Ghost Writer (Raven Maxim Book 1) (38 page)

“Mom, it’s me. I landed a few minutes ago. I’ll be over in about forty minutes, an hour tops…depends on traffic. Gotta make a stop on the way over.”

“I can’t wait to see you, Nikki!” Her jaws hurt from the strain of her grin.

“I can’t wait to see you, too.”

“I made plenty of food, okay? It’s your favorite, jambalaya. And the guest room is all set up for you.” She turned towards the stove and turned off the eye.

“That’s nice, Mom. You ain’t have to do all of that though.”

“Yes, I did. Now you hurry on over here. Let me get my hands around you and squeeze you extra tight.” Giggling, she swung the refrigerator door open and grabbed some cornbread that needed heating up. She knocked the door closed with her hip and sped things up, moving in a frantic pace.

“All right, be there in a jiffy.” And then the call ended. Placing her cell phone down on the kitchen counter, Emerald kept seeing to her cooking, but something nagged at her, as if she were forgetting something.

Shit!

Dropping the ladle on the silicon holder next to the stove, she made a mad dash to her bedroom to grab two cinnamon pumpkin scented candles. Plopping them in a pair of crystal glass holders, she gripped a sugar skull decorated lighter she’d nabbed from Sloan’s car, telling him it was too cute to be in his possession, and lit the things, hoping they’d give the room an even nicer aroma.

Her cell phone rang again then, so she pulled it out of her pocket. She smiled upon seeing the caller ID flashing Sloan’s name and number.

“Heeeeey, how are you, honey?” She rushed down the hall and entered her bedroom to do a bit of freshening up.

“I’ve got so much to tell you, it’ll make your head spin, but we can get into all of that later. I just called to tell you to have a great time this weekend with Nikki. I know you wish she could stay longer, but make sure you enjoy yourselves to the fullest. I’m gonna leave you alone for the next couple of days. You won’t hear from me unless you initiate the call, okay? I don’t want to interrupt and I know how much this means to you.” Her cheeks warmed with appreciation.

“I’ll be calling you, believe that. You help me keep a level head.” She chuckled nervously as she wiggled out of her blue denim jumper, grabbed a black short sleeved blouse, then hit the speaker button on her phone before tossing it on her bed.

“You’ll be just fine, baby,” he said so smoothly and beautifully, his words served just the way she needed them. “I’ve been reading the book you found; well, the one that was given to you, I suppose you could say. I’m researching some more things and I’ve already begun writing.”

She paused in her tracks, thrilled beyond belief with his update. “I’m so proud of you. That’s great news, Sloan! I was so worried you’d get stubborn or—”

“No, no, this needs to happen and best of all, I
want
to do it. Titus took care of some things to make it a bit more peaceful in the house while I work, and I can already feel a difference in here. I think Peter knows I’m writing it, so that definitely helps. Anyway, enough of that. I gotta go, sweetie. Save me a little jambalaya. I love you, baby!” And then, the call ended.

“Hmmm, where’d I put my earrings?” She looked about, standing there in only her panties and shirt that she hoped and prayed wasn’t smeared with deodorant. “Oh, I left them on the living room table, that’s right.” Marching to her closet, she snatched a pair of gray and black striped flared slacks, shimmied them up her slender form, then slid her bare feet into a pair of leather mules with faux satin ribbons. She took a good look at herself in the floor length mirror. Not too shabby…

Nodding with approval, she picked up her paddle brush from her dresser and ran it through her hair. Her shoulder length bob was now a picture of perfection, with not a strand out of place.

Hightailing it back into the kitchen, she gave the big pot another few good stirs, sat on the living room couch, and placed her stud pearl earrings in her earlobes. The sounds of John Mayer’s, ‘No Such Thing’ played softly in the background, soothing her. Sitting back on the couch, she sighed, and her stomach flipped with excitement. She flexed her fingers, trying to expend some of the anticipatory energy. The minutes melted into one big glob, until…

The doorbell chimed.

She jumped in her skin.

