Ghost Heart

by John Palisano

  That was a cue for “wham-bam-thanks-man”—get the hell out.

  “Pretty early,” I lied.

  “Oh. Me, too.”

  Vanessa didn’t have a job. She somehow managed to have an apartment, and always had weed and drinking money, but I’m not sure where she got her cash. I knew her parents had a little bit of money, so I just assumed they were taking care of her. Someone must have been.

  “I should get going,” I said.

  “Sorry,” she said, half a smile sneering across her lips. “I know you like to cuddle after and all.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Really.”

  Truth was? I would have loved to hold her instead of being her living, breathing masturbation machine. I took what I could, though.

  “Okay,” she said. Vanessa was already sitting on the edge of the bed. “I think I have to pee.” She turned to me, a full smile aimed my way. “You okay with letting yourself out?”

  “Course,” I said. “No problem.”

  “All right, sweetie,” she said. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  She got up without anything more and left me sitting on her bed, naked and frustrated. I heard her peeing. Making quick work of getting dressed, I hurried to the kitchen, grabbed my keys off the dining table and was gone. I never heard her flush the toilet. I imagine she was waiting to come out until she heard her front door shut.

  * * * * *

  The night has always comforted me. Everything looks better. The hot sun isn’t out to crisp my skin and hurt my eyes. It was harder to see the cracks in things.

  I drove my car down to the shore, where I found myself all alone in the parking lot. I parked near the retaining wall and rolled down my windows. My lungs hurt from the beating. Each breath was a challenge, and I kept beating myself up for going to Vanessa’s instead of the emergency room. I know what I was thinking, but I should’ve known better than to expect her to be sympathetic or empathetic to me. She’d always been pretty cold to me during other challenging times, so why would this latest time have been any different?

  After I rolled down my window, the saltwater smell of the Atlantic filled my car. Comforting me since childhood, the ocean always made me feel better. My face still stung from where I’d been hit and where Vanessa had insisted on kissing and touching me. Most of my body still hurt. My lower right rib cage ached; I should have gone to the hospital instead of Vanessa’s. Thinking about going, once again I decided against it. There’d be too many questions. I’d lose at least a day of work, especially bad without Uncle Dave around. I was the boss, and he’d counted on me. Calling out after being in a fight? There’d be hell to pay. He expected me to be a straight arrow. No bull-doggery, as he’d say. Never mind the fact that I hadn’t instigated it. He’d be pissed I was out drinking—would tell me I should have known better. As much as the situation truly was Damian’s doing, the blame would be mine.

  My thoughts returned to the ghoulish things I’d seen during the fight. They’d had those long tongues with the sharp tips—the ones that had siphoned out Mike’s blood through his neck. Their skin was so light and clear in places. I remembered the creep’s ghostly heart beating inside his translucent chest—remembered the way Mike’s blood had filled its veins and how the thing was reinvigorated from taking in the blood.

  Vampires.

  Had I seen vampires?

  Maybe they were just guys who wanted to be, you know? Who acted like vampires? Too many Anne Rice books or TV shows, I bet. The supernatural wasn’t real. It was all make-believe—just a fashion statement. That’s all.

  But I saw inside: his beating heart.

  Minarette had hit Tracy so fast and so hard. Unnatural.

  Had to be some kind of new drug. That’d explain it. Something like meth, but even worse. Meth messed up people’s skin. Who said a new laboratory-made strain couldn’t drain pigment? It was entirely possible. Their tongues might have been achieved through some kind of cutting and binding—body modifications. Hell, people had forked tongues. It all made sense. They were addicts of some kind. That explained everything to me.

  There were headlights coming. Far off at first, they soon made their way toward me. For a few moments, my heart sped up. Was it Damian cruising around and looking for more trouble? That’d be the last place I’d want to find myself again. My fears were quickly diffused because I recognized the telltale shape of a black-and-white.

  The cruiser rolled to a stop just behind me. Put on its spotlight. Shone it on me. I smiled and waved. What else could I do? Didn’t want to look like a threat.

  She pulled up. “Everything okay?” she asked from behind her flashlight.

  “Fine, Officer,” I said. “Just chilling out after a long day.”

  “Is that you, Mister Rossmore?” she asked. “From Davey’s garage?”

  “It is,” I said, happy to have been recognized.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  She turned off the light, and I recognized her dark features. “Officer Campbell,” she said. “You all right?”

  I nodded. “Yup. Just recharging at the water. You know how it is.”

  “Sure do,” she said. “You know we have a curfew down here now?”

  “Huh,” I said. “Really?”

  “Yeah. During the winter. It’s a soft enforcement, though. Just trying to make sure kids are in school and not out all night doing God knows what.”

  “Got it,” I said. “I’m leaving.”

  “No rush,” she said. “Take care.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  I watched her leave and, after a few moments, went home.

  Chapter Four

  “You ever think you’re with the wrong person?” Anna asked.

  A burst of static made me pull the phone away from my ear. “I don’t know,” I said. “I sometimes think about that, but Vanessa just fits with me so perfectly.”

