Chapter 13 Tomorrow
THIRTEEN
TOMORROW
CASSIDY
The next morning is a harsh slap back to reality.
I wake up in my bed alone. Of course I do. My one-night stand was just that. Johnny was a Halloween fling, and when the night was over, he was gone, that flashy car of his swallowed up by the shadows.
My phone had died midway during the day yesterday.
I was having such a good time with Johnny that I didn’t even notice until I thought about asking him for a selfie to remember the whirlwind of a date by, then saw it was dead.
It hit me then that—going along with the 1950s theme—he never pulled his phone out, either.
Or maybe his was dead, too, and he didn’t have a charger that was compatible with his old-fashioned car.
Once he was gone, I put my phone on the charger before slipping into the bathroom and taking a nice, hot shower.
By the time I was done, it had turned back on.
I had a couple of emails I missed, a few drunk texts from Derek that were all pictures of him and Faye—as Gomez and Morticia Addams—having a great time at their Halloween party.
There was a message from Em, too:
Emily Lang
If you want to make up for the hours you lost today, we could use you tomorrow at noon.
I was actually kind of grateful to receive it.
Emily had been so quick to toss me out the door after Johnny strode into the diner, I harbored a secret suspicion that she set me up as a way to find a reason to let me go.
I’ve never been fired before, and I didn’t want to start now, plus she was right.
I’d expected to work until six yesterday and cut out way earlier.
I definitely needed to pick up a shift on my day off.
I shot her a message that I’d be in, and that I would be returning the Halloween costume once I got it dry-cleaned—since I didn’t trust myself to get all of the dirt and grass stains out at the local laundromat—before heading to bed where I dreamed of a sexy greaser with stunning blue eyes and a wicked tongue.
That was last night. That was Halloween.
November 1st comes crashing down on me like a wave at the Jersey Shore.
My body aches. My inner thighs are tender.
My back screams like it’s on fire. Twenty-year-old Cassidy could handle a romp in the grass a whole lot easier than thirty-year-old Cassidy who hadn’t had a dick anywhere near her in close to twelve months.
Everything went smoothly yesterday when I was with Johnny, but, oh, am I paying for that now.
I suck it up, though. Going back to my pink waitress uniform and my sneakers, I remember to grab a coat this morning before heading over to the diner before noon.
It’s already buzzing by the time I walk through the door, my hands shaking from too little sleep and way too many emotions flooding through me.
Emily is already at the counter, pouring another cup of coffee for one of our regulars. She glances up when the bell over the door rings, takes one look at me, opens her mouth—and then silence.
“What?” I ask, already unzipping my jacket.
“Nothing,” she says softly. “You just look... different.”
Before I can respond to that, Cookie barks his wife’s name, Gloria calls out to Lee to get another pot brewing, and I’m back in the real world once again. Shrugging off my coat, I disappear into the back, placing down my purse and trading my outerwear for a fresh apron.
A lunch arrival usually signals that one or both of the early morning waitresses is off duty. Not today. I guess because Em was doing me a favor by throwing a couple of extra hours my way, she keeps Gloria and Lee on for their scheduled shifts, too.
At least, that’s what I believe until an hour into my day.
The diner had slowed down like usual at this time.
Derek had joined Cookie in the back to run a load through the industrial dishwasher.
Lee had gone on a ten-minute smoke break out back.
Gloria was wiping down tables, and I was getting ready to start refills when Emily came over to me, a strange expression on her face.
She looks… worried.
Ah, crap. Am I getting fired after all?
“Do you have any tables right now?” she asks me.
I shake my head.
“Good. I have to go on a quick ride to take care of something. I’d really appreciate it if you’d come with me. I’ll seat you extra when we get back to make up for it.”
I could say ‘no’, but Emily already did me a favor letting me come in today at all. And as long as she’s not firing me… “Sure. Um… now?”
Em nods, and calls back to Cookie that she’s taking me with her, that we’ll be back before he knows it. Then, with a pointed look at me, she heads for the door, me nipping at her heels.
This should be interesting.
“Did you have a good Halloween, Cassidy?”
“Yeah. I did. You?”
Emily stares at the road in front of her as though worried some pedestrian might suddenly appear and throw themselves into her path as she drives her car down the empty stretch of road.
“Yes. Cookie and me sat on the porch and handed out candy to the last batch of trick-or-treaters to come into our neighborhood. It was nice.”
“I’m glad.”
