that he was some kind of supernatural being, from Thomas’ confession that he’d had a lifelong history of ghost encounters and from her own conclusions about her future. She was sure that a jolt of cold winter air was just what she needed to clear her head. Still chuckling at Bridget’s less-than-ladylike display, Toni pushed open the heavy steel door to the alley and propped it open with a broken broom handle. The blast of frigid air cooled her alcohol flushed skin as she hurried to the dumpster, lifted the lid and tossed in the smelly food wrappers. When she turned towards the welcoming warmth of the theatre, an image in the distance caught the corner of her eye. Toni faced the side street and squinted to bring the subject into focus.

  Priscilla Stringman stood on the opposite sidewalk with her camera to her eye and Toni reached up to touch the stickpin fastened to the front of her T-shirt. Priscilla’s ghost brought down her camera and seemed to stare directly at Toni. “Priscilla, can you hear me?” Toni whispered. The ghost didn’t answer but in the blink of an eye she was in the alley an arm’s length away.

  The ghost’s gaze was far off but Toni persisted. “Priscilla, I can see you. I want to help you. Can you see me? Can you hear me?”

  Toni was about to retreat to the warmth of the theatre. She knew it was fruitless to try to communicate with a residual. It was tantamount to spouting off at a television program and expecting the actors to respond. And then she saw the glimmer of recognition in the spectre’s eyes. Priscilla looked at her—not through her—then drew in an audible breath of surprise. “Can you really see me?” she asked.

  Toni nodded.

  The spirit looked Toni up and down then her gaze settled on the stickpin fastened to Toni’s shirt. “That’s mine! Where did you get that?”

  Toni pulled the stopper from the end of the shaft and drew the pin from the fabric. She held it out to Priscilla. “I found it in an antique shop. I felt the energy in it. You can have it back.”

  Priscilla bowed and her shoulders jerked as the sobs overtook her. She slowly shook her head. “I can
’t take it. Don’t you know I’m dead and gone? You keep it. I have no use for it here.”

  Toni reached out to soothe the ghost and her fingers passed right through her.

  Priscilla’s face was the picture of regret. “I am so weary of this. Night and day for years and years I walk the same path. Up Third Street, right on Main, left again. I take the pictures. I wave at the people waiting in line to see the show. I take more pictures. It never ends. I just want to rest.”

  The tears tumbled from Toni’s eyes, tracing a frozen path down her cheeks. “Please Priscilla, please tell me what I can do.”

  “My things…they took my things. They stood on the lawn and bid on them then they packed them in an automobile and took them to that building where you found my pin.” The ghost reached out and stroked the pin in Toni’s upturned palm. An icy river flowed up her arm. “But there’s more,” the ghost said. “They took my pictures—all of them.”

  Toni fought to keep her composure. The information this spirit gave her could very well fulfil her promise to Kip. “Priscilla, is there something special—something important—in those pictures?”

  Priscilla jerked her head to the right then looked back at Toni with a terrifying combination of fear and excitement. “I have to go. The fire is starting. I have to get the shot. I’ll win an award. They’ll remember me forever. I have to go. I have to go. I have to…”

  An enormous vacuum of air jerked Toni forward and sucked the air from her lungs. Her ears popped and her eyes felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets. She fell to her knees in the snow-dusted alley and had to plant her palms on the ground to steady herself. The painful suction subsided with a subtle puff and she dropped her head below her shoulders for a moment, gasping until her lungs refilled with air. Still on all fours, Toni slowly raised her head and looked across the street. Priscilla was once again caught up in the never-ending loop—walking, shooting, waving, shooting again.