Veiled (6 page)

Jeez. Second Debbie Downer conversation in the last half hour.

“You have youth, love,” Jacob says, nudging me to move forward when the man behind the counter beckons me forward. “A young body, a young heart, and endless courage. That last part is the most important. Don’t let anyone tell you any differently. Why do you think we used to send so many kids your age off to war?”

I’m trying to absorb what he’s saying while placing my order for the bibimbap wrap. When I’m done paying, I turn around to face Jacob.

But he’s gone.

There’s only a pair of teenage girls with obnoxious neon sunglasses, staring down at their phones.

I step away from the line and look around but Jacob is nowhere to be found.

Now I’m wondering if I’m going crazy. If he was really there at all.

The girls can’t tell me since they’ve been on Facebook this whole time and when I get my food and ask the guy behind the counter if he remembers the man behind me, he says he’s not paying attention to who’s in line and goes back to handling a myriad of orders.

Despite being confused, I still manage to shovel the food in my face and head back to Dex and Perry. Thankfully they’re just leaving as I’m coming over.

“I think I’m ready to go,” I tell them quickly.

They exchange one of their glances. It either means
moody Ada
or
crazy Ada
.

I’m not sure which one I am these days.

As we’re heading back to the car, I blurt out, “I think I’m seeing ghosts.”

They stop walking.

“What?” Perry asks, pulling me to a stop.

“I mean, I know I normally do. We all do.” I glance at Dex. “It’s just that I feel like one is repeatedly seeking me out.”

“The guy from your dream?” Perry asks.

“No,” I say carefully, though now I’m wondering if he’s a fucking ghost too, finding some way to invade my brain. “No, this guy I met yesterday and . . .” I trail off and scrunch my eyes shut, pressing the heel of my palm into my forehead. “Never mind. He can’t be a ghost. Dawn Knightly introduced us. I mean, he drove a car and everything. You remember seeing that old Mercedes outside yesterday.”

“Yeah,” Dex says. “Sweet ride. But even ghosts need cool cars.”

“No. No, he’s not a ghost then. I just thought . . . I don’t know, I ran into him here and he said some cryptic shit and then pretty much disappeared.”

“Into thin air?” Perry asks.

“No, just when I was ordering my food. I guess he could have walked off. I don’t know, there was just something so odd about him. A feeling, something familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Do you know his name?” Dex asks.

“Yeah, Jacob. He’s a family friend of the Knightlys.”

Dex’s eyes nearly bug out. “His name is Jacob?”

I frown. “Yes.”

“What did he look like? How old was he?”

I shrug. “I’m not good with ages. Maybe mid-fifties?”

“That’s impossible then,” Dex says, shaking his head and I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Well impossible or not he was about dad’s age, maybe a tad older. Tall, red hair, really cool eyes, like amber glass, face looks like it’s been beaten up a few times but still handsome in a weird way.”

Dex is on his phone, frantically typing in something.

“What is it?” Perry asks, peering over his arm to look at the screen.

Dex holds up his finger, motioning for us to wait, then he shoves the phone in my face. “Was this the guy?”

I take the phone in my hand, staring at the picture. It’s a black and white photo, grainy, but in it is Jacob, smiling with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, wearing what looks like a horrible checkered suit.

“Yeah, that’s him. Who is he?” I ask, handing it back.

“Are you sure he looks exactly like this?” Dex asks.

“Yes,” I reply testily. “He looks like that. No different. Who is he?”

“He’s Jacob ‘The Cobb’ Edwards. One of the world’s most famous band managers.”

I nod. “Cool.”

“No,” Dex says. “Well yes, cool, but also not cool because this photo was taken on the infamous Hybrid tour. In 1974.”

I try and do math. It’s not my strong suit.

“That was forty-two years ago and he was definitely fifty-something back then,” Dex goes on, back to scrolling. He pauses. “Oh. Right. So aside from the fact that he should technically be in his nineties, he’s also dead.”

