Snowbound With Ghost

by Ani Gonzalez

  "So," Lily drawled. "What are you making?"

  He almost sighed with relief. Food, they could talk about food.

  "Pasta Puttanesca." He took out a large frying pan and put it on the stove. "It's easy and I have all the ingredients."

  "Oh," she seemed a bit wary. "I think your mom sent us some when my dad was sick. It was... interesting."

  That made him laugh. His mom's cooking creations were well known and widely feared.

  "I hope it wasn't the pineapple version," he said. But Lily's fearful gaze indicated that yes, indeed, it had been the Hawaiian variation of the Italian dish.

  "Don't worry," he reassured her. "My puttanesca is fruit-free."

  She did not look convinced, which wasn't surprising. His mom's culinary adventures often ended badly, and her pineapple puttanesca had been an epic disaster.

  "There's some dried fruit in the pantry," he said. "We could have that for dessert."

  Lily considered that for a moment. Then she opened one of the grocery bags and took out a carton of eggs.

  "You can have the fruit," she said triumphantly. "I'm making brownies."

  He eyed the carton with distaste. "I hate to burst your carb-riddled, refined-sugared bubble, Lil. But we don't have the ingredients for brownies."

  She gave him a smug smile. "Yes, we do. There's brownie mix in the pantry."

  He stared at her aghast. "In my pantry?"

  Lily frowned at him, confused. "Yes, Patricia's Devilishly Good Brownie Mix. I put it there as a homecoming present."

  She walked to the pantry and brought out two pink-and-orange striped bags. Sebastian recognized the Banshee Creek Bakery's distinctive ghost logo.

  "I thought you'd like them," she said with a questioning frown. "You used to love brownies."

  "Brownies are poison, Lil," he responded, as gently as he could. "I haven't had one in years."

  "Poison?" she asked, enunciating the word carefully.

  "Yes, sugar is the White Death." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, the music hit a crescendo, making him sound like a cartoon villain. He grimaced with disgust. He never sounded like a cartoon villain.

  "What?" Lily asked, brows raised in skepticism.

  "That's what my personal trainer says. And he's the best in Hollywood."

  "The White..." She shook her head. "You've been in L.A. for too long, Sebastian. Is that why you brought the whole wheat pasta?"

  "Yep." He reached into another bag and took out a rustic cardboard box with a raffia ribbon. "It's my trainer's personal brand. It's made from whole grains and salmon skin and is high in omega oils."

  He opened the box and took out a handful of penne. "See? Feel that texture. You can even see the seeds inside."

  Lily touched the tube-shaped pasta gingerly. "It does smell kind of fishy."

  "Well, yes, there is that." He threw the pasta into the pot. "That's why I use the puttanesca sauce. The anchovies hide the fishiness."

  "Great," she said, the fake smile back on her face. "But I prefer poison to poissons. You can have your not-so-fishy pasta."

  She opened a cupboard and took out a bowl.

  "I'm going to make brownies," she said firmly as the violins in the Saint Saëns concerto shrieked dramatically. The Danse Macabre, where the Grim Reaper led the souls of the damned into a chaotic, disjointed dance, was now in full swing.

  Great, he thought, the Brownies of Death.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SEBASTIAN STARED at her in horror.

  She might as well have professed an intent to dismember a litter of kittens on his brand new granite countertops. Great, she'd managed to shock a guy whose main claim to fame was portraying an opera-loving, chateaux-hopping serial killer.

  "It's a brownie, Sebastian," she said, raising her chin defiantly. "Not a firing squad."

  He appeared unconvinced.

  "If you put that in your body, you may as well be facing a firing squad," he said, his face contorting in disgust. "It's just sugar and white flour."

  "And it's delicious." She walked to the pantry and took out a bottle of oil and a box of milk. Sebastian stared at the bottle of vegetable oil as if transfixed by a baleful specter. It was hard to believe that he used to eat cookie dough straight out of the bowl. Oh, poor Bastian, how far you've fallen.

  "If you knew what it does to your body, you wouldn't find it so appetizing."

