by Moray, Tabby
Pulling into a parking space behind the building, she took out her keys and opened the rear door. Walking down a short, brightly lit hallway that branched off into other parts of the building, she made a quick right and was in front of her office door. Opening it, she stepped into a small, cramped space, then dropped her purse on a chair and quickly changed into her favorite pair of tennis shoes and an outfit from the exercise gear she always kept in an old-school gym locker she’d purchased at an auction. Brewing a cup of coffee from the single cup brewer, she gulped it down alongside a protein bar, needing the surge of energy it provided for the long day ahead. After giving her hair a quick pat down, she locked the office behind her and walked to the end of the hall, pushing the door open that lead into the main part of the building.
There were two open exercise studios, each with glossy bamboo floors, high, wood beamed ceilings and floor to ceiling plate glass windows which allowed potential clients to look inside at classes in session. A spinning room brimming with more than a dozen bikes, a compact weight room and a modest locker room rounded out the facility.
Lila, one of her two assistants, was just finishing up with one of the two classes she’d subbed on Dina’s behalf. After having been with Dina from the first day the doors opened, she was well on her way to being ready to lead most of her own classes. It was a day Dina looked forward to simply because it would allow her to slow down and focus on marketing her video a bit more vigorously.
After leading the class through a five minute cool down, students streamed out in a humid, sweaty mass, chattering in groups of twos and threes. When there was a break in the crowd, Dina slipped inside, walking over to talk with Lila.
“How’d everything go?”
“Great! No trouble at all. I could’ve been you,” she said, grinning playfully. Her dimples turned her cute dark-brown face into a baby doll façade, replete with Shirley Temple curls pulled back into a long ponytail. Of course, Shirley Temple hadn’t had lavender colored dreadlocks, multiple tattoos and been African-American, but pretty much the same difference.
“I’m glad to hear it. You’re great though, you know that.” Lila beamed with pride. “I was thinking you’re probably ready to take on more classes. What do you say?”
“I say hell yeah! When do I start and where do I sign?” She was nearly jumping with joy, having waited for this day ever since she’d gotten her personal training and group exercise training certification several months earlier, she’d been gunning for her own class.
“You already have. You can take over the 7am, 9am and 11am classes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday’s. My only advice is that you stick to the current exercise programs for the time being. But you can gradually start changing it to your style in the next couple of weeks, with a warning, of course, to your students. We’ll fill out the paperwork a little later.”
“I’m not a morning gal but you know I’ll make it work,” she sang, still dancing.
The remainder of the day she was busy with her classes, paperwork and a long winded conversation with her agent. Throughout the day she found herself distracted by thoughts of Sam the Ghost and Detective Barney Nichols.
As she was packing up and heading to her class at the community center, she suddenly realized she hadn’t thought of Anthony even once.
**
“You could’ve warned me, you know.”
She felt more than saw Sam the Ghost’s presence hovering in the hallway leading into the rear of the house. Dina had been sitting, flipping the television aimlessly from one network to the next and snacking on a bowl of butter-less popcorn. After her long day, she’d been too tired to cook, desiring instead to sink on the couch into the oblivion that television offered. “That was a pretty sucky way to meet Detective Barney Nichols.”
“How was I supposed to know he’d be in there?” Sam floated into view wearing a filmy nightgown that didn’t leave nearly enough to the imagination.
“Could you put something else on please?” she grimaced. “This isn’t the Playboy Mansion and I ain’t interested in girls.”
“Such a prude. There—is that better?” She transformed her outfit into a turn of the century stiff flannel nightgown, the formidable lace collar so high up her throat it looked as if it might suffocate her.
“Much,” she commented, nodding approvingly. “I would’ve expected you to know he was in the bathroom the same way you know everything else.”
“I don’t know everything.”
“It sure seems like it from where I’m sitting. Now Detective Nichol’s is going to think I’m some sort of men’s bathroom stalking weirdo who talks to herself.”
“He’s not that judgmental.”
“He said he hated celebrities. Sounds pretty judgmental to me.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re not really a celebrity.”
“Humph!”
“What?” she asked with an innocent shrug. “You’re not…really.”
“Anyway,” Dina continued, once again annoyed, but not really knowing why. It wasn’t as if what Sam said wasn’t true. It was just that her pointing out the truth was really irritating. “He seems like a…challenging man.”
“Just give him half a chance,” she said, soothingly. “You’ll see how sweet he is.” A wistful smile was on her face.
“I seriously doubt it. Is he Native American?” Dina asked, as Sam floated down, assuming the lotus position, obviously a favorite pose for this ghost.
“A good bit. But then, so am I,” Sam said, proudly.
“You don’t look it,” Dina scoffed, perusing her features. “All I see is a good ol’ southern gal with European roots.”
“I’m more than meets the eye. I did one of those reverse ancestry profiles before I was killed and discovered that my great-great-great-great grandmother was one quarter Delaware.”
“So you have a drop of the Red Man in your blood?” Dina cocked an eyebrow in her direction, popping another piece of dry popcorn in her mouth and fantasizing that it was slathered in butter.
