It's a Ghost's Life Page 8

  “I absolutely get what you’re saying. It’s the same with Paul Newman. You could leave me alone with that man’s corpse, and I’m not sure I could be trusted.”

  Alyssa cackled in amusement while Stanley grinned that she’d found him funny.

  “The minute I saw your dark hair I knew you were as wicked as me. I love it,” Stanley said.

  I was just sipping my First Class and feeling horrified. I got it wasn’t literal, but ew.

  Then again, no one called me Funny Girl.

  “Gross,” I said, and they both just laughed harder.

  “So what have we established here?” Stanley said, after taking his drink from the bartender with a wink. “Besides the fact that Alyssa and I don’t give a shit about being PC and Bailey either dreamed her dead ex out of sheer trauma or she did, in fact, see his attractive, but not secret sauce, ghost.”

  I felt like I was on a date with my boyfriend and the girl who within a week was going to replace me. They were just feeling each other and it was annoying. No one wants to introduce two people she likes to each other and then feel like they both like each other more than they like you. I was Jennifer Aniston with Brad Pitt and Alyssa was Angelina Jolie.

  I popped a piece of cheese in my mouth, very sorry I had even so much as mentioned ghosts to Alyssa. Or invited Stanley along on our girl time.

  “We should leave her alone,” Alyssa said, as if I were a super-sensitive child they were teasing. “She’s had a rough weekend.”

  “I don’t need a nap,” I said. “I need you to believe that I am not delusional or still in love with Ryan.”

  “Still? That’s very telling,” Stanley said. “Tell me more.”

  I was frustrated and I took a deep breath. “No. That’s not want I meant. Just forget I said anything. Let’s talk about something else entirely, like, Stanley, why were you in Cleveland to begin with? I don’t think you ever said.”

  “I think you need another drink, Bailey,” Alyssa said, sounding sympathetic. “You sound tense.”

  Oh, now she was worried about my feelings? I love Alyssa, but she loves an audience. She was playing to the audience, i.e., Stanley.

  I felt beyond irritated.

  “I’m here on business,” Stanley said, in the world’s most generic answer. “Pop in, pop out.”

  “That’s what he said,” Alyssa said.

  “I knew you were going to say that. I just knew it.”

  “Hey, you handed me that. You wanted the cheese, admit it.”

  “Guilty. Who doesn’t love an overplayed sexual innuendo?”

  I shifted back so they could fawn over each other with a more direct sightline.

  “Excuse me,” I said, pushing my stool back.

  It was tempting to just grab my coat and walk out the door but this wasn’t a bad date. It was my best friend and Vera’s stepson. But I wasn’t going to settle in and spend the next four hours with them either.

  The restroom was thankfully empty so I could splash water on my face, heated from emotion.

  I half expected a ghost to appear next to me. It seemed like the perfect moment to irritate me further, but no one floated in beside me.

  Determined to not be a rag, I took a deep breath, attempted to tame my wild curls, and touched up my lipstick.

  Then I went back with a smile.

  “What the hell?” Stanley was saying. “My cuff link is missing. Did I drop it in my martini?” He peered down into his mostly empty glass.

  “What does it look like?” Alyssa asked.

  That seemed a pointless question since a cuff link was a cuff link but Alyssa sounded a little tipsy.

  “It looks like a cuff link,” he said.

  I glanced down at the floor but there didn’t seem to be anything small and shiny flashing up at me. “I don’t see it anywhere.”

  “Oh, well, it wasn’t my favorite set anyway. For all I know I swallowed it.”

  “I guess you’ll know tomorrow,” Alyssa said.

  Stanley frowned. “That’s rather crass.”

  She frowned. “Oh, really?”

  Uh-oh. Their instant attraction might be wearing thin. There can’t be two centers-of-attention.

  I’m ashamed to say that made me feel a hell of a lot better.

