Taurus Eyes

by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  AND FOCUSED? TREAT YOUR AVERAGE ARIES AS YOU

  WOULD A CHILD. THAT MEANS THAT YOU HAVE TO BE

  THE ADULT.

  —Fearless Astrology

  Vanessa was an Aries. I should have guessed it, but with all the dramatics and center-staging, I had almost decided on Leo. At least I got the Fire part right. When I asked her sign, she proudly announced her birth date. April freakin’ first. April Fool’s Day, for sure. If she showed up naked at Jaffa’s reading and beach party tonight, it wouldn’t surprise me.

  Not that I cared. My only focus now was learning Sean Baylor’s sign, and I could find it in one of those books I hadn’t stolen from Jeremy. I only hoped he would show up. As unpredictable as he was, there was no telling.

  The local news stations were going nuts over the Baylor ghost and the fact that the Ghost Seekers television show was sending representatives to check it out. If the media drew attention to Baylor and started digging into his history, that could be good for me, and I might not need Jeremy ’s books at all. I couldn’t take any chances, though.

  Our class met on the beach early that evening. It was cold, with a sharp wind blowing in from the ocean. Vanessa was the only one flashing flesh. I was really starting to dislike this girl. And, yes, it angered me just a little that she, in her acid-green sweater, was giggling and sharing a plate of food with Candice, who the last time I checked, was supposed to be my roommate.

  Jeremy stood talking to Jaffa, both of them facing the ocean, their backs to the rest of us. This was the first time I’d seen them exchange more than a few words, but that wouldn’t hurt my chances with Jaffa. Jeremy had made it clear that he wasn’t looking for a writing mentor. All I had to do was convince him to trade books with me.

  Most of the students sat at one of two long redwood tables. Platters of grilled tri-tip steak were lined along the other one. I got in the food line behind Tati, as she had asked me to call her. Wearing a violet tunic that matched the streak in her hair, she seemed pleased that she was being chatted up by Dirk, the hot British guy. The espresso party must have gone well, for her, at least.

  I put two slices of tri-tip on a paper plate, along with a warm sourdough roll.

  “Don’t you want some mustard?”

  I turned and looked up into Jeremy’s face. How had he gotten over here so fast? This was not the time to tell him—not that I ever would—that mustard made my nose turn red.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  As I spoke, a very bundled Henry Jaffa made his way to a microphone at the end of the table and began shuffling through papers.

  “You can tell he’s not from California,” Jeremy said. “He doesn’t know how to dress for the beach.”

  I could feel him edging toward something, the way he had when he’d invited me to coffee and then tried to get me to switch topics. His cute-boy con job had worked on me once, and I guessed he was going to try it again.

  Vanessa left Candice and bounced up to the front, as if she were Jaffa’s personal assistant. Jeremy watched her a little longer than necessary. That gave me the courage to ignore my passive Pisces Moon and say what was on my mind.

  “Let me guess,” I told him. “You’re talking to me right now only because you’re hoping that you can get me to turn over a certain book. Isn’t that right?”

  He nodded as if impressed that I had figured out that this cozy conversation of ours had nothing to do with any interest he might have in me. “A certain book of mine.”

  “It belongs to the school library. You just checked it out.”

  “Which makes it mine for the whole three weeks. Play fair, Logan. It has photos in it, and the ones you didn’t steal don’t have a single one.”

  That was news to me.

  “It does have three photos in it,” I said, “but I’m writing from an astrological perspective. I need a birth date.”

  “If I give it to you, you’ll use it for your own paper.”

  “So what? Why do you care what I do? If you want to write your piece on Sean Baylor, go for it. If yours is the one that gets published, I’m all right with that, too.”

  “Do you mean it?” He looked surprised.

  “Of course I do. I don’t care if I’m published tomorrow or next year. And I can see that we both have very different goals.” I set my untouched paper plate on the table and looked into those amazing eyes. “I have the book with the photos, Jeremy. You have the ones with the information I need. Why can’t we share?”