“It’s not a lot, but it gives me an exotic edge. At least that’s what people told me.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m trying to watch TV here.”
“What are you anyway?”
“Why?”
“I’m just curious, is all.”
“Does it matter?” she asked, grumpily.
“Not really. I’m just nosy, is all.”
“I’m a patchwork quilt. I like to say that my family is the platypus of the south.” Sam continued to look at her inquiringly until she heaved a sigh, thumping the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. “If you must know, I’m more black than Indian and more Indian than white. In other words: American.”
“It all came together beautifully. You’d look great in my designs.” Cocking her head to the side, she studied her, eyes narrowed in contemplation. “If you were a little bit taller you could’ve been a model.”
“No thanks. I don’t care for being the center of attention.”
“And yet you just made an exercise video.”
“That’s different. What I do isn’t about vanity.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Well…maybe a little,” she admitted grudgingly.
“You don’t get to look like you do without a little vanity being involved.”
“Ok then, maybe a lot,” she admitted with a spontaneous laugh.
“Look at that, I made you laugh,” she said, smiling.
“Even a bad comedian can make me laugh once,” she muttered.
They watched television in companionable silence for a while, each laughing through a couple reruns of Seinfeld. “You and Detective Nichols seem like complete opposites. He seems so low key and no frills and you…are you.”
“We were opposites,” she said with another one of those wistful smiles. “But we complemented one another. Being with him was so easy. No complications. He did everything he could to please me and make me happy. But…”
her voice trailed off, her face contorting as though she was about to cry.
“But what?”
“I’m tired. Goodnight.”
She abruptly disappeared, the suddenness of her departure creating a spectral wind in her wake and leaving Dina wondering just what it was the ghost had been about to say.
**
“So how’d everything go today?”
“Hmmm? I’d like a piece of apple pie with an extra scoop of ice cream,” Dina sleepily mumbled, rolling over and smiling with anticipation.
“Dina, wake up! I said how’d everything go today?”
“Mom—do you know what time it is?” Dina asked, groggily waking from being on the verge of a decadent forkful of apple pie à la mode and sitting up crabbily. Her bedside clock said it was 11:47pm.
“Yes, I do,” she said. The sound of wind and low music carried over the cellphone connection. “But you know I keep long hours and you’re young so I figured you’d still be up.”
“Yeah? Well, you’d be wrong. These days I’m in bed by 10.” Shifting to her side, the glow of a nearly full moon, fat and complacently sitting in the clear night sky, shone through the gaps in the curtains, the lonely call of some night dwelling bird lingering on the still night air.
“I’ll make it quick then. I’m assuming all went well today?”
“It went. Though I wouldn’t call it ‘going well’.” Quickly filling her in on the details, she ended with, “Sam just disappeared on me tonight. We were talking about her ex and I guess she got emotional or something.”
“What’d you ask her?”
“I just mentioned how different she and Detective Nichols seemed and she started to respond, then got all upset and vanished.”
“Hmmm…interesting.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“So…”
“So what, Mom?” she asked dryly, knowing what she was about to ask.
“So, is he good-looking?”
“He’s okay,” she said, slowly, her thoughts about the detective still mostly unformed. He did have those great eyes though. They were like deep, dark pools a girl could get lost in. Dina frowned, not exactly happy with the decidedly poetic turn her thoughts had taken in regards to a man she didn’t want anything to do with. “I don’t know if I’d call him good-looking exactly. Unusual looking is a better description. He looks like he’s got a good amount of Indian in him.”
“Indian, sweetie? They’re called Native American. That’s the socially acceptable label,” her mother chastised, tongue clucking.
“Being that neither one of them are descriptive labels they gave themselves, I use Indian and Native American interchangeably, figuring they wouldn’t give a damn either way.”
“Anyway…” Her mother changed the subject like she always did when she couldn’t win an argument. “Unusual is good. I like that better than good-looking. Adds a little something interesting to the mix.”
“All I need added to this mix is a way out,” Dina muttered.
“Look, why not look at this as an adventure? You never know, Dina, this man could end up being the love of your life.”
CHAPTER NINE
The days leading up to her first day’s training with the police department went by quickly. Sam the Ghost remained a no-show and despite her irritation with the ghost, Dina found she was somewhat worried.
The following Friday, after putting her pro bono class through their paces; Eileen Sutherland, Paula Ingleson, Molly Laurence and several other emissaries of the Southern Ladies Club of St. Simons Island, strolled over to Dina with purpose, the ingratiating smiles of those about to ask for something pasted on their calculating faces.
The ringleader, Paula Ingleson, piped up first. Twirling a lock of dyed blonde hair in her fingers, she leaned in, speaking in a coquettish stage whisper, much as one would when sharing a deep, dark secret. “So a little birdie told me that somebody is hosting their very first southern soiree round about the end of June.”
In the midst of slinging an unwieldy equipment bag over her shoulder, Dina was at first very confused. “I’m sorry?”
