Ghost Flower (21 page)

Aurora standing by the sink, staring into the mirror. Her mascara running down her face, Stuart behind her. His hands stripping the coat from her shoulders, his mouth on her neck, his fingers closing on her breasts, squeezing them through the fine fabric of a summer dress. Her eyes widen then, realizing what’s about to happen. She reaches up to pry his fingers off of her, but he turns her around, toward him, and starts pushing her to her knees with one hand, the other going to the waist band of his jeans—

My mind flipped to another man, another girl. A shadowy bedroom, the only illumination from the streetlight outside and the Winnie the Pooh digital clock next to the bed. The man is holding the girl pinned against a wall. She is wriggling and crying and begging him to stop. Pleading. She promises she won’t tell anyone what he’s done if he just leaves now.

The man laughs. “Who you going to tell, little one? Who would believe a little whore like you?”

Her eyes widen as she realizes what is about to happen—

“Things were getting good,” Stuart said, his voice, his breathing hot and fast against my ear, wrenching me back to the present. “Then things were getting
really
good.” His eyes were glassy, and his hips pressed against mine.

“Then what happened?” I asked, trying to move away slightly.

His eyes refocused on me. “Then your little bitch friend came in and dragged you out.”

“Coralee?”

“No, the dead one. Liza. She said you’d hate yourself in the morning if you went any farther with me. Like she was your mother. Snotty bitch.”

“Do you remember if I was wearing my coat then?”

“I think you put it back on. I left before the two of you came out. I’m not into that girl-on-girl lezzy shit,” he sneered.

Charming,
I was thinking when something occurred to me.

“Do you remember if I was dating anyone?” I asked casually.

“Not that night you weren’t.” He took a big handful of my leopard print cardigan and pulled me up against his chest. “So, now that you know the script,” he said, rolling one of the silver buttons around in his fingers, “why don’t we rehearse?”

“You’re my cousin’s boyfriend,” I objected.

“Bridgette and I have an agreement. Besides, that didn’t bother you before.”

“You’re lying,” I said. I couldn’t explain how, but I knew I was right.

The way his sneer wavered confirmed it for me. “You know you wanted it. You were just afraid to admit it. I could see it in your eyes, no matter what you were saying.”

“No,” I said, and my voice sounded small, almost childlike. “You’re wrong.” I cleared my throat. “Besides, I’m different now.”

“Yes, you are,” he said. “You’re all grown-up.” He tugged at the neck of the cardigan, popping one of the buttons.

I pulled back and covered my chest with one hand and tried to push him away with the other. “Stop it. I don’t want to do this.”

His eyes weren’t lazy anymore. Now they looked hungry. “That’s what you said that night too. But you didn’t mean it.” One of his hands plunged down the front of my sweater to grab my bra, and the other grabbed my ass. “I can’t tell you how much I regretted having to leave this untapped,” he said, giving it a squeeze. “Tonight could be the night.” I tried to wrench away, and another button flew off the cardigan.

“Let me go!” I pushed against him with my fists.

He grabbed both wrists in one surprisingly strong hand and held them to the side, staring at my bra as he said, “That’s right, baby. Fight me harder.”

“No!” I said, trying to twist my arms free. “Let me go!”

His eyes looked wild with pleasure. He licked his lips. “Make me.”

I brought my knee up into his groin hard.

“Aww man,” he moaned, recoiling in on himself. “You filthy little slut, what the hell did you do?” He was rocking back and forth, clutching his crotch with both hands.

I moved away from him. “I told you to stop.”

“Dirty tease,” he said, crab walking to the door. He shot the lock and threw the door open. He paused on the threshold to shout, “Stay away from me, you filthy slut,” and disappeared around the corner.

For a moment I stood frozen where I was, his parting words ricocheting from wall to wall. I could picture him saying the exact same thing in that exact same room three years earlier, picture it all with a clarity that knotted up my stomach.

Dirty tease! You filthy slut!

I slid the door closed and locked it, then went and sat in the bathtub shivering and rubbing my arms and wondering what you had to do to clean a fireplace like the one in the wall.