  “Because I can’t . . .”

  “Can’t what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, when you figure it out, I hope you’ll agree that I’m not asking all that much.”

  Just then, a bald guy and a girl with long, blond hair walked across the beach with the friendly Aries librarian I had met earlier.

  “This is a private gathering,” Jaffa said in that soft but crystal-clear voice of his. “A class meeting.”

  “I know that, Mr. Jaffa,” the lib rarian replied. “These folks are from Ghost Seekers. I told him that some of you people have an interest in Sean Baylor, and they’d like to talk to anyone who thinks they’ve seen his ghost.”

  “I have!” Vanessa rushed up to them. The Aries freak show was now picturing herself on TV.

  “You actually saw him?” I asked.

  “I sensed his spirit the first night. I told you that.”

  The blond girl was tall with a sprayed-on tan and a dazzling smile. “Other people have reported similar experiences. I’m Emily, and this is Doug. Come on with us to Stokes Restaurant. Were going to talk to everyone who saw or heard anything to be sure there’s sufficient evidence to do a segment.”

  “I’ll be there,” Vanessa said.

  “I’m coming too.” Jaffa walked over to them. In the fading light, his usually calm expression looked eager and childlike. “We’ll have to postpone the reading.”

  “Finally,” Vanessa said. “I kept telling you people that we should check out Stokes again.”

  He ignored her comment and addressed the rest of us. “Let’s all go. At least, we’ll find out how a national television show on the paranormal searches for material.”

  I followed the others across the beach, aware of Jeremy beside me.

  “Are you going?” he asked.

  “Sure. I’m interested in seeing what they do. Besides, Jaffa told us to be there.”

  “But you haven’t eaten.”

  “I’ll get something later.”

  “I haven’t eaten much myself. There’s a pizza place next to the restaurant.”

  This guy had tried to use me twice to get information on the topic he wanted to write about. I was not going to take the pizza bait he was dangling.

  “So what about the books?” I asked.

  He grinned in that fake/charming way I’d already learned to read through. “If I tell you Sean Baylor’s birth date, will you promise to give me the book with the pictures?”

  “Sure,” I said. “If you give me another one in return.”

  “You don’t back down, do you?”

  “It’s not a matter of backing down,” I said. “It’s a matter of doing what’s right.”

  “You don’t understand, Logan. I have to get published in that anthology.”

  “That doesn’t make you my enemy. The anthology is a fine goal, but it’s not my ultimate goal.”

  “Then, what is? What could matter more than the anthology?”

  I wanted to tell him that all I really hoped for was Henry Jaffa as a mentor. But I couldn’t speak the words. I was afraid he’d laugh, or worse, that he’d pity me for even daring to hope.

  “It’s personal,” I said, and then realized how harsh and snippy that sounded. “What I mean is . . .”

  “Tell me.” His voice was suddenly gentle.

  “Let’s just say that you and I are not in competition for anything important.” I started to walk away, but he reached out for my arm and pulled me next to him.

/>   “June fifth.” His breath in my ear was so warm that I shivered.

  “ What?”

  “June fifth. That’s when Sean Baylor was born.”

  A Gemini. I took a step back. “Thank you for that. At least, it’s a beginning.”

  He smiled and said, “I like beginnings.”

  “So you will give me the book?”

  “I promised, and so did you. I’ll bring it to class tomorrow.”

  “You will?”

  “Hey, I’m on my way to a ghost-stalking session. I might as well check out what you can do with astrology while I’m at it.”

  In spite of his friendly manner, I knew he was making fun of me.

  “Well,” I told him, “maybe you’ll be surprised.”

  “I hope so,” he said. “I like surprises, too.”

