Ghost Story

by J G Jerome

  Bruce confirms, “That’s right, Will.”

  Lafayette says, “Mr. James I know for a fact that what I’m looking for is on the property.”

  “Mr. Lafayette, I understand. I also know you have no legal claim to the property or anything on it.”

  The elder gentleman says, “Mr. James, I don’t think you understand who I am or how far I’m willing to go to get my property. I can tie you up in court for years.”

  I chuckle, “Oh, Mr. Lafayette. That would be quite a trick. No court in the country would listen to your case for more than an hour, and I would counter-sue for court costs and penalties I would have to pay to Zach’s firm. They would likely find in my favor. If you want to convince me, you will have to figure out how to do it by behaving like a gentleman rather than an asshole.”

  The old guy is quiet for a moment. “Mr. James, I would like to offer to buy your property.”

  I think, ‘I’ve got him!’ “Well, Mr. Lafayette. This property, in particular this renovation project, is a labor of love. I’ve worked for two years to save up the money to do it, spent nearly nine months working with Bruce to research the property’s history, and struggled to get an architect to work with us to create a modern home that has the charm of a 1800’s Victorian home. Now we finally are working on it, and you want to take it away from me. I’m not rich enough to say ‘no way ever,’ but it will be expensive for you.”

  Lafayette says, “I will pay you one million for the property.”

  I think, ‘Score! Let’s see how bad he really wants it.’

  I tell him, “Well, Mr. Lafayette. I can’t let it go for less than two million in cash.”

  He scoffs, “Mr. James. Let’s not get greedy!”

  “Mr. Lafayette, the price just went to three million. I’m not willing to negotiate. I will have to find a new home, and it will probably require a similar nut-roll to get an approved design and to get going on the required renovations. That’s assuming I can find one in the historical district. I will need to find a different temporary place to live as this lease runs out before long. In short, there is a lot of time and a lot of effort involved that I didn’t intend to spend.”

  Lafayette growls, “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, Mr. James. I am not a man to toy with.”

  “Mr. Lafayette, I firmly believe that no one should be toyed with. Honestly, I think you are toying with me, and your last comment sounded suspiciously like a threat. I don’t respond well to threats. The price just went to five million.”

  I hear Zach murmur, “Holy shit, Will!” Lafayette says nothing for a moment.

  I push him. “What will it be, Mr. Lafayette? Honestly, as angry as you’re making me, I really don’t think I can justify raising the price again. Five million dollars cash. You can own it by the end of the week. What is your decision?”

  “Fine, Mr. James. I will pay you five million dollars cash. I want to close as soon as possible,” he says.

  “I agree, Mr. Lafayette. I need to get moving on finding a new home. My agent is Delores Aguilar at Realty One. I will call her and tell her what to expect. I am sure she can make time to meet with your agent this afternoon. Getting the title paperwork through the Title Agency will be the problem. I’ll have Delores see if I can motivate them out of the five million. Zach, please stop work for the day. Also, put the dumpster pickup on hold, so Mr. Lafayette can root through all the scrap in case what he is looking for is in there.”

  Zach says, “Sure, Will. There will be delay and cancellation penalties, but they won’t come due until the end of the month. It sounds like you will be able to afford it.”

  I ask, “Mr. Lafayette, would you like us to fill the cellar back in. We were about to try digging the pillars out because we couldn’t cut them, but I want to act in good faith - and I imagine you probably don’t want the risk of an open pit. I know I don’t. What’s your preference?”

  He says, “Please leave it as it is.”

  I ask, “Do you want to look in the garage before I start moving my stuff out of it? It was built in seventies. I doubt what you’re looking for is there. I’ll move my truck and tools out when I get back to town.”

  He says, “No. I can wait until you clear your tools, Mr. James. Don’t try to take anything else. I really dislike being toyed with.”

  “Me too, Mr. Lafayette. Zach, please ensure the fence around the property stays locked. I’ll call when I get back in town to clear my truck and tools out of the garage. I’ll give you a call to let me in,” I tell him.

