Ghouls Night Out (2 page)

I hated seeing it—he worried enough about his patients without having to constantly worry about me. Joe was an E.R. doctor at Columbia Hospital in Atlanta, which is how we’d met. He’d been the doctor who’d declared me dead, and the one who’d been there when I’d come back to life.

“Don’t worry,” I said, reaching to push his dark hair out of his eyes. It felt like silk under my fingertips. “Nothing happened. A girl came into the bridal shop, that’s all.”

Joe quirked an eyebrow. “That’s all?”

He knew me too well.

“Evidently she was a friend of Debbie’s who was supposed to be in the wedding.” I grimaced. “Debbie didn’t bother to mention that I was a ‘replacement’ bridesmaid. Anyway, whatever happened to her must’ve
happened pretty quick—she hadn’t yet realized that she was dead. Once she understood what was going on, she just faded away.”

“One of your cousin’s bridesmaids just died, and she didn’t mention it to you?” Joe looked pretty skeptical.

“We’re not exactly close,” I said. “We’d see each other a few times a year when my mom was alive—holidays and stuff like that—hardly at all since my mom passed.”

“And that’s it? This girl, this spirit—she’s gone?”

“Well, I thought I heard a voice coming from my back seat, but there was nobody there. It looked like there was a wet spot on the upholstery, but by the time I got home, it was dry. I could’ve imagined that part.”

Joe made a disgruntled noise, leaning back against the cushions. “I don’t like it.”

Our romantic evening was heading downhill, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“You men never like wet spots,” I teased. “That’s why we girls always end up sleeping on them.”

A reluctant grin curled one corner of his lips. “Don’t try and distract me.”

I leaned over, resting my weight against his arm and bringing my lips closer to his. “Who said anything about
try?
” And then I kissed him, letting my tongue do the talking, without words this time.

His arms came around me, and before I knew it Joe was stretched out full length on the couch, with me on top. The growing bulge beneath my hip told me the evening was once again looking up.

The phone rang, but I ignored it; that’s what answering machines were for.

“Hi, Nicki!” The volume was loud enough for Joe and I to hear the message being left. “It’s your favorite cuz,
Darlene. I cain’t believe it, but Diane says she forgot to send you an invitation to Debbie’s bridal shower—it’s tomorrow at one, at the house.” The “house” would be Aunt Nadine’s rambling old place out in Hogansville. “She’s registered at Target.” Darlene pronounced it “Tarjhay,” like pretending to say it in French made it haute couture or something. “Oh, and could you pick up some beer on the way over? Donna’s supposed to, but I know she’ll forget. See you then.”

Click.

Somewhere in the middle of the message, Joe’d begun to smile. By the end, he was chuckling, despite the fact my lips were still glued to his. I opened my eyes to see his were open, looking straight into mine.

“Beer at a bridal shower?” he asked.

I sighed. “You don’t know my relatives.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” he laughed.

Chapter 2

“Nicki!” Aunt Nadine enveloped me in a huge hug, smelling of hairspray and roses. “You look pretty as a picture, girl!” She pulled away to hold me at arm’s length, her eyes roving over the pink streaks in my hair, taking in the three earrings in one ear and the necklace of black beads I was never without. “Always the fashion plate…and running your own business at your young age, too! Your mama would be so proud of the way you turned out.”

Some of the tension eased from my shoulders. Aunt Nadine had always been sweet to me; it wasn’t her fault she’d married into a family of rednecks.

“Is that Nicki?” boomed my Uncle John.

Speaking of rednecks.

“What’d you do, girl, fergit to wash the paint outta yore hair?” Another huge hug, this time smelling of cigarettes and beer.

“Hey, Uncle John,” I said weakly, trapped against a husky plaid shoulder. “How are you?”

“I’m as nervous as a fox in a henhouse, that’s what I am,” Uncle John chuckled, letting me go. “Women everywhere I look today, and that’s a fact.”

“Get on outta here, John,” Aunt Nadine said affectionately. “We hens got some cluckin’ to do.” She shooed him off with her fingers and he went, but not before chucking me under the chin, just like he’d done when I was a kid.

“You always were a wild one, girl,” he said with a smile. “Pink hair and piercings—got any tattoos?”

“Go on, now,” Aunt Nadine repeated, “and don’t overdo it at the Moose Lodge or you’ll be nursing a hangover come mornin’.”

He grabbed her around the waist and whispered something in her ear, making her giggle and blush like a schoolgirl.

I couldn’t help but smile. Then he gave me a wink and was gone, the screen door slamming behind him with a bang.

“Look who’s here, girls,” Aunt Nadine called out. “It’s your cousin, Nicki, down from Atlanta.” She ushered me through the living room toward the back of the house, where a big family room overlooked the side yard, complete with an above-ground pool and an old swing set.

A squeal of joy came from the direction of the couch, barely enough warning to brace myself before Debbie’s hug nearly knocked me over. Petite and blond, Debbie was the youngest of the Hathaway girls, and had always been the most bubbly. “You’re here! You’re here!” she cried. “Now we can get this party started!”