“What?” Perry and I say in unison as we both look at his phone.

There on the Wikipedia page for Jacob Edwards is his picture, plus his birth date in 1919 and his death date in 1975. It says he died in Prague during Sage Knightly’s European solo tour when a crypt collapsed on him.

“I’m remembering it now,”’ Dex says slowly, looking off into the distance, “just the mythology of the band, how the curse that befell them, the deal with the Devil, didn’t really end on the first tour. People say Jacob was doing some weird voodoo shit down in that crypt and we all know how weird voodoo shit turns out.” He pauses and looks at me. “Except for you Ada, but you can imagine it ain’t good.”

“So he’s a ghost after all.”

“A ghost that our neighbors can see,” Perry muses, “let alone hang out with.”

“So he faked his own death then?” I guess.

“I think we need to talk to the neighbors,” Dex says, starting to walk down the sidewalk.

Perry and I follow. “So you can harass Sage about music rights?” Perry questions with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“Kiddo, I always have an ulterior motive.”

***

Though during the drive back to my house the conversations in the car turned to lighter topics, such as the music video Dex was creating for an up-and-coming band called Only Mostly Dead, the minute we pulled in behind my dad’s Taurus in the driveway, silence fell between us.

As the three of us walked up the stone path to the front door, The Knightlys’ house looked as empty as it had earlier—no cars in the driveway, no lights in the house, no noise.

I really wasn’t sure what was going to happen. To be honest, the fact that Jacob either faked his death or was already dead, wasn’t too much of a concern. If anything I just wanted to know what his comment had meant, the one about the young having courage. That wasn’t a throwaway line. That meant something and it meant something for me.

Dex knocks at the door, three quick raps and I automatically tense, thinking I might wake up any second and this is yet again a dream.

But nothing happens. Perry reaches out and squeezes my hand, sensing what I’m feeling, reminding me that this is all very real in the here and now, even if it feels kind of silly. What exactly are we going to say if someone answers?

And it doesn’t seem like anyone is going to answer anyway.

“The cars are gone,” I point out, my voice hushed for some reason. “No one’s home.” I start pulling back on Perry’s hand but then there’s the sound of someone on the other side of the door and I’m pretty sure all three of us just sucked in a collective gasp.

The door opens and a tall, bulky man of Hispanic descent with thick white hair, green eyes, and golden skin appraises us, a dark brow raised in curiosity even though he doesn’t look all that surprised.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

I expected Dex to talk but he’s actually gone mute. Speechless, maybe.

“Hi,” Perry says, elbowing Dex to the side. “We’re your neighbors.” She gestures to the house with a tilt of her head. “I’m Perry, this is Dex, that’s my sister Ada. We just wanted to come over and introduce ourselves.”

The man’s eyes fix on mine. Though he’s got to be pushing seventy, he’s handsome and I’m a bit stunned by his gaze. “My wife talked to you the other day. I’m Sage.”

“From Hybrid,” Dex is finally able to say. He clears his throat, composing himself. “Big fan.”

Sage gives a wane smile. “Have you listened to my solo stuff?”

Dex nods enthusiastically. “Sage Wisdom, Bloody Twat, Tricky Times, An Album for the Dead and Dying, The Devil in Shasta.” He lists them all off without missing a beat.

And it seems to impress Sage. It’s impressed me, the fact that the man standing before us has had quite the career. It kind of makes me wish I spent some time listening to his music, then again I wouldn’t want to turn into a grinning fan-boy the way that Dex is all of a sudden. Dex has always had an aura of cool about him but right now he could be just about any dork drooling over his idol. What a twatwaffle.

“Wow,” Sage says slowly, maybe even with a touch of embarrassment. “You really do know your stuff.” He opens the door wider. “My wife isn’t home right now, but she’d love it if you came in.”

