by Gillian Zane
A child’s yell broke through my consciousness and I remembered we were outside at a visitor’s center. This wasn’t right. I pushed against Drake’s chest, turning my face away. He didn’t want to let me go. He kept kissing my cheek, then my neck until finally I wrenched myself away from him. When I cracked my eyes open, hesitant to see the damage around me, my eyes landed on him. Drake looked stunned.
Was that how I looked?
“We’re a little public for this,” I laughed and Drake, looking like he was still a bit out of it, glanced around him as if he too had lost focus of where he was. Had he been ready to let it all go, too?
“Indeed,” he said in a rough growl.
“Maybe we should go.” I ducked underneath his arm which still caged me against the SUV.
“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed and so very not Drake. He never looked out of place. But now with wild eyes, mussed hair and his shirt off center and wrinkled, he looked completely out of sorts.
“Let’s go,” he said in a gruff voice and I couldn’t jump into the passenger seat quick enough.
17
Dibs
I never quite understood what the term ‘hot mess’ meant until this moment. I mean, I’ve used the term in casual conversation, I’ve described people as such, but until this moment I was never fully aware of exactly what being a hot mess was. I sat in Drake’s SUV and tried not to squirm. I was in panic mode. I couldn’t keep still. I wasn’t necessarily a nervous person, but right now I was on edge. My fingers twiddled, my leg bounced, my heart thumped and I wanted to find out if I jumped over the console and straddled Drake would he still be able to focus on the road. Because that was all he was doing.
Drake’s leg didn’t bounce, his fingers didn’t twiddle. He was a prime example of focused energy. He stared forward at the road. The only sign of his emotions was the occasional tightening of his jaw and his cheeks as they pulled in from his grimace. Somehow he was back in order. His hair was back in place, his shirt was devoid of wrinkles and I hadn’t seen him fuss over himself once. Must be nice.
I pulled down the passenger mirror and frowned as I saw my hair was all over the place and I had kissed off my lipstick in places. For some reason it still clung to certain spots on my lips.
For something to do, I dug in my purse and pulled out my current favorite shade, Positively Plum, and applied it. I heard a noise from Drake that sounded like a cross between a gurgle and a groan. I glanced over but he was staring at the road like his life depended on it. That’s fine. I could play the ignore game, even though it stung. I wasn’t sure of the thing we just did.
To describe it as a kiss was an insult. We had practically devoured each other. And I wanted more. Something in me screamed a warning.
I couldn’t deny he was easy on the eyes and from what I had felt of his body, if I happened to see him naked I’m sure it was going to bring me all kinds of happy tingles. But, and there was a big but, I wasn’t even sure he trusted me, and I wasn’t sure I trusted him. I didn’t even know what he was, supernatural being or not. Then there was that whole thing about not being able to tell him my real name, what I did, and the fact that I was technically dead.
It was a great kiss. I was now itching I was so ramped up, squirming in my seat because I was so turned on. I couldn’t go any further with whatever this was. I couldn’t keep a secret with someone I was intimate with. And I had to keep my secrets. It wasn’t worth the risk. I had to keep telling myself that. I couldn’t help but glance over and notice the way a vein in his neck kept ticking under that smooth skin, showcasing he was just as ramped up as I was. I had to focus on something else.
I started scrolling through my phone even though I knew it was rude. I couldn’t keep obsessing. It was time I got lost in a book on my ereader app. It was a good book, and I managed to push down the churning thoughts and sexual fantasies that were now on shuffle/repeat. I was never not aware of Drake, but at least he wasn’t all I was aware of. Before long we were pulling into a small town and Drake turned on the navigation system to direct us to where we were staying.
“They only have one motel in this town and it has a one-star rating, so I did a short-term rental for the weekend.” He finally spoke to me. “I hope this won’t be an issue, it’s an entire house.”
Okay, we were back to formal, and there went the fantasy of Drake booking one room and us spending all weekend ordering room service, screw the consequences. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. This was good. He probably had the same kind of issues that I did. I’m glad we were on the same page. I shouldn't have any fantasies about Drake.
He turned down a side street and followed the main road that brought us into the center of town. The navigation app guided him to an intimidating Greek revival, set back from the main street. It was a huge structure with a large porch wrapping around the front.
“This sure beats a one-star motel,” I said as I got out of the SUV and grabbed my bag. Drake didn’t respond. He grabbed his own small luggage and pulled his phone out and consulted something on it. He proceeded to punch in a key code to the keyless entry and opened the door.
The inside was as impressive as the outside with antique furniture and windows that ran from floor to ceiling. I didn’t want to touch anything, though, since it all looked expensive and frail. The front door opened into a large front room and a staircase that led up to a loft style second floor. To the right was an office with bookshelves that lined three of the four walls. I could get lost in there, but knew I wouldn’t have much time to. I closed the door with a sigh and found a suitable bedroom to stash my stuff. All the bedrooms were on the second floor and I happened to open the door of the Master first, and quickly yelled:
“Dibs!”
I heard Drake chuckle from the hall.