  “How can you even say that?” she said. “After all the shit she’s put you through? She cheated on you, what, five times already? And you keep going back to her? You think that she’s the one and all?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I mean, I cheated on her, too.”

  “Yeah,” Anna said. “With me. Remember? How do you think this makes me feel? You calling me to moon over stupid blonde bimbo Vanessa.”

  “Should you and me be together?” I said. “Seriously?”

  She said, “Are you really asking me that question? You cold son of a bitch.”

  “I’m being serious,” I said. “You and I have had our ups and downs over the years, too, you know.” I looked around my living room as I paced. The TV was on without the sound, tuned to an old episode of Saturday Night Live. Kristen Wiig was making a scrunched-up face.

  “So what?” she said. “It’s nothing like what Vanessa does. Not even close.”

  I wanted to hang up the phone; I even took the phone from my ear and put my finger on the End Call button. I just didn’t have the heart to follow through with it. If I did, I could totally count Anna out as my friend for, well, the rest of time. Didn’t want that. So I swallowed hard and listened. “You’re right,” I said.

  “I know I’m right,” she said. “The thing is? A few months ago? I would have totally been your girlfriend. You and I could’ve gone all the way. But I don’t think I could ever go back with you now that you’ve put your dick in Vanessa.”

  “That’s not fair,” I said. “I had sex with her before you.”

  “That was different,” she said. “I thought it was over, which it obviously is not.”

  “I think it is.”

  “Oh? You think it is? That true this time?” she said. “Or is this another one of your bullshit dramas you’re going to put on me because she’s hurt you, and you need to feel good about yourself by talking to a girl?”

 
I said, “Wow,” and sighed audibly. “This conversation has gone downhill pretty quick. This is not why I called.”

  “Then why did you call?”

  “Because…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want to go out. Hang out. Go grab a drink or something.” I was still trying to process what I’d seen with Damian and his pair of creeps drinking Mike’s blood. Should I tell her? I thought.

  “Where’s Mike?” Anna asked.

  “Hospital.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “More of your handiwork.”

  “I had nothing to do with it,” I said. “Damian—”

  “Who you wouldn’t even have crossed paths with if you’d gotten rid of horrible Vanessa and her white trash clan the first time you cheated. See what she brings into your life?”

  “Vanessa wasn’t even there at the Universe. She doesn’t know this guy. Jeez.”

  “Jeez is right,” she said. “Anything else?”

  “I was really hoping we would still be friends after all of this,” I said. “I mean, I’ve known you since first grade, you know?”

  “Then maybe you should start acting like it. Maybe treat me with a little bit more respect. I mean, really? Do you think I want to hear about Vanessa all the time?”

  “Probably not,” I said.

  “Probably true,” she said. “So if we’re going to stay being friends, maybe you should choose what nonsense you share with me a little differently, okay?”

  “Got it,” I said. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  I felt my face flush. I sure didn’t like apologizing for just being honest, but it was obvious that my fling with Anna had meant a whole Titanic-sized, Rose-and-Jack iceberg more to her than it had to me. I probably shouldn’t have ever crossed that line.

  “You’re forgiven,” she said. “I get it, you’re just a guy. All guys are the same like that. Think with your dick until it’s empty. Then when it’s hard again and no one’s around to take care of it, you turn into little babies. What can I do? I should have never expected you to be any different.”

  “That stings,” I said. “Of course I’m different.”

  “Not when it comes to this you’re not,” she said. “Hate to tell ya.”

  I prayed very hard that the other line would ring so I’d have an excuse to go. It didn’t, and I sat in her uncomfortable silence for several of the longest seconds on record.

  “Just kidding,” she said.

  I didn’t think so. She’d already said what she’d really wanted to say. That was that. I knew there was not a hope in hell I’d ever consider her romantically in the least again after the way she’d just dismissed me.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, forcing a laugh that probably came off more as a snort. “Glad we got that all cleared up. So, look, it’s already nine. I’ve got to get on my way to the shop.”

  “Oh, fun times,” she said.

  “Maybe to some,” I said, “but not for me today.”

  She laughed.

  We hung up.

  I drove to work pissed. She’d really been cruel to me. There I was, calling her, hoping for some good, friendly advice from a girl about another girl, and she’d totally shot me down, and cut me down, too. There’d be no sympathy from her. She was an expert at demoralizing me.

  Then I passed Main Street, where I spotted the marquee of the Universe.

  NOW OPEN!

  I remembered the night I’d been there and the wonderful girl I’d seen: Minarette. I wondered if she was like Anna, all judgmental and bitter, or if she was a party girl like Vanessa. I wondered if she was something much more than either of them. I hoped so. I recalled her dimpled cheeks, and her eyeteeth that looked like small fangs. I remembered that blonde mane and that silver dress.

  Not a chance, I told myself. Not a chance in hell. A girl like that? Out of your league, buddy. You couldn’t afford her. She’d eat you up alive. You’d fall hard…harder than you’ve ever fallen before. Stay the hell away from her. Or else. She’ll ruin your heart for good. Promise. To top it off, that guy she was with nearly killed you and Mike. Stay away. She’s trouble.

