9
The group was down two members when they headed to Willie T’s. Daphne and Ayesha had called it a night. Leo and the others
refused to. After all that talk of death, they wanted to feel alive. At the bar, they marveled over the walls and ceilings
coated with dollar bills, some signed by famous patrons. After adding a few bills of their own, they gathered at a bar-height
table, silent and subdued. Except Dick, who’d ditched them to hang out by the bandstand, alone, red-faced and sweaty, swaying
to a live cover of a Willie Nelson song.
The ghosts of the tour haunted them still.
Sebastien addressed it head-on. “Not to be dramatic, but that tour freaked me the fuck out.”
Vicky lowered her head in her hands. “Same here,” she admitted. “They might’ve hammed it up, but they didn’t tone it down.”
Like the wonks they were, they soon pivoted to whatever plot devices could be useful in their work.
“Do you think there’s something to the doll in the attic story, or is it overdone?” Matty asked.
The group trashed the idea.
“Matty, I swear,” Sebastien started. “If I have to sit through one more movie about a freakish doll, I’ll lose it!”
“Agreed,” Leo said. “Chucky spoiled it for everyone.”
Sebastien muttered, “Annabelle.”
“I’m committed to telling Aurora’s story,” Vicky said. “She’s a vengeful spirit. I can feel it.”
“That haunted church is calling my name,” Sebastien said. “What do you mean they still hear children laughing and playing around the statue of an angel? That breaks my heart.”
Vicky shivered. “There are dark powers at play in this world.”
Leo was only interested in the dark power that Jules possessed, the hold that she had on him. He noticed that she didn’t participate
much in any conversation. Instead, she studied everyone as if she were reading their thoughts. Who knew what was going on
in that mind? And when she glanced his way and caught him staring, she arched an inquisitive brow. He did not turn away or
make excuses for his behavior. He was fascinated with her. The sooner she knew it, the better.
“I call dibs on the doll,” Matty said. “Not sure what I’ll do with it but dibs all the same.”
Everyone groaned.
The band started on a Shania Twain hit. Sebastien perked up. “We’ll feel better if we dance! Let’s go girls!”
Vicky grabbed Jules by the arm. “Come on, Jelly Bean!”
Jelly Bean?
They whirled away just when their server, a young man named Jonas, arrived with their third round of drinks. Jonas reached
for a pen and notebook in his apron. Matty stopped him. “Not so fast! Keep the tab open.”
“No worries there,” he said, and produced a slim weather-beaten paperback of Leo’s debut novel. The very first edition of
The Forever Toll.
“You just happen to be reading this?” Leo asked, doubtful.
“No, but I figured you’d show up here while you’re in town. Most tourists do.”
“Are we that pathetic?” Matty wondered aloud.
“Not pathetic,” Jonas said. “Predictable. If you didn’t end up here, you’d be at Sloppy Joe’s . . . or at the Green Parrot.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll hit all those spots,” Leo said, his eyes on Jules. She was smooth on the dance floor, moving to the rhythm, but her heart wasn’t in it.
Matty tossed back the tequila shot. “I’m offended no one cares enough to stalk me.”
“We care, but you write doorstoppers. This was the only book that fit my pocket.”
“Now, that makes me feel better,” Matty said. “Who’s we?”
“Me and my girlfriend.”
Leo flipped open the book. Seeing it, holding it, would always bring him back to those early years when things were simple.
“Who should I make it out to?”
“Emily,” he answered. “Book nerd with a blog. Works at the bookstore, can’t wait to meet you. I told her she’d have better
luck hanging out here.”
“You just get us,” Matty said with a slap to Jonas’s shoulder. “Is Emily here tonight?”
“Waiting at the bar.”
“Get her over here!” Matty cried, irritated. “We’re dying for the attention.”
Grinning, Leo signed the book and returned it to Jonas. “Give her this and invite her over.”
“Will do!”
Jonas shuffled off and returned a moment later, dragging his girlfriend by the hand. They were both in their early twenties,
ash blond, long limbed, and slender. Emily’s gray eyes sparkled with intelligence.
“Alrighty,” Jonas said, and shuffled off again to wait on the next table over.
She approached them with reverence. “Hello. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“That’s enough of that,” Matty warned.
“Sorry. It’s intimidating to find all your heroes gathered in one spot,” she admitted. “Usually, we get actors, singers, reality
TV stars.”
“That thing about meeting your heroes,” Leo said, “there’s something to it.”
“Not a chance,” Emily gushed.
Matty said. “We just wrapped up a ghost tour. Is this bar haunted?”
“Nah, all we’ve got are rowdy tourists,” Emily answered. “If you’re interested in ghosts, check out the Hemingway House. They
say you can hear him typing in his study. I haven’t experienced it.”
Matty frowned. “If I want to see Hemingway’s ghost, I’ll head over to Sloppy Joe’s. Make a night of it.”
“You’ll have better luck at Captain Tony’s Saloon on Greene Street,” Emily said. “They say he sits at his favorite stool.”
Vicky returned without the others and slipped easily into the conversation. “People do the most random things in the afterlife.”
“You’re Victoria Paraíso!” Emily exclaimed.
“Guess so!” Vicky chimed.
“Who’s they?” Matty asked Emily.
The young woman squinted. “I don’t follow.”
“The people who come up with these stories, the ghost sightings, all that,” Matty said. “It’s got to be the folks on the tourism
council. The locals don’t believe it, do they?”