The room was huge with a big four poster bed dominating the center. Airy, white curtains draped over the side and the mattress was thick and overstuffed. I wanted to jump on it like a child. Instead I fell back onto it and sighed at the softness. This was absolute perfection. I didn’t sleep much, but I would definitely be manifesting this in my own bedroom when I got back to Afterlife.
“There’s three restaurants in town. A high-priced one right off the interstate, a breakfast and bakery and then there is one that specializes in Southern home cooking. I’m betting that is where the majority of the action happens in this town. Hungry for dinner?”
Drake stood in the doorway and eyed me on the bed. There was a spark of that earlier hunger and I sat up quickly. What would I do if he initiated things again? I was a weak-willed female, I would probably give in. Shut it, I chided myself. I had the stones to tell Drake to find another conquest. He didn’t make a move to come into the room though. He lounged in the doorway waiting for my awkwardly delayed response.
“Give me ten to change,” I managed to get out.
“Meet me downstairs,” he responded as he pulled the door shut to give me privacy.
I let out a breath in relief and hurried over to the bathroom. This was a small southern town. If I dressed too fancy, people wouldn’t want to talk to me. Jeans and a top would be fine. I didn’t even look in my bag at what I had bought from the boutique store. I scrolled through my phone and found a look I liked and manifested it. It was a perfect manifestation, down to the cute classic checkerboard Vans on my feet. I pulled my hair back in a messy ponytail and touched up my make-up in less than five minutes. Then I sat down and waited another four so Drake wouldn’t find my quick make-over strange.
I bounded down the stairs right on time and smirked when he watched me with a grimace. Back to the old Drake. That one I could handle. The smoldering, passionate, messy Drake was too much for me.
“Let’s go do some PI’ing,” I grinned, almost giddy with the thought of maybe finding out what happened to Pete. I needed this mystery solved, even if it meant finding out truths I didn’t feel comfortable with.
“Let me do all the talking.” Drake�
�s grimace deepened.
“You don’t exactly invoke confidence. Who’s gonna tell you all their secrets?”
“You would be surprised,” he shot back. “And I don’t want their secrets. I want them to tell me where Pete is.”
“Fair enough, but let me do something,” I pouted.
“Pay attention,” was his holier-than-though response.
18
Southern Addiction
If I could conjure up a stereotypical southern diner, it would be Jen’s. It had everything a southern foodery should have, everything from the checkered table clothes to the pies in glass cake displays on the counter, even a group of townies that didn’t let table boundaries stop their conversation as they discussed town gossip back and forth.
Or so I assumed since all conversation ceased when we walked through the door. Drake acted like nothing happened as he waited at the “Wait to Be Seated” sign like everyone wasn’t staring at him.
A waitress hurried over. I smiled as I noted her cute waitress dress that even had a cute apron on it. Charming.
“Hey y’all,” she said and she eyed us as if we were tonight’s dinner special. Or was she eyeing Drake and not me?
“Hey,” I said.
“Table for two, please,” Drake said.
“Y’all the couple renting the Milton Mansion?” The house was big, but if that was a mansion, the houses must be small in this area.
“For the weekend.” Drake tried to smile, but it came out all crooked and forced. If he was going to invoke trust that wasn’t the way to do it.
“What're y'all here to see?” she asked as she led us to a booth in the front of the restaurant. The conversation had not resumed as everyone kept silent to hear what we had to say.
“We’re here on business, actually,” Drake said.
“Oh?” Now the waitress was intrigued.
“Personal business, actually,” I clarified as we sat.
“Now I’m all ears, darlins, but lemme tell ya the specials first. We’s got the best damn pork chop in fifty miles and that’s served with…” She went on and on telling us the specials. Drake chose the Salisbury steak, and I went for the mac and cheese. No side dish, take it as a meal. She didn’t even blink. Drake did.
“Now tell me about this personal business,” she said when she came back and set our drinks down on the table. The conversations in the restaurant had resumed and looking around I noticed people were still paying attention, but we weren’t the hot topic anymore.
“We’re looking for a friend,” Drake said. “He went missing about a year ago and the police traced his last cell phone activity to this town.”
“Oh man.” The waitress took a picture Drake had pulled from his pocket and studied it. “No, I don’t recognize him. And I would remember him if he came in here, or I ran into him on the street. We don’t get many out-of-towners.” She winked at Drake as if this was a compliment.
“Do you know if someone would notice if a cell phone was ditched along the road, or maybe his vehicle?”
“Oh darlin', that would be something to ask the sheriff. He’s right over there.” She pointed to a lanky older gentleman who was observing their conversation. He was eating an enormous slice of pie. When he saw our eyes were on him, he nodded and set his fork down.
“Something needin’, Gina?” he asked, already getting to his feet.
“Might want to chat up these fine people,” she said and walked away from our table. The sheriff grabbed his pie and fork and came over to our booth. He grabbed a chair and placed it at the end of the table.
“Sheriff Daryl Booth.” He held out his hand to Drake who made introductions. Drake didn’t mention he was an investigator, but the sheriff looked like he knew. Drake had that look.
“You looking for a friend? I pay attention when I see new people in my town,” the sheriff said as if it was perfectly fine to eavesdrop.
