by Diane Capri
Back out front in the bar, I noticed Jackson in his corner booth. He was typing fast and furious. I had some questions about his screenplay or documentary, whatever it was. I plopped down in his booth on the seat across from him. He looked up from the computer and smiled.
“Hey, Evie. How’s it going?”
I shrugged. “I miss Nick.”
“We all do.”
I nodded, pointing down to the plate of tacos. Figured I might as well sweeten the deal a bit before I started asking questions. “Want one?”
Jackson eyed the tacos appreciatively. “Sure! Thanks.” I scooted the plate across the table so he could grab a taco, and then leaned in close, clasping my hands together. I was pleased to see he was being Mister Nice Guy tonight.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Um … yeah.” He took a bite of the taco, moaning appreciatively.
“How well did you know Nick?”
He sat back against the booth, taco in hand, and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “I thought I told you all of that.”
“Well sure, I mean … I know you were doing a documentary and wanted him to be in it. But how did you guys meet?”
“I came in here one night and that was it.” He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and eyed my remaining two tacos enviously.
“But how did you find him?”
Jackson sighed and pointed to his closed laptop. “A good writer does his research.”
“So, you targeted him.”
“You make it sound so slimy. Yeah, I knew Nick owned this place, thanks to the powers of Google. And I’ve been a fan of Nick’s because I’d watched Next-Door Neighbors a billion times as a kid. I didn’t exactly have a great family life. TV was my best friend.” He set his napkin down on the table and clasped his hands together. “Everything I’ve ever gotten was because I earned it, including getting into film school on a scholarship. Not too many people can say that. My mom was a single parent. I have three brothers and I’m the oldest, so guess who ran the family while mom was out? Me. And I still made it to USC. And I am going to have an awesome master’s project when I’m finished, Nick or no Nick. Not that he planned to help me anyway.”
I nodded. I couldn’t help wonder if Jackson’s mother had divorced his father due to the physical abuse I knew Jackson had suffered. I assumed the man I’d seen in the vision had been his father.
“I don’t understand why he was so shy about being on camera. I mean, he’d obviously been in front of it for years as a kid and young adult.”
Jackson leaned back and crossed his arms. “Secrets. Nick had secrets like everyone else, and he didn’t want me to expose them.”
“What kind of secrets?”
A smirk crossed his handsome face. “Who knows. But I’m uncovering them, and it’s changing the entire storyline of my documentary. See, lies make for good entertainment.”
“Lies?” I arched my brow in disbelief.
“There are tons in this bar. This place.” He gestured at our surroundings. “It’s built on lies. With this new angle, I don’t need Nick anyway.”
Jackson was really starting to irritate me. “That sounds a bit arrogant.”
Again, he shrugged. “Maybe it is, but you know, it wasn’t like Nick was super-warm and friendly to me. He didn’t like me coming in here, trying to get the scoop on his life. But he couldn’t do much about it either. It isn’t like I was disruptive. I’m just doing my thing. And I pay, unlike those bums at the counter.”
He did have a point. “Oh. Well, Nick gave me my first opportunity here in L.A., and I will always be grateful for that.”
“More than he gave me.”
I was feeling uncomfortable with the conversation, so I decided to finish up my meal in the kitchen and get ready for the next set.
“It was nice chatting with you, Jackson. Gotta get back to work now.” He smiled at me, nodding as if we were the best of friends, which we definitely were not.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AFTER THE CONVERSATION with Jackson, I stood in the kitchen eating my now-cold tacos as quickly as possible. Becky was going in and out with food and gave me a little wave. It was kind of a busy night. Since Nick’s death, the place had gotten some notoriety, so a few new faces had shown up.
“Hey, Becky, I don’t mind helping out in here and tending bar. I can go back to playing when it quiets down some.”
“Oh, honey, that would be helpful, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem.”
“I can wait the tables and manage the kitchen, if you can tend bar,” she said.
“You got it. Can I ask, how did you get elected to start running things?” I didn’t say it in a mean way. I was simply curious.
She smiled. “I guess it was a natural fit, considering how close Nick and I were.”
I wanted to ask how close that was, when we both heard a commotion coming from the bar.
“Probably Mumbles or the broad wanting another drink. Can you check it out? That table of kids from SC wants a mess of tacos,” Becky said.
I nodded. Becky never referred to Candace by her name. She simply called her “the broad” while Candace called her “the bitch.” Fun times.
I walked through the kitchen doors to find George Hernandez pounding his meaty fists on the bar. Mumbles sat with drooping shoulders, staring a hole into his drink. Candace had inched as far away from the large, angry man as she could. A few other patrons were watching and waiting to see what the crazy guy would do next. But thanks to the loud background noise and crowded tables, not everyone seemed aware a scene was brewing. I aimed to keep it that way.
I walked calmly to George and said, “Can I help you, sir?”
“I wanna talk to whoever is in charge here!” He bellowed, as if I were across the room instead of a foot or two away. His fleshy face was a deep crimson color and slick with sweat.
“That would be me,” I said, straightening my five-foot-four frame as tall as it could go. No point dragging poor Becky into this, at least not yet.
