Johnny Cakes (The Rachael O'Brien Chronicles)

by Paisley Ray

  As much as I liked Roger and Francine, spending the evening with the two would get old, and I could see them anytime, so when I spotted a pair of oversized wings scrap against the hallway, I leapt up from my perch. My favorite feathered human had arrived.

  CREAKING DOORS, DRAGGING CHAINS, and bubbling cauldrons echoed behind the hum of voices and erratic laughter. Stone still had a short haircut, but behind his hooked beak mask, his bangs seemed to have grown halfway down his ears since I last saw him.

  Spreading his gray cardboard wings, he hugged me and I returned the embrace. “Rachael. I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too. Who are you?”

  “Hawkman.”

  “Of course you are. I should have guessed. Come on in. Say hi to everyone. There’s Francine.”

  “Can we skip that introduction?”

  “She won’t bite.”

  “She looks like a biter.”

  “She loves your company.”

  “She does?”

  Nash and Roger both held cups of Francine’s punch concoction and munched on a plate of waffle chicken sandwiches that she’d prepped before the party.

  “What do we have here?” She asked lifting his winged arm to admire his flat abs. “Um-hmm,” she said, while eyeing Stone a fraction longer than comfortable.

  I heard Nash say to Roger, “Pre Med. Wow. I didn’t think basketball players had time to take on all the science and math stuff.”

  “You need some meat on those chicken bones.” Francine told Stone and offered him a double-decker waffle wedge.

  Lifting his right wing, he took an obligatory bite and gushed. “What is in this? It’s delicious.”

  “It’s a family recipe and if I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she purred, holding the plate just out my reach.

  Francine dragged a finger down his beak and I worried that Roger would get annoyed, but he and Nash were busy talking about Organic Chemistry. Nash had dropped out of East Carolina freshman year so their conversation struck me as funny. I never pegged Katie Lee’s ex as the type to be interested in the sciences.

  “Do I get one?” Reluctantly, she handed me half a broken waffle, cold, and without all the layers of filling. Despite the appearance, I had to admit the odd combination was a taste bud explosion of sweet and satisfying.

  Her lips were bursting to tease us with recipe clues. “It’s the maple mayonnaise. My secret sauce.”

  “No one will go hungry around here,” Stone said.

  I begged to differ. Francine could be selective about who she fed. As far as I knew, Sheila had never tasted anything Francine cooked. I was luckier and rated these waffle stackers right up there with her Louisiana gumbo and crawfish roll sandwiches.

  “It’s really good,” I said.

  Her lips pursed. “The waffles and the chicken breading are homemade.”

  Finishing our last bites, I latched onto Stone’s elbow, thanked Francine, and pulled him aside. A risky move that I’d probably catch crap for later. Hopefully her eyeball punch would dull her memory. If not, I’d have to remind her that I hadn’t seen him since spring break.

  Stone and I made our way through clusters of bodies and found some space next to an argyle and flamingo motif hand-painted sideboard that coordinated with a weathered pink and turquoise dining table. I purposely faced my back toward Jet and Clay. It was just kind of weird having someone you’d seen naked standing around when you were interested in being naked with someone else. Plus, I preferred not to witness their public display of affection—not that I wanted Clay back. But to me, seeing them was like eating pickles and popcorn. A weird combo that left you feeling sickish.

  “Wow, someone likes Phoenicoparrus.”

  “What?”

  “Wading birds.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “There are six Flamingo species all in one genius.”

  “Are wading birds what brought you to Greensboro? Does your next assignment involve the Carolina shore?”

  A grin crept on his face. “I came to Greensboro to see you.”

  He knew how to charm me.

  “And it so happened that an interview coincided with the trip.”

  “And?”

  “Hey Stone! Give me a hug,” Katie Lee said as she wrapped him in her purple-cloaked arms.

  “Hey, man. Nice wings. Good to see you,” Hugh said as he backslapped Stone.

