Medium in Paradise: A Humorous Paradise Romance (6 page)

The days leading up to her first day’s training with the police department went by quickly. Sam the Ghost remained a no-show and despite her irritation with the ghost, Dina found she was somewhat worried.

The following Friday, after putting her pro bono class through their paces; Eileen Sutherland, Paula Ingleson, Molly Laurence and several other emissaries of the Southern Ladies Club of St. Simons Island, strolled over to Dina with purpose, the ingratiating smiles of those about to ask for something pasted on their calculating faces.

The ringleader, Paula Ingleson, piped up first. Twirling a lock of dyed blonde hair in her fingers, she leaned in, speaking in a coquettish stage whisper, much as one would when sharing a deep, dark secret. “So a little birdie told me that somebody is hosting their very first southern soiree round about the end of June.”

In the midst of slinging an unwieldy equipment bag over her shoulder, Dina was at first very confused. “I’m sorry?”

“So you’re not hostin’ a party in June?” Eileen said, looking rather crestfallen. “My cousin’s friend Janie Cook told her that you was havin’ a party and that it was gonna be the biggest, hippest party this summer…”

“Oh…that.” Why in the world was Janie blabbing about a party she still wasn’t sure she wanted to have? “I—yeah, Janie suggested I throw a housewarming party. But I still haven’t
warmed
up to the idea yet,” she joked. No one seemed to get it, staring at her blankly. She never had been very good with comic timing.

“Damned small island,” Paula murmured, shaking her head. “Everybody just knows everybody’s business and half of it isn’t even true.” The ladies stood there looking as though Dina had taken away the stuffed bunny they’d won at the county fair.

“I mean, it’s not
completely
untrue,” she said, in a misguided attempt to cheer them up.

Why’d she go and get everybody’s hopes up? The droopy women inflated like helium balloons, their party antenna on high alert. On St. Simons, a swanky house party was what everyone lived for during the summers which was exactly why she’d never bothered hosting one. Too much pressure and stress on the hostess to do everything to an exacting degree of perfect southern hospitality. God forbid one should lay out the wrong table decorations or serve the wrong food pairings, suddenly you were the talk of the island and not in a good way.

“So then
that’s
settled!” Paula said with a finality that made Dina sweat. “This party is gonna be the talk of the island! And I’m a real hit with organizin’. I’ve just got the perfect crowd-pleasin’ punch, too.”

“I’m really not sure--,” Dina desperately tried to interject. But she was drowned out by the excited babble of a half dozen party crazed women swirling around her. Things had spiraled out of control, the plans for the party evidently now in the hands of the Southern Ladies Club of St. Simons.

“Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll do most of the work for you.”

That’s exactly what she was afraid of.

**

“Janie, why have you been spreading the word about this party I wasn’t even sure I was going to host?” Dina demanded as soon as she picked up her cell phone.

“Oh,
sweetie
! I thought we’d already settled all that.” Janie’s voice was as sweet as the nectar from a newly bloomed honeysuckle blossom. “The party is gonna happen. Just go with it, honey.”

“And if I don’t want to?” she griped, exasperated that this party was essentially out of her hands.

“Dina, darlin’, you’ve just gotta suck it up.”

**

“There’s been some rumors circulating about a party someone I know is hosting in the next month or so. Is any of it true or is it just island gossip?”

It was early Monday morning, roughly twenty minutes before the first class of the day and Lila, dressed in tie-dyed purple leggings and matching spandex crop-top, was standing in the door to her office, looking at her inquiringly.

“How do you even know about this? You don’t even live here!” Dina looked up from the trade magazine she was perusing, thoroughly exasperated. Over the past weekend she had fielded calls from more than a dozen people demanding--with varying degrees of attitude—to know why they hadn’t been invited to, nor informed about, this ever growing party she was apparently throwing.

“A girl hears things. I’ve got ears, ya know.” She pointed to her multi-pierced lobes, crossing her arms expectantly. “The only question I have is why haven’t I already been invited?”

“Janie somehow managed to talk me into hosting this shindig.” Tossing the magazine atop her cluttered desk, Dina leaned back, shaking her head. “I barely knew I was having a party until two days ago.”

