Dark Paradise

by Angie Sandro

  Maggie catches me sneaking past, and her face lights up. She slides out of the booth and charges down the aisle, like the hounds of Hades chase after her. But, instead of looking terrified, her face glows. She grabs Dena in a bear hug, lifts her in the air, and spins her around. She then turns and does the same to me.

  “Put me down before you suffocate me,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

  Maggie takes after Bessie in looks and size—big-boned, flawless cocoa skin, stunningly beautiful. She gives me a hard kiss on the cheek, laughing when I rub it off, and releases me.

  “How are you feeling today?”

  “Not too good. I’m sick.”

  Maggie pulls out a tissue and hands it over. “You got a little drainage going,” she says, motioning to my nose.

  “Thanks, Ma.”

  “Sure. What happened to your clothes?”

  I twist around to stare at my muddy butt. A snicker comes from beside me, and I glance down at a table full of prissy-looking sorority girls. One of them gives my pants a pointed stare and waves her hand beneath her nose with a snooty expression. The girls cover their mouths and laugh. One of the perks of having a junior college in our town means that, even if these girls were too dumb to get into a university, they have someplace to hang out while they search for a suitable husband. Idiots.

  Assaulting customers isn’t allowed, Mala. With the reminder ringing through my head, I give the girl a sunny grin, turn my offensive ass directly toward her seat, and continue with my rudely interrupted conversation. “Had a bit of an accident walking to the bus,” I tell Maggie. “Don’t worry. I have an extra pair of jeans in my locker.”

  Dena grabs Maggie’s arm and whispers, “She has a stalker. He followed her to the bus stop.”

  Maggie’s dark eyes widen. “Seriously? Should I call my mom?”

  I glare at Dena. I should’ve warned her to keep her mouth shut. The last thing I need is for Maggie to wind Bessie up. She’s already stressing about my part in the Prince case. She’ll station an armed deputy at my house if she thinks I’m in danger. With my luck, it’ll be George. I’ve avoided him all week. The jerk didn’t even call to apologize.

  I cast a sideways glance at my friends. “I need to change. Can you handle all these people alone, Dee?”

  “Go on. Sam and Tabitha haven’t gone off shift, and you stink.”

  I roll my eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

  I bypass the counter and go down the hall to the employee break room. A barrage of varying shades of pink blind me for a minute. I focus on the white lockers for Munchies employees gracing the wall beside the sink, ignoring the garish walls painted in clashing carmine and amaranth.

  Maggie stays right on my heels as she follows me across the room. “Okay, what’s up?” she demands, hands on her hips. “And don’t say ‘nothing.’”

  I pull a clean pair of jeans from my locker and head into the small bathroom. Maggie doesn’t completely violate my privacy by following me inside, but she stands in the doorway with one hand on the knob, in case we’re interrupted, while I begin to change. Silence stretches between us for a long, tension-filled moment. Then Maggie, being Maggie, charges ahead. She’s not even subtle.

  “George and Mama were talking on the porch after work last night. The kitchen window was open, and I overheard them discussing the case they’re working on.”

  “Oh?” I pull off my tennis shoes. “What did they say?”

  “They were talking about you.” Maggie stares expectantly. When I remain silent, she continues, “George said he couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “About me? Georgie told your mom he was thinking about me?” My heart speeds up. “What else did he say? Did he sound guilty? Ashamed? Don’t keep me hanging.”

  “He said he’s worried about Landry Prince going after you.”

  “Ah.” I shrug. Total letdown.

  “Feels like you’re hiding something,” Maggie accuses, “a secret that Mama and George are in on. Why won’t you talk to me?” Her voice rises. “What’s going on between you and Landry Prince?”

  While I hadn’t really been aware of the girls’ voices coming from behind Maggie while we were talking, the hush following my best friend’s shout is noticeable.

  “Shush,” I hiss. “This is why nobody tells you anything. ’Cause you can’t keep quiet.”

  Hurt fills her dark eyes. “So there is something going on? I knew it.”

  I slip on my shoes, preparing to do battle with whoever ignored the Employee Only sign on the break room, and brush past her. Three girls stand in front of the break room door, blocking our exit back to the safety of the packed dining area. When they see us come out of the bathroom, they give us, or rather me, hard stares.