“You? He left everything to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is someone owes me. And if Nick left this place to you, I suggest you sell it and pay me back.”
“Sir, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
“I bet you’d like me to leave.” He moved closer to me, and I could smell his sour body odor mixed with cheap cologne.
Jackson suddenly appeared next to me. Now Jackson wasn’t a huge guy, but at over six feet tall with a relatively fit build, something told me he could hold his own. Plus he was at least twenty years younger than this Hernandez character. Jackson clapped a hand over the big guy’s shoulder. Hard.
“The lady asked you nicely to leave. I suggest you do so.”
“You do, do you?” Hernandez said. He shook his shoulder, trying to knock Jackson’s hand off. It didn’t budge.
“I do. Unless, of course you would like to find out what it means to have your ass kicked by someone who is skilled in Krav Maga.”
“What the hell is that?” Hernandez asked. I wondered as well. Whatever it was, I prayed Jackson wasn’t bluffing.
“It means hand-to-hand combat. It’s a form of street fighting in Israel, used by military forces around the world and in Special Forces like Israel’s Mossad, the CIA, and the British SAS. I am quite adept in it.”
I wasn’t sure who looked more shocked by this admission. Me or the fat guy. It worked though. But not before he got the last word in.
“I suggest you get an attorney, lady. I plan to get the money back that Nick owed me.” Then he turned and bolted out the door before Jackson could make good on his threat.
The room was silent. All eyes were focused on Jackson and me. I smiled and waved and went back behind the bar. Within a couple of minutes, everyone appeared to have lost interest. Jackson went back to his booth. I wanted to
thank him, but by the time I’d poured a half a dozen beers and a handful of Jägermeister shots to the group of college kids, he was gone. I was pretty grateful to him for stepping in like that and resolved to thank him as soon as I was able.
Mumbles looked unsettled. I leaned towards him across the bar counter. “You okay, Mumbles?”
He looked up at me with his unpatched eye. It was tearing up. “Not same, Evie. No Nick. Not same. Bad people.”
“Oh no, Mumbles. Don’t let one bad seed ruin things. He’s just an idiot and a bully. Of course it isn’t the same without Nick. But we have to move on. We can do it together.” I grabbed a paper napkin from behind the bar and wiped his eye.
“Are you crying? Goddammit, Mumbles! What the hell!” Candace scolded him.
I glared at her. “Now, come on, Candace. I would think you would have a little more compassion. I mean, you were once engaged to Nick!” So much for my delicate approach.
Mumbles stared at me and then looked at Candace who’s normally blurry eyes snapped with anger. “Who told you that? That bitch?”
“No. I read it online.” I quickly threw together a Candace Special and handed it to her. “There was a photo of you and Nick from an old newspaper clipping.”
She pushed the drink away, spilling some of it over the side of the glass, and stood abruptly. “I don’t want it. I have somewhere I need to be.”
“At ten o’clock on a Thursday night? Really?” I didn’t bother to mention she and Mumbles never seemed to have anywhere to go.
“Yes, really. Mumbles, you coming?!”
He didn’t say anything at first. She started to stumble away. Mumbles slid off the bar stool. “Sorry, Evie. Gotta watch her. Bad on the street. Bad.”
“I don’t want the two of you on the streets! You both need to sober up first.” I jogged after them. “Come on, Candace. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“You didn’t, sweet pea. You didn’t. Mumbles and I need a rest is all.”
“On the streets?”
“We got a place. Don’t worry about us.”
One of the frat boys called out for more beer. I turned to see where the hollering was coming from, and when I turned back, Candace and Mumbles were gone. So much for a night of getting answers to my questions. If anything, I was more confused than ever.
.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT WAS AFTER TWO O’CLOCK when I finally headed home. And, thankfully, I had a day off from Simone tomorrow, which meant I did not have to get up at the crack of dawn, grab her pumpkin spice latte, and get to her place only to find her lounging with her cat, Clooney. She was having what she referred to as a “mental vacation.” I had no idea what exactly that entailed, and I did not plan to ask. She did not invite me. And I was okay with that.
I had been asking Becky and everyone else at the bar who might have been there the night before Nick’s murder if anyone had noticed a new guy there—the producer. According to the regulars, no newbies had turned up. I hated to think maybe Nick had been stringing me along after all as Simone insisted. No matter what, though, in my heart I knew Nick had been a good guy who didn’t deserve what he’d gotten, and I was driven to get some answers.
As I turned off Sunset and onto Laurel, I noticed a car behind me, following really close. After all that had happened recently, I was instantly on my guard. I turned right onto my street, and so did the car. I gunned the gas pedal, hoping to zip away. Yeah, that didn’t work so well. I wasn’t sure if I should just keep driving past my place and head back into town. The only plus was the automatic security gate at the entrance to the drive that wound up to the house. I figured I could open the gate, drive through, and block the drive until the gate closed behind me. Once inside, I’d set the alarm and have Cass there to protect me.
