by Tess Oliver
I put my arm around his shoulder. "It's all right, Dad. Like you said, I turned out all right, didn't I?"
"You sure did, kiddo. You sure did."
4
A text came through as I waited inside the crowded coffee shop for my double chocolate latte. My three day shift at the fire station had just ended, and my to-do list for the next three days began and ended with taking a massive fucking nap.
"Chai tea and mocha latte for Cindy," the barista called. The woman standing next to me shuffled out of her corner and sidled her way through the waiting customers to the pick-up counter.
I pulled out my phone to read Bronx's text. "How were your parents doing? Anything interesting happen on your shift?"
Two questions were more than I wanted to answer in a crowded coffee house. I pushed the phone back into my pocket.
"I've got a hibiscus tea for Tony and a double chocolate for K." My name usually caught more attention than I wanted, so at restaurants and coffee houses I used the letter K. I pushed through the crowd and reached the counter. A thin arm crossed over mine as I reached for my latte and the woman reached for her tea. Our faces popped up at the same time. For a split second, I was sure I was still in bed dreaming. They were a pair of green eyes I'd know anywhere, yet it was impossible. She stared back at me, looking almost equally stunned, then slightly terrified.
She grabbed her tea and made a hasty dash through the coffee shop. My attempt to follow her was thwarted by the crazy woman who had pushed a double baby stroller into a packed coffee house. As I found my opening, the stroller got pushed directly into my path. The two little ones started to cry when I nearly pitched myself over the stroller. The harried, stressed out mom sneered at me as if I should have anticipated the stroller and stopped clear of them. Still, I apologized and squirted around the stroller and past the other people blocking the exit.
As a firefighter, I was absolutely sure the coffee shop had exceeded its safety limit but, I had no time to point it out to the manager. I pushed out into the fresh air, my hot coffee clutched in my hand. I looked frantically back and forth as if I was about to cross a busy highway. There was no sign of her, Tony with the hibiscus tea. I tried to shake the whole thing off as crazy. First of all, the woman's name was Tony, unless she was buying the tea for someone named Tony or maybe she was using an alias. After all, my cup had the name K. It was nuts but I pulled out my phone and called Bronx.
"Hey, I just texted ya," Bronx started.
I kept an eye out for the mysterious Tony as I headed back to my truck. "You're going to tell me I'm fucking nuts, but I swear I just saw a ghost."
"You're fucking nuts," he replied. "How are your parents?"
"You might think I'm fucking with you, but I swear I just crossed coffee drinks with Kenzie Jensen. Even though her name was Tony, apparently, and she had short, dark hair instead of the long, silvery locks."
Bronx's laugh shot through the phone. "So, you're basing this solely on the fact that this ghost person was female?"
"No, I'm fucking nuts, but I'm not an idiot. It was her green eyes. Look, you know as well as I that no one had those incredible emerald green eyes like Kenzie Jensen."
"Uh, except for her identical twin, Sutton Jensen. Who is also dead, remember?"
I unlocked the truck and climbed inside. My heart was pounding for no apparent reason except I was sure of what I just saw. Would I have had such a profound physical reaction if the woman wasn't Kenzie Jensen? Ah, who was I kidding? I was fucking nuts.
I sat back, stupidly disappointed by the reality that I had not seen Kenzie Jensen. I had watched them roll her lifeless body into the ambulance. My visit to Westridge had spurred memories of my childhood and those always triggered memories of Kenzie Jensen. In my teenage daydreams, I'd always imagined the two of us running away together. Back then, she had been my one. But tragedy had obliterated that imagined happy ending.
I took a deep breath. "I don't know, bro, something about the woman just triggered this insane reaction. And she looked at me oddly too. First it was shock, her eyes rounded, then this fright crept into her expression."
"Yeah, probably because some psycho was staring at her as if she was an apparition," Bronx added unhelpfully.
"Thanks for the support, buddy. Guess I'll sign myself into the nearest asylum."