  “Sure thing, Will. Anything else?”

  “Nope. I need to call Delores. We all good?” I ask. I hear a chorus of ‘yes’ responses. I say, “Goodbye.”

  I call Delores quickly and tell her what to expect. I also explain that I’m not above paying a bonus to get through closing by Friday or earlier. She’s ecstatic about the huge commission for almost no effort.

  Then I go back to my workshop with a genuine smile on my face. I may have lost Audrey for now, but I will be ready to take care of her well when she comes back.

  23 - Workshop

  My good humor fades over the day as I repeatedly remember that Audrey will not be waiting for me when my day is done. Despite that, the group of student-colleagues stays engaged, and I manage to share some genuine smiles and laughs with them. After we finish the last exercise, I talk them through a ‘lessons-learned’ exercise and dismiss them. I take a couple of minutes to look through my content for tomorrow. I apply some of the feedback to the order of things, pack everything up, and drag it up to my suite before I join the class for a beer in the bar.

  I tease the three trolling ladies from last night mercilessly, and we all have a good laugh. I see Susan eyeing me speculatively as I toss back the last of my pint. I wave and leave the group for the night with a warning not to hurt themselves. Susan slides her arm through mine as I walk past reception toward the parking lot.

  “Company for dinner, Will?” she asks.

  I give her a small, sincere smile. “Not tonight, Susan. I have an errand to run. I am free tomorrow night.”

  She smiles at me brightly. “I’ll hold you to that, Will. I’ll treat.”

  I nod. “Yes ma’am.” Susan releases my arm and watches me walk out into the lot. I get into my car and pull out.

  Roughly twelve minutes later, I’m pulling into the parking lot of Bizarre Guitar and Drum. I walk in and let them know that I’m browsing and start walking the aisle to see what they have of interest.

  I have a great acoustic and a great electric. I am open to a good used electric guitar amp, but I came here planning to buy an inexpensive acoustic or acoustic-electric. I did not want to bring my trusty Zager OM50CE because I don’t consider it nearly disposable enough to leave in a hotel room. I didn’t figure it would be an issue since I had planned to spend my evenings loving and abusing Audrey. Without her, I want to be able to play music in the evening. I don’t find an amp that interests me; although, they have a good selection of new and used amps. I don’t find an electric that I can’t live without, either.

  I do find an Ibanez AEG12II-NT acoustic-electric guitar. It’s a thin-line acoustic design in a dark natural finish. It’s nowhere close to my Zager in tone or playability. However, it is decent to play and has decent tone, plus I get a gig bag with it, a cheap glass slide, and some free picks for $180 out the door. I head back to the hotel, stopping by Rubios for fish tacos on the way. I get into the room, strip out of my clothes, and pull on shorts and t-shirt.

  I spend about two hours playing the new guitar. I run through a variety of songs. I work on a couple with the slide, do some blues solos, and just lose myself in the joy of music.

  Eventually I wind down, put my new toy away, and get ready for bed. I call the girls for a quick goodnight before I crawl between the covers.

  The next morning I get up at six. I get ready quickly and go to my conference room. Once there, I do a sunrise salute and follow it with a twenty minute play sessio
n of animal motions from the GMB Essentials program. By the time I’m finished, my clothes are soaked, and I feel like I got a good workout. I hurry back to the room and do a comprehensive stretch and cool down. Afterward, I hustle through a shower, pull on grey slacks, white shirt, and blazer before heading out to grab a quick breakfast.

  I get to the conference room thirty minutes before our start time, and I finish setting up with ten minutes to spare. Half of the students are seated by the time I’m ready. The last eight coming in as a group at a slow crawl as my clock turns to start time - yes, it’s the same group from the first night. We all laugh as they take their seats with painful grimaces.

  The day goes well. There are a couple of thoughtful, passionate arguments, but everyone manages to not get spiteful, and we all have a good time. During the lunch break, I walk through the contract for the offer, digitally sign it, and see the signed contract notification came back through email. We wrap the day up with initial instructions for the day-long assignment for tomorrow and a lessons-learned session. After that I follow the same procedure as last night and end with the group in the bar.