Judging by the amount of gaiety and laughter I’d interrupted, the party had started a long time ago. I hugged Debbie, Diane, Darlene, and Donna in turn, then went
through a dizzying round of introductions to people I’d never met and would never remember. There were other relatives, too, but I barely knew them: Great-Aunt Ida, who was eighty if she was a day; second cousins Gina and Margaret; Darlene’s little girls, Amber and Brittany.

“Sorry this was so last minute,” Aunt Nadine said. “We waited until all the family could make it to town before we held the shower.”

“Did you bring any beer?” Darlene whispered.

Aunt Nadine’s introductions kept me from having to answer. “This is Alice, and her friend Bernice.”

“Her
partner,
” Darlene added as a murmured aside. “That’s what we’re supposed to be callin’ it these days.”

I smiled until my cheeks hurt, hugged everybody who needed hugging, then collapsed into a folding chair. The babble of voices around me continued without a pause, and I was glad to no longer be the center of attention. Luckily, Darlene had moved on to annoy someone else near the buffet table.

“Don’t put that bowl of potato salad there,” I heard her say irritably. “Put it at the other end, near the hot dogs.”

“You must be the new girl.” Alice’s friend Bernice was sitting next to me. She had short, graying hair, and wire-rimmed glasses.

“The new girl?” For a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Oh, you know,” Bernice said, waving a chubby hand negligently. “That other girl was gonna be one of the bridesmaids, but I guess that ain’t gonna happen now.”

Ah. Keeping my voice low, I asked, “Yeah, I wondered about that. What happened to her?”

Bernice shrugged. “I dunno. She and Debbie had a fight or something.”

A fight?

“Well, I’ll be damned,” came an indignant voice. “They don’t even know I’m dead.”

I turned my head, and there was the dark-haired girl from the bridal shop standing next to my chair. Unlike the last time I’d seen her, this time she was soaking wet, hair plastered to her head, clothes plastered to her body. “Here they are, partying along without me like nothing happened.” She cast a scornful glance toward the buffet table. “Darlene didn’t even get the decorations right. Those balloons were supposed to go on the mailbox so people could find the house.”

“Go away,” I whispered. “I can’t talk to you now.”

“I was here first,” Bernice said, obviously offended. “Go sit over there if you got a problem with me.”

Mortified, I felt heat rising to my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Bernice gave me a skeptical glare, and then gave me the cold shoulder. She turned toward the woman on the other side of her, dismissing me.

The dark-haired girl gave a heavy sigh. Water dripped from her shirt onto the carpet. “I was supposed to make my special three-bean salad for this shower. My name’s Michelle, by the way. What’s yours?”

Refusing to answer, I shot her a warning look.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “Not a good time. I get it.”

“How you doing, Nicki?” My cousin Donna plopped into the chair on my other side. She’d gained quite a bit of weight since I’d seen her last, and her mousy brown hair could use a shampoo.

When I glanced back toward the dark-haired girl, she was gone.

“Fine, Donna. Good. Great.” I forced a smile, glad my cousins were far enough apart in looks to keep their names straight. Debbie was the cutest, and the only blonde. Darlene was tall and red-haired, with a face like a hatchet; Diane and Donna both had brown hair, but Diane had always been skinny, and Donna had always struggled with her weight.

She was obviously fighting a losing battle, though the plateful of macaroni and cheese she was clutching was a clear indication why.

Potato salad, beer, and hot dogs with macaroni and cheese; Debbie’s bridal shower was Carb Central, the hillbilly way.

Forcing myself to be sociable—Donna was my cousin, after all—I asked, “How are the wedding plans coming? Is Debbie nervous about the big day?”

Donna shrugged, eyeing her much younger, much prettier sister. “She’s handling it pretty well, I think. At least she was, until that bitch Michelle pulled out on her.”

I heard an outraged gasp behind me, and knew that my ghostly friend hadn’t left the party just yet.

“Good thing you agreed to fill in as bridesmaid,” Donna went on. “Debbie was ready to throw a full-fledged conniption fit, but toned it down to just a hissy when you said yes.”

Anyone who’s grown up in the South knows the difference between a hissy fit and a conniption fit; a hissy fit usually ends in tears, while a conniption fit can easily end up in a trip to the emergency room.

“What happened?” Might as well get the inside scoop.

“I’m not sure. Debbie said they had a fight a couple of days ago, but that’s nothing unusual. They’ve been
fighting and making up on a regular basis since junior high school. Anyway, Michelle up and drove back to Augusta in a huff.”

That explained why nobody knew she was dead. If everybody thought she’d left town because she was mad at Debbie, nobody would be looking for her.

“That’s a pretty sweater,” Donna said. “Come from your store?”

Unlike Debbie’s choice of bridesmaid dress, my cotton candy pink sweater looked great on me, and I knew it. The beaded black butterflies on the left breast and jet buttons down the front were the perfect touches.