"Listen, King, as your friend, you bring up the Jensen twins a few times a year. You went to see your parents. I'm sure that sparked all kinds of memories. After all, you were pretty bonkers over Kenzie. But you saw her—" He'd changed his tone. It was no longer mocking. "You saw them pull her out of the river. I still remember when you called me that night, beside yourself about it all. And, while you never saw her twin, Sutton, get dragged out of the river, you know she went to live with an aunt and then killed herself a short time later. That happens with twins. They are psychologically connected. I've read they can feel each other's pain. Kenzie and Sutton were polar opposites in personality, but they still had that connection that only identical twins can have. It was probably too much for Sutton to bear that her sister was gone."
"We only know what their dad told us. And he was not exactly a stand-up guy," I added.
"People thought highly of him even if we all knew he was an asshole. You know what? Let's move on from this subject. I think you happened to see a woman blessed with the same amazing green eyes as Kenzie Jensen. Leave it at that. What about tonight?"
"What about it?" I asked. My mind was still in disarray.
"Angus's band is competing in that contest down at Tucker's Saloon. We told him we'd be there to support him, remember? But if you're too tired from work—"
"Nah, I'm fine. It was a long, boring three days. We got the truck all spit-shined, and since I'm always low man on the pole, I got stuck scrubbing the kitchen top to bottom. How was your shift on the ambulance?"
"A lady was having a heart attack, but her three massive pit bulls wouldn't let us get near her. They had her surrounded, certain they were doing their job as protectors. Scary ass dogs too."
"What'd ya do?" I hadn't let go of the coffee house incident as I scoured the sidewalks and pedestrian walkways for the woman with the hibiscus tea.
"I raced back to the ambulance, grabbed my ham sandwich and threw it to them. Those dogs are fucking loyal. Their noses were shifting back and forth. They badly wanted to follow the yummy odor, but they stuck to guarding their human. We got animal control over there pretty fast. They caught the dogs, and we were able to get her to the hospital before things grew more dire. Anyhow, see you tonight. Layla and I are going to get there early to grab a table up front. Kaos and Mixx will be there too. See you later. Oh, and King, try and push it all out of your head. I sense that you're still thinking about it. It's just going to eat at ya but the Jensen twins are gone. It's horrible and sad and they were two awesome girls but they're gone."
"Yeah, yeah, all right. See you tonight." I hung up. I rarely got irritated with Bronx, but I just wasn't in the mood to hear his usual two cents about the Jensen twins. After all, he was long gone when Kenzie, allegedly, jumped off Morrow's Bridge into the freezing water below. Everything he knew about their deaths, he learned from me, and now, I was questioning everything. Not their deaths. I had been standing by with everyone else, feeling sick to my stomach and badly wanting to wake from the nightmare, as they pulled Kenzie from the water. She was wearing the same cutoff shorts she always wore when she wanted everyone to notice her incredible legs. Her gray striped sweatshirt clung to her lifeless body as if it was just another layer of skin. And her long hair was plastered across her face until her dad pushed it aside. That was when we knew for certain that the girl they'd pulled from the river was Kenzie Jensen. Her face was too beautiful, even in death, to be mistaken for anyone else. And that was the same damn face I just saw seconds ago in the coffee shop.
I smacked the steering wheel to snap myself out of my thoughts and started the truck. It was time for one of those naps.
; 5
The venue for the battle of the bands was already packed with audience members when I handed the bouncer my ticket. "Go on through but last I heard we were at standing room only."
I hopped up on toes to see the tables at the front. Kaos's big head was always easy to spot, even in a sardine packed room. He also had a giant's view of the room. He caught a glimpse of me stretching up to look over heads. He put his hands together around his mouth and bellowed my name.
Two women nearby heard the name King and curtsied sweetly at me as I walked past. It wasn't the first time, and with my name, it wouldn't be the last. I nodded politely at the women and elbowed my way to the front of the venue.
