His casual clothes still manage to look designer. His jeans look expensive, so do his shoes, and his white button down shirt leaves no room for imagination, hugging his athletic frame. He’s immaculate from the top of his head to the tips of his leather shoes. My own shoes are so old and scuffed the once white rubber across the toe has turned a dingy yellow and there are scuffs of gray and black from who knows what on them. A spare tire maybe. I tuck my toes under the edge of the seat and out of sight.
“Should we listen to some music? Smoke a joint maybe?” Lance looks around the interior of the van, taking in our shabby cramped quarters. The door is wide open and a faint breeze brings in the smells of spruce and hot engine. Lying on top of those smells is Lance’s cologne. It’s not overpowering, but it’s there, warming the air with a hint of nutmeg and orange and something unidentifiable.
“I don’t smoke, but there’s definitely a lot of music in here.”
“Oh yeah, like what?” He leans toward me inhaling deeply.
I lean away from him out of reflex, not repulsion, and give him a look.
“You smell like the herb store. I could smell the place from the parking lot. You came straight from work.”
I smile and try not to laugh at the absurdity of it. I had just been noticing his smell and he, mine. We’re like a couple of dogs meeting for the first time.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” I don’t want to admit we’re no different than beasts.
He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me but isn’t going to press me for more info at this time.
“Do you think Caleb will give us the keys so we can use his stereo?”
I look; sure enough the keys aren’t in the ignition. “Hmm, I didn’t think of that.”
“I know a great place to listen to some music. There’s a brand new sound system and it’s totally state of the art. There’s nowhere else like it in the entire state.” His smiley eyes shift over to the stage door. “There is some great food, unlimited drinks, leather couches, and it’s even close by. You interested?”
I hesitate. What am I supposed to say? I can’t tell him about Mason or how I promised my grandmother I would stay away from here for the love of my family.
An interruption saves me.
“Yo, Lance.”
The harsh voice is unmistakable. I’m unable to stop myself from looking. It’s like watching a car crash, horrible and full of terror, and staring at it wide eyed anyway. Mason the maniac, that name sticks to my mind like flies on sticky tape, has his head outside of the stage door.
Lance steps out of the van in one long fluid movement. “What’s going on?”
“Larry needs you inside and the Indian is looking for you.”
“Will you tell Larry I’ll be there in a minute?”
Mason’s bulldog head nods once and then he’s gone, no doubt slithering back into the hole he crawled out of.
Lance addresses me with an expectant look. “Are you coming in? I made some salsa you have to try.”
“You cooked for the party?” I ask, not quite able to believe it. It sounds so normal but it’s hard to picture him cooking in that massive gourmet kitchen.
“I made the salsa. The rest is catered,” he confesses.
His eyes sparkle as he smiles at me. He’s waiting for me to go inside with him but I don’t move from the safety of the van. The awkwardness grows. I can’t say anything reasonable so I sit and hope he will just leave.
“Is it my house? Mason told me he found you spooked and shaking last night. You have no worries. Chris has been ghost hunting, or should I say ghost evicting, all day. He said the castle will be, and I quote, ‘cleansed of spirits and negative energies before the guests arrive tonight’.” Lance sounds lighthearted and playful about it.
I, on the other hand, feel heavy and chilled to the bone at what he just told me. I choke one word out at a time. “Mason told you he saw me.”
“Yeah. He said you were frightened and muttering to yourself. He said he stayed with you until you were feeling better.”
“Really!” My fear suddenly bursts into flames on the tip of my tongue. “Did he tell you he’s a…,” my mouth and brain try to come up with the correct adjective making me stall. I spit out, “vulgar, degenerate… maniac!” I grip the edge of the seat so hard my fingertips ache.
Lance’s eyes open wide. I see his gaze shift to my hands and then back to my face. His look of shock fades and is replaced by lines of concern. “Did he make a pass at you?” he asks in a low voice. “I apologize if he was out of line. Mason can be arrogant and overbearing.”