We enter the house. I’d only been in here a few times when the old neighbors were here, my mom having dragged us all over for dinner once or twice. Even though the Knightlys just moved in, the place already looks different. It feels different. I’m a strong believer in houses having vibes, and the vibe of this house has totally changed. In fact, every hair on my arm is standing up and I feel hyper-aware. It’s not a bad vibe per se, just one of energy, like the walls are brimming with static.

I eye Perry and she gives me a little nod, feeling the same thing.

We follow Sage into the living room, past stacks of boxes. The furnishing is fairly sparse but somehow I can tell it’s because of their personal style and not because they haven’t unpacked. Maybe because Jacob had mentioned them being stuck in the ‘70s, mentally anyway, there is a bit of that feeling thanks to the orange and earthy tones, as well as shag carpeting, but it’s done up in a modern way. Plus the walls are adorned with all sorts of art that range from tribal and primitive to downright creepy. One painting is the album cover for Led Zeppelin IV, except instead of a man, it’s a horse in ragged clothing.

“Can I get you anything?” Sage asks, gesturing for us to take a seat on the couch. “Beer?”

“That would be great,” Dex says, his eyes dancing, clearly thrilled to be offered beer by a hero of his.

Perry shakes her head no and then everyone looks at me. I’m underage but obviously that doesn’t mean anything.

“Sure,” I tell him with a big smile. Hey, they got to have their beer garden fun this afternoon while I was getting cryptic talk from Jacob, it’s my turn.

Speaking of Jacob, while Sage strolls into the kitchen, I turn to Perry and whisper, “Are you going to do the talking or is Dex?”

She gives me the gesture to calm down and chill out. I sigh and sit back. She wasn’t the one who had been talking to someone who is supposed to be dead.

For once, I guess.

Sage comes back with the beers and a glass of water for Perry and we immediately lapse into easy small talk.

Sage is one interesting old dude. Even though what we’re talking about is completely mundane—the farm they lived on before, the new neighborhood, Oregon versus Washington—there’s something enigmatic about him that makes you sit up and pay attention. It’s the way he speaks, carries himself. It’s his eyes that hint at a million things he’s seen and experienced, far more than anyone else his age. He’s, quite frankly, legendary.

But small talk is impossible for a legend and the conversation easily moves into his own fame and notoriety.

“So,” Dex says cautiously, leaning forward on his elbows with his nearly empty beer in his hands, “Ada here tells me that she met your friend, Jacob.”

Sage looks my way and I freeze, wishing Dex hadn’t thrown me under the bus like that. But he merely gives me the subtlest of nods before focusing back on Dex.

“Jacob had mentioned that,” he says. “He’s staying with us at the moment. Old family friend of ours.”

“Well, uh,” Dex falters, running his hand over his jaw and shooting Sage a boyish look, “the thing is, I thought Jacob was dead. I mean, that was Jacob Edwards, wasn’t it? Your manager who died in Prague in 1975.”

Sage stares at Dex for a moment and I’m afraid he’s going to ask us to leave, that Dex is being too nosy, too pushy, that we’ve stumbled upon something no one is supposed to know. Oh my god, what if there isn’t a jam room in the basement at all but a dungeon and that’s where the three of us will go in a few seconds, once Sage grabs the guitar in the corner and starts using it as a sword?

But then the corner of Sage’s mouth lifts up and he leans back in his armchair, his large, weathered hands palming the wooden adornment on the ends of the arms. “I shouldn’t be surprised you know this, considering you’re a fan.”

“Well it’s kind of urban legend,” Dex admits. “It only added to your mystique.”

Sage’s smile is tight. “Yeah. I know.” He sighs and looks away, his fingers kneading along the end of the chair. “But how many urban legends actually end up being true?” He gives us all a steady look. “Jacob is a friend to me and Dawn. A very, very good one. Whether he’s alive or not doesn’t make much difference, does it?”

I can tell the answer is supposed to be “no it doesn’t,” but I mean
hello
. Of course it makes a difference! But I know I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut so I shove the beer in my mouth and swig back the rest of it.