Blind Trust (Blind Justice Book 2)

by Adam Zorzi

  “Gregg, that means you'll be hanging around here, I hope.”

  “Skylar, I have to. LouLou's given me a list of pieces to tweak for her fall tour in Scandinavia. I've got so much music to hear. I haven't made it through ten percent of Vinyl. I have to absorb and write.” Robert rubbed his head under Gregg's hand in approval. Gregg dutifully rubbed his ears. Skylar faked a pout. “Vinyl just isn't the same when you're not here, LouLou. All I have is an out-of-date headshot on my Wall of Fame.”

  “You're right about the headshot. I'll do something about that.” LouLou playfully punched his arm. “You know I faithfully email you when I'm on tour. I'd never abandon you.”

  “Well, let's drink to your success before you go.” Skylar pulled a bottle of Scotch from beneath the counter with three matching tumblers. He poured two and then poured warm ginger ale in a third. He handed it to LouLou.

  The three raised their glasses. “To the art of music.”

  “To LouLou, my muse,” Gregg toasted.

  “Hear, hear,” Skylar said.

  “To the guys who make my work so much fun,” LouLou toasted.

  “And to the Fantastic Far East Tour,” Skylar finished.

  ***

  Gregg walked LouLou back to her loft although he admitted he felt like he could run all the way there. LouLou suddenly felt tired. Her sessions with Gregg had been productive, but now she felt brain-drained. The work they'd done was good and satisfying, but she needed rest and sleep. Stress, even if the stress came from intensity of working on something she enjoyed, and not enough sleep were a bad combination for her. Throughout her time at home in Richmond, she'd taken her meds, seen her psychiatrist weekly, and made sure she walked once a day. Roy and Sara made sure she ate properly. She didn't want to overextend herself right before her trip. She never wanted to see Sick again.

  “What?” she asked. Gregg had said something she hadn't heard.

  “Do you mind if I come in to get my stuff?” he repeated.

  “Of course not, but please be quick. I need to refocus.” Once inside, Gregg picked up his music notebooks and the revised itemized list LouLou had made of things for him to do and stuffed them in the back pocket of his jeans. He'd asked LouLou to bring the oboe he'd rented for the month to Vinyl on her trip to Vinyl. He glanced around the loft. “That's everything.”

  “Good. Keep at it while I'm gone.”

  She knew he was going to kiss her, so she put her hand on his chest as he leaned in. “Gregg, I'm going to fall asleep standing up. I really need to rest. This has been amazing and I can't wait to play it on tour, but I need to be alone before I leave.” She hated the hurt look on his face, but her health came first.

  “Did I do something wrong? I know there's a connection between us beyond music.”

  “No. You've done nothing wrong. I feel something, too, but I have some…health problems. I can't get involved with anyone, especially someone as dear to me as you.”

  He seemed to like hearing that he was dear to her and dropped the topic. “I didn't mean to tire you. Get some rest.” He turned toward the door. “I can't thank you enough. Kick ass in Asia.” He kissed her softly on the cheek. “Good travels.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  July

  LouLou and Gregg became lovers the night she returned from Bangkok. Flushed with the success of her tour and Gregg's fantastic newest music that Skylar had forwarded, LouLou set herself free with Gregg. Their lovemaking was as exciting and passionate as their music with a tenderness LouLou had never experienced. She could only let it happen once. She couldn't let Gregg think they had a future together, but she didn't want to raise the issue immediately.

  Gregg, Robert, and Skylar had met her at the airport with red roses. LouLou had emailed Skylar regular updates. In turn, he sent files of Gregg's latest compositions to download. She hadn't listened to it until her flight home. She didn't want to add new ideas while she was on such a successful tour. Skylar had discretely dropped Gregg and LouLou off at her loft and went on his way. Robert, who had sat on LouLou's lap in the passenger seat, seemed happy to have the seat to himself.

  After making love with Gregg, LouLou slept thirty-six hours. When she woke, she realized Gregg had left a one-word note—

  Sleep.