“Overbearing!” I look away. I can’t tell him about yesterday, what Mason said, or did. I don’t think I have the courage to say it out loud, not to Lance, not to anyone.
Lance leans in. He rests one hand on the frame of the door. “I’ll tell him to leave you alone, and he will. He has to.” He pauses and then adds, “Jules, he’s my cousin. That’s the only reason he hangs around here.”
Lance’s attention is broken by a couple of vehicles pulling past the van. One of them honks and Lance gives them a wave. Other people are arriving for the party.
Should I tell him his cousin thinks he’s an idiot and the man is dangerous? I can’t say it. They’re family for one thing and it isn’t any of my business. I don’t get a chance to reply.
“Hmm-hmm.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat makes me jump.
We both turn to look. Chris Abeyta stands near the rear corner of the van. I shoot a glance at Lance. He gives me a quick but serious look, and then takes a step back. He straightens up and turns to face Chris.
“What can I do for you, Chris?” The good natured tone is back.
“I have completed all that I can do inside for today. I smudged the cellar and I worked around the outside perimeter of the house. I’ve surrounded the castle with energetic protection. I also buried a small stone at every corner. You will want to leave those there.”
“Yes sir, whatever you say.”
Lance appears to be taking Chris seriously. That’s good, because what Chris does for a living is intangible to most people. Or, maybe Lance is just going along with it and hoping the cleansing works? I hope it does too, for everyone’s sake.
I slide over to the edge of the seat and let my feet hang out. I don’t want to give the impression I’m eavesdropping.
“Hello,” I say.
“Miss Crowson.” He acknowledges me with a quick shift of his black eyes and an even quicker quarter of a smile. Then he’s back to business.
“I think your house is good to go. I double checked the ballroom just now and did not find anything that might upset the party. One thing though, the upstairs hallway is very interesting. If you have any more disturbances up there, call me and I will come back to take care of it.”
“Disturbances?” Lance asks.
“If you see or feel anything unusual, such as cold spots, strange sounds, anything out of place, or moving on its own. It has a strong attachment to the hallway on the northwest side of the house, above the kitchen, I believe. He may even show himself to you there. He is a powerful male energy. I am afraid he may come back after I leave. Like I said, just let me know.”
“All right. It sounds like you just said to stay the hell out of the upstairs hall. I can do that. Is there anything else I need to know?”
Chris’s serious eyes turn to me then he looks heavenward, appearing as if he’s concentrating hard on something. Under one of his brown arms he’s holding a furry black bundle. At first glimpse I think it’s a rolled up fur of some kind, like bear fur, but then I notice leather ties dangling from it and a flap on the top. It’s some kind of a bag. Chris shifts it under his arm and looks back at Lance.
He speaks with careful slow words. “I feel that it would be in your best interest if I have a look at the rest of your property.”
“Of course, whatever you need to do is fine with me.” Lance is nodding his hea
d agreeably. “You have free rein of the place. The barns are past the carriage house. I’ll have to let Mason know if you need to see his apartment. There’s a pump house and sheds over that way.” He points west. “You can’t really see it from here, but past that big spruce is a trail.”
I wonder how far “over there” is. The direction we’re staring looks as if it includes rocks, rocky cliffs, and tree covered rocks. Rugged in the extreme compared to the immediate area around the castle.
“Dude!” We all glance toward the door. Mason is back. “Larry needs you at the sound board.”
He’s unpleasant in every way, I think to myself. I don’t even care if I’m passing judgment — something I try not to do — but I loathe him. He makes my skin crawl and my nose wrinkle in distaste. Even his skin looks unappealing. He’s pock marked with red spots as if super bad acne is eating his face. It makes him look much scarier and really unhealthy.
“Tell him I’ll be right there,” Lance says.
Mason eyes shift to mine. They’re evil, uncaring pits. He winks at me and it makes my insides clench into a tight fist. Mason disappears inside. The door closes with a click. The fist gives me a little punch in the gut, reinforcing my earlier desire to walk home.
