Ghost Flower (17 page)

She reached out and touched my cheek with her fingertip. “I’m a very good kisser.”

I gave her a smile and tried to seem nonchalant, not letting on how strange her proximity was making me feel. Or that I had no idea if I was a good kisser or not. “Is that a proposition?”

“It’s a fact,” she said. “It would be great for ratings.” Her fingertip rested on the corner of my mouth. “And it would be fun. Maybe next week when we’ve built a fan base a bit.”

I swallowed. “No.”

She leaned closer and cocked her head slightly to whisper in my ear. “The old Aurora would have done it.”

Her breath against my ear was soft and warm, and the tingling inside of me had turned to a fizzy, slightly demanding heat. I felt my pulse beating in my knees as she moved her hand to my upper arm, and the knit fabric of the dress suddenly felt electric against my skin. It had been a very long time since someone kissed me.

I stepped back a little. “I wasn’t saying no to kissing you. I was saying no to all of it. The show, everything. Your idea is really—something—but I can’t be part of it. My grandmother wouldn’t let me, and I don’t want to do it without her approval.”

“Oh, of course,” Coralee said, laughing like I’d made a hilarious joke.

“I’m serious.”

“Says the girl who once rode a horse wearing nothing but a thong and a pair of cowboy boots across the Ventana Country Club golf course on a dare. In the middle of her grandmother’s charity golf tournament. You
live
to disobey.”

“That—I was a different person then,” I said truthfully. “I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

Coralee brushed that aside. “You say that now, but wait until you have your own spin-off.”

“Were you just listening to me?”

She rolled her eyes. “I was My-Profile-Picture-Is-Grumpy-the-Grouch, but I’m single-minded. Blaze says that’s what is going to take me to the top. Well, that and God. You’ll change your mind.”
She flicked across several screens on her iPhone, stopped, and held one up for me. “Look, you already have your own fan page.”

“AURORA SILVERTON IS A HOTTIE. I’D PSANK HER ANYTIME,” I read. “Great. Someone wants to p-sank me.”

“It’s a typo for spank.”

“It’s a synonym for stupid.”

“Retweet! I am so posting that from your account. You’re a natural!” She tapped me on the tip of my nose. “Oh, and I’d want an exclusive on your story.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Listen, everyone will be trying to go the interview route, but I was thinking what if instead… we did a reenactment of the night you disappeared?”

“No,” I said emphatically, maybe a little too emphatically, because she frowned at me. My head swam at the idea. Even hiding behind the amnesia excuse, there were too many ways a reenactment could go wrong for me to risk it. But almost as bad would be arousing the suspicion of an aspiring investigative journalist with a large YouTube following. “That—that isn’t possible,” I stammered. “All interviews have to be run through Jordan North,” I said. “Besides I don’t remember what happened that night. I don’t remember anything. So that’s not—”

She put up her hand to silence me. “O-M-Genius. Listen to this: We’ll do a séance. Madam Cruz wanted to see you again anyway; this will be ideal.”

“Coralee that is—”

“Don’t say anything. I’ll take care of it all. Good talk. Hugsbye.”

With a whoosh she was through the curtain. But the wooden rings clattered again a moment later, and she poked her head back in. “My wardrobe tends to be Roy G, so it will look best on camera if
you focus on Biv. Like what you have on is perfect.” The expression on my face must have told her I had no idea what she was talking about because without waiting she said, “The rainbow? Roy G. Biv? Blue, indigo, and violet for you.”

And she was gone.

I was confident that no part of Coralee’s plan went with Althea’s “roll out,” and that in any contest Althea would win, so I decided I didn’t need to worry about it.

I turned to examine what I still had left to try. There were six more outfits in the day-wear section, but my eye was drawn to the dark blue silk gown with a long row of pearl buttons up the front. I decided to put it on next.

It was a mermaid cut with a narrow skirt and a train, and the fabric felt cool and exotic against my skin. It’s not easy to do up buttons with only one good hand, and I was bent over concentrating on them when I had the feeling of being watched. It started slowly, just a pricking on the edge of my consciousness. But then the hair on my arms stood up, and the back of my neck felt warm.