  NOTES TO SELF

  Unfortunately for Vanessa, she was unable to connect with Sean Baylor’s spirit at Stokes tonight. Neither was anyone else. Jaffa went all Sherlock Holmes on us, questioning the staff and taking rapid notes. Emily and Doug, the Ghost Seekers researchers, were clearly disappointed. They kept ordering wine as if hoping the female ghost upstairs would suddenly appear and sprinkle salt in their glasses. After the second or third round, Emily stage-whispered to Doug that they ought to leave right then. He whispered back something about their agreement with the network. Then, the two of them settled at the bar to argue about it, and Jaffa told us it was time to go. Jeremy was the first one out the door.

  I feel like a kid who just ran from the classroom into recess. Right now, Candice is outside making the nightly call to her guy back home, and I can finally dig into Fearless Astrology one more time. So, Sean Baylor was a Gemini, was he? So is Chili, one of my two best friends. Because of her, I’m already aware of all of the great-communicator, fickle-love stuff about Gemini. You’re next, Baylor. And I meant what I said to Jeremy tonight. If he can write a better paper than I can, that’s okay, too. What I didn’t say was that I intend to do everything possible to make sure that doesn’t happen.

  6

  HER CHART WAS BOTH THE PERFECT ASTROLOGICAL

  RECIPE FOR SUCCESS IN THE ENTERTAINMENT BUSI-

  NESS AND A COCKTAIL FOR PERSONAL TRAGEDY. IN

  SPITE OF HER TREMENDOUS TALENT, SHE WAS LOST IN

  HER SEARCH FOR DIRECTION, AND PERHAPS, THE

  STRONG PARTNER SHE BELIEVED WOULD PROTECT HER.

  SO, CAN A GEMINI SUCCEED AS AN ACTOR, SINGER,

  POLITICIAN, OR LEADER? MANY HAVE. IF THIS IS YOUR

  PATH IN LIFE, TREAD CAREFULLY AND THINK BEFORE

  YOU SPEAK, ACT, OR, MOST OF ALL, BEFORE YOU FALL

  IN LOVE.

  —Fearless Astrology

  Why I was I spending my time reading about a star who had died in 1962? Because back when my gram wrote Fearless Astrology, Helen

  Hunt, Angelina Jolie, Nicole Kidman, Brooke Shields, Alanis Morissette, and a whole bunch of other Geminis had yet to be born. The most famous Gem entertainer back then, according to Fearless, was Marilyn Monroe, whom my gram called the quintessential Gemini star. Not to mention her Leo Rising (Fire and a need to be on stage) and Aquarian Moon (Air and a need to give to the world).

  Reading about her gave me a hint about how Sean Baylor—even though he didn’t live long enough to achieve the great success predicted for him—might have been back in the sixties. A strong communicator. Probably not too stable in his love life. I needed more information about him. Moon, Venus, Mars. But at least I had a starting place. I tried not to think about Jeremy’s expression when he had said he liked beginnings. Tried not to think about him at all, although I’d thought about little else since last night. Before class started today, I was going to visit the local newspaper office and do some Baylor tracking of my own. All I needed was a helpful computer geek in the editorial department.

  The Coastal Times building was smaller than I had expected with large tinted glass windows. There had to be someone working in there. I went to the front door and knocked. No response. I knocked harder. Still nothing. Harder still. Then I rattled the handle, perhaps with little more exuberance than was necessary.

  All off a sudden, an alarm began shrieking. I looked around, feeling like a car thief caught in the act. Just then, a short, shades-wearing security guard appeared out of nowhere.

  “Stay where you are.” Although only about a foot taller than I, he was built like a wrestler. And he was wearing enough scent for three guys.

  “Hey,” I yelled over the noise, “I’m not armed and not trying to break in.”

  “Then what are you doing messing around here? Vandals hit us two times last week.” He maintained his military stance and tapped a code into the keypad on the door. The alarm went silent.

  “I’m not a vandal,” I said.

  “So you were just trying to bust through a locked door?”

  “I figured you’d already be open.”

  “Only the classified office,” he said.

  “Not Editorial?”

  “Absolutely not. Those folks upstairs don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “If the door’s locked, how do you expect anyone to get to classified?”