“Ahh---you were bullied by the pit bull of real estate, huh? Remind me when I’m ready to buy a house not to call her.”

“You still mad about that whole ‘You’d be so much cuter if you were a brunette’ comment?” There was no love lost between Lila and Janie. The two of them were like live wires making violent contact.

“And I’m also pretty pissed about her, ‘When people get a lot of tattoos they’re hiding something’ comment and her ‘You’re a really good example for your people’ comment. For my
people
? What the hell’s that even mean?”

“She actually opened her mouth and said that?”

“I told you about that when it happened and you said, ‘Oh, she doesn’t mean anything by it’--,”

“You don’t forget a thing, do you?” Janie really did talk entirely too much sometimes.

“She acts like I’m some woman with a dark past as opposed to someone who’s simply rebelling against suburban oppression--,”

“Suburban oppression?” Dina asked, dryly.

“Hey--we get oppressed, too. Anyway, say no more. I get it. The Mean Girl in stilettoes is forcing you to do this. I’m pretty sure I won’t want to be anywhere near any party she’ll be at.”

“Of course you’ll be there. How the hell else am I supposed to make an escape when she starts driving me insane?”

“I guess…but only for you,” she agreed reluctantly. She pushed herself off the doorframe, walking down the hall and yelling behind her, “If I’ve gotta put up with Janie’s busybody ass all night, the drinks had better be awesome.”

“So I want everybody to take a look at the handout they picked up when they first came in.”

Dina looked around the room, patiently waiting for everyone to organize themselves and trying not to stare at any one person too much. In particular, Barney aka Sam the Ghost’s fiancé, whose thick luxurious mane of hair looked freshly washed. He was wearing a tee-shirt and loose fitting track pants, arms crossed, a defensive lift to his thin eyebrows. He had the stance of a person uncomfortable with the thought of being there. He wasn’t alone. When she looked around the room there were at least six other people who were just as ill at ease, their thick waistlines and flabby arms evidence of too much time spent behind a desk or the steering wheel of a car and not enough time doing any real physical activity.

After much thought, she had decided to open up a flex schedule to allow the police department personnel to choose between any of the classes she was teaching Monday through Saturday. Based on the fee she was being paid, they were allowed up to three classes a week.

“I take my job of getting people in shape very seriously,” she said, slowly walking around the room and examining her student’s physiques like a doctor during an initial office visit. As she walked behind Barney her eyes strayed to his tush. She couldn’t help but notice that despite having a body that could use a bit of a workout, that he had a very nice ass. Firm and masculine without being too much or too little. Perfect. She quickly averted her eyes when he turned to look at her, his arms held protectively over his soft stomach. “Part of getting into good shape requires changing the crappy foods you’re eating and substituting in foods that will nourish your body.”

“Eh, look--,” said a burly guy with thick, hairy forearms and a balding head. From the sounds of his accent he was a misplaced Bostonian. He looked at his handout with disgust and shook his head. “I don’t eat no leafy green stuff.”

“You do now.” Dina turned to look at him when she was back at the front of the class, her eyes piercing.

“You don’t understand. I just can’t get dat stuff to go down.” For such a big imposing looking guy, he was pretty whiney.

“Then force it down,” she commanded, her eyes implacable.

“But I’m allergic to kale and that seems like a major addition to all the smoothie recipes,” one woman said in a timid voice, her washed out blue eyes miserable.

“Then substitute spinach. I have a whole list of substitutions on the last two pages of the handout. Look—the handout is just a blueprint. If you have access to a well-rounded dietary plan that’s low in fat, carbs and sugar, than by all means use it.” Dina was accustomed to overcoming complaints when she initially informed students that in order to lose weight they’d have to not only exercise, but change their choice of foods. “Enriching your diet with fiber and protein is a huge part of losing weight. While helpful, increasing your exercise will only do so much. It’s the bad dietary choices that got most of us where we are today.”

“
Us
?” said a good-looking guy with a body that clearly got plenty of working out. His body language and the flirtatious way he said the words told her he was well accustomed to plenty of feminine attention. There was one like him in every class and she’d learned a long time ago how to deflect their clumsy advances. Ignore them.

“Yes. Us. This is a group effort.”

“You have a perfect body so I’m sure you don’t know what they’re going through.”