  Vera’s funeral was an odd assemblage of random people, from a group of Hassidic Jews to a trio of drag queens, wearing full-on stage makeup and costuming, despite it being ten in the morning. According to Eva, Vera had always said she didn’t want a religious funeral, so it was just held at the funeral home, with a reception at the country club afterward. The parade of people into the room was immense and fascinating. The only demographic that seemed to be missing was children.

  Not Vera’s thing, that was for sure. She had made it very clear she’d never regretted not having kids.

  My father was bringing Grandma Burke and Jake had managed to leave work long enough to meet me there.

  “This is quite the crowd,” he said, looking around at Team Vera. “There are a lot of men here.”

  “Vera liked men.”

  One man in his forties was weeping openly. I wondered if he was a relative until I heard his female companion call him Colin. Oh, geez. This was dick pic Colin. My cheeks bloomed with heat.

  Don’t picture it. Don’t picture it.

  I pictured it.

  Oh my God, I was picturing that at a funeral. At least we weren’t in church. That would ensure my seat on the bus to hell.

  A woman came over to us. “Are you Bailey?” she asked. “I’m Eva.”

  “Oh yes, it’s nice to meet you.” I eyed the niece, trying not to be too obvious in my assessment.

  She didn’t look like Vera. She wasn’t as striking, and she had a round face, which was surrounded by a halo of brittle bleached hair. It wasn’t blond. It was the caramel color that happens when brunettes with very dark hair try to go blonde and can’t get all the black to leech out before the stylist drops the blond on.

  “What a ridiculous display of drama,” Eva said, rolling her eyes as Colin walked past her crying. “And how utterly trashy of a man who was blatantly taking advantage of an old woman for money. Disgusting.”

  I wasn’t sure that anyone had ever taken advantage of Vera in her entire life but I wasn’t going to argue with Eva about it. “Vera was a sugar mama?”

  “Of course. What fifty-year-old man wants an old bag otherwise? My brother said she bought him a car. It’s just so tacky that he’s even here.”

  Interesting. Note to self: investigate Colin as more than just a lover. Is he a gold digger?

  “Is this your husband?” Eva asked, eyeing Jake in a way that suggested she didn’t quite understand the meaning of the word “tacky.”

  “My boyfriend. This is Jake.”

  Yep. She was full-on leering. “You’re a lucky girl.”

  I shifted closer to him and looped my arm around his elbow, suddenly afraid she might try to hug him. “I know.”

  “Oh, there’s Pam,” Eva said. “Unbelievable. I can’t believe she would have the nerve to show up here.”

  Apparently, a lot of people had a lot of nerve today.

  She moved away, probably to confront Pam. On the way, she handed a tissue to Colin and snapped, “Pull yourself together.”

  “She’s something,” Jake said. “Though I’m not sure what.”

  “Amen to that. I wonder where her brother is,” I murmured. If he was anything like Eva, I wanted to avoid him.

  Without warning, there was the sound of voices raised in anger coming from the lobby.

  “Get out of my face!” we heard quite distinctly.

  Every head in the room turned to see what the ruckus was about.

  It was Pam, the housekeeper, backing up and waving her hand in Eva’s face.

  “Oh, dang,” I murmured. “This can’t be good.”

  “Should I go break it up?” Jake asked. “Deescalate the situation?”

  “I’m not sure that’s possibl
e, but maybe we should try to do something.”

  Now Eva had lunged at Pam and was grappling at her wrist. “Give me that, you thief.”

  “Get off of me, bitch!” Pam yelled right back.

  There were gasps in the room and I jumped up, following Jake, who was already moving down the aisle to the lobby.

  “What is going on here?” Jake asked. “Why don’t we step outside and talk this out.”

  He tried to herd them toward the door but they were having none of it. They totally ignored him.

  “I have every right to be here,” Pam said. “Vera was good to me and I was good to her. I considered her my friend, not just my employer, you crazy hag.”

  Eva made a sound in the back of her throat that was more angry cat than grieving woman. I didn’t think I would want to go up against her, to be totally honest. “Oh, please,” she said. “You were stealing both pills and money from her. And now you’ve stolen her bracelet.” She gestured to Pam’s wrist.

