by Tara Taylor
“It smells like pot!” Sarah laughed.
Natalie’s nose twitched as she sniffed the air. “It does!” She burst out laughing, too. “We’re a bunch of crazies, believing this is going to stop our apartment from being haunted. This is like something out of a horror movie.”
“Let’s do the front door first,” I said.
We gathered at the front entrance to our apartment, and as I went around the door frame, Sarah waved the smoke. It was black, and it kinked around and around.
“Annabelle told me to watch the color of the smoke,” I said as I went around the door frame a second time.
Sarah kept waving the feather. “Okay, this is stupid,” she said.
“If it is black and kinked, then it is not clear,” I said, “and we have to keep doing every door until the smoke is white and goes straight upward.”
But Sarah shook her head. “Like I believe that.”
“I’m game to see,” said Natalie.
I was, too. Annabelle had told me it worked, and I wanted to see for myself. And sure enough, after two times around the door, the smoke turned white and went straight upward.
“Lard Jesus,” said Natalie. “That’s amazing.”
We all giggled and went down the hall to the next door. Within ten minutes, we had completed every door in the apartment.
After we were finished and I blew out the sage, I remembered something else that Annabelle had told me to do, even though I had laughed at her as she said it. “We have to go back to the living room,” I said.
“We’re not done yet?” Sarah groaned.
“I’m supposed to recite something to some angel, and we have to do this breathing thing. I laughed at her when she told me about it, but then she said it was ‘no laughing matter.’ So let’s keep her happy.”
“Okay, but this is it for me,” said Sarah.
“I think we should open a window,” said Natalie. “It reeks in here.”
I pulled on their arms and dragged them into the living room. We all stood in the center, and I pulled out the piece of paper that Annabelle had given me.
“Okay, so let’s breathe.”
We all inhaled and exhaled three times.
Then I started to recite the words. “Archangel Michael, please remove any energies from our home that have not gone to the light and please help them find their way home. I ask you to now seal the four corners of our house with your protective energy.
“I like that,” said Natalie softly. “I want her to find her way home to her little boy.”
“Everyone in the building is going to think we were smoking pot,” said Sarah. “And that we’re nuts. And I sure hope she doesn’t stay because she thinks Henry the cat is her kid. And who is this Michael?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. But there are a few archangels, and he is a protector. I think Annabelle said he is blue.”
“Yeah, okay.” Sarah rolled her eyes.
Once every window in the house was open, Sarah looked at both Natalie and me and said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I nodded and grabbed my purse, and as I did, I heard a faint whooshing sound. I turned sharply to see the bottom of the green skirt leaving through the open window. Brilliant sunshine blinded me for a moment. Gone. She was gone. We’d driven her away and, with luck, into the light. I hoped she’d have the courage to see that light and walk through it, so she could be reunited with her family.
As usual, the Royal Oak was packed. We looked around for a seat, but when we couldn’t find one, we headed outside to the patio, as it was a beautiful, warm summer night. Natalie spotted an open railing, and we headed over to it. Sarah casually leaned against the railing and lit up a cigarette. I inhaled the smell and looked away; I wouldn’t give in, although I wanted to. I shoved my hands into the back pockets of my shorts and kept them there until our first beer arrived.
I had finished half my beer when I knew it was time to brave the crowds and hit the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later (the line had been out the door), I was walking back to the patio to find Sarah and Natalie when I heard my name being called. Turning around, I saw Paul. Immediately, I smiled and waved.
“Hey,” I said surprised, but pleasantly so.
He grinned. “Close watering hole for you.”
Within walking distance,” I answered.
“Who you here with?” Paul asked.
“A couple of friends. Hey, how did the rest of your week go?” He hadn’t come by to see me at work, and I thought maybe he didn’t want to see me again.
“Great,” he said. “It’s a job. Keeps me in spending money.” He held up his beer.
I laughed. “A definite summer priority.”
“Do you need one?” he asked, looking at my empty hands. I had finished mine while waiting in line.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll get one in a minute.”
“No, I’ll get you one.” Before I could protest again, he had flagged a waiter and ordered me a beer.
“Thanks,” I said, kind of shyly. “I owe you. You’ve bought me tea and now beer.”
This time it was his turn to be shy. “No biggie.” He rocked a little on his heels. “I, um, I stopped by your store today to see if you wanted to do coffee again. But it was just after four, so I guess you must have already left.” He said his words in a hurry.
So he had stopped by. For some reason, that thought made my heart flutter. There were no electrical feelings that jolted through my body, like when I was with John. Instead I had light, butterflylike feelings. And they felt good. Really good. Easy.
“I did leave a bit early today,” I said. “Annabelle said I could lock up fifteen minutes before closing.”
The waiter arrived with my beer, and Paul immediately pulled his hand out of his pocket, bringing a $20 bill along with it. He gave the waiter a tip and shoved the rest of the money back into his pocket. I took the cold beer and had a little sip. “Thanks,” I said.
There was a split second of silence, but then Paul asked, “So, how was your first week?” Before I could even answer that question, he asked another: “Is it a busy place to work?”