“Go away, Coralee,” I said. “It’s Biv, see?” But Coralee didn’t answer. I felt a shiver run through me.

I knew I was being silly, but I glanced quickly at my reflection in the mirror in front of me just to check and looked back down at the buttons. Then I registered what I’d seen, and my eyes snapped to the mirror again.

She’d been standing behind me, in the gap of the curtain Coralee had left open. A girl with long blond hair and a slight smile on her face. The girl in the photo from the police station. The dead girl.

Only her eyes were open. And staring right at me.

W
hen I looked back up, there was no one there. She’d vanished like a ghost.

There are no ghosts.

I lunged out of the seat toward the curtains and tripped over the narrow bottom of the gown. Clawing the air, I managed to catch myself on the wall before I went down entirely and was moving forward when I plummeted into Bridgette.

She helped me back up, horror-struck—a look that changed when she caught what I was wearing. “Oh, thank God you’re already on evening wear,” she said. “It’s taking—”

“Did you see her?”

“Who? Wait, where are you going?”

I pushed past Bridgette, ducked under the curtain, and caught sight of the girl at the end of the dim hallway. “Wait,” I called. “Stop.”

She stopped. I teetered toward her, my heart pounding. “Hello?”

She turned around and gave me a bright smile. “Yes?”

“You’re not—” I staggered back. It was Maisie, the salesgirl. “How did you get here?” I asked stupidly.

“Through the door?” She was regarding me like she thought I might be more in the market for a straitjacket than a bomber jacket. “Did you need a size? That gown looks amazing on you, by the way.”

“What happened to the girl who was just here?”

“What girl?”

I felt like someone was playing a trick on me. “Blonde? Hazel eyes?”

Maisie shook her head. “You and Coralee Gold and your cousin are the only people who have been back here. The only ones all day.”

“That’s impossible. I just saw—” My pulse was roaring in my ears. There had been a girl, hadn’t there? I steadied myself with my palms against the purple flocked wallpaper. I could tell from how Maisie was looking at me that I sounded crazy. I made myself laugh. “Sorry, I thought I saw a friend.” I rubbed my head. “Big night last night.”

Maisie nodded enthusiastically. “I know. I saw the video on YouTube. That was nuts.”

Apparently, Coralee wasn’t kidding about—

The video! That was it. Saying “thank you” over my shoulder, I ran-tottered down the hallway and through the cream arch in pursuit of Coralee. I spotted her standing with the two guys she’d pointed out as her crew. The one with the headphones was looping a cord around his hand, and it looked like they were packing up to leave. I rushed over, nearly diving headfirst into them when I tripped over my train again.

“Hang on,” I said. “Wait.”

Coralee turned and frowned. “Not here, not now. We’re enemies, remember?”

I ignored her and talked to the brown-haired guy with the tortoiseshell glasses who was bent over the book that was a camera. “Excuse me, did you film—” I cut myself off as he looked up.

“Grant?” I said hesitantly. I was nearly positive it was the same Grant Villa the police had shown me photos of, but I didn’t want to be wrong.

He gave me a wry smile. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten all your old friends.”

I stiffened slightly, then relaxed realizing that was a joke, not a test.

Grant Villa, who had been at the party the night Aurora disappeared. Grant Villa, who had been Aurora’s longtime crush—but not the guy in the photos. How would she react to seeing him?

“Well, I didn’t want you to think I was throwing myself at you.” I paused. “Right away.”

He laughed, then reached out and wrapped me in a bear hug. He smelled really good, and I could see why Aurora had a crush on him.

“It’s nice to see you back,” he said as he pulled away. The hug had been just friendly, but there was something in the way he was looking at me now that made me a little tongue-tied.

Fortunately before I had to sort out lucid response, Coralee was standing between us. “What are you doing out here?” she hissed.

My eyes went from her back to Grant. “Were you filming the dressing room the whole time?”

He nodded. “Of course. Captain’s orders.” He tipped his head toward Coralee. “Unfortunately we just stopped, so we didn’t capture your brave attempt at setting the floor-to-face speed record. I’m sure there would have been bonus points for the formal wear.”