  Roy had stocked her refrigerator with mineral water, red grapes, two kinds of hard cheese, brie, and eggs.

  LouLou ate a fresh banana from the bowl on the counter and pulled out her rig—her nickname for the syringe and meds she took twice a week in addition to four pills a day. She took every med she safely could at one time with food. Thirty-six hours was a long time. If she resumed the routine immediately, she'd probably be okay. Dr. Youzny assured her she'd be fine if she didn't miss a single dose going forward. Meds, plus rest, healthy food, and exercise would keep Sick at bay.

  She stood beside the breakfast bar and inhaled the roses that sat in a crystal vase atop the bar. They were a lovely crimson and smelled luscious. She touched the fragile petals. She made a note to ask her mother how to make potpourri when she called her parents.

  Roy pounded on the door. “Ah, you're awake,” he said when she let him in. He gave her a one-armed hug because he was holding a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice in the other. “Sara and I checked on you yesterday, but you were snoring. You must have been exhausted.”

  LouLou accepted the glass. “This juice is just what I needed. I had a long flight. The tour was a logistical nightmare but a success.”

  “Of course it was a success.” Roy appraised the woman in front of him. “Where are you on meals?”

  “I don't know. What time is it?” Long flights. Lovemaking with Gregg. Sleep. LouLou had no sense of time.

  “About four on Thursday afternoon. Early supper?”

  “Definitely.” LouLou told him she'd slept through a cycle of meds and her psych had recommended exercise, rest, and healthy food.

  “I know just what to get. Should I send Sara up with it to keep you company?”

  “Oh, I'd love that, yes.” She longed for her friend who'd talk about something other than the tour. LouLou enjoyed Sara's company in part because she was so serene. Sara loved and took care of her husband, her children, and her home. She treated LouLou like a younger sister.

  Over a dinner of salad, bread, and spaghetti carbonara with peas substituted for bacon, LouLou debated whether she should tell Sara about Gregg. She decided not to because she and Gregg would never be a couple. They were a great musical team. That had to be enough.

  ***

  Two weeks passed before LouLou felt like herself. She had a few rocky nights as the meds resumed their battle stations in her body against Sick. When she saw her psychiatrist, he cautioned her again about skipping doses.

  “I know it's hard when you're touring, keeping odd hours, and changing time zones. I know you crash when you return, but you must set an alarm on your phone to wake you.”

  “I will,” she agreed. “By the way, I had some trouble getting through airport security with syringes, even with your documentation and names of physicians in each city. Dr. Youzny, it scared me.”

  She didn't admit how much. Sitting in an airport interview room with two Chinese guards who debated with a third by phone as to whether she could keep her syringes was unnerving. She had an alternate medication in tablet form, but it wasn't powerful enough to be more than a temporary measure. After a three-hour delay, LouLou and her syringes were allowed to travel. She'd sprinted toward her gate before they could change their minds.

  “If that happens, call the United States embassy. You're one of theirs, given your father's continued service. The embassy people will make sure you get what you need.” LouLou's father had for many years been the United States Ambassador to France and remained a career diplomat. Any call from her would be taken seriously. She knew that. She didn't need Dr. Youzny to remind her.

  “The alternative is to stop touring,” Dr. Youzny suggested with his voice full of gravitas. She'd been Youzny
's patient for so long she knew all of his pompous mannerisms and vocal tics. Her dad actually howled at her imitation of Youzny at his most profound. LouLou knew he'd say that.

  “I intend to. My plan is to take at least a year off from international touring. I've got plenty of work in the States. All I have left is my commitment in Scandinavia. That shouldn't be a problem. At least I can communicate in English. Not knowing what the Chinese were saying was awful.”

  “I'm glad to hear you say you're taking some time off from traveling. Travel is stressful and is becoming increasingly so. You know stress is a trigger. I can't imagine too many things more stressful that being held in a strange airport interrogation room without a translator.”