After awhile there was a knock at the door.

“Aurora?” Coralee’s voice said. “Can I come in?”

“I’m fine, I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay.”

More time passed. I lay back in the bathtub and thought maybe I could just stay there forever. There was another knock. “It’s me,” Bridgette’s voice said. “Let me in.”

“I’m okay,” I said.

“Let me in. Bain will kill me if I break this door down before he sells the house, but I will if you force me to.”

I got out of the bathtub and unlocked the door, then climbed back in. She came in and stood with her back to the sinks. I braced for her to yell at me.

She twisted the ring on her finger and looked near—but not
at
—me. “That was unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” I repeated.

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

“That’s for sure,” I agreed. I was glad she wasn’t screaming at me, but this was even stranger.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said, nodding to herself. “It won’t happen again. Just—whatever he says, go along with it?” Her eyes were on me now. “He’s a pain when he’s angry.”

“What are you talking about?”

She bit her lip. “He’s out there now saying you made a pass at him and got angry when he rebuffed you.”

I felt like I was in a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t how people acted. “Are you crazy? Why would I—”

She put up her hand. “I know. It’s what he needs to do. Just let it go, okay?”

“What does he have on you?” I asked.

Her eyes flashed with surprise, and she snapped, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” When I just stared at her, she said, “I don’t think you understand. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like it. You’re going to do it because I told you to.” She tapped her clutch. “And I have an ID in here that says you agree.”

She opened her clutch, took out a lip gloss and a travel brush, and began carefully applying it. “Besides, Stuart saying you acted like a bitch is more in keeping with what people would expect of Aurora anyway.”

“She always sounds so charming when you talk about her,” I said.

Bridgette faced me. She was perfectly made up, every hair, every eyelash in place. “As I was saying, it doesn’t matter if you like it, or if people like you. It just matters that they believe in you. This séance was your idea. You need to stop whining and get out there and play your part.”

She’s right.
I realized.
This is just a job. Like cleaning houses. Just a way to make money.
“Okay,” I said.

But that didn’t mean I was going to make it completely easy for her.

She was turning to go when I spoke again. “He said he got together with Aurora the night she disappeared. Something about her kneeling right where you’re standing.”

Bridgette winced but regained her composure quickly. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“He said she told him no the first time and fought him, but he was sure that she liked it.”

“Stop,” Bridgette said. “This is absurd.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes had begun darting around like she was looking for a way to escape. “Whatever happened, it happened to Aurora not you. It’s none of your business.”

“He grabbed my ass and said maybe this time we’d get around to that.”

“Stop talking,” she said. She was still smiling, but her back was pressed against the door, hard.

“She was just a girl,” I said to her, unable to keep the horror out of my voice. “Your cousin was only fourteen. And he just stood here and told me he used her against her will, and you not only don’t seem to see anything wrong with that, you’re trying to cover it up.”

Her fingers had gone to the clasp on the door, and they were shaking too hard to work it properly. Yet her voice was still even. “Stop,” she said breathlessly. “Aurora was no innocent girl. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have to stop.”

“Or what? You’ll send him back in here? Maybe this time you’ll watch.”

“Shut up!” she said, finally raising her voice.

As she got more agitated, I got calmer. “How many more girls are
you going to let him get away with hurting?” I asked, my voice level, cold. “How many more, Bridgette?”

Bridgette stood sideways against the door, her face away from me. “I didn’t know about him and Ro, okay? I would have warned you. Her. Whatever.”

“But you know now. Are you still going to date him?”

“It’s not that simple,” she said.

“When was the last time you saw your cousin alive?”

She frowned. “I already told you. I saw her and Liza leave together a little after the party started. Why do you care?”

“What was she wearing?”

“I don’t know. This is—”

“Does he like it when you fight too?” I asked.

For one moment I saw such a portrait of bleakness and despair on her face, I wanted to hug her. And then before my eyes, the pieces of Bridgette, the careful puzzle pieces of her identity, slipped back into place, and she looked exactly how she always looked. Perfect. Varnished.