“Just for the record,” she said, ignoring the guy who’d spoken. “At one point I was more than one hundred pounds overweight and ready to win the couch potato of the year award.” Cutting the lights off, Dina turned on the projector Lila had set up earlier, pulling up an old picture of herself. A fat Dina stared out at the world, a solemn expression on her young face. Even now, it was hard to look at her. Hard to share who she used to be with her students. But one of her biggest jobs as an exercise instructor was to motivate. Of course the gasp or two a few students uttered was a little dramatic and pretty irritating, but not totally unexpected. “It took a lot of hard work and dedication to get where I am today. No one here looks like they need to lose that much weight so I know everybody here can reach their fitness goals.”

“But--,”

““Without further ado, let’s get started on our warm-up,” she said. She cut the lights back on, interrupted the Bostonian mid-whine and went to work.

**

Dina was instructing an older police officer on the correct way to do a squat, when Sam suddenly popped up wearing ridiculously bright workout gear.

“God I haven’t had a good workout in
years
. This feels great,” Sam the Ghost said as she went down for a deep stretch, head between her legs.

Dina yelped, stumbling through Sam’s ghostly visage and feeling the same strange tingle she had when they’d touched before. Several of the class members turned to look at her and she smiled awkwardly.

“He’s got great buns doesn’t he?” Sam whispered conspiratorially. “Nod your head if you agree.”

“I won’t,” she hissed in a low voice. “Please go away.
Now
.”

“And miss all the fun? Heck no!” She floated above, head still between her legs, a smirk on her face. “I hope you’ve managed to move ahead with our plans in regards to Arnie.”

Dina tried her hardest to ignore her, but when she said those last words she must’ve made some noise because the object of their conversation abruptly stood up to look at her, startled. He then looked above, frowning hard. Had he heard Sam? He’d heard her when they’d been in the bathroom so there was a good chance he’d heard her just now.

“Look, I know you don’t want to do this, Dina.” Sam floated down, unfolding her body and standing beside her. “All I’m trying to do is right any wrongs I’ve done. To settle my unfinished affairs. The quicker you get moving the quicker I can be out of your hair.”

“So you’ve said before,” she said in as low a voice as she could manage. A couple of people in the front row still managed to hear at least some of what she’d said and looked at her quizzically. She responded by going over and correcting their form, perhaps pressing them down a tad further than intended if their tortured groans were anything to go by.

“Then what are you waiting for? Ask the man out and move this thing to the next stage!”

“Ok, everybody. Continue stretching until I come back.” Stalking out the entrance to the studio and rounding the corner leading to the locker rooms, she turned, angrily facing the ghost. Keeping her voice low, she hissed, “First off, it’s not as easy as you think to ask some strange man that doesn’t know me from Adam out on a date. I just met him for heaven’s sake! Don’t you think it’ll be rushing things a little to suddenly ask him out?”

“Not really,” she shrugged. “Arnie likes a woman that takes charge. That’s what I had to do. Otherwise I’d’ve been waiting for
ever
.”

“Ok, well, this situation is a little different,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and exhaling noisily. “First off--,”

“First off--,” Sam mimicked in a high voice. “--you already
said
first off.”

“Well—well then,
secondly
, we haven’t even had an opening that would warrant me asking him out in a way that’s even remotely natural. And thirdly…I’m nervous. I’ve never asked a man out and never intended to. Ever.”

“Then you’ll have to grow a pair because Arnie will never ask you out. Women like you intimidate him.”

“Women like me? What the hell’s that mean?”

“I mean that you’re an independent, self-made Don’t-Need-A-Man sort of girl that he’d never have the guts to ask out.”

“Then why do you think he’d be interested in me?”

“Because that’s just the sort of girl I was and he adored me. Take my word for it,” she said, floating down beside her and leaning against the wall. “He’s gonna
love
you. You’re perfect for him. Matter of fact, now’s the perfect opportunity for you to ask him out.”

“Look, remember I told you I already have a boyfriend,” she said sternly. “And what do you mean ‘Now’s the perfect opportunity to ask him out’?”

“It’ll be so much easier to show you rather than tell you.”

