Dead and Breakfast (2 page)

Autumn’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She set the broken wooden pieces on the dresser and checked the screen. Her breath caught. Her father! Last night, she had sent him a pathetic email begging him to let her come back home. Despite the fact that her father had cheated with a woman barely out of college, Autumn felt like she was the one being punished for his infidelity. After all, she wasn’t allowed to stay in her childhood home.

Her dad texted a response:

I know I said we could reexamine you moving in with us, but it’s not a good idea right now. Jennifer is struggling a bit with the pregnancy. Besides, she is thinking of starting her own online business, making kids’ clothes, and we can’t guarantee we can convert the attic back into your bedroom. Your mother also wouldn’t approve. I miss you tons, sweetheart, and we’ll definitely talk about setting up a visit soon. Once the price of airfare comes down.

Enjoy the Florida weather. It’s getting cold here. Sweater weather. Brrr.

Autumn’s stomach rolled.

Autumn saw there was another text from Natasha and she brightened. Tasha was her Hail Mary. If anyone could come through for her, it was her best friend.

What up, Chiquita? My parents said ixnay on moving in with us for senior year. Can’t you move back in with your dad?

Autumn slumped onto the bed. Okay, so begging for a place to stay in New Jersey wasn’t working. She was all out of options until she went to college in the Northeast next fall. Autumn would have to suck it up until then.

She finished cleaning the room, retrieved the smashed music box, and closed the door. The March room would stay vacant for at least another two weeks, until the partygoers arrived for Fantasy Fest.

Autumn bustled down the stairs and into the hotel lobby. Aunt Glenda stood at the reception desk, holding a blue feather duster. She brushed a small elephant figurine, her fingers adorned with gold rings.

Timothy watched Aunt Glenda from his perch behind the desk. He smoothed down his lavender tie, a bold fashion choice for a teenager, but Timothy never acted like any teen Autumn knew.

He put his hand on the figurine and picked it up in one swift motion. “Miss Glenda, why don’t you let me do that?”

“I’m just trying to be useful.” Glenda pouted. “Between you, Evelyn, and Autumn, I feel like I have nothing to do anymore.”

Autumn approached her aunt and presented the broken pieces of the music box. “I’m terribly sorry. Katie’s in a mood.”

Aunt Glenda’s eyes misted. “Is that Duncan’s music box?”

“Yeah,” said Autumn.

Glenda clutched the pieces to her chest. “I’d be more upset at her, but I feel for the poor dear. I think it’s all that sexual frustration.”

Timothy nearly choked on his gum.

Glenda clucked her tongue. “Well, she was only sixteen when she overdosed. Supposedly as boy crazy as they come.”

Evelyn Abernathy poked her head out of the back office and whispered, “Is Mrs. Paulson gone?”

Timothy waved her out. “At least for the day. She signed up for a booze cruise.”

“Lovely,” Evelyn said dryly. She brushed her auburn hair off her forehead. Unlike the guest rooms, the lobby lacked air-conditioning and offered no relief from the relentless humidity. Only a weak breeze flowed through the sliders’ screen door. “Autumn, is the March room finished?”

“Yes, Mom. All done.” Often, Autumn felt like her mother’s employee, rather than her daughter.

“All right, honey. Why don’t you go upstairs and do your homework?”

But before Autumn could reply, a scream sliced through the lobby, followed by the sound of a body thrashing in the pool.

Liam struggled against the weight gripping his ankle. He felt fingers curl around his skin and drag him down, but there was no one else in the water with him. He clawed at the surface as he struggled for breath.

Suddenly, the weight disappeared and Liam swam up. He broke through the surface and gulped in air. His eyes flew open and locked on to the face of a girl with light skin and dark hair. He cried out and submerged back into the enveloping water. Liam popped up again and flung the pool water from his hair.

The girl, who Liam now recognized as Evelyn’s daughter, extended her hand to him. “You okay?”

Liam swam to the pool’s edge and hoisted himself out without taking her hand. Greenish water ran down his clothes in rivulets. His body trembled. The old lady, Glenda, hurried over to him with a towel and draped it over his shoulders. Evelyn was there too, her face a mask of suspicion. And Timothy, his hand covering his wide mouth, was desperately trying not to laugh, and failing.

Liam’s cheeks burned. Only the girl, what was her name? Summer? No, Autumn. She didn’t look so much concerned as curious.

“Were you attacked by an animal?” Autumn tilted her chin at Liam’s face.