“I will have a look around before I go, but then I will have to come back tomorrow to finish. The evening is getting late.” Chris tips his chin up toward the setting sun.
“Whatever works for you. I owe you one, man. Thanks for everything. My guests can’t be freaked out about coming over. Castle Hill needs a good reputation.”
I see Lance slant his eyes my direction as he says ‘my guests.’ I restrain my foot from kicking him. He’s just about in the right spot to give him a nice bruise on the side of his leg. He may have figured out I don’t want to go inside his house but that’s only a small part of the problem.
Lance sticks out a hand and Chris shakes it. It’s all so professional. They were talking about evicting ghosts, weren’t they? Lance claps Chris on the shoulder with his free hand. “I mean it Chris, I can’t thank you enough.”
Chris bows his head in a small accepting gesture. “It’s what I do.”
Then he turns and leaves and I watch him walk away.
Lance asks, “So Jules, are you coming?”
I answer without thinking about what I’m doing. But I’m positive I am not stepping inside the castle with Mason in there. “I need to talk to Chris. I’ll see you in a little while. Okay?” I bounce out of the van, slide the door closed with one quick swish and trot after Chris Abeyta without looking back.
I hear the unmistakable thumps of the bass drum and a muffled “check, 1, 2, 3” and the heavy wood door open and close behind me as Lance retreats back inside.
As Chris nears his pickup truck, I see a furry face and a wagging tail appear in the window of the cab.
An idea forms in my mind as I walk over to Chris and his dog. I really do need to speak to him. Before I can catch up with him I have to veer out of the way for an approaching car. No, I correct, approaching cars, three of them. The black sedan in front doesn’t even slow down for me as it zips into a parking space. The other two, a white SUV, and an emerald green convertible line up next to the first car, and block my previously open path toward Chris.
The convertible looks all too familiar. I groan as I recognize Ashley. She turns in her seat, saying something to her faithful follower, Carrie Calloway. Even from my vantage point across the drive, I can see her plastic face. She looks like call-girl Barbie. The sad thing is, I know she likes the way she looks, fake nails, fake hair, fake face, and fake personality. The phonier the better, in her world. Urrgg, double groan. I’m sure the guy, Eric, in the back seat of her car loves the fakeness. Could tonight get any better than this? I think, letting the sarcasm rain on my already cloudy attitude.
I recognize a few others as they get out of the cars. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone and I don’t want Ashley to see me. As discreetly as possible I make my way over to the retaining wall and plant myself on it. If I don’t see them, then they won’t see me, right? Just minding my own business and getting some fresh air. I listen and try not to appear obvious that I’m keeping an eye on Chris. I can’t miss him. If he’s leaving soon, then I’m praying he’ll give me a ride back to town.
The party goers trickle in twos and threes over to the “church” entrance, chatty and excited for the night to begin. I wait for Ashley, Carrie, and Eric to do likewise so I can go talk to Chris and not have to run into them.
Unfortunately, I get delayed again as I hear Chris call out, “Miss Johnson.”
Ashley and her friends walk away from her car. I can hear her voice over the others. She sounds as if she swallowed a three-year-old when she talks. It’s über annoying.
I hear Chris again, this time louder and more forceful. “Ashley Johnson!”
If I can hear him, then I’m sure she can. With my head bent down, I shift my eyes to the right and look through a screen of my hair. I see Ashley glance over her shoulder. Chris is standing next to the open door of his truck, patting the head of a large dog.
“I need a word, Miss Johnson.”
How do these two know each other?
“What does he want?” Carrie asks.
“Does it matter?” Ashley says. They continue toward the castle.
“I could call your parents instead,” Chris says in a lower tone but we all hear the threat.
Ashley’s clicking heels stop. “God, what a prick. I’ll meet you guys inside.”
Carrie shrugs and grabs Eric’s sleeve. He has a confused expression on his face that reminds me of a cartoon character of a dim-witted orderly. She has to tug at him to get him to move away.