“Mm. What about you? You went off with that greaser boy yesterday. How did that go?”
Something tells me that my middle-aged, happily married boss might not exactly approve of the way I had sex—a lot of sex—with a customer I met at the diner earlier that same morning.
“We had fun.”
“Nothing notable about it?”
Besides the way he seemed obsessed with the idea of us lasting more than one night before he disappeared without giving me a way to get in touch with him?
“No. He showed me around town. We went for a drive. He brought me home.” I smile over at her. “He was a perfect gentleman.”
One look at her face and, oh, yeah, she doesn’t believe me one bit.
Too be fair, I don’t see how it’s really any of her business. She’s my boss, yeah, and I met him at her diner, but she was the one who all but shoved me out the door when he offered to show me around Shadowvale—
I blink, confused, when she slows down her car, coasting to the edge of the road before parking just inside of the trees.
“Where are we?”
“You’ve never been to Scotty’s Curve?”
I have. I don’t really want to explain when or with who, but it’s in the way Em asked her question. Shit. She already knows.
What happened? Did Johnny swing by the diner earlier this morning and brag about how easy the waitress was? Oh, God. Did he laugh because I was dumb enough to think that he might actually want more than a bounce or two?
“Em—”
“It’s okay, Cassidy. I just want to show you something really quick. Two seconds, alright? Unless you need longer.”
Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.
Emily gets out of the car, heading into the woods. It’s early afternoon, but the shade from the red and orange-capped treetops makes the pathway dark. She disappears down a particular one. Releasing my seatbelt, I scramble out of her car, hurrying after her.
She doesn’t go that far. In a small clearing that’s probably about twenty yards away from where I spent a memorable moment with Johnny, she’s standing there, waiting, a wealth of wildflowers at her ankles.
“Over here, Cassidy. I have something you ought to see.”
Sure. Why not?
I join Em over there. At first, I’m not so sure what I’m looking at. It’s a rock with some dark green growth on it, but when I crouch a little, I finally notice that there are letters and numbers carved in the stone:
JOHNNY GRAY
1928-1953
I don’t understand.
“I wanted to tell you,” Emily says softly somewhere behind me. “But I figured he would.”
Tell me what? “That he’s… what? Dead? Is this some kind of sick joke? Another prank? Because that’s not funny, Em. It’s not funny at all.”
“I know, sugar. But it’s real. Look at the stone. Touch it. It’s older than both of us combined. It’s real.”
The stone might be. I kneel next to it, brushing away some of the heavy moss covering the edges. The stone is chilly, the texture rough. It’s pitted. The name stands out, though, despite the weathering it must have gone through. Yeah. It’s real.
“So they have the same name. That’s all.”
There has gotta be a thousand Johnny Gray’s out there.
Who dress like they’re from the 1950s.
Who talk like it, too.
Who appeared one Halloween after I could’ve sworn I was being haunted, only to act like he’s been waiting for me…
“I know,” Em murmurs. “It’s a lot to take in. He revealed himself to you. He spent time with you. Whatever he thinks, he should’ve told you the truth. You deserved to know.”
Know what? “That’s he’s, like, a ghost or something?”
I wait for Emily to laugh. To shake her head. To tell me I’m being ridiculous.
All she does is smile sadly at me.
My stomach jolts. Okay. Assuming this isn’t some really fucked-up joke…
“How did you know?”
“He’s been haunting the diner a long time.”
Suddenly, I remember Derek’s jokes about seeing ghosts in Shadowvale. Did he know? Does everyone know? What about—
While my head was spinning, mind spiraling, Emily had pulled her phone out of her apron pocket. Bowing her head, she swiped and tapped, and just when I want to find out exactly who else knows, she spins her phone around, showing me an image of an aged newspaper article.
Two photos are printed beneath a salacious headline: TWO YOUNG LOVERS DEAD IN FIERY CRASH.
I know the face on the left intimately. That’s Johnny alright, from the slightly smirk to the way he wore his hair when I met him yesterday. But the woman in the picture on the right…
She’s younger than me by a few years, though the way she styles her hair makes her seem older than she probably is. She has bangs. Curls. The newspaper would’ve been black-and-white when it was first printed, but I’d put money down that her eyes are brown.
Just like me.
“Who’s that?”
Because it is me. I know it is. It’s me, but it can’t be.
“Her name was Cassie Miller. Cassandra was her real name.”
Cassandra, I think. Not Cassidy.