by Gina Ardito
She tossed her arms in the air, surrendering to her own irritation. “Well, then you come up with something for us to do.”
He leaned forward, sultry desire emanating from his eyes. “You really don’t want to give me that much power, babe.”
Although she sucked in a breath, she found the audacity to mirror his expression. Bringing her face a kiss away from his, she cooed, “Anything beats sitting here staring at each other and twiddling our thumbs.”
“I could take offense to that comparison, but instead I’ll let you make it up to me.” He lunged for her.
With a squeal, she backed away, grabbed the clipboard and held it between them like a shield. “Back off, pal. Keep your libido in check.”
Amusement burst from his lips. “You opened the door. I just walked through.”
“Yeah, well, if I’d known the Big Bad Wolf was knocking, I would’ve called the cops instead of letting you in.”
“The joke’s on you. There are no cops here.”
Above the rim of the board, she narrowed her eyes. “There’s one.”
He smiled. “Ah, yes. Detective Sean Martino, formerly of the NYPD and now your knight in shining armor.”
The clipboard fell to the counter with a clatter, and Jodie’s shocked face came into view. “My what? Sean?” She mimed a spit-take. “Boy, are you off-base!”
“Oh?” He arched a brow while suspicions filtered into his head. The way they simpered around each other could put onlookers into insulin shock.
“Yes, oh,” she retorted. “Don’t get me wrong. I like Sean; he’s a nice enough guy. But there’s absolutely nothing between us except friendship.”
Relief fluttered through Luc’s spine, but the idea that he cared made his temper simmer beneath the surface.
“What’s his story anyway?” Jodie asked, drawing Luc’s attention from his own turmoil. “How’d Sean wind up here?”
Luc shrugged. “If you want to know about Sean, ask Sean.”
“Why? Don’t you know how he came to be here?”
“Yeah, I do. But it’s not my story to tell. We all have crap we left behind. Some of us simply refuse to allow it to affect our work here.”
Her cheeks bloomed to forest fire red, and she dropped her gaze to the cold, dark clipboard. “I’m sorry about what happened with Gabe. I panicked and I flew to the first person I thought would understand.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I won’t let it happen again.”
He’d like to believe her. Really, he would. But, honestly, with her track record, she’d have a better shot at winning the Triple Crown. With two broken legs and a blind jockey on her back. Still, he forced himself to consider their new beginning and his pact to maintain a civil relationship with her. “I thought we were beyond that stage. Forget it, Jodie. It’s done. Finito.”
Her head snapped up, relief evident in the tears shimmering in her deep blue eyes. Folding her arms over her chest, she zoned sharp focus on him. “Okay, then, tell me your story instead.”
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!
Saved by the Board.
Jodie’s eyes grew wide as her gaze flew from the dancing, noisy clipboard to Luc’s face and back again. “Does that mean what I think it means? Purgatory’s over?”
“Only one way to find out, babe. Slap that board.”
Chapter 22
Excitement pulsed through Jodie as she complied with Luc’s demand and slapped a palm on the purple figures. At last. After endless downtime spent fighting her urges to jump Luc’s bones, or electrons as it were, at last they had a bounty to chase.
Thank God. Any more time alone with Luc and her willpower would have disintegrated under his ample charms. Who knew? When he didn’t growl and insult her soft-heartedness, Luc had the capacity to captivate her.
Shaking away the desire burgeoning in her core, she concentrated on the directives coming from the Board.
“…Despite a life-long struggle with alcohol and drug addiction, Tim Regan maintained a strong and loving relationship with Kenny Crandall for many years. After a heated argument one night, Tim stormed from their house and headed for the nearest bar. For the next several days, Tim lost himself in a haze of drugs and meaningless sex. Although the couple reconciled, they did not have a happily ever after ending. Within six months, Tim was diagnosed as HIV positive. Throughout his illness, Kenny remained by Tim’s side, his constant companion and caretaker.