  “Hey, Malaise.” It’s the rude bitch who waved her hand in front of her nose. Tall and willowy, she looks like a model as she glides toward me. “Can I speak with you?”

  I glance at Maggie, who shrugs. “Do I know you?”

  “No, we’ve never been introduced. I’m Clarice Delahoussaye.” She says her name like I should immediately fall down and kiss her feet. Not happening in this lifetime.

  “Obviously, you know my name already,” I say.

  “Everyone knows you.”

  “Yeah, sure.” If she thinks that will make me more receptive to her, she’s mistaken. “Look, this break room is for employees only. If you want to talk, we can do it after I finish my shift.”

  Clarice raises an eyebrow and gives Maggie a knowing look. She smiles. “I didn’t mean to run you off. I just want to chat for a moment.”

  “I’ve never run from anyone in my life.” Except for the stalker in the woods this morning. “I have work.” I calmly pull on my fuchsia apron and ball cap, with “Munchies” emblazoned across them in white. I’m afraid of turning my back on her to walk to the door. The glitter in Clarice’s brown eyes reminds me of a rabid raccoon. Her girlfriends pick up on the psycho vibe. Their eyes shift between us, and they clump tighter around us.

  Maggie tugs on my arm. “Seriously, we’ve got to go. Dena’s waiting.”

  Clarice graces me with a hard smile, like Maggie hasn’t just spoken. “I overheard you gossiping about my boyfriend.”

  Boyfriend? I share a confused glance with Maggie, who jerks on my arm again. I shift my stance, knowing I should leave, but I’m too curious. Which boy does she mean, Georgie or Landry? Not that it matters who she’s dating. Neither of them have anything to do with me. I shove my wet clothing inside my locker and slam it closed.

  “Overheard, huh? Okay. It’s pretty obvious you and your friends followed me in here on purpose. So did you come to fight or what?” I crack my knuckles. “Am I kicking just your ass or all three?”

  Maggie sighs. “I’ll take the two little ones, but you’re explaining this to Mom when she comes to arrest us. She said if we get in any fights after we turn eighteen that she’s not bailing us out of jail.”

  “God, you two are so ghetto. I didn’t come to fight,” Clarice says quickly.

  “Then stop with the insults ’cause every word out of your mouth so far only makes me want to punch you in the face.”

  Maggie nods. “Yep.”

  Clarice’s nostrils flare.

  I’m kind of worried she hasn’t backed down. Most girls stopped messing with me after I got fed up with the bullies in junior high and made a few examples out of them. Maggie and I’ve avoided getting into full-on brawls for years with bluffing and smack talking.

  Clarice flicks a strand of hair over her shoulder, saying “I came to have a civil conversation—”

  “Fine, say what you need to say,” I interrupt. Time for her to get to the point. Dena’s going to kill me if this takes much longer.

  “I want you to back off. Landry’s understandably upset about his sister’s passing. He’s vulnerable. The last thing he needs right now is a bunch of ridiculous rumors floating around town about him being in some imaginary relationship with the witch’s daughter.
”

  My face heats with each word. “Relationship? With Landry. Look, I’ve never—”

  “Just stay away from him.”

  Did he tell her about our meeting at the Coroner’s Office? Is that why she’s so angry?

  “Are you listening to me, Malaise?”

  I blink at her, finally understanding. She’s totally jealous. Imaginary relationship my big toe.

  “Yeah,” I drawl. “Loud and clear.”

  A smile that isn’t reflected in her eyes twists her lips. “Landry’s grieving. Don’t confuse his vulnerability for weakness or you’ll regret it. People do all kinds of crazy things when they’re grief stricken. And they’re forgiven. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Maybe you should take off today. We’re holding a memorial service here this afternoon so Lainey’s friends can say good-bye. A lot of people will be emotional.” She reaches out and pats the top of my head, like I’m her obedient poodle.

  I jerk my head away and ram my shoulder into hers as I shove past. She catches her balance on her friend’s arm. My fingers twitch with the desire to yank out a huge clump of the hair she flippantly tosses over her shoulder.