Getting to her feet, she almost tumbled towards it, then caught her composure and gripped the doorknob tight before looking out the peephole. There Nikki stood in full view, her hair pulled back in thick, lustrous braids, her dark honey skin flawless—and she was wearing the hell out of her uniform. Emerald swung the door open, and before she could grab her, Nikki did the honors, taking her into her arms and squeezing tight.

“Nikki!!!! My baby is home!”

“Mom, yeah… I’m here,” the young woman choked out.

Emerald’s eyes moistened with joyful tears and she couldn’t let go. The feeling was too surreal, too wonderful to release. She needed to feel it all, take it in, smell the air, etch it in her mind, and remember this exact moment just as it was, preserve it like furniture, hold it like love. She opened her eyes, grabbed her daughter in a vise like hold and pressed her lips into her cheek.

“So glad to see you! Come in, come in, come in! Now you just stop talking to me outside like you’re a Girl Scout or some door-to-door salesman and get your behind in here.” She reluctantly released her and stepped inside the doorway. Nikki walked in, her hand wrapped around the fingers of a young lady with a short, natural, reddish brown do. The woman had glossy pink lips, large silver hoop earrings, flawless makeup, and gray contacts.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mya.” Breaking her hold on her daughter, she barged between the two, grabbed the woman in her arms, and gave her a hug, one as tight as the one she’d bestowed upon Nikki. She’d finally met her daughter’s fiancée, and was grateful for the opportunity. Out of the corner of her eye, she took notice of her daughter’s raised brow and a slight expression of confusion.

“Thank you!” Mya exclaimed, turning and churning the awkwardness into something useful. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, too. Nikki has told me so much about you, and the topic of her missing your cooking came up practically every week.”

“Well, that’s good to know because now you
both
can have a taste. Come on in; make yourself comfortable. Have a seat and relax!” She closed and locked the door behind them. “It’s time to catch up.” Clasping her hands together, her heart swelled as she watched them smile at one another, then back in her direction. “We have to make the most of this precious time.”

“Time is short, right, Mom? You always say that.” Nikki winked at her and set a large black duffle bag on the couch.

“You better believe it, so do the best you can by those you love right
now
…”

Daddy’s Little Girl

“W
ell, actually, I’m
putting ‘Bane of My Existence’ on hold,” Sloan explained to his agent, Deloris. He took a glance at the time showcased in an olive and martini novelty clock set on a bookshelf to his left. His children would be there soon for a visit, and he’d shut down his computer in anticipation. Quiet moments passed as he relaxed in the office with a cigarette in one hand and dreams of indulging in a glass of cognac swirled in his head like the smoke around him.

“You. Did.
What
?!”

“It’s not forgotten, just on ice.”

“But you’ve been working on it for three months, Sloan! This is a joke, right? You’re playing a practical joke on me right now.”

“I’m serious. It’s just the way it’s gotta be. I—”

“But we’ve got so much riding on this! You can’t do this. You can’t just pull the plug like that, act like Daffy Duck and yell, ‘That’s All Folks!’”

“Actually, that was Porky Pig…”

“I prefer to think of you as Daffy Duck… a tyrant, never thinking things through, flying by the seat of your pants and the hell with everyone else who may be affected by these bonehead decisions.”

“Well fuckerin’ fuckotash! She thinks I’m dessssspicable!” he teased in a Looney Tunes Sylvester the Cat voice.

“Screw you, Sloan. This is serious.”

“I think I just spit all over my phone doing that Sylvester the Cat impression. I preferred him over Daffy. Have you ever thought about how Daffy Duck and Sylvester the Cat sounded alike? Wow, that never dawned on me until now. That crazy lisp, and they used some of the same damn phrases. Wonder why I didn’t notice that as a kid?”

“Are we really about to discuss Warner Brother cartoons right now, Sloan?”

“Deloris, can you imagine going behind the guy who did that voice-over work for Disney? They must’ve need a hundred new microphones after he short-circuited them with flying saliva.”

“We’re talking blogs, promos, the works,” she went on, ignoring him. “The cover is finished, the marketing is paid for! Posters drafted, everything! We’ve discussed the content in great detail. It was a sure bet, a home run. I have you scheduled to discuss it in upcoming interviews, for God’s sake! Comic-Con even invited you to attend as guest speaker!”