  “What are you two? The matching purple stretch leggings and long sleeve cotton shirts. I’m drawing a blank.” Stone eyed Hugh, from his neck down to his cowboy boots with silver tipped toes. “Spandex. You’re a braver man than I.”

  Katie Lee pointed to the Z inside the triangle on her shirt. “We’re the Wonder Twins.” She and Hugh jumped, and then fist pumped. “Wonder Twin powers activate.”

  Stone and I pinched our lips. They’d clearly gotten a head start tapping the keg. If we mimicked their maneuver, I’d most definitely come out of my skimpy wonder woman swimsuit and Stone would likely lose a wing.

  It didn’t astonish me that Katie Lee wanted to catch up with Stone’s latest and greatest down in South Carolina. We’d met him our freshman year. He poured our first drinks, Firefly sweet tea vodka and lemonade, at the Holiday Inn. That night turned out to be one of those snapshot moments that I guessed would stick for life.

  Hugh must have spotted Nash. Wrapping a territorial arm around Katie Lee, his shoulders stiffened, and his chest inflated like a bike tire that OD’ed on compressed air.

  Katie Lee’s mouth ran like a cross-country leisure train. “We miss our favorite bartender. So what brings you to town?”

  “Seeing all of you, of course.”

  “What parts are you living in?” Hugh asked.

  My ears tuned in and out as Stone recapped what I already knew. Blah, blah, blah, Spring Island Naturalist, etc, etc. These two weren’t going away anytime soon.

  With a view of the wall, I shifted my stance so I could see more of the party while Katie Lee and Hugh ‘caught up’ with my date.

  Sheila had attracted a character in black with a cape and mask that I guessed to be his rendition of Batman. Beyond him, I took a sneak peek at Clay and Jet, Spiderman and Spiderwoman. Enough with the couple’s costumes! This was probably how it all started. A themed Halloween party, next it’s matching bowling league shirts and before you know it, you and your significant other are coordinating outfits until one day you both have the exact same patterned Hawaiian shirt in three colors.

  Katie Lee and Hugh—both were southern, which meant both were endowed with the gift of gab. Unless I wanted to spend the evening with them, I needed a distraction to disengage us and get some quality, alone-with-Stone time.

  I leaned in toward Hugh. “Francine has a secret stash of waffle stackers. Homemade. Better hurry, there’s only a few left.”

  INSIDE THE HOUSE, COSTUMED partiers stood shoulder to shoulder and the air felt stuffy. I craved some open space and suggested Stone and I evacuate to the deck. We hovered in a line and waited for the tap. “So tell me about this mystery interview.”

  “It was on campus.”

  “Greensboro College?” I asked.

  Even in the dark, his eye sparked. “The biology department has funding for a guest lecture series on the microclimates that support the diversity of the winged migrating species of the North and South Carolina coast.”

  “And?”

  “It went well. They offered me a contract.”

  Life suddenly looked promising. I hugged Stone. “When do you start?”

  “February.”

  My chest deflated. “I was hoping it would be this term.”

  A guy wearing a Joker mask pressed the nozzle on the end of the hose and began filling our cups. “Aren’t you Rachael O’Brien?”

  “Maybe.”

  Perched on the rail behind the keg, he didn’t tower over me and I estimated his height shorter than mine. His ankles kept twitching and his purple suede boots tapped the wood rail beneath them. Careful
to angle the cup while he poured, he handed it to me. I couldn’t place his voice, his small stature, or anything about him.

  “Do we have a class together?”

  “Oh no. I’m computer science.”

  “There’s a degree in computer science?” Stone asked.

  “It’s new. Covers advanced BASIC programming. The computer lab just ordered four new IBM’s to replace the XT 286’s.”

  I didn’t even know the university had a computer lab.

  The second beer cup was nearly full. “Name’s Bixby. Everyone calls me Bix.”

  Stone reached out a hand and introduced himself.

  “Have we met?” I asked.

  “I’ve heard all about you.”

  I choked on the Natural Light. Oh God. The line was forming behind me. I wasn’t in the mood for cryptic conversation and I started to back away.