“She was wearing a trench coat,” she said finally. Her voice quavered in the middle despite her efforts to control it. She straightened her shoulders and smoothed the front of her jeans. “This conversation is over. I’ll expect to see you downstairs in no more than five minutes, and I’ll expect you to act like nothing happened.” She clutched her purse and slid out the door, shutting it with a click behind her.

I stared after her a moment and realized I felt better. I hoped it wasn’t because I’d made her feel worse, but I couldn’t be sure. And, as she pointed out to me, I shouldn’t care.

I climbed out of the bathtub, decided the new less-buttoned cleavage on my cardigan was not completely obscene, and left the
bathroom. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, but I wasn’t thinking about what Stuart had done to me as I left. I was thinking about how badly Stuart reacted to having his pride injured.

And about the fury in his voice when he’d called Liza a “snotty bitch.” It had been, well… murderous.

C
oralee was sitting on the bed in the master bedroom outside when I came out. She sprang up and rushed toward me.

“You’re sure you’re fine?” she said.

“Yes.”

She held me at arm’s length and examined my outfit. She straightened the necklace I was wearing—a silver chain with the heart and the arrow dangling from either end—frowned at the missing buttons on my sweater, nodded, then stepped back. “Do you have anything to say about the incident?”

“Only that Stuart needs to watch where he puts his hands.” I stopped. “Are you filming this?”

She smiled and tapped the big floral broach she was wearing.

I held an open palm in front of my face. “I’m done for the day.”

“We’ll talk more at the spa tomorrow,” she said. “Steamy confidences in the steam room.”

I moved past her and descended the stairs back to the main floor. The big room got quiet for a moment as I came in, and then everyone started talking again, with a little too much animation.

Stuart was leaning against the bar talking to one of the caterers, and every now and then he’d cast a mean glance in my direction. Huck had managed to corner Bain and, based on his hand language was trying to sell him on either a huge night club concept or a new kind of shammy.

From the snippets I could overhear, the room was divided into two factions. Those, like Coralee, who thought the séance had been
gnarly
(apparently another catchword contender) and that Madam Cruz was amazing, and those, led by Bridgette, who thought it was a scam and the medium was a fake.

The only thing I knew was that I wanted to leave. As though sensing it, Bridgette came over and moved to steer me into conversation with Jordan, but we’d only gone two steps when she smiled brightly and said, “Grant. Hey. What did you think of that?”

Grant looked from her to me, then back to her. “We sure had some
spirited
fun,” he said, keeping it deadpan.

Bridgette gave a tepid smile. “Clever.”

Grant turned to me. “Do I stand a
ghost
of a chance of making you laugh?”

I tried to look skeptical. “Maybe if you keep trying.”

Bridgette detached herself from my arm. “I’ll leave you two.” She gave me a discrete nod of encouragement, as though indicating that Grant was someone Aurora would have spoken to.

We watched her cross the room toward Jordan and Scar. When she was out of earshot, Grant said, “How are you doing?”

How would Aurora be doing? “Okay,” I said. “That was weird. Kind of cool.”

“Yeah it was,” he agreed. “Do you think it was Liza?”

“How could it be?” I asked. “She’s dead.”

He looked intrigued. “So you don’t believe in ghosts?”

I shook my head. “Do you?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded once. “Yes and no.” Then, like he was making up his mind, he said, “Want to get out of here and go have some fun?”

My first impulse was to thank him and then go home, but before the words were out of my mouth, I knew that was wrong. That was an Eve answer. I took a deep breath and gave the right—the Aurora—answer. “Depends what you have in mind,” I said.

“I was thinking we could go do some ghost busting.”

I felt myself stiffen. “Not another séance.”

He snickered. “No way. Hands on. With gear.”

“What kind of gear?”

“Really? That’s going to be the deciding factor for you? You get the opportunity to ride along with a ghost-busting legend, as well as a prime chance at coaxing out the long version of my life story since you’ve been gone, and you want to know what you get to play with? Forget it.” He sighed dramatically. “I remember when my company would have been enough.”