  “She gave this to me months ago.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed that.

  Jake was blocking them from the view of the main room but he interjected here again. “Ladies, this isn’t the time or the place. Come on, opposite sides of the room.” He touched Pam’s elbow and steered her to the left.

  She went easily enough, sniffing a little. But Eva shocked the hell out of me by making a dive at Pam’s wrist. She ended up getting a grip on her coat sleeve and yanking Pam backwards.

  Pam was either a female wrestler in a prior life or no stranger to girl-on-girl crime because after she recovered from her stumble, she turned and went for Eva. She had her down on the ground before Jake hauled her off of the screaming Eva.

  I had no idea what to do other than to stand there in horror. I did offer to help Eva off the floor but she waved me off and hauled herself to her feet, wincing. Then she tried to rush Pam again.

  In theory, I could step in front of her to prevent further confrontation. In reality, I was scared to be squished in a Pam and Eva sandwich. So I just let Jake turn Pam and block Eva with his body. I mean, he’s a cop and I’m a home stager so let’s just stay in our lanes.

  Besides, by this point people were rushing over to help. One of the drag queens stepped in front of Eva and said, “Honey, just calm your tits.”

  My sentiments exactly.

  Eva drew up short, which was understandable. The guy was well over six feet tall and had a flawless complexion and smoky eyes that were to die for. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was wearing Louboutins with a six-inch heel that had him a towering mass of faux fur and leather leggings. I felt like I had as a little girl seeing Cher perform on TV—in awe of this man’s sheer coolness and confidence and no cares to give about anyone’s opinion.

  Everyone seemed to settle down and both women were being talked down off their crazy ledge.

  I realized when I turned slightly Vera was standing next to me.

  “Now that was awesome,” she said, giving me a grin. “Who else gets to witness a fist fight at their funeral?”

  “As long as you’re happy,” I said quietly, figuring in all the melee no one would notice I was talking to myself.

  “Very. This is a good turnout. Oh, and for the record, Pam did steal that bracelet. I haven’t seen it in months. Eva may be a bitch, but this time she’s right.”

  Interesting. So Pam was a thief and a liar. Was she a killer too?

  “Poor Colin,” Vera said, glancing around the room. “Those tears are genuine, I believe. He was very enamored of me.”

  Then she actually wandered away from me, which had me shaking my head. I was pretty sure she couldn’t actually be present there if I wasn’t there, and yet she was blowing me off?

  Not that I cared though. It’s hard to have a conversation with a dead person no one else can see.

  It was her funeral. I guess she wanted to mingle, check out the mourners.

  Eva and Pam had been ushered to opposite sides of the room and were sitting down.

  Jake shook his head at me like he couldn’t believe what the hell he’d just seen and reached out for my hand so we could go resume our seats.

  I spotted Grandma Burke shuffling in at the last minute, looking annoyed. My father wasn’t known for being punctual. My father also looked like he might have had a pre-funeral cocktail.

  Fabulous.

  I spaced out when the funeral director, or whoever he was, was speaking but once mourners came forward to give speeches about Vera, I paid closer attention.

  Making notes in my phone of the names of people who seemed over-the-top, which was nearly everyone, I didn’t even notice Jake was watching me.

  He leaned over and put his lips close to my ear. “What are you doing?”

  “Making notes.” I showed him my screen.

  Colin- lover, seems to be taking it too hard (acting?)

  Pam- thief

  Eva- greedy

  Steven- MIA (where is the nephew??)

  John- her next-door neighbor, could have locked her out

  Jake’s eyebrows rose but he didn’t say anything else. I realized if he had noticed maybe someone else had too and thought I was casually surfing Twitter during a funeral. We were almost in the front of the room. Everyone who chose to speak had to walk past me to get to the podium. I slipped my phone in my pocket and prepared to make mental notes.

  After the ceremony, I did discretely (though probably totally noticeable to anyone, let’s be honest) checked the cards on all the floral arrangements that had been sent. Lots of names I didn’t recognize. But there was one from a Richard Robertson, who I had to assume was Stanley’s father, given the card said “All my love always.”