“Yes. His name’s Peter. He went missing a year ago, and his cell phone last pinged off your tower in the center of town,” I said in a rush and Drake frowned at me.
“It was exactly a year ago?” Sheriff Booth asked.
“Last April,” Drake answered.
“If it was the weekend of the twelfth that was a big weekend for the town. It’s our spring parade. We get a few out-of-towners who drive down to see it.”
“It was the twelfth,” Drake frowned.
“The motel was all booked up. Might wanna go down there and show the picture to Fred who works the desk. He owns and operates. Are you staying there?”
“No sir, we did the short term rental property on Main.”
“That’ll be Rosa’s place. She don’t get much takers on that one, but she can’t sell the property because her daddy put that in his will and she don’t want to live in this town. She moved to the city.”
Drake pushed the headshot of Pete under the Sheriff's nose. I glanced down at it and recognized the photo. It was a cropped shot we took together before we had started dating.
“Ring a bell?”
The sheriff glanced at the photo and shook his head. “If I seen him, I would recognize him. I got a thing for faces. I never saw this man.”
“What about abandoned cars, or a lost cell phone. Where would that be?” Drake asked.
“Not many, but that would be down at the station. We have an impound lot. Maybe four or five cars in it.”
“Got a GT in there?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” The Sheriff looked at him with renewed interest. “I’m off duty right now, but why don’t you come down to the station tomorrow morning. I’ll let you in that car. But we found it about nine months ago, right about the time…” he trailed off and looked at us with pity in his eyes. My stomach suddenly couldn’t fit any more mac and cheese. I knew that look.
“Right about the time, what?” Drake asked, even though I could tell he knew what Sheriff Booth was going to say.
“About a week after that car showed up, Jamie Lee, she does marathons, fit girl, well, she found a floater. John Doe. Never identified him. Too decomposed to identify by facial recognition.”
“Any identifying marks?” Drake asked.
“A tattoo.”
“A compass?” I blurted.
The Sheriff didn’t say anything. He looked to Drake and nodded. I felt my chest constrict in pain and I took a big breath to push away the intensity of the emotions. Deep down I knew this was the truth because the other option was Pete being my killer. Either way it was horrendous. At least this way…at least this way I was some cheating slut who her boyfriend killed. But that still left Pete dead. How selfish was I?
“Our ME put his time in the water a couple months, maybe more. He actually wasn’t in that bad of shape. They call ‘em bog bodies. Pulled up a few hundred-year-old mummified corpses about twenty years ago. Runaway slaves they think. Damn shame. Couldn’t narrow down an exact time of death though. All guesstimates. Sent his prints to the Feds ‘bout couple months ago, haven’t heard back. But if you can identify him. That’s enough for the family.”
“How’d he die?” I had to ask.
“Blunt force trauma to the head.”
“Same as Cassandra,” Drake said, more to himself than to us. He looked lost in thought.
“Who’s this?” Sheriff Booth asked.
“It’s another homicide connected to this case. Pete is actually the main suspect in the case.”
“Looks like he’s got an alibi,” the sheriff joked and then looked at us in apology.
“It does,” Drake agreed. He placed his business card on the table and pushed it over to the sheriff. “This is my card. I’ll be in tomorrow morning, but if you need to get in touch with me.”
“Will do.” The Sheriff stood, leaving his empty pie plate on our table. “Y’all enjoy the rest of your meal.”
I could only sit there in silence while Drake finished his meal. I couldn’t touch mine. I pushed the noodles around the plate. I had been excited to eat them
at first, especially now that my taste buds were returning, but now it tasted like sawdust in my mouth. I craved that high of dishing out bad karma, that would make everything better, would push away these dark feelings. I looked around the room, but everyone’s auras pulsed healthy with relatively positive energy. A few had dark spots, but it mostly revolved around vices. Gambling habits, overeaters, an older lady addicted to pain meds.
When Drake was done eating, he stood and went to the counter to pay. My eyes kept being drawn to the haggard looking woman who did nothing more than overtake her prescriptions until it was too late. I wondered if I could do something. If we could help each other. I was focused on the dark spots that marred her beautiful orange aura. I concentrated on trying to draw the energy to me and it complied. It filled me, leaving her. As I absorbed her negative energy she appeared more alive, her back straightened, the shake in her hands subsided, and she seemed more aware of her environment. I, on the other hand, felt great. I still felt Pete’s death, but what I had just done was amazing. I didn’t know I could do that, that I could absorb someone else’s negative energy. It had been no fault of her own, she had become addicted by a heavy-handed doctor who had over-prescribed her pain medicine, then took them away when he thought she was healed. How could you punish someone for that? When she was destroying her own life, very slowly. Vices were a darkness, no matter the cause. And now that darkness was a part of me.
“What did you do?” He glanced around the room looking for what? Fallout. The usual chaos that follows me around. He must have finally put two and two together. But there was no chaos here, only healing. And for once I felt good about what I could do.
“I helped her,” I whispered. My teeth were chattering for some reason. My hands were shaking. I needed something. I needed something desperately.
“You smell like a junkie,” he said under his breath, leading me out of the restaurant.