  Her laughter-choked words follow me out of the locker room. “Thanks for the chat, Malaise. I’m glad there won’t be any misunderstandings between us in the future.”

  Misunderstandings? Oh, no, her threat was crystal clear, and I suspect that this is only the beginning.

  * * *

  Clarice and her friends cover the tables in the private room in the back with black cloths. Lainey’s blown-up portrait sits propped up on the middle table surrounded by flowers, stuffed animals, and handmade cards. Lainey, we love and miss you.

  For most of my shift, I avoid their part of the restaurant, but Dena’s on break having lunch with her brothers. I have no choice. I hold the stacked tray of food and drinks over my head and wind through the tables of mourners. From the corner of my eye, I see one of them point at me. Whispers follow.

  When I walk past Lainey’s picture, her cobalt blue eyes follow me. She looks pissed, like she’s mad at being the object of such intense scrutiny and gossip. Or maybe I’m projecting my own emotions onto her. My chest tightens. The air around me chills, icy cold, and each breath has to be sucked into my lungs.

  “Mala,” a voice yells.

  Startled, I glance up to see Dena waving furiously from the booth she shares with the knobby-headed twins. She points at something behind me. I spin and almost face-plant into a wide chest. I stagger backward with a startled yelp. The tray of food I’m clutching falls to the ground with a loud clatter that draws everyone’s attention. I squat and grab the cup rolling toward a boot-clad foot.

  “Sorry,” I whisper, then grit my teeth.

  “Watch where you’re walking.”

  “Me watch…” I sputter.

  “Pretending like you don’t see me again?” the guy asks, stepping on the plastic tray. It cracks in half. The cold that settled around my body earlier vanishes to be replaced with heat. This is the last straw. First Clarice, now this idiot’s trying to start a fight. The image of me stabbing a fork into this guy’s thigh flashes through my mind, but I stop myself from acting on the crazy impulse and rise to my feet.

  “Look, jerk, you bumped into me first. Apologize!” I step forward and glare up into a face that is a masculine copy of the portrait of Lainey Prince. Black, tangled hair hangs over bloodshot gray eyes filled with so much anger that I wince.

  “I’m not apologizing to you.” Landry doesn’t back up. If anything, his body hunches toward me. Way too close. I can’t even breathe he’s so in my space, but it’s my own fault since I stepped up to him. I stumble back into an empty table and let out a trickle of air. His eyes go flatter, dull, as he says, “Tell me what happened to my sister.”

  “To y-your sister?” My mind scrambles. Why is he asking me about Lainey? She’s dead. We saw her body. What’s changed between now and the day in the garden other than his shitty attitude. Unless…My eyes widen. Did he hear I found his sister’s body?

  My mouth opens to ask, then closes. What if I’m wrong and he doesn’t know? Or doesn’t know all the gory details? I promised to keep my mouth shut. I can’t break my word to Bessie and George, but Landry has me cornered. I don’t know what to say…truth or lie. I suck at lying.

  So I go with the truth. “What do you mean?”

  “Stop pretending like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Lainey was found on your land. She’d been murdered.” Landry pushes forward. I edge around the table, backing up until my back presses against the wall. I can’t escape. “But you knew all that, didn’t you? That’s why you were really at the autopsy. Tell me what happened to her.”

  “Murdered?” I almost choke on the word. “I don’t understand.”

  “Why do you keep lying to me? Is it because you feel guilty? Did you cut her up and throw her into the swamp like trash?”

  “No! No, why would I?” I glare at the crowd gathered around us. “Get him off me!”

  “They’re not gonna help you.”

  He’s right. They’re all his and Lainey’s friends. I’m doomed. How did I get myself into this mess? Oh, right. Found a body, pulled her out of the swamp. I should’ve minded my own damn business. This so isn’t fair.

  “Damn it, Landry! Yes, I pulled her out of the water and called the police. I could’ve left her there, but I didn’t. I did the right thing.” Tears burn my eyes; I’m so freaking pissed. The jerk accused me of murdering his sister in front of a roomful of people, and these idiots believe his lies. I can tell by the disgust stamped on their faces. I’ve got to get him to listen to reason before he ruins my life.

