Haunted (4 page)

“Katie, I had great material to work with. That is one of my favorite pieces I’ve done yet. Your girls are so photogenic. They make good art! How are Grace and Allie?”

“They’re perfect, Jay. Really. They are growing up so fast and now I have them immortalized on that big old lug! My only complaint is that now I have to be careful where I smack the bastard when he pisses me off. Can't be touching my babies in anger!”  She sniffled and we all laughed.

Katie was in her early thirties with long, bleached blonde hair. She'd definitely had some cosmetic work done, but not to the extreme, and she made jeans and a tee look like haute couture. She was a tough chick, but was just as welcoming and warm as her husband. I’d eaten many home-cooked meals at their house over the past year. They were especially fond of strays like me and for some reason kept me around. I loved their little girls. They were 3 and 5 and were so damn cute and charming that they had all the adults in their lives eating out of their hands. Perhaps that’s why they liked me to babysit. I didn’t stand for it and they loved a challenge.

“Jay really did a great job. And speaking of jobs...” I gave Mackenzie a warning look and slight shake of my head. Which she ignored. “Where have you been hiding those nephews of yours and the rest of that holy hot-as-hell crew? I mean really, we’ve known each other for how long and you didn’t introduce us?”  

Katie rolled her eyes and said, “If you’ve cleaned up their drunken puke so they didn’t get busted and been forced to wash their nasty, wet-dream covered sheets you wouldn’t think they were anything but the snot-nosed brats they are! But I do love those guys. They’re like little brothers to me.” She stopped suddenly and the tears threatened to come back, only this time not out of joy.

“So you’ve known them awhile?”  

She nodded. “I met them when they were probably 12 or 13. One of their sisters was my best friend. So your stepmom gets in this afternoon, Jay?”  

I nodded, completely aware she was changing the subject and completely willing to do the same.

I looked at the clock and saw it was 3:00 already. “Yeah, I should get over to their hotel in a bit. Did Daryl take care of his arm like I told him to?”

“Of course. He listens when YOU tell him to do something. Next time I need him to change the oil in my car, will you tell him for me?” I giggled.

“Is it really that bad?”  She nodded. “Hell yeah it’s that bad! I sometimes think I have to remind him to take a shit!”  

I loved her foul mouth. It made me feel better about my penchant for profanity.

"I need to go pick up the girls from their gran’s. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks?”  

Okay, guess she was in the need-to-know club. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Why, are you guys going away,” I asked her, playing along with her game.

She smiled conspiratorially. “No, but I hope you are! See ya!”  She winked at me and her sashaying hips swayed her right out the door.

“Well if that wasn’t a ringing endorsement I don’t know what is.” Mackenzie grabbed my arms and forced me to face her. “What are you afraid of?”  Her tone was concerned, not sarcastic, so I answered her honestly.

“It’s a lot of pressure and I don’t want to let anyone down. I’m not a miracle worker and it sounds like that is what they are expecting. I can’t do this, Mackenzie!”

She shook her head. “Don’t think miracles are part of the deal. What you are is an incredibly talented artist and a trained psychotherapist. You are a beautiful and funny woman who lacks fashion sense, but makes up for it with her quick wit. Daryl loves you and obviously recommended you because you are the best for the job. Sure, it’s out of your comfort zone, but wasn’t moving to New Orleans? And you haven’t been eaten by a gator or run over by a Mardi Gras float, have you?”  I giggled with her and pulled her into a hug.

“And you, my Pink Lady friend, are too good for my ego.” I grabbed up my keys and wallet and turned for the door. “I’ll think about it on my walk over to the hotel.”

She groaned and continued to chastise me as the door slammed shut behind me.

Oh Fates, what do you have in store for me?

The walk across the French Quarter to the Maison Dupuy Hotel was the perfect length of time for a debate between my internal angel and devil, but not too strenuous that I ended up sticky and sweaty.

I said hello to the bellhop. He’d been by the shop before with his friends, and he opened the door graciously for me.

“I’m still coming to get a tattoo from you, Miss Charles. I’m just a little chicken.”

