by Maria Geraci
He’d fantasized about her? She tried to think of something to say, but her throat felt like the Gobi desert.
“So you want to move past last night?” he continued.
“Of course,” she squeaked.
“Right. Just like we’ve gotten past what happened twelve years ago?”
“I thought we already had this conversation three nights ago.”
“No, you had this conversation. I listened.”
It was true. She’d hadn’t really let him get much in. But what was the point of hashing out the events of twelve years ago? “Why are you bringing this up now?”
“You’re the one who brought up last night. I figured now was as good a time to bring it all up.” His voice went quiet. “No matter what I do, I don’t stand a chance with you, do I?”
The blaring lights of a car turning into the parking lot made them both look away. It was quickly followed by another car that parked alongside it. Phoebe and Roger Van Cleave got out of the first car. Roger spotted them and waved.
A reprieve!
“Looks like the gang’s all here.” Allie reached for the truck door but before she could make her escape, Tom leaned over and blocked her from opening it.
“We’re not done yet.”
“But we can’t keep everyone waiting.” She hated the shakiness in her voice.
“As long as you know that before you leave town, you and I are finishing this conversation. My way.”
*~*~*
Allie had never seen a medium before, but Madame Gloria was nothing like she expected. She had to admit, a Whoopi look-alike would have been comforting, but she would have settled for someone with white hair and a turban. And a Russian accent. Yes, a foreign accent would have been impressive. Instead, Madame Gloria was maybe mid-thirties with long blonde hair and a cross and skull bones tattooed over her right bicep. Despite the chill in the air, she wore a flowery skirt with a tank top and Birkenstocks. At least a dozen thin gold bracelets dangled from each of her wrists.
Besides Allie and Tom and Phoebe and Roger, Viola Pantini and Gus Pappas were also present. Allie was glad to see Viola and Gus. If anyone deserved to be at tonight’s séance, they did, considering that they’d spent so much time in the senior center. Allie wondered what they’d had to do to get on Phoebe’s illustrious guest list. More than likely Roger (who Allie was still ninety-nine percent certain wasn’t Concerned Citizen) had talked his sister into including them.
Madame Gloria clapped her hands to get their attentions. “Before we begin. I need to make sure that everyone present is a true believer. Any negative vibrations will only frighten our spiritual visitor. We want to create a loving, positive environment conducive to free flow communication.”
Everyone began mumbling at once. Even Tom nodded his “belief” although Allie knew he was just faking it to get things going.
“Sure, sure,” Gus said. “I believe in the dead coming back.”
Madame Gloria’s face twisted. “I’ve found the word ‘dead’ has a negative connation. I prefer the term ‘non-living.’”
Non-living sounded pretty negative to Allie, too, but she wasn’t about to disagree with a professional like Madame Gloria. Not when she wanted to get on her good side. After the séance, she was hoping Gloria would agree to an interview.
Allie gave a thumbs up. “Non-living. Got it.”
“Excellent.” Madame Gloria waved a hand in the air with a flourish, exposing a small tuft of hair beneath her underarm. “Now, if everyone will kindly turn off any unnecessary electronic devices, we can all take a seat.”
A sturdy looking card table (as previously specified by Phoebe) had been set up in the middle of the room surrounded by seven folding chairs. No flowing tablecloth to hide anything under or burning candles to provide the expected ambiance. A trio of kerosene lamps stationed on the floor around the table provided the room’s only illumination. Roger set up his video camera, then took the seat next to Allie. Phoebe sat to her other side with Tom directly across the table.
Madame Gloria made a point of making eye contact with each of them. “Shall we all hold hands?” Allie reached out to Roger and Phoebe. Roger’s hand felt warm and secure in her grasp, as opposed to Phoebe’s clammy grip. For several long minutes nothing happened. Allie waited for Madame Gloria to begin chanting or to say something, but she didn’t.
She glanced over to find Madame Gloria frowning. “Someone has been inside this building. And he or she has left a very disturbing aura behind.”