I nodded my head slowly. “Yeah, it is busy. I’m kind of surprised. But my week was great. I work tomorrow, then get the weekend off.” Just thinking about my first four days and all that Annabelle had taught me in such a short time made my head spin. It was unbelievable, really.
“Hey, I wanted to ask you,” he said. “What’s the deal with your boss? How does she see into the future? That just seems so crazy.”
For a brief second, I thought about lying to him and telling him I had no idea, but I remembered what had happened with John when I lied to him about my ability to see and hear things before they happened. I was tired of all my little white lies. And … Paul seemed so different and nonjudgmental—unlike John, who judged everyone and everything in the world. I just knew Paul was safe.
“Well,” I started, “Annabelle holds on to a person’s hand or takes some piece of their jewelry and then she closes her eyes, and she can hear and see things about the person. And she feels things, too. Or even smells. She’s amazing, because she uses all her senses. And sometimes at the end of a session, she reads these oracle or tarot cards because they might help to answer a specific question the person has about some issue.”
“Seriously?” Paul tilted his head in an innocent gesture. “She can do that? It sounds so … abstract, but—don’t get me wrong—it also sounds kind of cool in a really freaky way.”
I laughed. “I like that word. Abstract.”
“How long does it take?”
“She books people for an hour, but she runs late all the time.”
“So,” Paul mused, “for example, if someone had applied for a new job and they went in to see her, she might be able to tell them if they were going to get it?”
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
Suddenly, I heard the word Starbucks in my head.
“Did you just apply fo
r a job at Starbucks?” I asked.
Paul’s eyes opened to the size of baseballs. “You can do it, too?”
I blurted out, “In two weeks, I’ll come in and buy a coffee from you.” I laughed nervously. And took a long swig of beer.
Paul didn’t seem to notice my nerves at all. “That’s amazing!” He held up his hand, and I high-fived him back. “I need another job to help pay for school and put money in the bank.”
I wanted to tell Paul not to tell anyone, but I didn’t. And I was saved from any more questions from Paul when Sarah appeared with Tyler on her arm.
“What’s shaking?” Sarah asked.
“Paul,” I said, “this is Sarah and Tyler. Sarah’s my roommate, and Tyler lives below us.”
“Hi,” said Paul. He gave a one-finger salute.
“Where’s Natalie?” I looked around the patio.
“She went home,” said Sarah. “She wasn’t feeling well. I don’t think she has slept all week.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I said. I turned to Paul. “Natalie is our other roommate.”
“And the ghost in our house is driving her nuts,” said Sarah. Then she held up her glass. “But no more, ’cause Indie’s got our backs.”
I held up my hand. “Okay, enough.”
“You have a ghost in your apartment?” Paul looked as shocked as he sounded.
“Well, we did. She might be gone now, though,” said Sarah.
“I hope so,” I said quietly.
“I thought you guys were smoking pot up there,” said Tyler. “The smell was all the way down the stairwell.”
I glanced at Paul. He had a curious look on his face. I bumped my shoulder against his. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
The conversation, thankfully, veered to music and the upcoming local music festivals. We all decided the blues festival would be the best one to attend. Time ticked by as we sipped our beers. Paul’s friends stopped by to chat but then disappeared again, making the rounds, trying to find cute girls. Darkness arrived, patio lights flickered, and Sarah laid her head on Tyler’s shoulder and gazed up at him. “You want to get out of here?” she murmured. “I got to work in the morning.”
He gazed back at her and kissed her forehead. “Love to,” he whispered.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable at their obvious intimacy, I glanced away at the same time Paul did, and we ended up locking eyes, which was kind of funny, because I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. Too. Much. PDA.
“See yah later, Indie,” murmured Sarah. “We’re heading out.”
And just like that, I was alone with Paul at the bar because all my roommates had ditched me. “I should go, too,” I said. “I work at nine.” I didn’t really want to walk home alone, even though it wasn’t midnight yet.
“Yeah, me too,” said Paul. “I gotta work at seven.”
“Where are your friends?” I glanced around the patio, which had filled up, but I couldn’t see them anywhere.
Paul scanned the patio, too. “I wonder if they left.” He craned his neck to look around the bodies. When he didn’t see them, he said, “Darn it. I didn’t drive.”
“Did they ditch you?” I laughed.
“Possibly.” He shrugged.
“How will you get home?”
“Buses are still running. You want me to walk you home? I don’t think you should walk by yourself. I can catch the bus in front of your apartment. I remember seeing the stop there when I dropped you off.”
I wanted to say no, I could walk on my own, but something pricked me inside me. All week, Annabelle had been teaching me about intuition, and she said that if everyone would listen to what their bodies were saying, the funny little twinges that appeared in certain situations, they would be a lot better off. Right now, the sickness I felt in the pit of my stomach was exactly how I had felt when Miles came into the room at the hotel. And it wasn’t good.
“Sure,” I said quickly. “You can walk me home.”
As we took to the street, the fresh night air had a slight breeze, and it brushed across my skin, cooling and mellowing me. Bars and crowds often made me hyper. I liked the pleasant summer night. The humidity had disappeared with the last rainfall, and the weather was soothing. Neither of us talked as we strolled down the sidewalk. My high heels clicked on the cement and his flip-flops made squishing noises.