“That’s awesome.”

“Yes it is, and of course it’s a paid appearance. How can you do this to me?”

“Ohhhh Deloris, you’re so melodramatic.” He chuckled.

“You’ve gone crazy… you’ve gone
completely
out of your fucking mind.”

“Okay, that’s not a proven theory but regardless, I’m truly sorry about the inconvenience. That doesn’t change the fact that I had to switch gears. I’m honestly not trying to derail all of your hard work on my behalf. You know I appreciate you. I just can’t finish the book right now.”

“Why?” He could hear the gloom and doom saturating each syllable she uttered, could envision the tiny wrinkles across her freckled forehead bunching together as she inwardly devised a plan to manipulate him back on course.

“Well, I was getting to that, but I wanted you to calm down first. I tried a bit of comedic relief, but you were less than impressed.”

“Nope, I’m not calm, Sloan. I’m not going to be calm in an hour, nor later on today. I won’t be calm tomorrow either, so you may as well spit it out.”

“I did… but you don’t like cartoon impressions.”

“You bastard.”

He suddenly heard the flicker of the woman’s lighter. Deloris hadn’t smoked in weeks. He imagined she’d found her tucked away ‘emergency’ cigarette she’d hidden in the dark recesses of her designer purse, the one she’d squirreled away inside of a houndstooth print lipstick holder. There was no uncertainty left between them… she was prepared to huff and puff and to blow him the fuck down. Happily Ever After had been shit upon and flushed down the proverbial toilet. He was sorry he’d stressed her out so badly, but what could he possibly do?

“The truth? Because another project is calling to me. I’ve been living this, feeling things that… never mind. Look, it needs to be written, and I’ve already begun it, actually. Don’t worry about the interviews; keep ’em, okay? I’ll discuss this new project at any venue you have me booked and I promise you I’ll be finished with it sooner than you think. I’ve been working really hard on it, and it’s coming along quite well.”

“Hmmm.” She exhaled. “You actually sound excited about it. What is it about?”

“Well, remember when you called me asking why TMZ ran that story about me having a ghost as a roommate?”

“Yes… and you were livid. Thankfully you’re in a gated community helping to cut down on unwanted visitors who have grown curious, but unfortunately for me, I spent the rest of the night with all the lights on in my apartment after I’d gotten off the phone with you, watching religious programs and praying all night to a God I hadn’t spoken to since my second divorce. I doubt He was happy to hear from me.”

“Well.” He chuckled. “Sorry to hear that, but you demanded to be told the truth and you know me, I wasn’t going to spare you the details.”

“Yes… how thoughtful of you,” she retorted. “And you let me come up there to visit you, knowing all of those rumors were true. You obviously hate me.”

“Well, that’s what this is all about, actually. Just like I told ya, it’s
all
true. I’m going to write Peter Jones’ biography, Deloris. Only thing is, it won’t be your typical one. This is gonna be a part of him no one has ever heard about before.”

“Sloan, you’re trying to ruin your career, aren’t you?”

“Of course not… well, at least not today.” He snickered.

“Biography? You don’t write biographies, Sloan. You’re a fiction writer! FICK-SHUN! You write epic sci-fi fantasy! Jesus Christ!”

“You’re callin’ on his son now, too? I got you praying again… See, I’m good for something after all.”

“Ha-ha-hardy fucking ha. What an appropriate title for the book you placed on the back burner, Mr. Steele. You certainly are the bane of my existence. You’re the type of client I wish I had never taken on. Oh if only I hadn’t answered my phone that day when you reached out to me, in need of an agent after your overnight success.”

“Actually, you were the one who called
me
, but never mind all of that. Yeah, but like I said, this won’t be your typical biography, babe. Look.” He surveyed his desk, practically littered with old, yellowed copies of books written by the ghostly man himself. “It’s not going to focus on where he was born, how he became successful, all the shit you’d usually see. It’s going to focus specifically on his love life, a story that was never told. A story no one else knows.”