Allie’s gaze immediately darted to Tom. Could Madame Gloria “see” what they’d done last night? The thought of it nearly gave Allie a heart attack. But Tom looked more amused than worried, which helped her relax. Of course Madame Gloria couldn’t know about last night! She was a medium, not a psychic. Although…they weren’t the same thing, were they? Allie was still confused about that.
Gloria narrowed her eyes at Phoebe. “I thought you’d know that the building’s integrity was to be maintained.”
Phoebe’s voice went frosty. “I can assure you, I left explicit instructions that the building was to be left empty for twenty-four hours. I’m not an amateur, you know.”
“Nevertheless, I know what I feel.”
“Maybe this disturbing aura you’re feeling is just the ghost,” Tom said mildly.
Allie forced herself not to look at him.
“Perhaps.” Madame Gloria puckered her lips in distaste. “Or perhaps not.”
“Maybe if you describe this feeling, we can help.” Viola nodded toward Gus. “We spent a lot of time inside this building.”
“Very well. I’ll try to articulate what I’m sensing.” Madame Gloria closed her eyes and began swaying.
This was more like it. Allie closed her eyes as well and tried to concentrate. A vision of Tom staring down at her as he slowly rocked inside her popped into her head. Oops. Nope. Don’t concentrate on that.
Last night was important to me.
“Yeah, right,” she muttered. What a line!
Phoebe’s grip on her hand tightened. “Hush!” she admonished Allie.
“Sorry,” Allie whispered.
Okay, concentrate. She’d think about the dead—no—the non-living entity they were trying to communicate with.
“I sense a great disturbance in the force,” Gloria announced.
Oh, Madame Gloria did not just go there.
Allie didn’t have to look at Tom to know what he was thinking. Because she was thinking it, too. Madame Gloria was a quack. How very…disappointing. She mentally sighed. She could still write the article. She’d just have to put the emphasis on the novelty behind the séance, not its actual authenticity.
“It’s passion,” Madame Gloria said. “The disturbance involves a great deal of passion.”
“Like a murder?” Phoebe sounded as excited as a Chihuahua on crack.
“Perhaps. But…no, I don’t think so.” Allie could have told them there hadn’t been a murder in the senior center. But she kept her mouth shut.
As long as you know that before you leave town, you and I are finishing this conversation. My way.
What did that mean anyway? His way? Who did he think he was? Frank Sinatra?
Madame Gloria made a tsking sound. “This is a different sort of passion. One that had been long denied. And only very recently satisfied.”
Allie’s eyes flew open to find Tom staring at her. She shut her eyes again. Coincidence. Madame Gloria’s choice of words were just a coincidence.
“I sense a huge range of emotions here,” Madame Gloria continued, her voice rising with enthusiasm. “Betrayal, sadness, anger and…something else.”
“Like what?” Gus asked.
Roger leaned forward in his chair. “Yeah, like what?”
“A release. A very great release. Right here in this exact same spot.”
Okay, this was getting voyeuristically creepy. The table had been set up in the same spot where the air mattress had been last night. A
llie peeked around the room. No one was looking at her, except Tom, but Allie refused to make eye contact with him. Her palms began to dampen. She tried to pull her hand out of Phoebe’s to wipe off some of the moisture, but Phoebe’s bony fingers had her in a death grip.
Madame Gloria shifted in her chair, causing her bracelets to jangle against one another. “Perhaps if I concentrate a bit more. Let’s start again. Everyone must clear their minds and focus. The more communal energy we create the harder it will be for the spirit to resist us. And this time, no talking,” she instructed. “All this input is only confusing the spirit. My voice must be the only one he or she hears.”
The room went silent. Allie could hear the wind rustling over the building and the occasional sound of a car engine in the distance. She tried her hardest to focus like Madame Gloria urged.
Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this? Tom’s silky voice whispered in her ear. Allie’s eyes flew open. No one had spoken. It was just her imagination. She tried to swat the memory of last night from her mind the way she’d do with some pesky fly. Concentrate, Allie. Think of…the warm smell. Only that made her think of Jean Nate, which led her back to Buela.