  Susan and I chat over a drink as we meander through the group. Again I leave them with an admonishment not to hurt themselves as Susan and I walk out. She hooks my elbow again.

  I smile at Susan as we walk out. “Where to, Susan?”

  “Someplace light and healthy,” she says.

  “Okay,” I acknowledge her desires. I open the door. She gives me a flash of knees and a smile as she slides into my CRV. I drive us to the nearest Pita Jungle. She has a Sauvignon Blanc and I have a berry tea - each of us has water, too. We peruse the menu as we laugh at observations from today’s session.

  I finally ask her about her meal choices. “So, what do you think?”

  Susan admits, “I have not made up my mind. Many of the salads look good. That Mediterranean antipasto looks good, too.”

  “It is,” I agree. “It’s also a big meal for one person all on its own. The mushroom lavosh pizza is excellent; although, I usually add chicken to it. The hummus trio with seared tuna is deadly. Tough choices. I used to get multiple dishes and take a bunch of leftovers home.”

  “So, Will. What are you thinking?”

  “Try this. We split a lentil fattoush salad, the wood-fired cauliflower, and each have a cup of the Tunisian Gazpacho. We’ll both be full after that,” I tell her.

  She arches an eyebrow to me. “Skip the cauliflower. Skip the soup.”

  “Fine by me. That lunch today was pretty caloric,” I agree with a shrug.

  We order and visit while we wait for the salad to arrive. She shares some of the things that are queuing up for new projects that corporate HQ has in the works and asks me about some of the issues and risks on my two projects. She also asks about me taking this workshop on the road for the company.

  “You’re helping our project managers better understand the larger impact of the projects we’re doing,” she says. “Lauren can’t believe an IT guy is teaching her about business.”

  “Right?” I laugh. “An IT guy is teaching marketing people about how to deliver projects in a way that the company and customers will appreciate. Whooda thunk it?” We laugh. “It might be fun for a while. I think I would get bored with it after too long. Then again, there doesn’t sound like anything particularly interesting coming up anytime soon. I can’t say that I want to be a road warrior.”

  She nods, “Let me socialize the idea and pull a framework together. I’ll send it to you to see what you think.”

  “Okay,” I agree.

  We split the salad when it arrives and dig in. Susan asks, “So, what was your mysterious errand yesterday? Is it something you’re comfortable talking about?”

  “Sure. I went to buy a cheap guitar. I have two guitars, and neither are ones I wanted to drag along on road trips. I didn’t plan to pick one up here, but I have more time on my hands with Audrey dumping me. So, I picked up a cheap guitar that is actually good enough to gig with. I played for about two straight hours last night.”

  “Oh wow!” she exclaims after choking down a mouthful of salad. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you play.” She sips her wine as she looks at me expectantly. She squints at me playfully as I shove a forkful of salad, lentils, and rice into my mouth.

  I think she is trying to mess with me when she says, “So your grand plan was to teach all day and fuck all night?”

  I almost snort salad out my nose, but I manage to control myself - just barely. I sip my tea as I think about how to answer that. I decide, ‘Okay, fine!’

  I set my fork and glass on the table and open my phone. I open my photos and pull up one of my favorites of Audrey in a blond wig, bound, kneeling - facing away from the camera so that she is facing to my 2:30 position towards an audience. It was taken at the last show at Bernadette’s. Viktorijia managed the lighting and I took the photo with a digital SLR camera. Audrey is wrapped in a net of rope with coils holding her elbows and wrists together with her legs bound similarly to how I bound them Sunday night. I lay the phone face up on the table next to Susan’s plate and turn it to face her.

  She drops her fork and covers her mouth with her hand as she stares at my gorgeous ex. She looks up at me and then back down to the picture as the server walks up to refill my tea.

  “Not only that. We practice our art.”

  “Oh my God,” the waitress gasps. “That’s so beautiful! Do you think the artist would tie me up?”