“After his death, Tim remained earthbound because he could not forgive himself for the transgressions that not only ended his life, but might have threatened his lover’s as well. The Board has determined that Tim will require in-depth reprocessing before he can move forward. You’ll find him at the coordinates of nineteen west and sixty-four south…”
With all the information absorbed, Jodie jerked her head at Luc. “You ready?”
He pushed away from the counter and ran his hands over his silly “Angle of Death” t-shirt. “You bet. Let’s head out and rope ‘em, cowgirl.” His edges immediately broke into particles and filtered away.
While Luc beat her to the transformation phase, she landed first at their location, a church altar. Jodie scanned the stained glass windows, the giant crucifix, and the sacristy, doubt clouding her mind. She’d expected an apartment or a house, not a place of worship. Had she somehow misinterpreted the coordinates?
“Are you angels?”
The question came from the darkened apse, and Jodie shielded her eyes from the lights overhead to block the glare as she stared in that direction. “I’m sorry?”
A slender male figure floated forward, his face drawn with anguish, eyes wet with tears. “I said, are you angels? I’ve been asking God to send me a sign. I thought you two might be it.”
“We are in a way,” Luc replied from behind her.
Luc! she chastised him silently. You can’t tell him that.
Why not?
Because it’s not true.
Sure it’s true. Not the God part, but we were sent for a reason.
Jodie sighed. The God part is why you can’t let him think we’re angels. You shouldn’t mess with someone’s religious beliefs.
Oh, for Chrissake!
He’s been through enough pain in life, she added. Don’t compound his agony by uncertainty in the hereafter.
All right, he said grudgingly. Aloud, he told the spirit, “We’re here to escort you to the Afterlife.”
The worry lines in Tim Regan’s face eased. “Then I’m forgiven? I won’t spend eternity in hell?”
Jodie smiled. “No, Tim. That much I can promise. You won’t spend eternity in hell.”
Tim sighed and stopped inches from where she hovered. “I screwed up my life so badly. Drugs, alcohol, sex. Kenny was my saving grace. And even for him, I couldn’t stop.”
Hoo-boy, could she relate! Not so much with the drugs, alcohol, and sex part. But she knew all about screwing up her life, despite the presence of her saving grace. If she could live her life over again, she’d do it differently. She supposed Tim Regan felt the same way.
“Kenny forgave me, you know,” the ghost whispered. “I just couldn’t forgive myself.”
Jodie’s heart wept for this poor man’s misery. When she placed a companionable arm around the broken spirit, Luc’s snort tickled her ears. Ignoring her trainer’s mockery, she crooned, “Come on, Tim. It’s time to go home.”
Sniffling, Tim nodded. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For offering me hope. I’ve had so little hope since I betrayed Kenny. It’s nice to know that I can be forgiven, no matter how foolishly I lived my life.”
~~~~
Jodie woke slowly. Stretching between the scratchy sheets, she recalled a rainy Sunday on Earth. Snuggled against Gabe, she’d smiled, traced a lazy finger down to his waist and across his hip, felt him stiffen beneath her touch…
They’d spent the stormy day cocooned indoors, exploring each other, with only the occasional break for sustenance. Oh, how she’d
loved him! He’d brought so much happiness to her life. She sighed. Regardless of her love, in the end, she hadn’t deserved him.
Rather than depressing her, the realization eased tension from her neck and shoulders, as if she’d discarded a fat albatross she’d carried forever. An albatross the size of a piano. Peace flowed through her veins, flooding her with a sense of calm purpose. Tilting up her head, she made one final wish to whatever celestial being ruled over this place. Although, she hoped she didn’t speak to a giant panda…
Let Gabe be happy in his new life. That’s all I ask.
With those words, she released her hold on his heart, and his hold on hers. Gabe had his future to live. And now, she would make her own fresh start.
Flexing on her toes, she raised her arms above her head and began some basic yoga exercises. From mountain pose to tree pose to gate pose, she moved with grace and ease. No cracks in her joints, no struggle to wake her muscles into fluid motion. Yes, this new program was good. Her new knowledge felt right.