“Maybe if you ask the ghost a question, he’ll answer,” Phoebe said.
“Who’s the medium here?” Madame Gloria demanded.
Phoebe looked as if she’d just been struck. “Why, you of course.”
“Then kindly allow me to direct this séance in the proper fashion. Which means no talking.”
Phoebe lowered her eyes and nodded.
Allie almost felt sorry for Phoebe, except wasn’t she the one who had bragged how Madame Gloria was the best medium in the business?
A few more minutes went by. No one dared utter a peep.
“I’m getting something,” Madame Gloria said. “It’s coming back. The same feeling I had before. Great emotion. In this very spot.”
Allie tried to ignore everything else and concentrate as hard as she could. Lemons. Could she smell them? She inhaled deeply. No. No lemons. No Jean Nate. No nothing.
A faint sound interrupted Allie’s thoughts. She recognized it instantly because she’d heard just a few nights ago. It was the sound of crunching gravel. Ghosts didn’t walk on gravel. Only something alive could make that noise.
More gravel crunching. Followed by what sounded suspiciously like giggling. Allie began to get a very bad vibe.
“I’m sensing conflict,” Madame Gloria announced, oblivious to the noise. “Conflict of a very dark nature.”
That’s when the music began. Softly at first. And then the melody rose and before Allie knew it, a full blown version of Jim Morrison and The Doors singing Light My Fire was blasting away in her ear drum.
Oh no. Not again. It had to be a hallucination. Like thinking just a few minutes ago that she’d heard Tom whisper in her ear.
She scanned the table. Madame Gloria had her eyes closed and was swaying slightly from side to side as if she were in a trance. Viola and Gus seemed fascinated by Gloria’s movements. Phoebe’s eyes were shut tight and Roger looked as if he’d won the lottery. Tom, on the other hand, was still staring at her. Only now he was frowning, as if he found something suddenly strange. Could he hear the music, too?
Do you hear that? She silently mouthed to him.
He paused long enough to make her wonder if she truly was going crazy. Hear what? He mouthed back. But there was a momentary flicker in his eyes that gave him away. Liar! He could hear it, too!
“You know what,” she said to Tom.
The rest of the table turned to look at her. Woops. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Please, Ms. Grant!” Madame Gloria said. “You’re breaking my concentration. I am the only one allowed to speak here.”
Come on baby, light my—
“I know, and I’m sorry, but don’t you hear that?” Allie asked. She glanced around the table but all she saw was confusion on their faces. Except for Tom, who shook his head at her as if to tell her no. But no what? No he couldn’t hear that (although she knew perfectly well that he could) or no she shouldn’t say anything to anyone else about it?
“Hear what?” Gloria demanded. “The only thing I hear is you talking.”
“You don’t hear the music?”
“What music?” Phoebe asked.
“Sorry,” Allie muttered. Oh lord, the music was actually getting louder now.
Come on baby, light my fire.
“Now, where was I before this latest interruption? Oh my. I’m sensing two spiritual entities, not just one! Two entities in great conflict. A struggle, you might say. A struggle going back and forth, a great flow of energy going in and out, in and out, as if…hmmm…well, that can’t be right.” Madame Gloria cleared her throat.
“Two entities, huh? In and out?” Gus said.
Madame Gloria let out a long suffering sigh. “I should have brought a muzzle for you people.”
This was apparently all the permission Phoebe needed to speak again. “Two entities? Are you quite certain? I only picked up a masculine spirit.”
“Two entities,” Gloria repeated. “One male and one female.”
Gus began chuckling.
Somewhere in the back of Allie’s mind she registered the sound of more gravel crunching but the music was beginning to drown out everything. Louder and louder until she thought her head might explode.
COME ON BABY, LIGHT MY FIRE.