I smiled at him. “I promise I’ll be gentle. Come on by anytime...uh, make that in a couple of weeks. I might be out of the shop for a bit.”

He nodded, looked surprised, but knew enough not to ask.

I texted Shannon and she said they had been taking a short rest and would be down in a few minutes. I checked my email on my phone and found one from Sherry Jordan.

“Hey Jaylene! Good to hear from you. I talked to the guys and they said we can work something out for that weekend. If anything we can have Mr. Doucette create a diversion and sneak you out! If that is the only hold up, I hope we have a deal?  Please call me tonight and let me know. Thanks!”

I blew out a breath, unsure if this was good news. It would have been easier to say no if I had the excuse of my out-of-town clients to use. Now I had no excuse. I just didn’t know whether I could handle all those men. What if they had certain “appetites?”  Rock stars were notorious for that kind of thing and being locked up with them for 17 nights was totally pushing my luck for sure. I guess all I’d have to do is pull the Daryl card. He definitely seemed to have their respect. I just didn’t know whether I could pull this off.

“Well hello, sweetheart!”  Grandma walked gingerly toward me with a cane in one hand and her other hand outstretched for a hug.

My grandmother had the best hugging skills on the planet. She was soft and warm, smelled sophisticated, and squeezed you 'til you thought you’d burst. Shannon was right behind her, eyes bright with tears, with another big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“How are my two favorite Silver Girls?”  

When they’d moved down to the desert after my father’s death, I’d called them the Silver Girls, claiming with their gorgeous locks they’d give the Golden Girls a run for their money. These two ladies were friendly to all walks of life and could keep you in stitches with their stories. I always enjoyed their company, even if I was perpetually frightened that I’d use the wrong fork or knife.

“How was your trip?”  

Grandma launched into a litany of her aches and pains, but when she was through she said how happy she was to be around all the French cooking here in New Orleans, second only to France.

“Are you up for a short walk or would you rather stay here and eat at the Bistro?” Grandma did not feel up to a walk, but wanted to visit so we rounded the corner and went into the restaurant.

The Bistro was mostly empty on this weekday and it was early yet. Most folks ate late here, a habit I’d had to get used to. We made small talk while we ordered, they asked about the shop and my flat. I asked them about their new house and their activities. We ate quickly and then the questions started.

“You look well, are you sure you’re alright, sweetheart?”  

Grandma sounded very sincere, but then Shannon snapped, “Oh, Mom, she’s where she wants to be.” That didn’t sound even remotely happy for me.

“I am happy here, I love this place. An artist can’t ask for a more inspiring environment than this!”  

Shannon smiled at me condescendingly.

“Yes, Jaylene, but art alone does not pay the bills. Unless you count that branding you do as art. It’s certainly not what your father would have wanted to see you doing with your college education.” I took a deep breath and counted to ten before speaking.

“Shannon, I can understand that you don’t agree with my choices, but I haven’t asked you for anything, have I? I’m not starving. I have a roof over my head. Most importantly, I have friends who appreciate me. I’m doing what I want to do and I’m happy. I co-own my business. I would think that he might consider that somewhat successful.” My voice was a bit quieter than I wanted it to come out.

She looked away and drained her water glass. “You’re right. I’m sorry. We all have to make our own choices.” She grabbed my hand. “Your father would have wanted to know you were happy, even if he didn’t agree with your decisions.” She started to cry and we hugged each other.

Silently I thanked Mackenzie for the waterproof mascara.

“Thanks, and I’m sorry too. But you guys are ok, right? That’s what I have been worried about.”

Shannon attempted a smile. “It’s hard. I still cry every day, but I’m doing what I can to take care of myself. And Mom is getting to play bingo and paint. It’s lonely, sure, but we have the dogs and we have each other. We’ll be fine.”

I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

I sucked down the rest of my Diet Coke and prayed for the server to bring us our check. When he arrived, I stuck my debit card in his hand and waved off their protests.