  Stone didn’t move and the protective side of him sized up this Joker.

  Bix hopped off the fence rail that enclosed the raised deck. “Tuke’s mentioned you. Lately, anything that comes to receiving for the Art History department, he delivers personally. A lot of customs packages that originated from Germany.” He nudged my shoulder. “Is the Art History department spending their budget on illegal remnants of the Berlin wall or something?”

  “Not that I know of. Tuke? So you fix computers for campus maintenance or security.”

  Bix’s laugh rolled in a series of high pitches, making the sound I guessed a birthing dog would yelp. “There’s no use for computers in maintenance or security, yet.”

  Quenching his thirst, Stone watched Bix and me. He stood tall, his outstretched wings making him appear larger. It warmed my heart and some other bits to think he had become jealous. A glow of light spilled out of the glass sliding doors revealing creases at the corners of Stone’s eyes. Hiding his mouth on the rim of the cup he held, it dawned on me that what I’d perceived as jealously was amusement.

  “Receiving?” Stone asked and caught my eye with a subtle head nod.

  I drew a shrug and feigned innocence. In no way had I put the quarter into this one. “You lost me,” I said.

  “I work part time at campus receiving docks. It’s where everything for the university arrives before it’s delivered. Tuke’s all obsessed with hand delivering the overseas packages that come in for Professor Schleck in the Humanities building. I told him not to mess with anything from overseas. Weird shit comes in on those containers.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “The biology department packages are the worst, they always seem sloshy. Formaldehyde specimens are my guess.”

  A pocket behind me opened as some partygoers went inside. Moving near the steps that lead to a pathway where I used to park my Galaxie, I had a craving for a cigarette and considered bumming one off someone. Inhaling the nicotine-infused air didn’t help. I hoped Stone and I would engage in some activity that would take my mind off my unhealthy urge. Moving toward me, he must’ve sensed my desire, and slid a strong arm around my bare shoulder, sparking a warm chill to ripple down my spine. This was a good start.

  Bix relinquished his beer pump station. “Killer party. The comic book costumes are amazing. How do you two know each other?”

  Unfortunately for us, Bix seemed to be a loner, until now.

  “We met at the Holiday Inn,” Stone said.

  “Lax on the drinking age.” Bix nodded. “It was a great freshman hangout.”

  “Was?” Stone asked.

  “Locals have been complaining so the police staged some busts. No one goes there much anymore.”

  Since I lived off campus, I hadn’t gone to my old stomping-ground bar. Truth was, I had mixed emotions about the basement drinking well. Besides meeting Stone two years ago, more bad than good had happened to me at the Holiday Inn.

  The slider door screen opened and shut. “Woo-we,” I heard Francine say. “Having this bee hive braid on my head is trapping the heat. Making me feel all woozy.”

  “You just need some night air is all,” Roger said.

  Sheila stepped outside behind Francine and Roger. Giggling, she tripped on a deck board and latched a tight hold on Roger to steady herself. I wondered where Batman had gone.

  “Don’t be clutchin’ onto things that aren’t yours.”

  Problem was Francine’s best Bayou badass didn’t intimidate Sheila. Her aggression had the opposite effect, enticing Sheila to test the limits of Francine’s fuse. Flexing of her crop in a tight V-shape bristled all of us to attention. Hissing at Francine, Sheila ran the frayed edged of the whip down Roger’s Adam’s apple to the part of his bare chest that peeked out from his overalls placket. Tapping Roger’s bare chest with her rolled rope, Sheila winked. “If grass don’t grow on the playground, I’m not playing on the teeter totter.”

  Francine shoved Sheila’s shoulder. “Someone needs to put you on a leash.”

  Sinking my back into Stone, I closed my eyes. I had experience with an intoxicated Sheila’s ballsy fight-seeking, in-your-face chutzpah alter ego I nicknamed She-Devil. Whenever She-Devil came out to play, things got ugly.

  The scuffle moved closer to where I stood and I watched Roger rather enjoy keeping the two apart. All I wanted was alone time with Stone and my roommates pension for drama put a crimp in my plans.