  I’m stupid, so of course, the first thing I knew I’d have to do is to go back to the Universe the next time there was a show. I had to see her again—had to lay my eyes on Minarette. I couldn’t resist.

  Chapter Five

  “Your friend Mike is dead.”

  Uncle Dave’s words multiplied inside my head, doubling, tripling and spinning around until they turned into a tornado. I just couldn’t believe what I’d been told.

  “No,” I said, about a hundred times in a hundred seconds. “He can’t be gone. Just like that.”

  “I’m sorry, kid,” Uncle Dave said. “He didn’t make it through. I know this can’t be easy.”

  “They killed him.” I stumbled a bit. “He was going to be okay. He had a pulse. I checked it.”

  He sat behind the big old gray metal desk that’d been there since World War II, I imagine. He looked at me all cold and stern with those soft brown eyes. That was Uncle Dave’s gift: he was born with a stone face, but his kind eyes drew you in—made you feel safe—same time he was sticking a knife in your gut. He’d done it to countless customers, and he was doing it to me.

  “I don’t think the hospital…”

  “No,” I said. “Not the hospital. Those thugs.” My head cleared a bit, but I still managed to sit in one of the ancient, World War II era, uncomfortable office chairs.

  “Thugs?”

  “Yeah. The guys that jumped us last night.” I wanted to swear, but Uncle Dave wouldn’t have it, even and especially when things were tough. It was one of his big beliefs—that a person should be able to keep a civilized tone of voice no matter what, lest the world get the better of them. That’s what he said all the time, at least.

  “I didn’t know you had a fight last night.”

  “Wasn’t much of one,” I said. “I think there were three of ’em, and me and Mike were just walking to our cars when they trapped us and just started hitting.”

  “For no reason?”

  “The one guy…Damian…said I’d disrespected him. I’ve never met him. I think he got me confused with someone else and didn’t want to back down in front of his cronies.”

  “You don’t say,” Uncle Dave said. He leaned back, shook his head a few times.

  “Yeah. Truth be told. I wasn’t going to say anything about the fight. Just let it go. But…God…is Mikey really gone?” I kept talking. I didn’t want to hear it again. “Damian was definitely on something—he looked kind of insane—and we were just at the wrong place at the wrong time when he went looking for trouble. Now I think we should definitely tell some people.”

  Uncle Dave nodded. “Yes. You should. Right away. You know his name?”

  “Damian,” I said.

  “First thing I’d do is go down to the station and file a report.” I didn’t tell him I’d given a short statement at the scene. I knew I’d have to go down to the station now, that it’d result in something serious happening to me. Probably get arrested and held until they figured it all out.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Say they come here?”

  Uncle Dave smiled. “I’m not going to let any of those kids mess with me. Not even six of ’em.” He patted the top of his desk. He had a nice 9mm in the top drawer. “Let ’em try, which they won’t.”

  I put up my hands. “All right,” I said. “No problem. Of course. I’m on my way.”

  “Make it snappy while you’re at it,” he said. “We’ve got two cars coming in today. I’m going to need you on your A-game.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Triple A.”

  I was out the door.

  * * * * *

  I couldn’t belie
ve Mikey was gone. What the hell? That made absolutely no sense to me. He shouldn’t have died just from being beaten up a little. Couldn’t they have saved him? Couldn’t he just be in a coma? Swollen brain. Knocked out. Concussion. A few broken ribs. But not dead. Please let Uncle Dave be wrong, I thought. Please let it just be some kind of big misunderstanding.

  Whistleville’s police station was nestled right next to the old Elms mansion, which I always thought was weird. In back of all that, there was a kids’ science center, too. I pulled past the Elms and went toward the back parking lot. I knew the drill. Knew where to park and where to go once I got to the front desk. I sat and waited for a detective to summon me in to take my statement. I didn’t remember much: what the guy said, what I’d said or had done. What I did recall was the detective on duty looking less than enthusiastic, talking in a monotone, and him not making eye contact with me. There was one other detail I’d found curious: three puncture wounds to his left wrist. They weren’t covered, and they looked fresh. Clean, but fresh.

  I wish I’d been in a better state of mind to have remembered his name or asked for a card. He had a simple name, and I told myself I’d write it down once I got back to my car. Of course, as soon as I was out the door, I forgot. Didn’t think much of it. Over the years, I’d given dozens of statements. Part of the job. Mostly, though, they weren’t about me; they were about things I’d seen or discovered in cars, or behavior I’d witnessed while at the shop.

  When I asked the detective about Mikey, he said he had no idea, and that he hadn’t heard of the case until I walked through the door. He finally looked me in the eye when he said, “You’re going to have to leave here and go to the hospital to find out.”

  The way he spoke was off. It was like he was trying to remember how to talk, like he was high on something. My first reaction was that maybe he had the flu, and that maybe I shouldn’t shake his hand. Could be he’d had a drink or two, or maybe he’d done an overnight and was in the middle of a double and was going a little nuts.

  I shrugged it off, thanked him and took off.