A large stage with a polished hardwood floor was set up with a sound system and speakers. Angus rarely bothered with these kinds of cheesy contests, but the band he was playing with this season, Marco's Revolt or something like that, begged him to enter. He'd finally agreed.
Bronx, Mixx and Kaos were sitting at a small table up front with only one empty seat. The pitcher of beer in the middle of the table was already empty.
Mixx lifted his mug. "Hey, the whole gang is here now. We're all planning how we can embarrass the hell out of Angus. I was going to get up and scream like the women used to do whenever the Beatles went on stage, but Bronx thought it might be overkill."
Bronx motioned to the empty chair.
"Where's Layla?" I asked as I pulled it out. I had to speak way louder than normal. No bands were playing yet, but the excited anticipation of the audience reverberated off the walls.
Bronx leaned closer so he didn't have to yell. "She got called into work. The nurses are severely understaffed."
"Not sure how they can squeeze any more nursing hours out of that poor girl," I said.
"Yeah, it's getting ridiculous. The union is working on it with hospital administrators, but it seems nursing shortages are all over the country."
I pointed to the empty pitcher. "Should I just lick the foam out of the bottom?" I asked.
Kaos clapped his hands together. "Nope, I'm off to get another round." He stood up and instantly caught the eye of a woman sitting at the next table. His size always made him a favorite point of interest. She waved and winked at him. He returned the gestures, then turned away from the table and plowed easily to the bar. It was sort of a parting of the seas thing when Kaos strolled through a crowded room.
"How many bands are playing tonight?" I asked. "That'll tell me how to pace my beers."
Mixx took a drink and put his mug down."Five, or at least that was what Angus told me. I think they're third. He was pissed. He wanted to be last. You know Angus, big finale guy and all that."
As we spoke, Angus came out from the back of the stage. He'd clipped his beard short against his chin and his long, dark blond hair was tied back from his face. He'd pulled on his tightest shirt, one that showed off his build. He wasn't only on that stage to be heard and make a name for himself, he was up there to meet women. He rarely left a gig without a treasure trove of new phone numbers.
"Hey, where's the jolly green giant?" he asked. Kaos and Angus were close like Bronx and me.
"He's getting another pitcher of beer," I told him. "What's going on backstage? Nervous jitters and all that?"
"It's pretty tense back there."
"Are there any favorites?" Mixx asked. "Just cuz a guy who was waiting to get in was taking bets, and I thought I might get in on some action."
Angus scowled down at him.
"Of course, my money would be on Marshall's Revenge," Mixx added quickly.
Angus shook his head. "Yeah, why don't you put your money on Marshall's Revenge. I hear they're real good, and I'll bet the odds are great. Especially because there is no such band."
Mixx looked confused. "Oh, I thought, well, never mind. Go get 'em and break a leg and all that shit."
Angus dropped into Kaos's empty chair, grabbed a handful of peanuts and slumped back. "Guess there's some super talented female singer for a band called Isle of Freedom," he blew out a raspberry. "Stupid name," he muttered.
"Yeah, cuz Marshall's Revenge is up there with Led Zeppelin and the Stones," Mixx chuckled.
Angus shook his head. "Like I told you, there's no band called Marshall's Revenge, you moron. It's Marco's Revolt."
Mixx casually picked up his beer. "My comment still stands."
Angus torpedoed a peanut at him and pushed up to his feet. "Guess I'll head back. Eric, the drummer, was having a panic attack earlier, so that's how my night's going. See you on the other side," he said as he walked away.
"Speaking of the other side—" Bronx tapped my foot with his. "Did you see any more ghosts?" he asked.
"I knew I wasn't going to get through the evening without you teasing me about that."
Mixx sat forward. "Wait, King saw a ghost? Where was it? An old house or hotel? I've heard abandoned hospitals and prisons are teeming with unsettled spirits."
"Someone's been binge-watching the History Channel," Bronx quipped. "And this ghost was in a coffee shop."