I asked what else they had planned and they said tomorrow morning they were planning to go to the New Orleans School of Cooking. I wished them well with that. The woman who gave the lessons was a kick in the pants. She could even give my Grandma a run for her money when it came to storytelling. We agreed to meet for lunch at my favorite restaurant, The Praline Connection, which was just a couple of blocks from my shop. They would come over after, see my place and then I would get them a cab back to their hotel. They had an early flight out Friday morning so I would say good-bye tomorrow afternoon. Then I would pack up for 17 days. Maybe. I still couldn’t decide whether this was insane or a great opportunity.

I hugged them both in the lobby and was able to keep the tears at bay until I got outside, but that was the best I could do. The walk back home was tear-soaked. Thoughts of my father had me trembling violently. Luckily not many folks were out on the streets. When I finally looked up, I was on the corner of Burgundy and Ursulines, just a couple of blocks from the St. Germaine, which had me curious. I turned in that direction and wiped my face on the inside of my shirt. The buildings on these streets were so lovely and romantic, anything could happen and you’d think it was magical. A group of young men in sailor uniforms walked by on the opposite side of the street, pausing only to ogle a group of girls in short shorts and camis. I smirked to myself; grateful I blended into the woodwork.

I guess I’m not that feminine in my dress, but I do like nice things. I could appreciate a cute dress or a nice pair of shoes with the best of them. I just felt out of place wearing clothes like that, like someone would recognize me for the fraud I am. I never grew out of my tomboy stage I suppose. Besides, getting a guy to notice you was the easy part. It was getting him to see you as more than a nice rack and a piece of ass that was the true test.

I stopped at the Royal Pharmacy to grab a bottle of water and when I stepped outside I looked across the street at the St. Germaine. I drank deeply from the bottle and looked up at the balcony. I could hear men’s voices and guitars being tuned through the open window, but the street was empty. Maybe they truly were getting the privacy they desired here.

I heard someone start laughing loudly and a door on the second floor balcony swung open. Out stepped one of the guys, lighting a cigarette. Suddenly, I felt like a voyeur, so I turned quickly and headed across the street towards my shop. I was caught like the not-slick person I am.

“Miss Charles? Is that you?”  

I froze in my steps. I could pretend that I didn’t hear him, but with the lack of traffic both human and vehicular, he’d think I was either deaf or trying to be rude. I turned slowly and shaded my eyes from the sun.

“Jade, right?”  

He nodded and yelled to the others and I had to suck back a loud groan.

“Hey guys, it’s Miss Charles, she’s right outside! Hey! Are you going to come stay with us?” His question was so innocent I was suddenly struck by how like Wendy and the Lost Boys this situation was.

“I, uh, I haven’t made a final decision yet.”

He POUTED! Full on stuck his lip out and pouted!

“Awww, hey GUYS! Get out here! She says she’s not sure she’s coming.”

I heard a chorus of “What? ! She has to come!” The next to emerge was Marcus. He leaned both arms on the railing and looked down at me.

“What is it? Don’t you like us?” More pouting! Jeesh!

“No! I mean, sure! No, of course, you guys are great. I’m just, well, I’m just not sure I can do what you want.”

Star pushed Marcus out of the way and said, “Seriously? Your work is AMAZING, Miss Charles! You have to come!! It won’t be right without you! Tell her! D!”  

My heart dropped as they all started yelling for him to come out. So much for covert operations.

“Guys, really. I’ll call Miss Jordan when I get back to my shop.” The four of them leaned down over the railing, their upper bodies almost falling into the street.

“But does that mean you’re coming? Please?”  

They were grown-ass men acting like little boys and I for the life of me could not tell you what would be more adorable. They were harmless, right?

They all started in, “C’mon, please? We’ll beg!”  

“God! No! Do you want the whole world to know you’re in there?!” I was shouting in a stage whisper, “You guys are supposed to be here in secret!”

“They are pretty pathetic when they beg, aren’t they?” A deep voice spoke from directly in front of me.

Devon had come out the front door and was leaning against the post with his hands in his pocket, shades low on his nose. I must have had my jaw close to the ground because I heard a chorus of giggles from the boys up above.