“What?” Ashley snaps as she spins around.
She approaches Chris and I see a different furry face push its way forward squeezing the black lab out of its way. Its brown and white face looks very familiar. The dog’s entire body wags with joy as it stands on the seat.
I sit up taller and look at the dog with a hard eye. A black lab and a brown and white mutt. Oh, it couldn’t be, I think in disbelief. These two have to be the same dogs I almost ran over this morning. They’re Chris Abeyta’s dogs? Well, at least they made it off the highway. That’s some small comfort. It’s too bad I can’t make the little mongrels change my tire.
Chris is saying something to Ashley but he’s turned his volume way down and I can’t hear what it is. By the way Ashley is shaking her head and the pink flush on her face I have to assume she’s not happy about whatever it is. I hear a squeaking hiss of an answer from her. It sounded like air squealing out of a balloon. Yikes, how did Jared put up with her as long as he did? Chris’s jaw is clenched and he looks as unbendable as iron as he continues. His mouth barely moves as he says something else through gritted teeth. Ashley stands ramrod straight, her face is changing from pink to red and I hear her next words as clear as running nails across a chalkboard.
“Do what you want! It’s not my problem!”
She turns on her three inch heels, sticks out her cone shaped breasts, lifts her chin, and leaves.
Chris raises his voice to call after her. “What goes around comes around, you miserable….”
He lets it trail off without finishing his insult. I don’t think it matters. Ashley is totally ignoring him.
I stand up and brush off the back of my pants, silently debating whether or not I should still approach Chris. He’s pissed off and strung tighter than a high wire and I would swear he’s still grinding his teeth.
He lets both of the dogs jump down out of his truck and is giving them water from a plastic jug. The Labrador finishes first and while the second dog drinks, the big lab busies itself sniffing around the truck’s tires. A moment later Chris lifts the smaller dog back into the cab. I still can’t decide if I should approach Chris.
He turns and calls, “Ralph, come!”
Ralph must be the lab’s name because he looks up, raises a doggy eyebrow,
and then bolts in the opposite direction from Chris.
“Ralph! You demon spawn. Come back here!”
Chris slams the door of his truck, narrowly missing the other dog’s face and takes off after the runaway. Lucky for me, Ralph gets distracted by the tempting smell of the white SUV’s tire, and as he lifts his leg I jump on him, grabbing his collar.
Ralph doesn’t appear the slightest bit offended that I halted his escape. He looks up at me with sweet, playful eyes and then decides to smell my shoes. I squat down next to him and scratch behind his ears.
“Maybe I should have run you over and saved everyone a lot of trouble,” I say to him as if I’m talking to a young child. He responds to my voice with a wag of tail and a lick on my arm.
“You should have,” Chris grumbles over me. He moved faster than I had thought possible, catching me off guard. I stand up too fast and stumble a bit. Chris reaches for Ralph’s collar before the dog can get away again.
“Oh,” I say as I process what he had just told me. “I almost hit him with my car this morning,” I explain, “and the other one too.” I gesture toward the other dog. It watches us from the front seat of the truck. There are lines of drool sliding down the partly open window.
“That is not surprising.”
“It isn’t?”
“No it isn’t!” Chris drags Ralph off. I follow, deciding to take my chances with his bad attitude. What’s the worst that can happen? He could turn me down, or yell at me. Desperation warrants a little risk, doesn’t it? I have to get away from here.
“Is there anything I can do to help, Mr. Abeyta?”
“Find a cure for self-centered ungrateful little tramps.”
I’m going to assume he means Ashley. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can fix that problem.”
He opens his door and commands, “Ruckus, stay back!” He stuffs Ralph inside like he is jamming a backpack into an overflowing locker and closes the door. He turns a cold eye on me and I attempt not to shrivel back. “You could have sold me that poison I was looking for earlier. Then I could be done with these mangy animals and her too.” His eyes narrow toward the castle door where Ashley had gone.
Death Lies Between Us (An Angel Falls Book 1) Page 13