Mixx's dark brows bunched in confusion. "Never heard of a haunted coffee shop."
"Drop the fucking subject, all right?" I glanced at Bronx. "Thanks for starting this."
"You're right but it was just too good to pass up. I figured I was owed at least one barb."
"Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint but I've already assured myself that I was mistaken." I looked over at Mixx. "And wipe that enthusiastic grin off your face. There was no ghost, just a woman who looked incredibly like someone I grew up with, someone who died."
Mixx sat back disappointed but Kaos returned right then with a new pitcher of beer causing him to sit right back up.
"Wow, this place is packed. The bartenders are tripping all over themselves to fill orders. By the way, the foam isn't just settled, I think I got the last of the on-tap stuff."
"Seriously? " I asked as I filled a glass. "The first band hasn't even started, and they're running out of brewskies? This is going to be a long night."
6
The first two bands had been duds, at least to my non-musical ear. I'd spent the time thinking about my trip to Westridge. The place looked so much smaller and less sinister than when I was a kid but then that might have had to do with my mom's new outlook on life. I was glad she'd found her way out of the darkness. I hoped it lasted, for both their sakes and mine.
Bronx had stepped out to answer a call from Layla. He walked back in and sat down. "Layla got off early, so I'm going to stay for Angus's band, then I'm out of here."
I cast him an annoyed scowl. "You drag me to this thing, then off you run so you can jump into bed with your hot nurse."
Bronx settled back into his chair. "That's pretty much the gist of it."
The overly enthusiastic emcee hopped back on stage with his blue hair and polka dot bow tie, a look I was still trying to puzzle out since it was more suited for a circus tent than a rock band contest.
"And now, without further ado—" He waved his arm toward the side of the stage. "Marco's Revolt!"
Mixx looked at us. "Really? That's the name? Where the hell did I get Marshall's Revenge?"
Kaos elbowed him. "Shut up and look at Angus. He's either pissed off or constipated."
Kaos had pretty much nailed the tight expression on Angus's face. His mouth was clamped shut and his jaw was set in stone. Not a good start for a singer. Noticeably absent was the drummer. Seconds later, the guy stumbled onto stage with a slack-jawed look.
Kaos sat forward so we could hear his lowered voice. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that drummer is hammered."
"Gee, what gave it away?" I asked. "The sluggish, clumsy gait or the drool dripping off his chin? Well, this just made the night more interesting anyhow. Might be a little hard to keep up the beat when all your reflexes are impaired."
Angus shot a look our direction that assured us he wanted to throttle the drummer. The guy clanged against his cymbal as he clumsily climbed into
his seat. Murmurs about the drunken drummer were floating around the now mostly hushed room. Angus walked over to the guitarist and keyboardist to have a quiet chat. The emcee joined them to find out what was going on. Not exactly a riveting start for their contest performance.
Kaos sat forward. "My mom told me that when she was in her twenties, she went to see the Beach Boys perform somewhere in California. And Dennis, the drummer, the brother who died a long time ago, well, he stumbled out drunk onto stage, climbed behind the drums and then out of nowhere, the guy hurdles himself over the drums to pound on the singer."
Mixx laughed. "That's wild. Wish I'd seen that concert. What happened?"
"They cleared the stage real fast. My mom said the entire audience started stomping their feet demanding a show. The band came back on stage with some different guy as a drummer."
"Yeah, well that's not going to happen here because Marco's Revolt is not Beach Boys. Doubt there's a backup drummer," I noted. "And there goes the drummer off to puke his guts out." With even more clamor than when he climbed on stage, the drummer stumbled off, holding his hand over his mouth.
Angus shrugged. "That's it. I'm out." Leaving the other band members dumbfounded and disgusted, Angus walked to the microphone, grabbed it off the stand and belted out the first five lines of the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil". The crowd went crazy for more but Angus was over it. He stuck the mic back onto its base and pointed at our table. "Save that last beer for me." He leapt off stage, landed with a graceful thud and headed to our table.