The Crossover

by E. Clay

  Mason Tylor would not take a back seat to some unknown con. He made a bold move.

  “Trust but verify, is what I always say,” he said as he hurdled over the table to shake me down.

  First he stuck his hands in my coat pocket, then my rear pocket. After no success, he went there. He stuck his hand in my front pocket in front of everyone.

  “I think I feel something,” he said.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  “Careful, if you keep doing that, I can’t be held responsible for whatever might come of it.”

  A few snickered and that infuriated him. His face was flushed red.

  “Aha! I found it, I found it. Right here,” he said as he held a playing card high in the air for all to see.

  The card he held had a fool in the center. It was the big joker, not one of the cards initially selected.

  He realized he had been played and threw the card at me.

  I carried on with my routine.

  “Marty, as a token of my appreciation may I validate your parking?”

  “Sure,” he said as he reached for his wallet.

  He opened his wallet and removed his ticket… with the King of Hearts paper-clipped to it.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time. Good night.”

  There was no applause, just a lot of confused guests trying to wrap their minds around what just happened. I did get a few smiles which made my night.

  My new and embarrassed friend was not impressed and had a few terse words for me.

  “Who the fuck are you and who sent you? Listen pal, this is my house, you got it? Now get lost before I have you thrown out,” he said with his finger in my face.

  “Mr. Tylor, it was an honor to finally meet you and as a token of my appreciation...”

  “Beat it!” he said as he walked away, giving me the middle finger.

  As soon as I sat down Monet returned.

  “I can’t believe the line back there, it’s like everyone had to go at once. You look so lonely by yourself, did you miss me?”

  As Monet and I walked toward the elevator we bumped into the blonde super model who accompanied Mason Tylor.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. This belongs to Mason Tylor. Could you return it to him?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Monet stopped suddenly with eyebrows raised. She had questions.

  “What did you just give her?”

  It was Mason Tylor’s Rolex.

  I gave Monet the condensed version of events.

  “You and your magic tricks. Let’s go home.”

  As soon as the elevator opened to the underground parking lot I spotted my black Impala a short distance away. Standing in front of the driver side door was the old lady who had been spying me the whole night. It made me nervous. Monet spotted her too.

  “Honey, there’s a beggar next to our car. Do you have a few dollars we could give her?” Monet said as we slowed our pace.

  “Let’s see what she wants first, maybe she needs a lift or something.”

  Monet was a soft touch and reached in her purse and grabbed a ten dollar bill. We got within a few feet of the woman and it was like a standoff.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, is there something you need?”

  Monet offered her the money.

  “I don’t want your money, but thank you for your kindness.”

  Monet placed the money back into her purse and grabbed my hand.

  “I saw your demonstration after the show.”

  “Oh, what did you think?” I asked feeling a little more relaxed.

  “It was a mockery,” the lady replied.

  She drew closer to us. Monet stepped behind me.

  The old woman had an energy that was almost electric. I could feel her aura. It was strong but I was not afraid.

  “You have the gift, yet you don’t believe.”

  She said it as if she felt sorry for me.

  “I don’t believe because it’s not real. I’m proof of that. I admit it, I’m a fake. But at least I didn’t rob those people of their hard-earned money.”

  The old woman noticed my watch on my right arm.

  “Your watch. May I see it?”

  “Ahh, sure.”

  She examined my watch and then closed her eyes. I looked at Monet, she shrugged her shoulders.

  The old woman opened her eyes and let go of my arm.

  “You are not the original owner of the watch. It has two previous owners before you.”

  I pulled my sleeve down over my watch and had a hard time looking directly at her. Her eyes were piercing right through me.

  She was right. But how?

  “The watch belonged to my dad, and his dad before that. How’d you know that?”

  “You see, when we come in contact with items, like jewelry we imprint on them, leaving a recording behind.”

  “Okay, where do you fit in all this?” I asked.

  She smiled at the both of us.

  “Me? I am the tape player.”

  The woman’s eyes cast on Monet.

  “Child, I see it in your eyes. You believe.”

  Monet looked away and held onto my hand. She did not confirm or deny.

  “Don’t look away, I mean you no harm.”

  Monet gazed into the old woman’s piercing brown eyes.

  The old woman studied Monet intently.

  “I see you are reacquainted with an old love. I also see your heart is guarded like a fortress.”

  Monet was reeled in by the woman’s uncanny accuracy.

  “Yes, we met over twenty years ago and now it looks like we’re back in each other’s lives,” Monet responded excitedly.

  “No, child. The love you share with him is an old love from another past, long before this life. Soulmates are destined to be together.”

  This woman, whoever she was, had almost a celestial presence about her. She was too wise for this world.

  “Okay. If this spirit stuff is real, explain one thing to me. Why is it that only a few spirits return?”

  “Spirits can be troubled and may not be ready to transition. Especially if their lives were cut short or if there was trauma in death.”

  Monet interjected.

  “I believe that.”