Remarkably, the forced hiatus had done wonders for her rebooting. The pain had eased, the bruises on her arms had faded, and her energy had rejuvenated ten-fold. In fact, she felt stronger than she ever did in life. With her newfound goals tingling like shooting stars inside her, she looked forward to facing the toughest bounty the Board could throw her way.
Bring it on, baby! I am soooo ready.
As if hearing her thoughts, the clipboard glowed purple and vibrated, dancing across her counter. With a squeal of delight, she sped forward, and slapped her hand on the humming communication device.
“Punk rock icon, Tito Alexander,” the Voice announced, “lived life hard and fast. On his thirtieth birthday, he and his longtime girlfriend, Sari Snell, celebrated with speedballs of heroin while partying at the Shiloh Hotel. But Tito miscalculated, and Sari died of an accidental overdose. Distraught, Tito hanged himself from the shower rod. Upon his arrival in the Afterlife, he was placed into the rehabilitation program as a bounty hunter.”
Rehabilitation program? The excitement dancing in Jodie’s veins slowed, and she frowned. Was that what the Board considered their service? Rehab? For what?
For screwing up in life, of course. Duh. Now back to work. You’ve got something to prove, remember?
“When three teens in Brooklyn summoned his spirit using a Ouija board,” the Voice went on, “Tito seized the opportunity to escape the Afterlife. He immediately fled to the Shiloh in search of Sari. Sadly, Sari had already been reprocessed and is currently halfway through another life. Rather than return to his position here, however, Tito remained at the Shiloh, along with the spirits of other musicians, movie stars, and literati who’ve passed through the doors of the legendary hotel.”
She’d heard of the Shiloh, a place where some of the greatest movers and shakers of the twentieth century had found inspiration, fun, relaxation, and sometimes death.
“Tito will not come willingly,” the Voice advised. “And since he served as a bounty hunter in the past, he will not be persuaded by standard means. Use your best judgment to bring him in peacefully so he can move forward to his next destination.”
The coordinates for the Shiloh Hotel followed. With all the details of the message absorbed, Jodie removed her hand and pirouetted around the cramped space between the counter and the door. Bring it on, baby!
Knock! Knock! Knock!
That would be Luc.
She opened the door and found him lounging against the wall, one long cool drink of water for a nomad who’d crawled across the desert. When her tastebuds began to salivate, she turned away before he might notice the heat rising in her cheeks.
“Are you ready for another chase?”
When he stepped inside, the light caught the rings under his eyes: dark, deep, nearly bottomless. Concern overrode her excitement at their new bounty. “Jeez, Luc, are you all right?”
She reached a tentative fingertip toward his face.
He flinched away. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I said I’m fine,” he said, this time with force.
Liar. Oh, sure. Except for the dark circles under his eyes, he looked and acted like the same grumpy bear she’d grown accustomed to working with. Same outfit. Same smartass t-shirt. Today’s held the simple statement, Death is a doorway. Here…let me hold that for you. Same black jeans, same black boots. And yet…
She couldn’t quite place her finger on what was different. His presence didn’t fill the room today. Not with that same command for attention he normally wore like the perfect suit.
No. In her mind, he appeared smaller, less significant. Dwarfed by something…or someone. Had she done this to him? Guilt pierced her conscience before common sense intruded. She sincerely doubted the diminished Luc leaning against her door jamb could be suffering because of anything she’d done recently. If she’d pissed him off, he’d let her know. Quickly and loudly.
“You don’t look fine,” she noted. “In fact, you look like you just went a dozen rounds with a prizefighter.”
“Who are you, my mother?”
“No, I’m your trainee.” Again, she reached to touch his face.
This time, he grabbed her wrist to stop her. “You’re my partner.”
His fathomless eyes pinned her in their depths. “What?”
“You’re no longer a trainee. You’re my partner now.” He shrugged, breaking whatever hypnosis had kept her immobile. “I asked Placide to make you my partner.”
No. She couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. Either that or he was suffering from some mental breakdown. She cocked her head and studied him from a new angle. Nope. Still Luc. Still with that frown marring his otherwise gorgeous face. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Never mind why.”