“So you’re not hostin’ a party in June?” Eileen said, looking rather crestfallen. “My cousin’s friend Janie Cook told her that you was havin’ a party and that it was gonna be the biggest, hippest party this summer…”
“Oh…that.” Why in the world was Janie blabbing about a party she still wasn’t sure she wanted to have? “I—yeah, Janie suggested I throw a housewarming party. But I still haven’t warmed up to the idea yet,” she joked. No one seemed to get it, staring at her blankly. She never had been very good with comic timing.
“Damned small island,” Paula murmured, shaking her head. “Everybody just knows everybody’s business and half of it isn’t even true.” The ladies stood there looking as though Dina had taken away the stuffed bunny they’d won at the county fair.
“I mean, it’s not completely untrue,” she said, in a misguided attempt to cheer them up.
Why’d she go and get everybody’s hopes up? The droopy women inflated like helium balloons, their party antenna on high alert. On St. Simons, a swanky house party was what everyone lived for during the summers which was exactly why she’d never bothered hosting one. Too much pressure and stress on the hostess to do everything to an exacting degree of perfect southern hospitality. God forbid one should lay out the wrong table decorations or serve the wrong food pairings, suddenly you were the talk of the island and not in a good way.
“So then that’s settled!” Paula said with a finality that made Dina sweat. “This party is gonna be the talk of the island! And I’m a real hit with organizin’. I’ve just got the perfect crowd-pleasin’ punch, too.”
“I’m really not sure--,” Dina desperately tried to interject. But she was drowned out by the excited babble of a half dozen party crazed women swirling around her. Things had spiraled out of control, the plans for the party evidently now in the hands of the Southern Ladies Club of St. Simons.
“Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll do most of the work for you.”
That’s exactly what she was afraid of.
**
“Janie, why have you been spreading the word about this party I wasn’t even sure I was going to host?” Dina demanded as soon as she picked up her cell phone.
“Oh, sweetie! I thought we’d already settled all that.” Janie’s voice was as sweet as the nectar from a newly bloomed honeysuckle blossom. “The party is gonna happen. Just go with it, honey.”
“And if I don’t want to?” she griped, exasperated that this party was essentially out of her hands.
“Dina, darlin’, you’ve just gotta suck it up.”
**
“There’s been some rumors circulating about a party someone I know is hosting in the next month or so. Is any of it true or is it just island gossip?”
It was early Monday morning, roughly twenty minutes before the first class of the day and Lila, dressed in tie-dyed purple leggings and matching spandex crop-top, was standing in the door to her office, looking at her inquiringly.
“How do you even know about this? You don’t even live here!” Dina looked up from the trade magazine she was perusing, thoroughly exasperated. Over the past weekend she had fielded calls from more than a dozen people demanding--with varying degrees of attitude—to know why they hadn’t been invited to, nor informed about, this ever growing party she was apparently throwing.
“A girl hears things. I’ve got ears, ya know.” She pointed to her multi-pierced lobes, crossing her arms expectantly. “The only question I have is why haven’t I already been invited?”
“Janie somehow managed to talk me into hosting this shindig.” Tossing the magazine atop her cluttered desk, Dina leaned back, shaking her head. “I barely knew I was having a party until two days ago.”
“Ahh---you were bullied by the pit bull of real estate, huh? Remind me when I’m ready to buy a house not to call her.”
“You still
mad about that whole ‘You’d be so much cuter if you were a brunette’ comment?” There was no love lost between Lila and Janie. The two of them were like live wires making violent contact.
“And I’m also pretty pissed about her, ‘When people get a lot of tattoos they’re hiding something’ comment and her ‘You’re a really good example for your people’ comment. For my people? What the hell’s that even mean?”
“She actually opened her mouth and said that?”
“I told you about that when it happened and you said, ‘Oh, she doesn’t mean anything by it’--,”
“You don’t forget a thing, do you?” Janie really did talk entirely too much sometimes.
“She acts like I’m some woman with a dark past as opposed to someone who’s simply rebelling against suburban oppression--,”
“Suburban oppression?” Dina asked, dryly.
“Hey--we get oppressed, too. Anyway, say no more. I get it. The Mean Girl in stilettoes is forcing you to do this. I’m pretty sure I won’t want to be anywhere near any party she’ll be at.”
“Of course you’ll be there. How the hell else am I supposed to make an escape when she starts driving me insane?”
“I guess…but only for you,” she agreed reluctantly. She pushed herself off the doorframe, walking down the hall and yelling behind her, “If I’ve gotta put up with Janie’s busybody ass all night, the drinks had better be awesome.”
CHAPTER TEN
“So I want everybody to take a look at the handout they picked up when they first came in.”
Dina looked around the room, patiently waiting for everyone to organize themselves and trying not to stare at any one person too much. In particular, Barney aka Sam the Ghost’s fiancé, whose thick luxurious mane of hair looked freshly washed. He was wearing a tee-shirt and loose fitting track pants, arms crossed, a defensive lift to his thin eyebrows. He had the stance of a person uncomfortable with the thought of being there. He wasn’t alone. When she looked around the room there were at least six other people who were just as ill at ease, their thick waistlines and flabby arms evidence of too much time spent behind a desk or the steering wheel of a car and not enough time doing any real physical activity.