“Wait a minute, you mean you haven’t told Joshua Nick was his father?” She looked away and didn’t answer. “So, what exactly did you tell him, Becky?”
“None of your business,” she spat. “Stay away from my son and keep your mouth shut. In fact, I think you should start looking for another gig.” My cheeks flushed and I felt myself becoming angry. I was suddenly gaining a deeper appreciation of Candace’s dislike of Becky.
Luckily Joshua reappeared and overheard some of his mother’s tirade. “Wait a sec’, Mom. Didn’t you tell me what a fantastic singer and musician she is? Now you’re asking her to leave?”
Becky turned to him, all smiles and innocence. She patted Joshua on the arm. “No, no, honey, it’s just that she’s so busy with her other job. I thought maybe it was getting to be too much for her.”
He turned to me, one brow arched sexily. “Is it too much for you?”
I smiled and tilted my head slightly to the side. I’d learned a few tricks from Simone. “No. I’m good. I love singing here and helping out.”
Joshua grinned broadly, his white teeth shining brightly against his tan skin. “Good! Grab your guitar and play. Something tells me I’m going to like you singing here.”
I looked pointedly at Becky, who frowned, and I went to grab my guitar. Becky had another thing coming if she thought she could intimidate me so easily. She’d also shown me a side of herself I had only glimpsed once before. I could not help wondering which was the real Becky.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I CAN’T SAY I WAS unhappy to head home after the day I’d had. I didn’t like the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t like the way Becky treated me. I did like that her son was really hot, but then I felt guilty about my feelings, too. Whenever I started thinking about Joshua, my mind switched to Lucas and my heart beat a little bit faster. Fact is, I thought about Lucas more than I cared to admit. No man, alive or otherwise, had ever made me feel the way Lucas did. I didn’t know if he’d visit tonight, but even though I was exhausted, I hoped he would. I didn’t want to be alone.
I pressed down harder on the gas pedal and turned up the radio to Stevie Nicks singing “Edge of Seventeen.” I sang along with her, trying to block thoughts of the day, the new guy, and Lucas out of my mind. As I rolled up the road to my house, I pushed the clicker to open the gate to the main entrance. A quick check in the rear view mirror showed an empty road behind me.
I still was feeling anxious about Pietro or George appearing on the scene. They had failed to show up at the bar, but if they found out where I lived . . . I suppose going to George’s place and eavesdropping had not been the smartest idea, and although I had learned some interesting things, I had more questions now than I did before I stood outside George’s office.
When I opened the door to my place, I was greeted by Cass, Mac, and Lucas. They were all seated in the living room watching TV. I found myself smiling instantly.
“You’re here,” I said.
“I am. I told you I would be back.”
“But you left in such a hurry last night, and I thought you were upset with me.”
He shook his head. “No. But we need to talk.”
I did not like the way that sounded. “Okay.” I came over and sat down next to him. The glow around him was dimmer than usual. “When someone says ‘we need to talk’ that usually isn’t good.”
He sighed. “I know I keep telling you our worlds are the same, but reality is, I am not completely of your world any longer no matter how badly I want to be.”
I wasn’t sure where this was going. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Nothing.” He waved a hand and the light surrounding it made a dizzying swirl around the room. He seemed almost angry. “I am here to distract you from falling into anything associated with the Black Tier, and to do so, we need to start with your friend’s murder.”
“Okay.” God, I was so confused! “I’ve been looking into it already.”
He groaned softly. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
“I have to, Lucas! The police seem to think it was a mob hit, and they aren’t all that interested in doing much to solve it. Nick deserves better than that.”
“Then I have more work to do. I need to be sure you’re protected.”
“Why can’t you just go with me wherever I go?”
He shook his head sadly. “You know I can’t. I’m limited without permissions. My portal is here and my vibration will diminish if I leave this portal or anywhere I don’t have permissions to be.
“So get permission,” I said a bit angrily.
He closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s not so easy. Even if I was with you every second, there is only so much power I have. I can be of more help to you from this side. I can keep the Black from getting to you, but at a human level, I can’t do much. I need to find out who your guardian angel is and see what I can do to keep you further protected.”
Say what? “My guardian angel? Really?”
“Really. Everyone has one. And many times, they’re the last person you would expect. Some are born here with the knowledge of who and what they are. Some are sent here in another vessel.”
“Like reincarnation?”
“No. Like if you died tonight and went through your review and ultimately met with the Bodha, they could script you. That means they would give you a script—a purpose—and you would be sent back to Earth to fulfill that purpose. Likely you would go somewhere you had never been, you would already be an adult, you would be given instructions on where you would work, live, how, why, all of it. And you’d be given details on who you were watching over.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding. This can also happen to people who cross over but want to come back. They aren’t finished. The Bodha allows them return to wrap up unfinished business, but in return, they must become a guardian angel. They too, are given a script but it’s different from being placed into another body.”
“Let me get this straight . . . someone like Simone could be my guardian angel?”
“As odd as that may seem, yes.”
“Can you tell me who it is when you find out?”