  “Got it,” she said as she left. LouLou despised Sick with growing anger. The meds themselves were now putting her in stressful situations. This disease had robbed her of her identity and control of her body and kept her from forming lasting relationships beyond friendship. She longed to love a man and be loved in return.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After her appointment with Dr. Youzny, LouLou met Gregg at Vinyl and dropped off new treasure for Skylar. She didn't stay to browse. She was eager to get back to the loft and properly listen to Gregg's new music. He held her hand as they walked hurriedly to beat an impending storm. There was nothing lovely about mid-summer in Richmond. It was hot and humid punctuated by late afternoon thunderstorms. LouLou didn't notice much about her surroundings. She was focused on how right her hand felt in Gregg's.

  The next thing she knew, LouLou was lying on the striped sectional sofa in her loft. Panic was her first instinct. This was how she felt when Sick took over, caused her to do something terrible, and departed leaving LouLou to deal with the consequences.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed, what had happened, or how she'd gotten home. Seeing Gregg sitting calmly beside her holding a cold compress to her forehead caused her to relax a bit. He seemed concerned but not alarmed. She sat up and accepted the glass of water with chunks of ice and two pain relief tablets he offered. She immediately swallowed the pills and held the chilled glass in her hands. Chilled water and ice always calmed her.

  “Better?” Gregg asked.

  “I don't know…” LouLou responded.

  “I checked you over. Abrasion on your right elbow and a scrape on your right forehead. A long scratch on your tote. No vinyl LPs were harmed.” He squeezed her hand. “Do you want to go to the ER? Get your head wound checked out? Check for a concussion?”

  The sound of Gregg's voice triggered her memory. Something had freaked her out, something that made her wonder just how safe Gregg was and whether she could trust him.

  “How did you do that?” LouLou demanded. She clutched the glass so her hands wouldn't shake. “That car hit you. I saw it aimed directly at you. The driver didn't stop to see what or who she hit. We've got to call 911. I got a partial plate.” She was talking too fast. She knew it. Had. To. Slow. Down. Breathe.

  “No, don't call anyone. I'm fine,” said a completely unscathed Gregg.

  “You can't be. You pushed me out of the way just in time. The driver came out of the garage too fast and turned left. She didn't look.”

  LouLou's heart was beating too fast. She reached in her now-scratched red leather tote and took a blue pill out of a slim silver container and placed it under her tongue. This med worked faster when it dissolved under her tongue rather than swallowed whole. Gregg reached for a throw to wrap around her. “I'm fine. You said you're okay. Try to calm down.”

  She couldn't let it go, but she had to remain calm. “Gregg, you're scaring me. Why aren't you hurt? I saw the car headed directly at you. There's no way you could've dodged that car.”

  He stared at her for what felt like an hour before he spoke. “There's no logical explanation.”

  His answer did nothing to quell her uneasiness. “No logical way? What does that mean? Is there some illogical way? If you don't tell me, you have to leave. I'll call the police and report the accident. Tell me, Gregg.”

  Although she never imagined she'd use it against Gregg, LouLou kept mace in her tote, partly because she was usually alone and partly because she might be faced with an over-zealous fan. There were three panic buttons in her loft. Her parents had insisted she have them in the event she felt Sick coming and didn't have time to call someone. One button was located just behind the end of the sofa, where she sat.

  At the mention of having to leave, Gregg dropped the wet cloth he'd been holding against her forehead. He removed his hand from hers.

  “LouLou, don't be afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you. I'll leave if you want.”

  “I want you to tell me why you're not hurt when a five-thousand-pound car pointed directly at you slammed you. I didn't see you lying in the street. You remained on the sidewalk with me. Tell me.”

  Gregg stood and backed away from the sofa. He held his hands by his sides. He looked harmless and vulnerable. “What I say is going to sound unbelievable. Please don't be afraid. If it's any help, Skylar knows about me. He's always known.”

  If he didn't spit it out, LouLou felt like she would strangle him in about two seconds. She threw the blanket off and sat with her feet on the floor. “Tell me.” Her voice had a sharp edge that Sick often used.