Oh, Lord, maybe she had a brain tumor. Or maybe Martians were invading the planet and using her as a conduit to get to other earthlings or maybe—
COME ON BABY, LIGHT MY FIRE.
She had to stop it. She had to. Or she’d go crazy. But how? It was as if whatever was making the music in her head was urging her to do something. Or say something. Like when Tom admitted he’d heard the song Help in his mind and it had only ceased when he’d told her he’d stop the demolition.
Impulsively, she pushed herself up from the table. “Okay! I admit it! Tom and I had sex last night.”
The music came to a screeching halt.
“Oh, thank God!” She placed her hands against the sides of her head. Beautiful, blissful peace! Her head belonged to her again.
“I knew it,” Gus said. He grinned and gave Tom a big thumbs up.
Madame Gloria pointed a finger at Phoebe. “How can I be expected to commune with the non-living when my instructions to keep the building pure were deliberately disobeyed? I thought you were a professional.”
Phoebe kicked back her chair and stood. “I am a professional! And I can vouch that no one has stepped foot inside this building for over twenty-four hours.” She waved her hand at Tom. “Isn’t that right?”
Tom didn’t say anything.
“Right?” Phoebe persisted.
“Go ahead,” Gloria said smugly. “Tell them.”
“It was an accident,” Allie blurted. “We didn’t mean to have sex. It just sort of happened.”
Phoebe looked incredulous. “You had sex here? Inside this building? When?”
“Um, last night,” Allie admitted.
Viola reached out to pat her on the arm. “Isn’t that lovely? Er, at least, I assume it was lovely. Was it?”
Everyone at the table turned to look at Allie.
“It was…you know, nice.”
Tom muttered something under his breath that Allie didn’t catch.
Phoebe looked incredulous. “I specifically told you that the atmosphere was to be kept pure for tonight’s séance! What are you, people, animals?”
More gravel crunching. More giggling.
Madame Gloria threw her hands in the air. “Does anyone besides me hear that?” she demanded.
“I hear it,” Gus said.
“Me too,” Roger chimed in.
“I think I know where it’s coming from.” Tom walked across the room and threw open the front door. Mimi, Pilar and the rest of the Bunco Babes stood huddled at the threshold. They looked a mixture of both surprised and
elated at being caught eavesdropping on the séance.
“Oops.” Mimi said. She looked at Allie and shrugged. “Sorry, I tried to talk them out of it but a séance was just too hard to resist.”
The women began filing into the building, talking at once and snapping pictures with their cell phones as if they had every perfect right to be there. Frida Hampton, the owner of The Bistro by the Beach held an empty margarita glass in her hand. “What have we missed?”
Kitty Pappas took the glass from Frida’s hand and smiled apologetically. “Don’t worry, we have designated drivers.”
“This is a mockery!” Madame Gloria cried. “First the aura is desecrated by…by these two,” she pointed to Allie and Tom, “and their sexual shenanigans, and now we have séance crashers. I cannot be expected to work in this kind of environment!”
Allie felt a dozen pairs of eyes on her, including Tom’s ex. What in all that was holy was Lauren Donalan doing here? “I can explain,” she said.
“Oh, no need to explain,” Lauren said. “We all know what sexual shenanigans are.” She didn’t seem upset. On the contrary. She seemed almost giddy. Must be the work of those super-secret margaritas Mimi was always bragging about.
Kitty glanced nervously around the room. “So, how’s it going? Has the ghost showed up yet?”
“Not yet,” Allie muttered.
“Okay, ladies, show’s over,” Tom said, nodding his head toward the still open door.
“You’re kicking us out?” a short redhead asked, slurring her words. Hopefully not one of the designated drivers.
“You got it,” he said with the sort of smile any woman would find hard to resist. Especially a slightly inebriated Bunco Babe.
“Party pooper,” Frida said, playfully sticking her tongue out at Tom.
“C’mon, girls,” Mimi said, “I think we should leave.” She threw Allie a meaningful look on her way out the door. A look that said, we’ll talk later.