Finally, he said, “That bar was fun. I’ve never been there before.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I like it there.”
“Do you really have a ghost in your apartment?” he blurted out.
“Yup,” I said without hesitation, which actually surprised me. Why could I talk so easily with this guy? “She wears a green skirt, so we call her Green Lady.”
“That’s nuts.”
“I’m not the only one who has seen her. Both Natalie and Sarah have as well. But today, we did some protection work around the apartment. Hopefully, that will make her go away.”
“Is she that mean, that you have to be protected?” Paul glanced at me, and I immediately noticed the innocent expression on his face. He probably had never heard of a place being haunted before, except in a movie or television show. Nor had he heard about protection. Of course, neither had I before I started at Annabelle’s Angels.
“She’s not really mean,” I said. “But she doesn’t like us there.” I proceeded to tell him the history behind the woman, and he nodded but didn’t say anything.
When I was finished, we walked a few strides before he said, “It’s kind of too bad she was trapped here on earth.”
“You believe me, then?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Suddenly, he reached over and grabbed my hand. “Keep walking and talking,” he whispered firmly.
My heart began to race when I saw two guys loitering on the other side of the street. As soon as they saw us, they began walking toward us. I heard one guy mutter under his breath, “Easy prey.” They crossed the street on an angle, obviously trying to cut us off, and we just continued walking. Beside me, Paul appeared cool and casual, although I knew he was anything but by how tightly he gripped my hand. But he didn’t pick up his pace, and he continued walking as if nothing were wrong.
My muscles tensed, and the sounds of my high heels seemed louder and louder. Click. Click. The noise tapped inside my head. This was the danger I had felt in the bar. If I had been by myself, who knew what would have happened? I definitely wouldn’t have been walking this calmly. By now, I would have been running like an idiot down the street.
The guys appeared in front of us, and Paul squeezed my hand as if to say everything would be okay. I squeezed back, letting him know I understood.
“You got a smoke?” said one of them. His eyes were red and had that bloodshot, high look. He wore a baseball cap backward, a sweat-stained white muscle shirt, baggy jeans, and high-top runners.
“Sorry,” Paul said confidently.
We didn’t break stride, and they fell into step beside us. Suddenly, the other guy, who was dressed quite similarly to his friend but wore an oversize Los Angeles Lakers mesh jersey, jumped in front of us and skipped backward in front of me. He sneered and looked me up and down. “How about you? I bet you got a smoke.”
“She doesn’t smoke,” snapped Paul.
“I just quit a few weeks ago,” I added.
Again, Paul squeezed my hand. I felt a certain reassurance in his gesture, which was a bit of a shock, because we were no match for these two.
“I said I want a smoke,” Lakers hissed in my ear.
“Sorry, pal.” Paul didn’t give me time to answer. “She said she doesn’t have one.” He spoke loudly.
“You being a smart-ass?” Muscle Shirt grabbed Paul’s shoulder, just as Lakers tried to snatch my purse. I held on to it and screamed.
As quick as lightning, Paul dropped my hand and chopped Muscle Shirt’s arm. Then Paul spun and high-kicked Lakers. Lakers gasped for breath, holding his stomach.
“You asked
for it now!” Muscle Shirt had regained his footing. He lifted his fist for a punch. But Paul was much quicker—he grabbed his arm and flung him over and onto his back. He landed with a thud.
Everything happened so fast.
And I just stood there, stunned and holding on to my purse. While both muggers were reeling, Paul grabbed my hand and said, “Run!”
We took off down the street. I didn’t look back. I just ran, holding his hand. We ran at least two blocks before I started to slow down, my lungs bursting, my feet aching in my high heels.
Gasping, I said, “I need to stop.”
Paul also slowed down and glanced behind him, but he didn’t loosen the tight grip he had on my hand. “We’re okay.” His breath came out in rasps, too. “We lost them.”
Our pace slowed to a walk. I listened for sounds. No footsteps followed us. Insects once again could be heard buzzing in the night air.
“What was that?” I asked. “Where did you learn to kick like that?”
“I guess I know how to protect myself, but in a different way.”
I stopped walking. “You guess?!” I held my free hand to my chest to feel my beating heart. “That was insane.” My heart started to slow, and that’s when I felt the pain in my feet. I grimaced. “I have to take off my shoes.”
“Okay.” He let go of my hand and once again looked over his shoulder. “They’re definitely gone,” he said. He ran his hand through his sweaty hair and exhaled.
I bent over and unstrapped the clasps on my shoes and, when I had them off, heaved a sigh of relief. I still couldn’t believe what had just happened. “I’ve never run like that in heels,” I said.
“Me either,” he replied. “Heels are a killer.”
With my shoes dangling in my fingers, I looked at him, and even though we had just been through a frightening experience, I started laughing. “You were like a ninja back there.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “What can I say? I grew up watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”
I laughed even harder. “So that’s where you learned to kick like that.” I shook my head at him.
“Are you really going to walk in bare feet?”