  Stanley had said he was very ill, so he clearly couldn’t travel for the funeral, but had still wanted to offer his sympathy. I thought that was really sweet. That years and years later, after their relationship had ended he still cared about her. Now that was a talent—inspiring life-long devotion.

  There were flowers from Colin and flowers from the rabbi and his wife. Other than that, I didn’t really know the majority of the mourners’ names.

  The whole experiment was a bit of a letdown.

  It wasn’t until Jake and I were driving home that I reached into my pocket for my phone.

  It wasn’t there.

  “Jake, where’s my phone?” I asked, frantically plumbing the depths of both of my pockets.

  “I don’t know. You put it in your pocket.”

  “Turn around!” I felt all around the seat of the car, the floor, even checked my purse though I was certain I’d put the phone in my pocket. “It must have fallen out at the funeral home.”

  “Let me call it first.” Jake was already turning around though. He knew me well enough to know I don’t misplace things. “Call Bailey,” he said to his phone.

  No ringing.

  Also, I wasn’t sure I was glad or disappointed I wasn’t in his phone by a cutsie nickname.

  At the funeral room, the director let us look around but we didn’t find my phone. There were only a few stragglers left and they were heading toward the door.

  “This sucks,” I said to Jake. “I don’t see how it could have fallen out.”

  I had a sneaking suspicion that someone had stolen it. Like Pam, who had hugged me.

  Did she see me making notes? Did she think I was on to her or was she truly just a common thief? Thank goodness my phone was password protected.

  “Use the app on your computer at home to find its location. It’s probably here, just kicked under a chair. The cleaning crew might find it.”

  “Of course,” I said, though I didn’t believe it at all.

  I was starting to become a conspiracy theorist. This is what seeing ghosts had done to me.

  Seven

  “I got you a present,” Alyssa said three days later as she blew in to the coffee shop and dropped a brown bag on the table in front of me.

  “Is this in sympathy for the fact that my parents
are nuts?”

  My mother had come home from the hospital the day before only to immediately hire movers and start packing. She wanted me to go with her on Saturday to see some condos she was interested in buying.

  My father, not to be outdone, had gone on a three-day bender at home that had resulted in a DUI when he tried to leave the house for more booze, only to take out the neighbor’s mailbox, who called the cops. He had then booked himself a trip to Florida for the following week to play golf. With Judy.

  “No, you get no sympathy from me on parents having midlife meltdowns. My mother bought a farm and went off the grid when she caught my dad cheating, remember? Your mom is just buying a lakefront condo. You’ll have access to the marina restaurant and the private beach if she chooses wisely. All I got was a chance to pet goats, who are way cuter on YouTube than in person.”

  I sipped my coffee and reflected on that. “Fair enough.”

  “Three days later and I’m still in awe of that shitshow that was Vera’s funeral. Who attacks someone over a bracelet? That was straight out of reality TV. Real Housewives style.”

  I still wasn’t over losing (aka someone stole it, I freaking know it) my phone. “Vera would have loved it.”

  “True.” She shook her head. “That’s the way I want to go out. A million years old in Saint Laurent, with people being ridiculously overdramatic at my funeral.”

  Sipping my coffee, I eyed Alyssa’s outfit of the day. According to my friend, it was never too early for oxblood-colored lipstick. She had on double eyelash extensions and had her hair in a very high ponytail with curls and prominent bangs. Her sweater was bright green and a second skin. I was pretty sure she was going to make an impression anywhere she went.

  “I think if you stay the course, you can have your wish.” I fingered the bag she had set down. “Can I open this?”

  “Of course.”

  Inside was a book on learning how to become a medium. I raised my eyebrows at her. “Does this mean you believe me?”

  “Like I said, I don’t believe or disbelieve. But if you’re going to have ghosts hanging around you, it can’t be all amateur hour up in here. Learn your trade. Figure out how to control it. Otherwise it has the potential to wreck your life.”