“Yes,” I answered, surprised Donna had even a passing interest in fashion. “Nineteen fifties, hand-knit.”

Donna took a big bite of macaroni and cheese, speaking around it.

“Got any in my size?”

Um, no, we don’t carry “ever-increasing.”

“Vintage doesn’t work that way. All of the stuff in my store is unique, one-of-a-kind. That’s what makes it special.”

“Well, la-dee-dah.” Donna swallowed, then put down her fork and took a swig of whatever was in the cup she was holding.

Before I could respond, she got up and walked away, heading back toward the buffet table. “Ma,” she called out, uncaring that a room full of women heard her, “looks like Buster peed in the house again. There’s a wet spot on the carpet.”

I closed the bathroom door behind me with a sigh of relief. The sound of laughter was muffled, but I could still hear Debbie’s high-pitched giggles over the see-
through nightie Great-Aunt Ida had given her. “If that don’t get you some sugar, nothin’ will!” the eighty-year-old had declared.

Since Debbie had been opening her gifts for some time, I’d felt safe enough to slip away for a few minutes. There were only so many crock pots one could “oo” and “ah” over, after all.

“Michelle?” I whispered. “Are you still here?”

“Yes,” someone said morosely. The voice came from the bathtub.

The shower curtain was closed, so I very gingerly pulled it aside just enough to peek behind it, visions of the movie
Psycho
going through my head.

There was Michelle, slumped in the tub, fully clothed, and still very wet. “I figured this was the safest place to sit,” she said, “since I’m dripping all over everything.”

“Why are you wet?” I asked her. “You weren’t wet when I saw you at the bridal shop yesterday.”

“Beats me,” she answered. “I was hoping you knew.”

“How would I know?” I pulled back the shower curtain so we could see each other better and looked around, making sure the toilet seat was down before I sat.

“Well, you see dead people, don’t you?” Michelle sat up in the tub, pushing damp hair behind her ears. “You obviously have some special powers or something. What am I doing here? What happened to me?”

Oh, crap.
How was I supposed to help her pass on if she didn’t know why she was still hanging around?

“Okay, look—what’s the last thing you remember?” A detective I was not, but I’d give it a shot.

Michelle sighed, resting her elbows on her knees. “Debbie and I went to the bridal shop, and then we went shopping in Peachtree City. We were looking for
something cute to wear on her honeymoon.” She frowned, remembering. “We stopped at some Mexican place for lunch—we both had a couple of Margaritas. I made the mistake of asking her one too many times if she was sure she wanted to get married, and she got really pissed off.”

Interesting.

“Why would you ask her that at this late date?” I was just trying to get a feel for things.

Michelle gave me a look. “Have you met Dale, the guy she’s marrying?”

I shook my head. “No.”

She sighed. “Debbie could do so much better. She could’ve stayed with me in Augusta, gotten a job, gone to school—gotten out of this dinky little town. They practically roll the sidewalks up at night around here.”

Now
that
was something I could relate to. “Hogansville has sidewalks?”

Michelle smiled a little at that.

“You’re her cousin Nicki, right?”

I nodded, thinking.

“I should’ve known when I saw the hair,” Michelle said. “Debbie told me you were all Goth and everything. I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

“Um, thanks.” What
did
she expect—the Bride of Frankenstein? Just because I liked to play with my hair and makeup didn’t make me some kind of freak. A little extra eyeliner never hurt anybody.

“Debbie really likes you,” Michelle said, almost wistfully. “She always thought you were cool. Thanks for filling in for me.”

“You don’t sound like you’re mad at her,” I said. “Must not have been much of a fight.”

Michelle shrugged. “We’ve been best friends for
years, even after I moved away. We’ve had a few spats, but we always make up.” She looked away, tears filling her eyes. “Guess we won’t be making up this time.”

Oh, man. I was never good with tears—I usually left the tea and sympathy up to Evan, but Evan wasn’t here. Making a game effort, I snagged a piece of toilet paper and offered it to her.

She tried to take it, but her hand went right through it.

“Damn,” she said, “that keeps happening. I can think about being somewhere and then find myself there, but I can’t touch anything or make anybody hear me.” Michelle looked at me, swiping the tears from her eyes with her fingertips. “Except you.”

“Can you…” I hesitated, finding my own thoughts a bit creepy. “Can you
think
yourself back into your body?”

I’m not sure how a ghost could actually turn pale, but that’s what she did.

“I don’t want to,” she said, shaking her head.

“But if you did, you could come back and tell me where you are, and then I could go find you.”

Convoluted logic, anyone?

Michelle shook her head again, harder this time. “No. It’s dark, it’s scary—”

A knock at the door made me jump. “Hello? Anybody in there?” The doorknob rattled.

“Just a minute,” I called, jumping to my feet like I’d been caught doing something wrong.

When I glanced back toward the tub, Michelle was gone.

“Michelle?” I whispered.

No answer.

Just a damp bathtub and a racing heart.