“Could I see the video you were shooting?”

Coralee, who had been trying not very successfully to interrupt, now came and stood between Grant and me. “If you want to watch the footage, you have to agree to be
in
the footage,” she said,
as though reciting the rules of
Fight Club
. “That means you do my show.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

She looked a little taken aback. “And my exclusive interview.”

“That’s fine too,” I said. “Can I see it now?”

“Yes. Sure,” she agreed, like she was not quite buying what had just happened but couldn’t figure out why.

She gave Grant a thumbs-up, and he flipped open the Dickens novel to a place near the middle where there was an iPad. “The camera is in the spine, and it feeds to this,” he explained as he tapped the screen to cue up the footage. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

He pressed
play
.

It started with Coralee going into the dressing room, then nothing for so long that I asked him to put it on fast-forward. Around minute three Coralee’s head poked out and went back in as she’d shown me her camera crew, and then there were seven more minutes of nothing until Maisie went in and Coralee came out. She walked over and talked to the camera for a moment, and you could just see Bridgette in the background going into the dressing room as Coralee gave the “cut” sign.

“I didn’t see anything,” Coralee announced.

I hadn’t either.

My mind ran through excuses: The girl had been an illusion. I was seeing things. It was my imagination. I was tired. I was spooked by the pictures Detective Ainslie had shown me.

I was desperate to assure myself this had nothing to do with the voice that seemed capable of whispering not in my ear but right into my mind at the police station, of taking possession of me, like—

Like a spirit. Like a ghost.

There are no ghosts!

Grant was watching me closely. “Are you okay? You look like you need to sit down.”

I shook my head.

He said, “Did you find what you wanted to?”

“I don’t know. I thought I saw—”

“What?” Coralee asked.

“Liza,” I told her.

She went completely still for a long beat, as though someone had turned off the power to her. Then suddenly she was back, pulling out her phone. “That’s it,” she said. “I’m calling Madam Cruz. We’re doing the séance tonight.” She made what she would have described as a “winking smiley face.” “It’s short notice, but they don’t say Good as Gold for nothing.”

In my mind I heard Madam Cruz’s voice saying,
The spirits will have their revenge. Go! Leave! If you have any sense you will fly from here forever.

“I don’t really think—” I began to say, but Coralee cut me off, saying breezily, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything but show up.”

Coralee got busy on the phone, and Grant and the sound guy—who introduced himself as Huck Chin—were starting to stash their gear when Bridgette stalked up. She gave Grant a cool smile and a nod of recognition, ignored Coralee and Huck, and demanded of me, “What are you doing out here?”

“Coralee was helping me with the buttons,” I said, indicating the front of the dress.

“We’re here to get you clothes, not make a music video. The dressing room is back there.” She pointed behind her.

I hadn’t been aware that Coralee was listening, but she hung up
the phone and leaned toward Bridgette to say, “It’s a webisode not a music video, and you really should have edited that room better.” Before Bridgette could recover, Coralee said to Grant and Huck, “Pack it in boys,” and to me, “See you two tonight. I’ll text you the info.”

Bridgette watched her go with a stiff, unreadable expression. “What did that mean? And why were you talking to her anyway? She and Aurora weren’t exactly friends.”

“So she said. Of course that’s the kind of thing you might have told me.”

“It’s the kind of thing you wouldn’t have had to know if you hadn’t decided to show up early and go to her party,” Bridgette shot back. “By doing that you got yourself unnecessarily tangled up with all these people Aurora had relationships with.”

“Wouldn’t that have happened anyway?” I shot back.

“Not if I could help it.”

I had been ready for her recriminations earlier, but I really wasn’t in the mood for them now. “Why don’t you like her?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I think we’re past ‘none of your business.’ You should assume that everything is my business. Like the party Liza and Aurora went to the night she disappeared. You know, the one where you and Bain were the last two people to see your cousin alive?”

Bridgette’s glance now was swift and furious. “Who told you that?”

“The police.” I gave her a condescending smile. “You can imagine how interested I was to hear it.”

She began to twist the triple-band ring she wore on her finger. “Finish getting dressed,” she said stonily. “We’ll talk about it in the car.”