  His tone was distinctly ominous, and this from an actor that specialized in the sinister. Sebastian had built a career on his mastery of the subtle, seductive threat.

  And, make no mistake, it was seductive. The deep, warm tones made a shiver go down her spine. The radio didn't help either. The concerto had slowed down, and the shrieking violins had given way to slow bass tones. The combination was dark and sexy, erotically insidious.

  But she refused to be cowed.

  "A couple of extra ounces on the hips don't scare me." She opened a cupboard and found measuring cups and spoons. "We don't all have to resemble Greek deities."

  And for that she was very grateful. The evening was turning into a night of horrors, but Patricia's brownies would turn it around. Her creations were legendary.

  Sebastian snorted.

  "Giving up brownies wasn't the worst thing about the role," he said in his normal voice, clear and strong.

  Lily stifled a giggle.

  "I did notice the conspicuous absence of chest hair," she said, aiming a mischievous smile in his direction.

  "It wasn't just chest hair," he said, unamused. In fact, he sounded positively aggrieved. "It was all hair. Everywhere."

  "Everywhere?"

  Her eyes dropped automatically to his crotch. There was a scene in the movie where an exultant, blood-drenched Ares is stripped of his armor and bathed by a group of handmaidens. The scene had been quite revealing. If she recalled correctly, and she almost certainly did, there had been absolutely no body hair.

  "Everywhere," he repeated, and this time the giggles would not be denied. She bent over the counter, chortling.

  Sebastian looked wounded.

  "It's not funny," he said. "You try sitting through two-hour waxing sessions, every three days, for a three-month period, Lil." He smashed a garlic clove with the flat of his knife. "Let's see how amusing you find it."

  His pained expression made it worse. She bit her lip in a fruitless attempt to stop the giggles.

  "Plus re-shoots."

  The giggles now turned into laughter and Sebastian's eyes narrowed in his trademark extremely-pissy-god-of-war look. His offended glare just made her laugh harder. The Danse Macabre switched tempo and the shrieking violins were the perfect soundtrack to her convulsive merriment.

  But her companion did not crack a smile.

  She recovered from her laughing fit to find that the music had subsided and Sebastian had dropped his fishy pasta into the pot. He opened a can of anchovies and poured those into the hot pan, making it sizzle. Then he grabbed a garlic bulb and tore into it impatiently.

  A variety of pungent smells spread through the kitchen. Anchovies, garlic and fishy pasta? She was glad she had a brownie option. She wiped the tears from her eyes and reached for the milk box.

  Sebastian did not say a word. He peeled the garlic with surprising viciousness then picked up an enormous chef's knife and chopped the garlic cloves into teeny-tiny pieces. Poor Bastian, reduced to taking out his frustrations on innocent produce.

  Was he going to be grumpy all night? Judging by the dismembered vegetables on the counter, the answer was yes. She must have triggered some kind of post-traumatic-all-body-waxing syndrome. An image popped into her head, Sebastian on a waxing table, strips of paper taped to his chest, Danse Macabre playing in the background. She fought down another giggle and measured a cup of milk.

  "Well, now you know how women feel," she said, reaching for the bag of brownie mix.

  The cellophane bag contained various layers of ingredients, with white flour at the bottom, followed by mocha-colored
cocoa powder, cinnamon-tinged sugar, and glossy chocolate shavings. She smiled when she saw that the package was topped with ghost-shaped marshmallows, walnuts, and dried cherries. This was Patricia's Bloody Good Rocky Road Brownie Mix. Lily almost felt pity for Sebastian and his ichthyoid pasta.

  "Not all women..." His voice trailed off as he dropped the minced garlic into the pan.

  A rogue giggle tried to escape, but Lily pulled it back. Was he kidding? This was Virginia, not Siberia.

  "Pretty much everyone does the Brazilian Wax thing now," she said.

  Heck, the Siberians probably had Brazilian Waxing spas. Come to think of it, a little vodka would make the process much more bearable.

  "Well, yes, in L.A.," Sebastian conceded. "But not in Virginia."