Liam touched his cheek and winced. His fingertips grazed a scratch. To tell them what really happened would require a lengthy explanation and a psych evaluation. “Yeah. A cat, I think.”

“You think?” Evelyn’s brows rose.

“I mean, it was a cat.”

“Autumn, dear,” Glenda said. “There’s a first-aid kit in the shed. Grab it and see to William’s cheek, won’t you?”

Evelyn sighed loudly, as if this whole scene was a nuisance to her. She waved Glenda inside. Liam heard her whisper to Autumn as she passed, something about rabies. He wanted to hide under the stained rug in the lobby. Timothy stayed and stared at him, smiling like an idiot.

Liam flopped down onto a nearby patio chair, his thigh bumping up against a rusty screw that scratched his skin. He was a mess. His sneakers were soaked, never mind his T-shirt and shorts. Good thing he left his cell phone on the table.

Liam stripped off his shirt and threw it to the concrete below. It made a loud smacking sound, the way wet cotton did when it connected with cement. Autumn returned and froze, her eyes locked on Liam’s bare chest. Liam watched her cheeks color before setting the first-aid kit on the table. She opened it up and drew out peroxide and gauze. She stood directly in front of him, but averted her gaze from Liam’s torso, and tilted up his chin. In doing so, Liam was able to appreciate Autumn’s warm brown eyes and long lashes.

“Hold still.” She dabbed the peroxide on his cheek, and he winced. “So, a cat, huh?”

Liam didn’t meet her gaze. “That’s what I said.”

Autumn squirted ointment onto a cotton ball and pressed it onto his cheek. “Was this cat also pretty? About five-foot-six? See-through? Perpetually stuck in the 70s?”

“Girl.” Timothy’s voice dragged out the letter
r
. “You think Katie did that?”

Autumn appraised Liam, her hand hovering over his cheek. “I know it wasn’t a cat.”

Liam pushed Autumn’s hand away from his face. He held her hand for a moment before saying, “I don’t know what you’re playing at here, but you’re freaking me out.”

Autumn straightened. “You know the Cayo is haunted, don’t you?”

He stared at the cracked concrete. “Everyone says that.”

“Well then, why don’t you admit that it was Katie who hurt you and not some cat?” she asked.

Liam squinted at her. Was this girl for real? Did she really believe this crap? “I don’t believe in ghosts if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not a freak.”

Autumn blanched. She turned away and closed the first-aid kit. “Course not. I was kidding anyway.” Her voice trailed off. “I’ll just go put this back.” She opened the shed door and slipped inside.

“Damn, boy,” Timothy said. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Liam said again, this time more forcefully.

“No one said you had to,” Timothy said. “But we both know it wasn’t a cat that hurt you. So, if pretty Miss Katie attacked you, then let us know. She can be downright aggressive when she wants to be.”

Liam leaned back against the chair’s worn plastic. He knew that whatever it was that scratched him was not a ghost. That was total bullshit. But, it was also not a cat. He traced his fingers back over his face and counted five long scratches. He must’ve hurt himself in his panic. He was tired and had drank too much punch at the beach party. Plus, he had arrived home only days ago. He hadn’t adjusted to the time difference and all that traveling on the bus. He felt slightly relieved. He was exhausted and hung-over.
Of course, I thought I saw a woman in the water. I’m not crazy. Just still drunk.

Timothy sighed loudly and started back toward the lobby. Liam cleared his throat and Timothy paused. “This Katie,” Liam said. “I’m just curious. What does she look like?”

Timothy’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Katie’s a blonde. Unmistakably blonde.”

So, then not the girl from the pool.

Liam gave a slight nod. Timothy didn’t say anything after that. He waited for Autumn to join him and together they went inside the Cayo, leaving Liam alone to puzzle out his thoughts.

#

Autumn entered the lobby and slumped into a wicker chair near the window. She shouldn’t have been so bothered by Liam’s
freak
comment. After all, what did the opinion of a high-school dropout mean to her? And yet, it stung. So what if she bought into the notion of ghosts? They spoke to her! Well, Katie did at least. If the Cayo had other ghosts, they sort of kept to themselves.

Autumn wasn’t exactly sure why she could see spirits, although she suspected it was an inherited trait. Evelyn used to talk about her weird grandmother who would have conversations with the air. Aunt Glenda claimed to see spirits too, but she was only Autumn’s great aunt through marriage.