Sam disappeared and as Dina turned around, she saw Detective Barney Nichols walking towards her with that same wary, cautious stare he’d worn when they’d first met. As he got closer, she felt invasive hands shoving her none too gently in his direction.

“Dammit, Sam!
Stop
it!” she hissed, furiously trying to set herself free. It was no use. It is nearly impossible to fight a determined ghost. With one last shove and a loud ‘
Omphh
!’ she ended up quite literally tossed in his arms, her hands gripping shoulders that were far more muscular feeling than they looked.

“So we meet again, Ms. Douglass.” Detective Barney Nichols looked down into her eyes, and despite his flippant words, his own reflected the uncertainty she was feeling. Disconcertingly aware of the strong, sure arms wrapped around her waist and the steady rise and fall of his chest, she looked up into the warmth of the eyes gazing into her own. “It appears that you have a flair for the dramatic and that once again you were talking to someone. Sounded a lot like the woman you were talking to before.”

“I—I don’t--,” she said, searching for some plausible fib to tell as she tried to disentangle herself from the detectives arms. “I was on my cell phone. The speaker was on, that’s all.”

“But I don’t see a cell phone--,” His hands began a light search of her body. “--and I don’t feel one.”

“
Hey
! What the
hell
are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out what the hell
you’re
doing,” he replied, with a low chuckle. He blithely continued his thorough body search, his dark eyes boring into her own. “There’s something about you…you’re up to something, I just don’t know what.”

“I’m not up to anything except trying to teach an exercise class,” she huffed, annoyed. “Now—will you let me go?”

“I’m not the one keeping you here.”

Though his arms still lightly encircled her waist and he didn’t exactly seem in a huge hurry to remove them, he wasn’t the problem. It was Sam. She was keeping her a virtual prisoner in this strangers arms. Dina closed her eyes, fighting off the panic threatening to overwhelm her. Her throat closed up as she tried to squeeze out the words, ‘Will you go out with me?’ leaving her swallowing convulsively and on the verge of a panic attack.

“I—will you--,” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and haltingly started over. “Would you like to go out for coffee after the class is over?” The pressure on her back disappeared and she was finally able to awkwardly disentangle herself from Detective Barney Nichols arms, her eyes darting everywhere but on him. He regarded her thoughtfully for several long, uncomfortable moments, during which time Dina wished the floor would just open up and swallow her whole.

Finally, he said, “No,” very coolly. Then he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving a shocked and humiliated Dina seething in his wake.

**

“That’s exactly why I don’t ask men out!”

Sam the Ghost appeared just as Dina was slipping into a steaming bath filled with strawberry pineapple scented bubbles and water as hot as she could take it. She also had an unopened bottle of very good Syrah she’d picked up on the way home. She hadn’t bothered bringing a glass because she intended to drink straight from the bottle.

After her embarrassing first attempt to ask a man out, she’d finished her first class with the police department with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Once class was over, she’d rushed to her office, hiding there until everybody had left, unable to face Detective Barney Nichols after his chilly dismissal.

Sam the Ghost sat on the toilet lid, drawing her legs up and resting her chin on her knees. “I’ll admit I was taken for a loop when he said ‘no’, but I guess that means you’ll just have to try harder the next time.”

“The next time?” Dina whipped her head around to glare at the ghost in disbelief. “There won’t be a next time. I think I’ve suffered enough humiliation at your hands.”

“So that’s it? That’s how you achieved success in your life? You try something once, it doesn’t work and you just give up?” She crossed her arms, tossing her a disgusted look.

“Sam, just stop. Your little mind games aren’t working on me.”

She picked up the bottle of wine and took a large swig. Her body was flooded with curls of warmth, the delightful vino going down like smooth chocolate and ending on delicious tones of blackberry and cinnamon just as the description had said it would. She’d just have to work out extra hard this week to burn off all these empty calories.

“We’ll figure something else out.” She looked deep in thought, her eyes looking faraway. “I sure wish I could taste some of that wine.” She gazed longingly at the bottle.

“Why don’t you just conjure some of your own?” Dina asked, eyes closed as she took another deep swallow from the bottle.

“It’s just not the same. Nothing here tastes as good as it did when I was alive.” The ghost sighed, then perked up, saying, “Someone’s at your door.”