Lust, Loathing And A Little Lip Gloss. Kyra Davis
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for some kind of response. I didn’t know who Andrea was. I had thought that we were going to try to call Oscar back, but the surprise didn’t bother me. She could have tried to call Elvis back for all the good it was going to do us.
Of course, Andrea didn’t make an appearance, so Venus repeated her request again and again. Eventually she rephrased the question, asking the spirit to rap once if she was among us. She was answered with silence. The wax from the candles dripped down in little molded teardrops, reminding all of us of the painfully slow movement of time. Kane’s mouth turned down with frustration. His eyes met mine and I realized that without speaking he was talking to me, trying to convey some kind of message that I could not decipher. An inexplicable chill ran up my spine and I felt an ache in my chest, dull and fleeting as it was. And then there was warmth, comfort and for a second I felt the peace that Venus had tried to get me to visualize.
“Say goodbye.”
My breath caught and I looked to Maria and then to Zach to see which of them had just spoken. But both of them were looking at the candles, distracted and oblivious to my change in mood.
“This isn’t working,” Venus said with a sigh. “Someone blow out the candles.”
“We’re giving up?” Lorna asked. “But we’ve only just begun! We could at least try to call Deb!”
“If this was going to work there would have been some kind of sign by now. Time is not the problem.” Venus looked pointedly at me as if to silently say that the problem lay with me, but I was too discombobulated to care about Venus’s deference of blame. I was still trying to figure out who had spoken before. Kane? Scott? Amelia? And then another disturbing realization hit me. I didn’t know if it had been a woman or a man who had spoken. The words had been completely clear, but the voice that said them had been completely abstract. What was that about? Fifty million questions were swirling around in my head and yet those questions didn’t make any sense even to me—and I was the one forming them! I gently touched my hand to my heart where I had felt that dull ache only moments before. The ache was gone, replaced with a rapid beating.
“Sophie, what is it?” Kane was leaning across the table, agitation gleaming in his eyes. “Did you feel something?”
The entire room fell silent as everyone focused on me, waiting for me to give them some kind of hope that their séance hadn’t been a complete waste of time.
“I didn’t feel anything,” I lied. “Just a little heartburn. I ate a lot of spicy food for lunch.”
A cloud of disappointment descended on the group, but I didn’t care. I had much bigger problems. After all, I was beginning to suspect that I might actually be losing my mind.
5
Life is like a box of chocolate, and I’m allergic.
—The Lighter Side of Death
I COULDN’T WAIT FOR EVERYONE TO LEAVE. FORTUNATELY I DIDN’T REALLY have to. Once it was decided that the séance was a failure everyone left with the speed and enthusiasm of an audience who had just sat through a bad three-hour movie. Jason took the time to give me his number so we could “get together for coffee sometime.” Kane was the only one who lingered. He kept pestering me with questions about why I thought the séance didn’t work and if I knew who the disbeliever in the group was. He even asked me if I thought it would have helped to have red candles since it was Andrea’s favorite color. Like I was some kind of expert on all this. I didn’t say so, but I was pretty sure that the séance failed because séances don’t work and ghosts don’t exist.
But what about those words:
Say goodbye.
But I didn’t tell Kane about that and eventually he left, too, leaving me alone in my new house. It was just as well, Anatoly was supposed to come over later. I hadn’t asked him to move in yet—I had decided to wait until after escrow closed, but still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t help me keep the bed warm. And he could also distract me from what had turned into a rather disturbing evening.
Now alone, I turned on all the lights in every room and tried to focus on the more mundane aspects of life. I desperately needed to do laundry, but in order to physically reach my washer I’d have to relocate several heavy boxes. Then there were the boxes in the garage. Normally I would just leave those there and park my car on the street until I had a little more energy, but now I had Venus to consider. I knew from experience that it was impossible to be with Scott and not see other women as threats, fidelity not being his strong suit. Now Venus knew that Scott had been with me, after dark, in a house that he had expected to be empty, and to make matters worse he had called me Soapy right in front of her. Add that to the fact that she was obviously completely out of her mind, and I had to conclude that parking my car on the street might lead to a few slashed tires.
So when Anatoly finally showed up at 10:30 p.m. with his sexy half smile and a bottle of Merlot I was sweaty, exhausted and doggedly filling my living room with all my packed-up odds and ends.
“Interesting decorating choice,” he said as he navigated through a field of brown boxes with cryptic labels such as “Knickknacks” and “Miscellaneous.”
“I don’t know how I managed to collect so much stuff,” I said, wiping my hands on my clothes before leaning in for my kiss.
“Why did you move everything all at once? You still have your apartment until the end of next month. Why didn’t you take a little at a time?”
“I don’t know, anxious to get started, I guess.”
“Yes, you were quick to pack,” Anatoly acknowledged, taking in the scene. “It’s the unpacking that seems to have slowed you down.” He threw his jacket over one of the boxes and then found his way to an empty chair. “Is that because this isn’t your place yet?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course it’s my place. I signed the papers.”
“For an escrow that won’t go through for another week, if at all. If you ask me, $20,000 is worth showing your new residence a lot of disrespect.”
“But I’m getting the house for hundreds of thousands of dollars below market, so it’s not like six of one, half dozen of the other,” I pointed out.
“Has Kane even transferred the utilities over to you yet?”
I swallowed and looked away. “He’s insisting on paying them until escrow goes through, but that doesn’t mean…”
“Sophie, you’re practically squatting.”
“Are you purposely trying to piss me off or do you really not get it?” I snapped. “I don’t want his $20,000. This is my house! I have always wanted to live here and now I finally do!”
“‘Always?’” Anatoly repeated. “‘Finally?’ Sophie you first saw this place five weeks ago.”
“Seven,” I said stubbornly, but I did see his point. Why did it feel like I had been fighting for this place for years? And why was I jumping all over Anatoly for pointing out the obvious? I did some quick calculations in my head, but that didn’t give me an explanation for my temper tantrum; I wasn’t due to get my period for another two weeks.
Anatoly considered me for a moment then lowered his gaze to the wine bottle as he shifted it from hand to hand. Something was bothering him, but instead of opening up he said, “So tell me, Sophie, how was the freak show?”
“What?” I asked, not following him at first. “Oh, the séance. Well, it was…weird—but I suppose weird’s normal for a freak show. You’re not going to believe this, but Jason Beck was there. He’s a bona fide member of the Specter Society.”
Anatoly looked at me blankly. “Who’s Jason Beck?”
“You remember Jason. One of Dena’s GBCs…you, know, Mr. Velvet Pants.”
“Right.” Anatoly laughed appreciatively. “How