  I was captivated and very much intrigued by this wise old soul.

  “Well, if it’s true that spirits can return then...” I choked on my words.

  “Your father?” the old woman replied.

  “Yes. My father would have. I know he would’ve.”

  “How many times does a father peep outside the kitchen window to check on his child playing? How many times does a mother check on her sleeping baby? But the child is unaware. Your father has not abandoned you. You need to know that.”

  It was getting to deep for me. I needed to go.

  “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, but we have a long drive home. If you’ll excuse us.”

  The woman moved aside and continued to smile. I don’t think she blinked the entire time we talked.

  Monet and I buckled ourselves in and I started the car. There was a tap on the window; I lowered the window.

  “I didn’t catch your name, but we’re in a hurry.”

  “I’m Winnie. I have a message, from your father.”

  I was paralyzed from the waist up. A part of me wanted to burn rubber and get the hell away from her. But there was another part of me that said, “What if?”

  The woman stuck her head in and whispered in my ear. She took a couple of backward steps and waved goodbye. I watched her vanish amongst the stream of cars heading for the exit.

  Monet let out a big sigh.

  “Wow. What did she say Clay?”

  “Clay? Clay!” Monet yelled as she started to shake me.

  “Clay, come back to me, please.”

  I could hear Monet but it was like background noise, almost as if her voice was on mute. I was in a state of mild shock. I was unresponsive for almost a minute before I snapped out of it.
Monet was worried.

  “Sorry, babe. I’m okay,” I replied, with my head hanging down and tears streaming down onto my jacket.

  “Clay, what’s wrong? What did she tell you?”

  “She said... Hold up the light. That was the message from my father.”

  “So, did your father ever say that to you?”

  “No, he never said those exact words but it’s the kind of thing he would say to me. He always referred to the light, always. He said the light represented the truth and the way. He addressed the light in so many of his sermons. She couldn’t have known that. There’s no way.”

  Winnie was so close to converting me that night. I almost believed. But almost wasn’t good enough.

  EIGHT

  * * *

  Room Service

  5:30 The Next Morning

  Babe wake up, wake up,” Monet urged, nudging me in bed.

  “Waz wrong, sweetheart?” I asked as I unhitched myself from our intertwined bodies.

  “Clay, it’s time to get up for class.”

  I looked around in a daze, I was so out of it. I rubbed my eyes and looked at Monet. Then I looked under the cover. I quickly became coherent.

  “Monet, you’re naked.”

  “Of course, silly. You are too.”

  “Did we do anything last night?”

  Monet sat up and her beautiful naked body disarmed

  me.

  “No, we didn’t. After we left the convention you were in another world. I’ve never seen you like that before. You didn’t touch me. I think Winnie had an effect on you.”

  “Winnie? I thought I dreamt that. Damn.”

  “No, babe. She was as real as you and me. She was special, that’s for sure.”

  I flashed back to our encounter the night before. It was just creepy, no other way to describe it.

  “It’s coming back to me. Wow, she was straight out of the movie The Sixth Sense. I See Dead People.”

  “Oh, so you do believe in ghosts?” Monet asked.

  “I believe in spirits but not ghosts. Monet, Winnie called you out. She said you believe in that stuff.”

  “Honey, I’m from Detroit but I grew up in Evansville, Indiana.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of the Willard Library and the Grey Lady?”

  “Nope.”

  “The library is known worldwide as one of the most haunted places on Earth. It’s a huge tourist attraction and the library is fitted with ghost cams that stream a live feed 24/7. Everyone in town knows about her, it’s common knowledge.”

  “I bet she’s been wearing the same underwear all these years, that’s nasty.”

  “Clay, I’m not joking. YouTube it.”

  After a little convincing, I fired up the laptop and clicked on a YouTube link.

  “Okay, what am I looking at?” I asked Monet.

  Monet sat on my lap like it was nothing. It was something all right. I had to refocus.

  “Clay, this is police dash cam footage. They are responding to an alarm from the library. It’s 3:30am so no one should be inside.”

  “Okay, I see them flashing lights inside a window. Oh shit! What was that!” I shouted.

  Monet turned around and faced me.

  “Not what, but who. Most people think she is Louise Carpenter the daughter of the proprietor of the building who died before its completion in the late 1800s.”

  You could see a full-bodied apparition floating from room to room. She vanished in thin air and appeared in the window and stared at the police officers. That scared the shit out of me.

  The cops screamed like little girls before racing back to the car. They reported the sighting.

  My sexual urges took a backseat to one of the most frightening things I had ever seen. I closed the laptop.

  Monet stood and returned to bed. My eyes tracked her sultry movements and I followed her. I rolled the covers back and crawled on top of her.

  “Hey, just what do you think you’re doing?”

  I kissed her on the lips softly before responding.

  “Not what, but who?”

  “Clay, let’s talk. Remember Winnie said my heart was guarded?”

  “Yeah. That’s understandable considering the divorce. I get it.”