  “I don't live in human form,” Gregg said quietly and firmly.

  Human form. What's left? Animal, vegetable, mineral. “I don't understand.”

  “For lack of a better term, I'm a ghost.” He stood still. He didn't make any motion toward her. He seemed afraid he might scare her.

  She stood, felt dizzy, and sat. “A ghost.”

  For a nanosecond, she wondered if she'd taken the correct medication. Her blue pill was a sedative. The pills Gregg had given her looked like over-the-counter pain relievers. No, she wasn't tripping on drugs. This man she'd worked beside for months and made love to was telling her he was a ghost.

  “What does that mean? You're going to have to be specific. Are you dead?”

  His hands remained at his sides. He didn't try to approach her. “You'd say I was dead. I stopped living in human form when I was about thirty-two or thirty-three. What you see is the essence of me. I've poured my heart and my music out to you.”

  She remained seated and tried to focus. “Why me? Why can I see you?”

  “I was meant to meet you.”

  That sounded like something a man running a con would say. “And Skylar? Don't tell me he's a ghost too.”

  He shook his head. “Skylar is a Sensitive, a person who sees and is attuned to more than one realm.”

  She'd known Skylar since she was eighteen and had just moved to Richmond to attend Virginia Commonwealth University. She trusted him. She'd always suspected there was something more to Skylar than he let on—a sixth sense. Gregg, however, was a newcomer, and she hadn't felt anything more than a romantic pull toward him, nothing that made her think he was weird or paranormal. Questions whirred in her head in no order. She needed to ask the important ones.

  “Do other people see you?”

  “I don't think so.”

  She thought back to small things she'd noticed that seemed quirky. “Is that why you never eat? Don't carry anything? Don't drive? You don't need to eat, drink, and sleep, do you?”

  He shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I don't.”

  She switched to the topic of visibility. “When we're walking together, what do other people see?”

  “Unless they're ghosts or Sensitives, they see only you.”

  LouLou almost shrieked. “I look like I'm talking to myself while walking down the street?”

  Still standing, Gregg kept his distance and spoke with a quiet, even tone. “People notice a lot less than you think. If they do notice, they probably think you're talking on your phone or dictating a note.” He reminded her that they didn't walk together often.

  “What about in Vinyl? Don't people see you going through bins, or do they see the albums mo
ving back and forth by themselves?”

  “So far, no one's seen anything. I get there at the time you do for the same reason—it's slow. There aren't any customers. For you, Skylar has time to talk. For me, I have time to select what I need and hide in a listening booth.”

  This was too much to take in. Maybe she had a head injury. Maybe she should go to the ER for a CT scan. Pounding on the door made LouLou jump. She spilled water on herself and the sofa.

  “It's Roy,” the familiar voice called.

  A feeling of relief washed over her. LouLou went to the door and let Roy in. He'd brought the first aid kit he kept in the deli/patisserie/bodega.

  “Have you taken up being a paramedic?” LouLou asked in an attempt to hide her uneasiness. “Sit.” Roy took her by the elbow and led her to the sofa. “Skylar called and said you'd been nearly hit by a car outside his shop. He said you were stubborn and wouldn't let him do anything except drive you home. He had to get back to the shop and couldn't stay with you, so he called me.”

  Hmm. The accident hadn't been outside Vinyl. It had happened closer to her loft. Gregg must have contacted Skylar to let him know what had happened while she was still groggy. Skylar, keeping Gregg's secret, sent Roy to check on her. Gregg still stood next to the sofa, but Roy didn't notice him. Gregg was invisible.

  Roy fussed over her, took her pulse, reviewed her scrapes, and asked for the partial plate. He said he'd call the police and report it.

  LouLou grasped Roy's arm with her left hand. “Please, don't. It was an accident. A bystander pushed me out of the way of the car. The push is what caused me to fall. I don't want to talk to the police. I certainly don't want them to come here.”