  "Yes in Virginia." She poured the mix and puffy marshmallows, chewy cherries and delicious chocolate curls tumbled into the bowl like an avalanche of yumminess. She picked a plump marshmallow and put it in her mouth.

  Sebastian's eyes widened in horror and, for a second, she thought his shock was due to her shameless marshmallow consumption. If sugar was the White Death, what did that make marshmallows, the Cylinders of Catastrophe? But Sebastian wasn't even looking at her.

  "In Banshee Creek?" he whispered, as if the mere thought was heresy.

  "Of course in Banshee Creek." Now it was her turn to be offended. "We're not all hairy hicks here."

  "Where?" he blurted, and then shook his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

  "Yolanda's Hair Salon." She poured the milk and oil into the bowl and opened the egg carton.

  "Yolanda's? That's the town's botánica. She does blessings and spells and stuff."

  "It's Yolanda's Hair Salon and Botánica, Sebastian," she explained patiently, as she cracked the eggs into the bowl. "She also does haircuts and highlights and pedicures. It's where your mother gets her hair and nails done."

  He raised his arms, as if warding off a blow.

  "I did not need to know that," he said.

  "Yolanda is very good. She makes this cooling paste that makes it practically painless. It's made with marigold and is sacred to a goddess."

  She tried to recall the name of the goddess, but nothing came to mind. Was there an Egyptian goddess of waxing? Sebastian didn't seem to care. He stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief.

  "You should have asked your mother to send you some," she said brightly.

  "No, I shouldn't have. That would involve discussing the waxing of..." His voice trailed off. "Things," he continued firmly, "with my mother. And that is not a conversation I want to have. There's not enough psychotherapy in the world."

  "Well, then the pain was worth it, right?" This time she couldn't keep the giggles down.

  Sebastian had to smile. And it wasn't the smooth, practiced smile she'd seen in the red carpet photographs. It was the old Sebastian smile, and it made her feel melty inside.

  "Well, now that you put it that way," he said. "I guess it's a small price to pay."

  She picked up a spoon and started mixing. Melty was bad, and melty over a guy who belonged to someone else was particularly bad.

  "But she must have figured it out, right?" she said, a tinge of desperation in her voice. She had to keep the conversation light. "I mean she saw the movie."

  Even as she said the words, she was trying desperately not to picture scenes from the film, especially the ones with Sebastian naked. Think about the kissing scene, the one with Ariel Henderson's Aphrodite. The one where he pulled her long blond hair back and kissed her neck.

  Yep, that did it. Total buzzkill.

  "I told her it was all Photoshop," Sebastian said.

  "And she believed you?" Lily blurted out, the Sebastian-Ariel embrace burned into her brain.

  "She wanted to believe me." He stirred the foul-smelling anchovy-garlic mixture and poured in diced tomatoes. "That's the secret to acting. You have to make the audience want to believe you. And when the alternative is to picture a sadistic esthetician ripping your baby boy's skin off..." He shrugged, as if he'd proven his point, then focused on his pan, carefully stirring the sauce.

  Ariel's embrace was swept aside by a vision of a naked Sebastian lying on a massage table. Oh, that was not good. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a baking pan. It was time for some brownie therapy.

  "Don't be ridiculous," she said, as she poured the mix into the pan. "It doesn't hurt that much."

  The stirring stopped and Sebastian stood perfectly still. Lily suddenly realized that her companion was picturing...things.

  "Surely you haven't..." But he thought better of it and bent over the pot instead, stirring the anchovies into submission.

  Great, he thought she was an unsophisticated redneck. She seethed as she banged the baking pan against the countertop, trying to get the brownie mix to settle. Sebastian was probably comparing her to the ever-so-perfect Ariel Henderson who probably waxed everything, every week. Oh, who was she kidding? Ms. Henderson must have lasered herself into smooth perfection at least a decade ago. She banged the pan a little too hard and a glob of chocolate mix splashed onto the counter. She couldn't help it, thinking about the beautiful actress made her blood boil.