  “Nobody told me that she’d been killed. I thought she committed suicide.” I push at his chest, trying to shove him back. It’s like pushing a boulder.

  “I can’t believe I felt grateful to you for comforting me.” He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard. “You were so sweet. God, I’m such an idiot. I totally fell into your trap. You should’ve told me the truth.”

  “Landry, stop it.” He’s lost. He hasn’t heard a word I’ve said. It’s like I’m trying to tend to a tomcat with a thorn in its paw. No matter how I try to help, he claws at me. “Please. Get away. I don’t want to call the cops.”

  His eyes pop open. “What? Not gonna use black magic on me? Or is it just your mom who’s a witch?”

  My mouth drops open. This is the second time today someone’s come right out with the whole your-mama’s-a-witch bullshit to my face. He quivers with anger, and his eyes, well, they don’t look completely sane.

  I grab the arm planted by my head and try to move it, but he resists. “Blaming me for your sister’s death won’t get you any closer to finding the truth.”

  His icy gray eyes drill into mine. They make me feel like I’m skinny dipping in my pond in the middle of winter. Chills ripple across my skin, and when I exhale the breath I’ve been holding, mist forms between our bodies. Landry stares in shock at the dissipating cloud. From the corner of my eye, I see a shimmer of cobalt blue, and a frigid touch crosses the hand holding Landry’s arm. We both look down.

  “Do you see that?” Landry whispers.

  I move my hand, and he lowers his arm down between us. Condensation moistens the black hairs on his wrist in the image of a handprint.

  “Lainey,” I breathe, partly in denial, but the other part senses her presence. If asked, I can’t explain how I know it’s her spirit. I just do.

  Landry knows her too. Horror fills his eyes.

  He stumbles back. “No, no.”

  “Landry, wait,” I yell. I don’t want him to leave me alone with Lainey. She scares me spitless. Her rage settles on my skin like a cloud, dripping with venomous hate so cold I don’t think I’ll ever warm up. I can’t even chalk this experience up to delusions. Not if Landry saw the handprint too.

  Unless we’ve both gone round the bend.

  “No!” He spins on his heel and pushes hi
s way through the people who’ve surrounded us. They stare at him in surprise. I don’t think they saw or felt what we felt. I hope they have no idea what just happened.

  My stomach twists, and I fight down the vomit that creeps up my throat. Jelly-legged, I shove through the crowd and enter the bathroom. I stare at the person crossing the room in the mirror. She looks like my doppelganger, a creature who resembles me enough that strangers will accidentally call her by my name. I tear my gaze away, unable to stand seeing the fear twisting my face into a frozen mask. I cup my hands beneath the faucet and splash warm water across my icy cheeks, then look up.

  Lainey stares back at me. She presses her hands flat against the mirror. Blood runs down her wrists and drips into the sink.

  Chapter 11

  Landry

  Haunted

  My wrist burns.

  Not an I-spilled-hot-soup burn, but the kind you get after taking a dare to see how long you can hold a piece of ice against your bare skin. The ache goes all the way to the bone. The red handprint glows. I wrap my hand around my wrist, pressing it against my chest, hoping nobody will see it.

  I’ve got to get out of here.

  I stumble across the room. The door seems to get farther and farther away. That, or it’s shrinking, like in a trippy Alice in Wonderland way. Floating circles swim across my field of vision. My lungs tighten. With the effort of each step, my breath becomes harder to draw in. I recognize the signs.

  “Landry, wait!” Mala’s voice vibrates with fear.

  I don’t stop. Not even when someone steps in my path. I barrel right over them and ignore their cry. I’ve got to get out of here. Away from Mala. Away from the ghost of my sister who’s haunting her…or me? Lainey’s voice…I can’t escape it. She whispers, her cold breath against my ear, “Go back.”

  I spin from her voice. “No!” It echoes in my head. The itch in my brain intensifies. Worse than after I fell into a patch of poison ivy. At least then I could scratch. I can’t dig this feeling out of my head. I thrust my fingers into my hair, grabbing a handful and pulling hard. The pain clears my head.