Timothy compared ghosts to radio waves and people to radios. Each ghost had its own frequency and some people could tune into that ghost’s frequency, like adjusting the dial on an old radio. But most people were broken radios. No matter how much they tried to clear the static, they would not get reception. Autumn, on the other hand, was a universal receiver. There wasn’t a ghost around that she couldn’t spot. Or at least, that was how it seemed.

In her old home in New Jersey, Autumn was sensitive to the odd noises in the house. When she was little, she’d often see a young girl in braids and a white smock dress playing outside. A little girl who had lived in the house over a century ago. Autumn knew spirits existed, but her mother didn’t believe. In New Jersey, the strange noises in the house were made by the wind. Or a squirrel in the attic. The little girl in braids was just a dream. Her mother never took her seriously. Evelyn was a broken radio. She never saw spirits.

Timothy went to lobby desk and retrieved a sketchbook and a set of colored pencils from a black attaché case. Even in the heat, Timothy appeared polished. His charcoal vest was perfectly tailored to his thin frame and his tie lay flat, only a small silver pin to adorn it. His dress shirt held no hint of perspiration, nor was there a line of moisture along his brow. His black hair shone of pomade, not sweat. Must be that young Bahamian blood. Autumn plucked her damp tank top from her sweaty chest.

Timothy’s head bent over his paper, his pencil scratching furiously. Autumn stood, went over to the desk, and rang the brass bell to be annoying. Timothy didn’t even glance up.

“Whatcha doin’?” she asked.

He swiped the bell before Autumn could ring it again. “Sweet child, leave me alone. I’m drawing some ideas for the D and B website.”

Autumn rolled her eyes. She hated it when he called her “sweet child.” Timothy was nineteen, only two years older than her. “My mom wants you to redesign the website?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “She’s paying me to revamp it. It’s called rebranding.” He smiled and held up his sketch. “This should be a nice addition to my portfolio.”

It was a new logo. A picture of a pristine Key West Victorian with white paint and teal shutters. In reality, those teal shutters would be hanging on for dear life by a lone rusty screw and that white paint would be peeling off in ribbons. More interesting, though, was what was written inside the logo.
Cayo Hueso Bed and Breakfast.
Not Dead and Breakfast as Aunt Glenda had named it.

“She wants to change the name? Aunt Glenda can’t be too happy about that. It’s a haunted hotel. Not some cottage retreat in Vermont.”

Timothy shook his head. “I just do what I’m told.”

“Well, someone should tell my mom the ghosts aren’t going anywhere just because she wants them to,” said Autumn.

“Go tell her yourself. She’s in her office.” He nodded toward the back room.

Autumn thought about doing that, but decided against it. What did she care if her mother wanted to reinvent this place? Autumn wasn’t planning on staying here long enough to see that plan through. Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

Thumps came down the stairs and the large silhouette of Mrs. Paulson emerged in a tight, floral dress. Apparently, Mrs. Paulson hadn’t left for her booze cruise yet.

“You there.” The woman pointed at Autumn. “That darn ghost will not make herself known to me, but she sure as hell has no problem playing jokes. She stole my brooch and set it on the chair with the pin sticking up.” She rubbed her buttocks and Autumn bit her lip to stop from laughing.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Paulson.” Autumn couldn’t help but stare at Mrs. Paulson’s sausage toes, her nails painted bright orange. “Katie can be very, uh, temperamental.”

Mrs. Paulson puffed out her chest. “I don’t care. I paid to be haunted, not annoyed. And there’s something going on with my water. One minute it’s cold, the next minute, it’s boiling like a Georgia summer.”

Autumn’s mother popped her head out of her office and approached the reception desk. Timothy slunk down on his stool.

“Mrs. Abernathy, I expect better accommodations or I’ll be posting a negative review on Vacation Raters.” Before she could wait for a response, Mrs. Paulson adjusted her straw hat on her bloated head and stormed out the front door.

“Another satisfied customer,” Autumn said.

Evelyn Abernathy glared at her daughter. “You think this is funny? It’s women like that who can destroy our business. Another negative review and this place will go bankrupt.”

“What are you worried about?” Autumn asked. “We have a full house for Fantasy Fest.” The Cayo Hueso had twelve guest rooms, each named after a month. And last time Autumn checked, all the rooms had a booking for Fantasy Fest, Key West’s ten-day bacchanalian party. Granted, it would be a few weeks before they’d be occupied, but it was something.