“I can’t speak for the locals,” Emily said. “I’m not a Conch. Few people are, really. I moved down here two years ago when
my mom took a job at the naval base.”
“Good enough,” Vicky said. “Some people call themselves New Yorkers the second their movers pull away from the curb.”
“The way I see it, the locals respect the past,” Emily replied. “That creepy doll, for example. They don’t mess with it. They
say you can’t take his picture, and they stand firm on that.”
“But what do you make of all this?” Leo asked. “Is it a gimmick, a touch of local color?”
“I’m a chicken. I don’t take the tours, and I won’t step foot in Captain Tony’s Saloon,” she replied.
“But not all ghost stories are scary. I’m into the romantic ones, like the ghost of a widow by the shore waiting for her husband’s ship to return.
That’s sweet, right? When I first moved here, I started a journal to record every tragic love story.
I’ve collected a few now. Maybe I’ll write a book someday. ”
“Don’t say maybe, just do it,” Vicky said.
Sebastien and Dick flocked to the table. Starstruck, Emily had eyes only for one, and it wasn’t Dick. “Sebastien Smith! My
boyfriend is a big fan of yours. I gifted him the special edition collection for his birthday.”
Sebastien said, “That’s always nice to hear.”
Dick muttered, “Guess I’m a no-talent hack.”
“Don’t be cross,” Matty said. “Her boyfriend is not your demographic.”
Dick was cross. “I’m starting to wonder why I bothered to come here at all!”
“Quit complaining,” Matty said. “Not very dignified upper statesman of you.”
“You came for the same reason we all came,” Sebastien said with a shrug. “To get out of the house and live a little.”
Vicky gestured for Leo to pass her a shot glass. “By the way, Dick, this round is on you.”
Emily addressed Carlisle. “We carry Sweet Adelaide in our store. It’s a classic.”
Her attempt to smooth the old man’s feathers only made their small group roar with laughter.
Where is she?
Leo scanned the crowded bar only to spot Jules out on the terrace, alone, among the smokers and the texters. With a nod to
Emily, he excused himself and headed out.
“What are you doing out here on your own, Jelly Bean?”
Her eyes lit up at the sound of his voice, and it drove Leo wild with happiness.
“Only Vicky calls me that,” she said, “and only when she’s three sheets to the wind. We’ll have to look out for her. She’s due to get sick in the ladies’ room in a half hour.”
“I’ll get Matty on that. He won’t mind,” he said. “I’d rather look out for you.”
Jules straightened her shoulders, stood a little taller. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s all I want to do,” he said.
Jules stiffened. “I’m fine,” she said. “I came out for fresh air. That’s all.”
With a hand to her lower back, Leo steered her off the terrace and onto the sidewalk, away from the smoky crowd. She didn’t
swivel around to slap his face. He took it as the most delicious win. “The air is slightly fresher here.”
The sidewalk was no less crowded. A bachelorette in a torn white T-shirt, miniskirt, and cowboy boots marched by. She was
surrounded by bridesmaids in similar outfits, in every color of the rainbow. Jules closed her eyes and breathed deep. The
streetlight turned her amber skin gold.
“Tell me something,” he said.
Eyes still closed, she whispered, “Yes?”
“What was going through your mind at Higgs Beach? You looked . . . disturbed.”
She blinked her eyes open with a flutter of lashes. Now she looked truly disturbed, and he hated himself for it.
“I felt way too much on that tour.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“Never mind,” she said. “I don’t understand it myself.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense.”
She didn’t answer. Leo would have to learn to read her silences. Until then, he’d gently press for answers. “You can talk
to me, July.”
Hands balled into fists at her sides, she said, “I felt everything on that tour. The sorrow, the terror, the incomprehensible
grief . . .”
“You’re a sensitive person.”
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m stronger than this.”
“No one is strong all the time,” he said. “If you need to lean on someone, I’m here.”
“Forget it. And don’t let me keep you from all this.” She gestured at the bar and all of Duval, as if any of that mattered.
“I don’t want to spoil your fun.”
Fun? A debate raged inside him. He struggled with how much he ought to reveal. “All I’m saying is that I wouldn’t let anything
happen to you, given the chance.”
“Leo,” she said. “You’re not my knight in shining armor.”
What if he was? What if this feeling, this desire, was a calling, a destiny? It felt that way, bigger than him, demanding
action. He’d dropped everything to drive down here to see her—not that he’d had a lot to drop, but that wasn’t the point.
“July, I’m on a quest here,” he said. “And I’m one determined motherfucker.”
Oddly enough, that line earned him a genuine smile—wobbly, but no less glorious.
She stepped closer to him, reduced the space between them to nothing but a slice of air. “Aren’t we friends? Why do you keep
calling me July?”
“Personal preference,” he said. “I like the way it rolls off the tongue.”
Laughter swirled around them. She eased closer still. “Say it again.”
“Say what, Jelly Bean?”
Her laugh was low, gentle. Finally, the sound Leo had been aching to hear!
In the next breath, his mouth was on hers.
It wasn’t anything they’d decided to do, it just happened, as effortlessly as dawn breaks.
With a hand on her waist, he drew her even closer.
His tongue explored her mouth. He wouldn’t have stopped even if the world came crashing to an end.
However, their world did crash, the commotion originating inside the bar.
Vicky’s voice, clear and distinct, cut through the noise: “Oh my God!”
Jules broke away from him, her lush mouth open, panting. “That’s Vicky.”
Because he was her sworn knight, warped armor and all, he sprang into action, no matter how much it distressed him. He took
her hand and led the way.