“No. I can’t. I would be breaking the trust between the Bodha and myself, and I am already on thin ice as it is.” I wondered exactly what he meant by that comment. I hoped I hadn’t somehow gotten him into trouble. “Since you are already investigating on this side of things, I think it’s time you tell me what you know. Let me see if there is any way I can help.”
I laid out the players. I told him about Becky and Joshua, conveniently leaving out the part about Joshua’s good looks. I told him about Candace and Mumbles and the history between them. I laughed at the idea that George Hernandez could have offed Nick for stealing his fish taco recipe. It seemed crass, but it sounded ludicrous as I said it.
“Then there is this Pietro SanGiacomo-character who seems like a mobster to me. I think he’s a loan shark. Apparently Nick was screwing around with this guy’s sister on top of owing him money, and then he dumped her. My guess is the guy wasn’t pleased. Oh, and he and George Hernandez have some kind of illegal side business arrangement.”
“What a tangled web.” Lucas shook his head.
“Tell me about it. Then there is Bradley Verne. I like him. I mean, he seems like a decent, sincere person, but there is still something that bothers me about him. He and Nick have a long history, and I think I have only barely scratched the surface. They all have a past together. Candace, Becky, Bradley, and Nick.” I went on to tell him about Roger and how he drowned in the pool at the Verne mansion.
“Roger Hawks?”
I nodded.
Lucas smiled.
“What?” I asked. “Why the smile?”
“I might be able to actually gain information directly from the source.”
“What do you mean?”
“From Roger Hawks himself and what happened that night.”
“So, you, uh, know
him?”
Lucas shook his head. “No. But let me see what I can do. Seeing how he was once famous, died tragically—well, if he didn’t wind up stuck in the Black Tier or glorified in the White, he may be closer than we think, and I may get access to his vibration.”
“That would be great. If there is a link from that night, that could help us figure out who murdered Nick, then maybe Roger Hawks can give us some answers.”
“I agree, but let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. I will likely have to jump through some hoops as it is.”
“Right.” I couldn’t help but smile. Yes I was really attracted to Lucas, but it was also nice to have this kind of support. He wanted to help me.
“Anything else? Anyone else you’ve encountered who you think might have had it in for Nick?”
“I forgot to tell you about Jackson.”
“Jackson?”
“Yeah.” I gave him an abbreviated description of the strange man and his bizarre behavior.
“I don’t like him at all,” Lucas said, his voice low and gruff.
“Me neither. I should also tell you someone followed me home the other night. And then yesterday, I was almost attacked by a jaguar.” Lucas looked incredulous until I told him about Pierre and how Anastasia tried to attack me. I even mentioned how I could have sworn I spotted Pierre back at the bar with some woman.
“This isn’t good.” He sounded angry. “That Pierre fellow, the jaguar, and the woman—who if I had to guess are one in the same—are from the Black and were sent to mess with you.”
“Okay . . . but how can you tell?”
“Trust me. I can read the signs.”
“But can you explain what’s going on? I mean, who were those people?”
“First of all, they weren’t people. Shape shifters, most likely. And possibly a necromancer as well.”
More shape shifter stuff? And now necromancers? “You mean as in someone who has been raised from the dead?” Lucas nodded. Oh boy! What in the hell had I gotten myself into?
“I have a very bad feeling about all of this, Lucas.” And that, my friends, is what’s known as an understatement.
“I know.” His hand picked up mine. “But there is a reason why all of this is happening, and it’s not just because of the Black. Remember, the White has influence too. Just as I have been sent here to protect and hopefully guide you, you’ve been brought here to find out who killed your friend, and maybe, solve the mystery of what happened to your sister.”
I sucked in my breath and felt tears sting my eyes.
“Hey, hey, don’t do that. I’m sorry. I thought that’s what you wanted.” His fingers brushed my cheeks wiping away the tears.
“No. Don’t be.” I looked up at him and he withdrew his fingers. “I want to know. I do want to know what happened to her.”
“Okay. I will help you then. But I need to go.”
“Again?” Here he had touched me and everything seemed so, I don’t know, kind of like intimate. “Why? We’re talking and hanging out and I like you here.” I know I sounded whiny, but I did like him around.
“I like being here but I am not here to be your friend. I’m here because . . .”
“I’m your project.”
He waited a minute to respond. When he did, he picked up my hand again, sending those fluttering feelings back down to my toes.
“I was kind of a bad boy in my day, when I was, you know, living. I lived and played hard. I had a lot of women. And now I’m here and I have to be honest, I want so badly to be there with you. Your world. Or here with you. My world. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think.” My stomach sunk.
“If I were a real man again, I would have already pursued and seduced you and completely had my way with you.”
Okay. Yep. Now my stomach really did sink. I found my voice, which sounded almost guttural when I spoke. “Well, how do you even know if you could have seduced me and had your way with me?” Jeez, I was flirting with a spirit!
He smiled. “I had some pretty good moves.”
“Oh you did, did you?” Yes, I was flirting with a dead guy.
“I did.”