  “Before this interruption, I was just getting around to opening it,” he said, and I got another whiff of the spicy citrus scent he had applied with a heavy hand. “And, yeah, I know the alarm’s tricky when someone messes with the handle. You’re not the first one to set it off.”

  “So, can I go inside?”

  “Sure, if you’re looking for classified.”

  “I am,” I lied and tried to think fast. “I want to run a high school graduation announcement.” Premature by about two years, but he didn’t have to know that.

  “Go on inside, then. Helen at the front desk will help you.”

  He jingled the keys again, and there I was, heading inside the glass door without any idea of where to go next.

  A gray-haired woman at the front desk was busy with a call, so I just smiled and walked past her.

  “Wait.” She waved at me to stop.

  “It’s okay, Helen,” I said. “I talked to the guard. He said I could come in.”

  Then I headed down the hall and stopped abruptly at a corridor covered by greenish carpeting that might have been new about the time I was born. The sign on the wall pointed left and read, “Advertising,” which no doubt included classified advertising. The one to the right read, “Circulation.” Beyond it was the back guard station. Between those two destinations, in an alcove, was an elevator with a red enamel door.

  I stared at it for a moment and then recalled the guard’s words. “Those folks upstairs don’t want to be disturbed.”

  I walked over and stepped inside a compartment that was big enough for me and maybe one and a half of my closest friends. The little cage rattled up to the top floor, and I stepped out into a large area next to a counter with two coffeepots. Several feet ahead of me, surrounded by windows overlooking Monterey, were maybe a half dozen or more people intent on the computer screens before them. The newsroom. I had found it.

  “This is not the way to classified.”

  I turned, and there was guard man again, looking not at all pleased.

  “Where’d you come from?” I asked.

  “I took the stairs. Now, tell me the truth this time. You’re too young to be running a high school graduation announcement. You don’t look like a runaway, vandal, or druggie, so I’m going to give you one more chance before I decide whether to kick you out of here or call the cops.”

  He took off the shades, and I saw his eyes for the first time. They were dark, deep brown, and kind enough that I decided to tell him the truth. Part of it, at least.

  “I’m in a summer workshop at the college, and I really, really need some information right away. This is the only time I could come.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

  “Because you wouldn’t have let me in, would you?”

&nbs
p; “That’s not the point.” He tried to appear all stern and official. Had to be another Earth sign. Just what I needed. “What kind of information are you looking for anyway?”

  “Any and everything I can find out about Sean Baylor, a folk singer who used to live here.”

  He stepped back. “The one they’re saying is dead?”

  “Dead and haunting the restaurant downtown,” I told him. “Someone around here must remember what happened when he died. There have got to be articles about him in your archives.”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

  “But you must know who can. Please help me.”

  “Right now, you need to leave and come back during business hours.” He pushed the elevator button. “My boss will be here any minute, and I do things by the book.”

  “Virgo?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  “ What?”

  “I mean, isn’t there someone around here who knows anything about Sean Baylor?”

  “Maybe.” He stared at the closing door and hit the button again. “You’d probably ought to talk to Mercedes.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Mercedes Lloyd-Chambers, editorial librarian. Sometimes she comes in early.” He started toward an office to the right of the elevator. “Mercedes is cool, but don’t tell anyone else that I let you in.”

  “If it’s so against your rules, why’d you do it?”

  The look he gave me was so incredibly sad that I wished I hadn’t asked. “Nothing you’d understand. Do you think it’s true what they’re saying? About Baylor’s ghost being in that restaurant?”

  We stopped outside the door to the editorial library.

  “I don’t know. There are people who think so, and a lot of fakes who will claim to have seen him. Why do you care?”

  “Not because of me. Because of someone I lost. If Baylor’s ghost is still here, maybe that person is here too.”

  “ Who?”

  “Never mind.” He shifted into security guard mode again. “Let’s see if Mercedes is in.” He knocked on the door. No one opened it. “Sorry,” he said.

  “Can I leave my phone number for her?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Write it down and give it to Helen at the front desk.”