Okay, that growl sounded familiar. So maybe he was fine after all. Fine and grumpy. Well, she knew exactly how to handle the grumpy Luc. “No.” She folded her arms over her chest, and leveled a steady stare his way. “I need to know why you’d ask your Elder Counselor to change my status. And when you did it.”
He looked away, gaze scanning some invisible spot a few feet over her left shoulder. “After Sean brought you back. And I did it because I screwed up your training,” he muttered. “I didn’t want you penalized since I didn’t give you all the information you needed to be a full-fledged bounty hunter.”
Her insides melted to a puddle of goo. Who knew Luc Asante had a human side? Even if eating crow made him look like…well, like death warmed over. But something else struck her as odd. “Wait. Back up.” She held up a hand. “I’m confused. I wasn’t penalized because of my training. They yanked my solo status because I went O.R.A.L.”
“No, they didn’t. You never had solo status, babe.”
As if aboard a ship riding a roiling sea, her stomach pitched. “Of course I did. I went after Amanda Kroger, the Lighthouse Widow. Remember? The Fury? That was my test case.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He shook his head. “Your going alone that day was my fault. I was supposed to accompany you, but I was playing orb ball with Sean in the basement and didn’t hear the page.”
Words skittered from her lips in fits and starts. “But…I don’t…understand. You told them…I was ready to solo. I won our bet.”
“No, I didn’t. I meant to corner Sherman and tell him. But I never got the chance.”
Acid flowed into her tilted gut, burning her insides. She should have known. “You mean you never intended to keep your end of the bargain.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she turned away before he could start his usual you’re-too-soft diatribe. She didn’t need another voice calling her names. Not with the one already screaming inside her head, the one that called her an idiot for trusting him. “I should have known.” She threw up her hands. “What do I have to do to prove myself? How many bounties did you wrangle before they let you go off on your own?”
“Actually…” His tone softened to a regre
tful croon. “You’re the first trainee I know about. Most of us are provided with all the information we need to become bounty hunters while reviewing our past lives with our Elders. I think you and I were some kind of pilot program.”
Bitter laughter spilled from her lips. “Of course we are. Because I wasn’t good enough to learn the same way all you he-men learned, right? I’m too soft-hearted or stupid or whatever for on-the-job-training. I needed a babysitter.”
“No one said that, Jodie.”
She sighed. “They don’t have to say it. It’s obvious.”
With agitation crackling her synapses, she wrung her hands. Her gaze dropped to her furiously twisting fingers, round and round, round and round. And then she spotted her scars. Her very own badge of courage. Despite her hurt feelings, or maybe because of them, she stiffened her shoulders and remembered her resolve. The Board wanted to throw challenges at her?
Fine. Go for it. I’m tougher than I look.
With a sharp head snap, she faced him again, determination blazing in her aura like St. Elmo’s fire. “You know what? Forget it. Eventually you and the Board will have to admit you’re wrong about me. In the meantime, let’s go fetch our latest bounty.”
“It’s not what you think, Jodie--”
Again, she cut him off, this time with a quick finger slice across the throat. “No, it’s exactly what I think.”
Apparently, the Afterlife had its own glass ceiling, and she’d just collided smack-dab into it. Well, if the Board or the Elders assumed she’d surrender so easily, they’d soon learn they’d underestimated her.
With her new resolve pounding in her core, she spun into vapor and flew headlong to Earth.
Bring it on, guys. I’m ready.
Chapter 23
The air inside the Shiloh held the sickly-sweet odor of stale pot smoke. In the room where Jodie landed, at least a dozen old ghosts loitered. A turn-of-the-century playwright sat at a tiny writing desk in one corner, penning a masterpiece no one would ever read. A folk singer from the 1960’s—one of her mother’s favorites—strummed a guitar while seated cross-legged on the bed. Near the windows, a political activist, complete with unshaven cheeks, gray turtleneck and red scarf, practiced his speech regarding the rights of the Common Man to the enthusiastic applause of a dozen onlookers. Against the opposite wall, four specters sat around a table, playing poker.