  I shake my head. “Probably not. She was his muse, and she isn’t seeing him any longer. He said he’s going to take a break.”

  “Oh suck!” the server exclaims. “Probably for the best anyway. Getting nekkid for a stranger is probably a bad idea.” She did actually say ‘nekkid.’ I think it’s kind of cute. I’m also thinking there is probably a dearth of guys wanting to see her acres of round tattooed flesh on her 5’2” frame.

  The server marches off and Susan asks, “You do this kind of stuff?”

  “What do you mean ‘stuff?’ This is an erotic art form from Japan. There are a couple of different erotic Japanese knot arts. Most practitioners generally refer to them collectively as Shibaru. Purists will generally use the proper Japanese term Kinbaku. I had seen pictures and always been interested, and so I took a class after I caught Melanie fucking the gardner while sucking off the pool boy...or vice versa.”

  Susan asks for clarification. “You did this with Audrey?”

  I nod, “We did. This picture is our last show at a local salon. That’s Audrey.”

  “You did this in front of people?” She is aghast.

  I shrug. “Sure. You can see the mask on her face. I’m wearing one, too. The audience is generally masked, too. If I do a good job, they will generally start engaging in sexual activities while they watch. The second show we did together, I actually fed my cock to Audrey, but that caused way too many invitations to join some of the audience. That didn’t interest me.”

  Susan says, “But that mask can’t hide her identity. You just have to watch out for an athletic blond with that haircut.”

  I chuckle, “Audrey’s not blond. She shaves and then waxes, so no one knows the difference.” I sober. “She won’t have to do that again.” I put my phone away.

  Susan says, “She looks young.”

  My face twists into a wry grin. “She is twenty.”

  Susan gasps. She whispers, “I swear you’re two years older than me, how are you keeping a young thing like that satisfied?”

  I look her in the eye and tap the phone. Susan’s eyes look like saucers in her face. We both return to eating and she pins me with a considering look for the rest of the meal.

  After we leave, I seat Susan in the car and she tries to act nonchalant as I pull into traffic.

  “So, Will. What kind of music are you playing tonight?” she asks.

  I shrug. “I dunno. I don’t have a plan for tonight. I’ll probably warm up with some instrumental bits, and then see w
hat comes next.”

  She asks, “Would you play for me? She asks.

  I shrug again. “Sure. Meet you in the lobby?”

  “I’ll just follow along, if you don’t mind. Your suite has a sitting room, right?” she asks.

  “I was hoping you would buy me a beer, but I don’t mind.”

  “Rain check on the beer?”

  I look at her out of the corner of my eye. “Okay.”

  Susan flashes me a quick grin before schooling her features to look ‘innocent.’

  ‘I think this is going to get tricky,’ I think to myself.

  Susan gets out before I get around to open her door, but she hooks her arm in mine and we walk back to my suite. I open the door and wave her into the suite. I offer her a seat and go back to the bedroom to grab my guitar. I turn around to find her standing right in front of me.

  She places her hands on my chest, and her eyes open wide. She says, “Well, based on what’s under the shirt, maybe it’s not just your prowess with a rope that kept young Audrey enthralled.”

  I look at her with my second sight. Her aura has a sickly yellow tint to it.

  I place a finger on her lips. “Have you ever been tied up, Susan?”

  “No,” she whispers.

  “Then you have no idea,” I murmur as I lean my forehead onto hers and stare into her eyes. The finger on her lips keeps her from closing the distance. I turn away and set the guitar on the floor, leaning it against the credenza. Then I pick up the coil of one-inch rope. I tell her, “Turn around, Susan.”

  She gives me a classic deer-in-the-headlights look. I hold the rope up in both hands at shoulder height. I command firmly, “Turn around, Susan.” Slowly, she does.

  I quickly and gently pull her arms behind her and tie two half-hitches around her wrists. I pull her elbows gently together. I feel her shoulders hit the ease-of-motion barrier, and then back off about an inch.