  "Surely, I haven't what?" she asked sharply, grabbing a wet sponge. "Waxed my privates?"

  Sebastian's spoon moved faster. At the rate he was going, he would create a tomato sauce cyclone.

  "My depilatory habits are none of your business, Sebastian," she said firmly, wiping the chocolate clean. "The only waxing schedule you need to worry about is your fiancée's."

  Sebastian dropped the spoon into the bowl and scowled at her. His eyes were fiery and dark and his jaw was clenched tightly. It was his God of War glare and it was probably very effective on the screen.

  But she didn't let it intimidate her. She could still feel the remnants of his kiss and her own reaction to it—equal parts embarrassment and frustrated desire—and it all fueled her anger. She gripped the sponge tightly, feeling water drip through her fingers. Who the hell did he think he—

  "I'm not engaged, Lil."

  Her sponge fell to the floor with a dull splashing sound.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "WHAT?" LILY'S words hung in the air as Danse Macabre hit its final crescendo and faded away.

  "And dawn breaks up the dance of death" The deejay's voice came over the radio. "That, my friends, was a phantasmagorically fabulous piece by Camille Saint Saëns. Of course, most of you seem to know it as the music from Moulin Rouge, Interview with the Vampire and the "Hush" episode of the Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, series. And that, my culturally-challenged friends is why we have this show. We're educating the masses here at WPRV. Although I'm happy to hear that our local biker gang doubles as the Official Banshee Creek Baz Luhrmann Fan Club. It restores my faith in our civilization. So here's another masterpiece, which you all should know. And the eighth caller to correctly identify this piece without using the words Disney, mouse, or broom will win a free tune-up at Virginia Vintage Cars. Enjoy."

  The opening bars to The Sorcerer's Apprentice swept through the room. Great, an orchestra piece inspired by the story of a naive youngster playing with forces beyond his ken. Very appropriate.

  "You're not engaged?" Lily's confused gaze met his.

  "Ariel is not my fiancée."

  It was the first time he had said it out loud. He repeated the statement, tasting the words as they came out of his mouth, trying them out.

  He liked saying them.

  "But you guys seemed..." Lily's voice trailed off. "I saw the ring. It was in all the magazines." She gave the counter one last wipe and threw the mangled sponge in the sink. "It was huge. Astronauts in space could use that stone as a landing beacon."

  "Oh, the diamond is pretty big," he said. "I think she's turning it into a necklace."

  "And you're okay with that?"

  He shrugged. What Ariel chose to do with the ring was none of his business. She could melt it down or donate it to charity or th
row it into the ocean. He did not care.

  Not anymore.

  "Well the tabloids will have a field day with that," Lily said, still shocked.

  Now that was definitely an understatement.

  "That's the idea." He laughed, but it had a sharp edge to it, not sarcasm, more like bitterness. "War of the Gods had decent box office revenues in its first two weeks. But it's the busy holiday season, with several other films coming out. That means the box office take will decrease after that." He paused. "Unless something happens and the movie gets back in the public eye."

  "Something like a broken engagement?" Lily's voice dripped with distaste.

  "Something like an affair between the leading lady and the married director."

  This time he could not conceal his pain. The ring didn't hurt, but Ariel's infidelity was a different matter. He'd had some time to recover, but Ariel's betrayal had gutted him. He'd filmed so many epic defeats, filmed so many scenes where the villain sees his life's work crumble around him, he'd spent so much time learning how to project the darkness of utter despair.

  But this was the first time he'd ever felt it.

  Lily's hand went to her mouth.

  "Oh no," she whispered. "Bastian."

  "Don't look at me like that," he said. "It hasn't happened yet. As far as anyone knows, I'm a happily engaged man." He turned to the stove. "A happily engaged man," he repeated, trying to move the conversation to another topic, "with a succulent puttanesca sauce."

  There, back to a neutral topic of conversation. He turned the heat down and turned to Lily.

  "Let's eat," he said, taking dishes out of a cupboard.

  She hesitated, as if she wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, she picked up some placemats from a drawer and went to set the table.