“Bring her up, D! Don’t let her get away!”

“Will you morons shut your traps? The whole world will know we’re here if you keep this up!” He turned and gave me that ghost of a smile again and stepped closer.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to your shop before they hear them all the way in Mississippi.” He gently grasped my left arm and directed me across the street.

I glanced back at the guys, who had their chins leaning on the railing, whispering and snickering with each other before they looked around and filed back in the door crouched down like ninja school rejects. I covered my mouth with my hand to stifle my laughter.

“It’s ok to laugh, they’re often this embarrassing. But mostly they’re just pains in the ass, nothing dangerous or anything.”

I couldn’t get over how deep his voice was, and how soft spoken. He slid his hand down my arm, looked down at my hand and then must have thought better of it because he shoved his hands in his pockets. I did the same, feeling oddly like a teenager out on my first date.

“I was on my way back from seeing my stepmom and grandmother. They are visiting from California, and I was just walking back to the shop.” It sounded oddly like a confession to explain why this wasn’t stalking behavior. Nervously, I kept talking. “really was going to call Miss Jordan when I got back to the shop.”

He nodded and kept walking, eyes straight-ahead and unreadable behind his shades. We walked on in silence until we reached Frenchman Street and turned right. His outfit today consisted of a pair of worn Levi’s and a white shirt with the Ramones logo on it in black. His black hair was combed back and he’d added some product. I tried to sneak looks without being obvious, but he seemed really aware of his surroundings. Like when I was looking at him instead of paying attention and he stopped suddenly, throwing an arm across my stomach...to keep me from stepping in gum.

“Didn’t want you to mess up your shoes.”

I stepped over it, mumbled my thanks, and felt my cheeks burning. He cracked a smile, maybe even more than a ghost this time, and kept walking. When we reached my shop he stepped ahead of me and opened the door for me. I thanked him as I walked past and he nodded at me, his eyes following me inside.

“Hey, how was...din-ner,” said Mackenzie as she came out of the back office. Her eyes flared and she pursed her lips. “Who’s your friend, Jay?”

“Mackenzie this is Devon. Devon, this is my shop mate Mackenzie McGowan.”

He shook her hand loosely and murmured, “Pleased to meet you,” and stepped back, putting his hands in his pockets again.

“Can I get you something to drink?”  Mackenzie walked over to our fridge, well, more like pranced giddily. “Some water? I bet it’s hot out there.” She grabbed him a bottle, threw me a heated glance over her shoulder, and pranced giddily back to the counter to hand it to him.

“Thank you, Miss McGowan,” he said in that barely audible voice of his.

He cracked the bottle open and wandered over to the counter where my portfolio was. Mackenzie reached over, trying to be sneaky and pinched me hard on the back of the arm.

“Hey!” I glared at her and she started making “What is going on? How did you end up with him? Did you kiss him yet?” faces at me.

I said loudly, “Mackenzie did my inks get delivered today?”  

She took my hint and totally overdid her, “YES! In fact, you did get a package today! Let me just go in the back and make sure that everything came in that you ordered.”

She skipped back to the office, she shut the door, and a few seconds later the music came on loudly. She'd put on her current favorite, Black Tide’s album Postmortem. I shook my head and closed my eyes, doing the breathing thing before walking over to where Devon was studying my work intently. I watched as he turned the pages slowly with his long fingers. I noticed that he had lettering on his fingers; it looked like LOVE on one hand and, was that, PAIN, on the other?

“I like this one here.” He pointed another long finger at a photo of a portrait of Angus Young from the
Highway to Hell
album cover. It was one of the first portraits I’d done after arriving here.

“Thanks. Love Angus. That was done on one of Daryl’s buddies.”

He looked over at me for a moment, nodded and went back to looking. I studied him and desperately wished my sketchbook was nearby. His movements captivated me, like the way his bottom lip pursed out just a bit further than the top one. That had me licking my own lips. Gah! Stop it! He’s a client for goodness sake!