I clicked open the gate. The car was still right on my bumper. What if whoever it was jumped out and tried to open my car door? What if they had a gun? I double-checked the locks on my doors and waited. My heart was pounding. I inched the van through the gate and waited for it to close, keeping my eyes trained on my rearview mirror. Finally the gate locked shut and the car continued on. From what I could see in the dim light, it looked like some type of wagon. Maybe an older Volvo or Audi. I couldn’t tell. I raced the van up the remainder of the driveway, anxious to get behind closed doors and snuggle up with Cass and Mac.
I bolted for the front door and unlocked it as quickly as I could. Before I had one foot inside, I knew something really weird was going on. I immediately forgot the car that had followed me.
I could not believe what I was seeing
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NOW, IT’S ONE THING to see a ghost, um spirit. And it’s another thing to run into the spirit of Bob Marley. But to walk into your home to find Bob Marley and the spirit of Janis Joplin on your sofa, smoking pot, while your overweight cat is lying on his back on the backside of the couch, seemingly stoned out of his mind, well, it’s probably safe to say you have seen it all.
Bob looked up and smiled through the smoky haze. “Ah, Evie, thank you, sista, for lettin’ us hang out here tonight.”
Janis glanced up from where she sat strumming on her guitar and smiled at me. “Yeah. You’re a cool chick. I like your pad.”
“Uh, thank you.” Mac opened one green eye and let out a soft, contented meow. He stretched a leg out and promptly went back to his happy little slumber. Cass thumped her tail but didn’t move from her spot next to Janis.
“So, you guys been here long?” I know that sounded lame, but what the heck did you say to two famous spirits?
“Oh, you know, we don’t be keeping track of the time here on dis side of tings,” Bob said, his Jamaican accent melodic and soothing.
“Riiight.”
Janis waved a hand at me. “No way, girl. There’s no need for time and all that shit here. Come have a seat.”
I decided I didn’t have a choice, and it’s not often you get to shoot the breeze with Janis Joplin and Bob Marley (even if they are dead). Speaking of which, “You guys are real, right? I mean, this isn’t just one loooong hallucination I’ve been having … is it?” Of course, asking your hallucinations if they are real or not is probably not going to clear things up much in the long run.
Bob laughed, his voice warm and smooth like chocolate. “Do you know I once said, ‘I don’t believe in death neither in flesh nor in spirit.’ And that be the truth, Evie. It’s all the same no matter where you be. And here,” he gestured to me and Janis on the sofa, “… we are!” He laughed.
Well that certainly cleared things up for me. Now I knew how Alice felt trying to talk to that darned caterpillar. I plopped down next to Janis and reached over to pet Cass, who’d drifted off to sleep.
Janis took another hit off of her joint (I was still trying to figure out if the pot was real, and if so, where the heck did they get it?) and then blew a graceful plume of smoke into the air. “He’s deep. Real deep. Just relax and enjoy the moment. Go with it.”
“Is Lucas here, too?” As much as I wanted to get to know these two, and I definitely did, I was hoping he was here and just hadn’t joined us yet.
“Nah. Lukie boy be off doin’ some work,” Bob said.
“Work? You work on the other side?” I asked. Well, so much for spending eternity lounging around playing harps.
Janis laughed. “Like Bob said, hon, there isn’t much difference between here and there, and it really isn’t so much the other side.”
“So, are you still musicians?”
They nodded. “Among other things. We have projects,” she said. Bob eyed her and shook his head. “But that’s up to Lucas to discuss with you.”
“Yes, indeed, and Lukie boy be needin’ to get permission for his project.”
“Permission? From who? What project? I’m confused.” I didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, the lingering smell of weed in the room, or the bizarre conversation I was having with two dead people, but I leaned back into the soft thro
w pillows and felt my eyes slowly close.
“It all be good, Evie girl. It all be good.”
Bob started singing “One Love.” Janis joined in with her raspy vocals. I was blissfully happy, and everything else floated away as I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I HAD NO CLUE what time it was, or how long I’d been asleep, but it was dark in the room and outside when I woke on the couch. There was a blanket over me, and my hand rested on Mac, who lay on top of my chest, splayed out on his back. My other hand hung over the side of the couch, nestled deep in Cass’s soft fur.
I remembered Bob and Janis, the conversation, the music, falling asleep. Had that been a dream? If so, who had put the blanket on me? I stretched out my legs and my feet bumped against something solid at the other end of the sofa. What the hell? I stared hard into the blackness until a faint, glowing form became visible.
“Bob? Janis?” I whispered.
“No. It’s me, Lucas.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“Lucas?”
He slid closer and the room brightened noticeably. At least it did around him. Cass lifted her head and then placed it back down again.
“How do you … glow like that? Can all spirits do that?”
“It’s actually called my Antarjyohi, my internal light. I come by it through those spirits who are in The Bodha.”
“The Bodha?” Suddenly, the Twilight Zone theme song played in my head.
“I can’t go into too much detail about all that yet. But maybe someday.”
Okaaay. “Where were you earlier? When I came home, Janis Joplin and Bob Marley were here playing music and smoking weed. In my living room.”
He laughed. “I know. I passed them on my way in.”
“As in on your way in through the front door?”
“Kind of. When we visit here, we come through a portal. Whenever someone has a physical death somewhere, particularly in a place they lived or loved, a portal usually gets placed there.”