  “Hey, Bix. Glad you made it.”

  “You know Nash?” I asked.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Bix said. “He extended the invite.”

  The exchange of words between Francine and Sheila escalated, clearing a handful of weak-hearted partiers from the deck. A few gawkers, plus Stone and I stayed put.

  “Listen here, Catwoman, your pants are on so tight they’ve cut off your blood flow, and you’re actin’ more imbecile than usual.”

  Sheila and Francine were pressed chest to chest.

  Roger wedged between the two. “Now ladies, let’s not overreact.”

  Nash dashed back inside.

  I found myself wishing the neighbors would call the police for the noise nuisance. If everyone left, I could have some private time with Stone.

  Quickly returning, Nash balanced four shot glasses in his hands and Jet closed the slider behind him. I noted that she was alone and wondered what had happened to Clay.

  Katie Lee’s old boyfriend made a hobby of playing with pharmaceuticals, and I worried what extra something he could have put in those drinks. A warning formed on my tongue, but before I spoke, my words were stalled by the sight of a behemoth wailing vehicle that narrowly missed parked cars and the detached garages that dotted the backstreet behind the house. Party chatter on the deck quieted to gawk at the double-decker bus whose tailgate exhaust let out a screeching backfire before its engine clanked to a grinding halt. There was a vinyl printed sign attached to the side. “Cemetery Crawl Tours,” with a phone number posted below.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Francine said.

  Jet stepped forward. “That’s a British Routemaster. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.”

  If I had real superpowers, I would’ve used them to vanish. But life had a funny way of throwing a foot into my keister, not letting me escape its twists and turns.

  From behind, Katie Lee placed a hand on my shoulder. “Isn’t that your Mom’s transportation?”

  With a loud woosh of air, the bus door folded open and bodies began piling out. I blinked rapidly at a lady in a clingy soft blue sweater with an L for Laverne embroidered on it. The dark of night didn’t disguise the motley crew that streamed from the bus toward the deck. The Gong Show contestants kept coming: A midget juggler, a wide-striped pant and suspendered man who carried a duck, a woman in black with a veil over her face. Two dudes in short-short jean cut-offs and Hawaiian shirts clouded by sweet smelling smoke. One wore a beret and John Lennon glasses, and the other a bandana tied around his forehead. “Maui wowie, Cheech,” the shorter one shouted.

  Bix stepped aside to let the new arrivals onto the deck. “How cool is this. A freak show
just threw up out of a double-decker. You guys know how to throw a party.”

  Near the keg, I heard Francine. “This is a private party.”

  “We not crashing, we were invited,” The masculine Laverne said.

  “By who?” Sheila asked.

  “Laverne turned to Cheech. What’s Maeve’s daughter’s name?”

  Cheech looked to Chong. “Cradle. Dradle. Ladle.”

  “You know these people?” Stone asked me.

  I recognized Mother’s friend, Betts, as she exit the bus in a glittery orange sarong. She embraced a black box like it encased a treasure. Behind her, Mom stood in a topaz cloak with big yellow moons and stars, complimented with a pointy wizard hat. Holding a staff, she stood on the bottom bus step. Nash offered me the last shot glass. As tempting as it was, I declined. I had bigger concerns and needed semi-sober wits to deal with my mother and her psychic freak show misfits.

  In a state of disbelief, I mumbled, “What’s my mom doing here?”

  “She called yesterday. I left you a sticky note,” Jet said.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t get it?”

  “No.”

  “She said she’d be passing through town, so I invited her to our party. She said they’d do readings and stuff. I thought it would liven up the Halloween fun.”

  What had I done to Jet?

  Trotting down the path toward the bus, I hustled to implement damage control and point the wandering hodgepodge toward a cemetery or a circus. Anywhere but here. Stone liked me, but I wasn’t so sure he’d feel the same after meeting my mother and her partner Betts. I’d be tactful and firm. It wasn’t my house and we weren’t equipped for this many people. The neighbors would complain.