“What were they?”
He looked into my eyes almost as if he could look through me, which maybe he could.
“Evie, I can’t. I can’t go there with you. I have some feelings that I shouldn’t, and I want to help you. I want to protect you and you are my project, and . . .”
“Project! Oh, come on! I don’t even know what that really means, Lucas!” I raised my voice. “This whole thing is crazy,” I said my voice raised a couple of octaves as I felt lightheaded.
I noticed in those few seconds something different about the way his eyes looked—almost sad, and I regretted my words and actions. I sunk back into flirtation mode. I don’t know what compelled me. I don’t know what I was thinking, but dammit, I was completely and totally attracted to Lucas—his spirit—vibration, whatever the hell he wanted to call it.
“I mean can’t you show me what your moves were? See if I would have fallen under your spell?”
He stood. “No I can’t! You and me—no. We can’t. You’re a human and I’m not, and there are rules and . . . I have to go.” With those words, he was gone, and I was left speechless and in complete dismay.
Chapter Thirty
IT WAS HARD TO CONCENTRATE the next day while doing Simone’s make-up. Fortunately she didn’t have much to do for the day. She was kind of a grump for some reason and didn’t say much to me.
We were in her bedroom and she’d asked for a simple look.
“I want to go to a Starbucks and have coffee, but everyone wants a piece of me,” she said.
I wanted to ask her about the record producer but could see she was sulky and when she gets like that, the world becomes even more about her than usual.
“I want my pumpkin spice latte and to be left alone, but I want to be around people.”
“You can go in disguise,” I suggested, brushing a peach color blush across her perfectly angled cheekbones.
She picked up one of my brushes and threw it across the room. “I don’t want to go as someone else!”
“Sorry,” I said, retrieving the brush. Clooney, who had been asleep on her bed, lifted his head up.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m, well, do you think I’m getting old?” she asked.
“No. Why?”
“The Hollywood Insider has an article about who they think will age well and who won’t. I am on the ‘won’t’ list.” She pointed to the paper on her boudoir. I picked it up and read over the list.
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “You’re beautiful, and you will age like fine wine. I am sure of it.” Not that I knew what fine wine really ages like, but the saying is out there so I gave it a shot. I flipped open the rag. “Why do you read this stuff in the first place?”
“I know. It’s stupid.”
“It is,” I muttered as something caught my eye. An article about Nick, and it was written by Jackson Owens. What the hell? “I’ll get rid of this for you. You look great. Do you want me to take you somewhere?”
“No.” She sat there texting on her iPhone. “I guess it’s silly for me to think I could ever go to a Starbucks as myself and sit there like a normal person. I only wanted to try and look pretty today.” She frowned and went back to her phone. “I think I need to spend the rest of the day in the movie room watching Ocean’s Eleven again. You can go,” she muttered.
I was a little surprised she didn’t insist I stay and watch with her, but as I pulled out of her front gates, I spotted Dwight’s car winding up the street toward her house and knew she had other plans. He spotted me through the windshield and gave a wave. I waved back. I still really did not trust that guy.
But exploring my distrust toward Dwight at the moment didn’t seem prudent. What did was reading the article Jackson had written.
Nick’s was closed during the days now. Becky had made the decision to open the b
ar at four and no more lunch servings. I could understand the thought process. Nick’s never did get much of a lunch crowd, and so I am sure Joshua and his mother were looking at it from a financial perspective. However, I did wonder what they planned to do with the place. In the back of my mind was Simone’s mention of purchasing the bar.
There was a sandwich shop close by Nick’s and I decided to stop in and grab a bite. I wished I had Cass with me, but I didn’t want to take the time to go all the way home to read the article.
After ordering an iced tea and a turkey sandwich, I sat at a table outside and opened up The Hollywood Insider to Jackson’s article, which was titled, “A Bar of Secrets: Finding Closure on the Death of Nick Gordin.”
I gasped. What was Jackson up to?
After several weeks of the ongoing investigation into Nick Gordin’s murder, it would appear the police don’t have much interest in solving the case.
However, as a journalist, (I thought the guy was a screen writer) I decided to take a closer look at those who knew Nick Gordin best. And I discovered a nest of secrets at Nick’s bar. Of course, I can’t print actual names, but it won’t be difficult for readers to put two and two together.
The regulars at Nick’s are a peculiar bunch. They include a former wannabe starlet who was once engaged to Gordin and now goes by a different name. This woman is believed to know more about the night Roger Hawks died than she claims. Her sidekick may also know something. In fact, Hawks and Gordin caused him his right eye and his job as a stuntman.
A long time friend of Gordin’s, from one of the most prestigious Hollywood families, appears to be on the verge of bankruptcy. Wonder what that’s all about and how it might tie into Gordin’s death? Was he talking about Bradley Verne? He had to be.
Then there is the pretty, part-time bartender, part-time singer at Nick’s who had high hopes of meeting a music producer through Gordin. Looks as though Gordin may have been holding out a carrot. I can’t help wondering if someone was holding a grudge.
The Grey Tier Page 16