  “No, it’s not the divorce. It’s you.”

  “Me? You lost me, babe. What do you mean?”

  I could tell Monet was serious so I slid off of her and placed her head on my chest. I held her.

  “Clay, I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me?”

  “I can’t lie to you and why would I?”

  “Okay. Just one question? Who is April?”

  I paused. I wondered how she knew.

  “April is my ex-fiancée. We officially broke up before I left England but we haven’t been together for a while now.”

  Monet turned towards me and sat up.

  “Why did you break up?”

  “It’s a long story but the passion just died and after a while the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze anymore. I don’t blame her, I’m sure I was just as responsible. Guess it wasn’t meant to be. How do you know about April?”

  “She’s all over your Facebook page. Your status says, Engaged to be Married.”

  “Yeah, I need to update my page. She changed her status a while ago. I probably go on Facebook maybe once a week if that. Tell you what, watch this.”

  I got out of bed again. This time I opened up my laptop and logged on to Facebook. Within thirty seconds the world would know I was available. I rejoined Monet in bed.

  “Okay, it’s done.”

  “Clay, you mean all this time you weren’t engaged?”

  “When you asked me the first night, I told you I wasn’t in a relationship.”

  “But, I thought you were...”

  “Lying? Monet, I can’t lie to you. I love you.”

  “Do you know how hard it is to sleep with you and not violate you like old times?” she said.

  “Tell me about it. So what is our chance of redeeming ourselves over a misunderstanding?” I asked.

  Monet climbed on top of me and sat up running her fingers over my chest.

  “Our chances? Hmm, I would say about 70 percent.”

  Her hands across my chest and her naked body on top of mine was almost too much. I looked at the clock and I should have been on the road already. We both knew I would be playing hooky from work.

  “Why 70 percent?” I asked with glassy eyes.

  “You might change your mind,” she replied.

  “I’ve been waiting and waiting for this. What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” I asked.

  “What’s gotten into me? How about you ask me that in a couple of hours?”

  Monet scooted off the bed and closed the curtains and put the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside doorknob. As she returned to bed she reached for the remote and turned the flat screen TV on with the volume way up.

  Monet gave me the most passionate and softest kisses I’d had in 20 years.

  “Like you always tell your clients, ‘I’ll see you on the other side’.”

  After days and nights of deprivation I slipped into a familiar trance that meant only one thing. Our twenty year wait would be over and we would experience something unprecedented and reserved for the sex addicts we were.

  Fade to black.

  4:00pm

  “Timeout, I need a break, sweetheart,” I panted as I rolled off Monet onto my back, sweat pouring everywhere.

  “Yeah, me too. It’s hot in here. Turn on the AC, honey,” Monet replied.

  The AC was already on.

  “I feel like I’ve been rode hard and put away wet,” I commented.

  “You have,” Monet replied, winded.

  “Clay, it’s 4 o’clock! You’d better make a call,” Monet said as she got up from the bed and stared at the clock.

  On the way to the bathroom Monet passed a
mirror and she stopped suddenly.

  “Clay, what did you do to me? Look at me. I have love bites all over me. Is that a handprint on my right cheek?”

  I got up from bed and stood behind her. I placed my hand directly over the print on her cheek. It was a perfect match.

  “Yup. Guilty as charged,” I said as I placed my arms around her waist.

  “Clay, you do know I have two cheeks. Feel free to spread the love, babe. Just sayin’.”

  I loved it when she caressed my face with her back to me. I admired our nakedness in the mirror. I took a mental snapshot.

  “Monet, I can’t believe you let me go on and on and on.”

  Monet turned around and faced me.

  “Clay, you didn’t come 6,000 miles for me to say no. Anyway, I wanted you just as much.”

  “I still owe you a dance. I haven’t forgotten,” I said.

  “Baby, as much as I would love to dance with you tonight, I don’t have any strength to do anything tonight. It’s a shame we only have two more nights together. Hopefully, I can get my dance before you go back to England.”

  I made my call and was glad to find out it was a library day. One of my Marine buddies in class covered for me.

  Monet and I got dressed and we had breakfast for dinner at Cracker Barrel. I had steak and eggs and she had French toast with grits and bacon. We both downed at least three glasses of water before we ordered our food. While we waited for our meals, I looked at all the couples in the restaurant. I truly felt no one was as happy as we. No one.

  NINE

  * * *

  The Dance

  Twenty years is a lot to make up for in two nights, but we tried. I couldn’t leave her alone and she proved just as insatiable. However, all the extended lovemaking would eventually take a toll.

  “Clay, whenever we make love it’s a one way ticket to the ends of the earth, first class. Well, I just got the bill and I’m paying for it right now,” Monet commented, lying next to me in bed in obvious discomfort.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be gentler next time.”

  “Next time? Clay, if you so much as breathe on her I will strangle you in a leg lock,” Monet replied wincing.

  She was half-kidding. But half-kidding means half-serious.