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“Aren’t you getting tired of meaningless sex?”
Gage Vicknair stood at the top of the levee and scanned the surface of Lake Pontchartrain, its murky brown water churning madly beneath the thick Louisiana humidity, while Monique’s question churned just as madly in his mind.
Tired of sex? Gage Vicknair?
Not in this life.
But that wasn’t what she asked, now, was it? She asked if he was tired of meaningless sex. That was the kicker, and that question had a different answer altogether. He was twenty-seven and, to his knowledge, he’d never experienced any other kind of sex but meaningless...in real life. However, for the past two weeks, he had glimpsed the realm of meaningful sex, yet only within his dreams.
And with a woman he’d never seen before.
Wouldn’t you know it, at the point in his life when he decided he was actually ready to look for more, to give a woman more than merely a physical bond, he went and flipped over a fantasy girl that apparently only existed in his mind.
Laughter carried in the air from the partiers gearing up for a hot night at the Treasure Chest Casino, less than a block away from Gage’s apartment on Williams Boulevard. And from the cars backed up around the Pontchartrain Center, the place would soon be hopping with tourists in town for the September RV show.
Long-nosed cigar boats pushed through the deep waters of the lake, and several elderly fishermen sat on white plastic buckets around the sloped bank with thick, brown bamboo rods hovering above the gloomy water. A couple of pretty college girls dozed on colorful striped beach towels, their bikini-clad bodies soaking up the last rays of Friday sun.
Funny, everyone else’s life continued business as usual, even though Gage’s had been thrown upside down by his sister’s bluntness.
Meaningless sex.
His cell phone beeped the Zydeco Stomp, and he wasn’t surprised at the id displayed on the square gray screen. He flipped the phone open.
“Haven’t you done enough damage for one day?” he asked.
“Oh, don’t even go there,” Monique said, her feistiness in full force. “It takes more than an honest comment about your love life to get you pissed, but if you’re wanting an apology, I’ll give you one. I’m sorry.” She paused for effect. “There, how was that?”
“It’ll do in a crunch,” Gage said, grinning. Heaven help him, he couldn’t stay mad at her for long. Never had, even when they were kids and she tried out her new school scissors on his hair while he was sleeping. Thank God she’d learned a bit more of the techniques of haircutting since then, or Monique’s Masterpieces would have flopped big time. As it was, her salon was thriving. Then again, Gage gave her more business than anyone, since all of his previous lovers found their way to his sister’s place to keep tabs on the “roving playboy.” Their words, not his. But the description was true, and reminded him of Monique’s blunt comment.
“I do mean that, by the way,” she said. “I am sorry...”
“How come it sounds like a ‘but’ is coming?”
He nodded at two fishermen struggling to lug their buckets up the levee. A fat speckled trout on top of one of the mounds of fish flipped over with a jerk, its body slapping loudly against the additional mix of red fish and flounder filling the pail.
“Looks like you did okay,” Gage observed, while one of the guys grinned, displaying a big gap where his two front teeth used to reside.
“Sho’ nuff,” he said, slurring his toothless attempt at “sh,” while his fellow fisherman chuckled deeply.
Walking a short distance behind the men, a perky blond teen with a curvy body and a sexy smile sauntered up the levee, her tight T-shirt knotted beneath her breasts and her blue jean short-shorts almost qualifying for indecent exposure. While the other bikini-clad girls wore less, this one somehow managed to show, and tease, more. Slowing her pace to a crawl as she neared, she smiled at Gage.
“Hi there,” she said, her voice a sexy whisper. Her diamond-embellished belly ring caught the last rays of sun and made Gage flinch.
All it’d take was a friendly hello, and he could put money on having her out of shirt and shorts before the sun went down. But as Monique pointed out, he’d had his share of meaningless sex, and he wasn’t into jailbait. Consequently, he had to get to the hospital. So he nodded politely, then turned his back to the flirty girl and let her go hit on someone who wasn’t having a life-altering day, courtesy of his meddling sister.
And speaking of meddling Monique, he’d nearly forgotten she was on the other end of the line.
“You still there?”
“I was waiting to see what happened,” she said.
“What happened?” he repeated.
“Hel-lo there,” she purred, mocking the teen’s seductive tone before laughing into the phone.
“Watch it,” he warned.
“Oh, alright. I’ll stop,” she said with a huff. “But the only reason I’ve been nagging you about your beyond interesting love life is that I want you to have what I’ve got.” She lowered her voice to a giddy whisper. “I’m so happy, Gage. Ryan is a dream come true.”
“Actually,” Gage corrected, “he’s a ghost come alive, but ‘dream come true’ will work.”
“Ghost, dream, whatever,” she said, giggling shamelessly. “Anyway, we’re excited. That’s why I called. I wanted to tell you that Ryan and I are at the airport. We’re leaving for Las Vegas tonight, and if everything goes as planned, I’ll be Monique Chappelle before midnight.”
Gage swallowed hard. Monique hadn’t known Ryan that long, but then again, he couldn’t have stayed on this side if they weren’t soul mates. Still...Monique? His wild, vivacious and ready-for-anything sister? Married? To a former ghost?
“Gage?” Her voice sounded inquisitive, and slightly worried.
“Yeah?”
“Say you’re happy,” she instructed.
“I’m happy.” He was happy, after all, because Monique was happy. But it was going to take some getting used to, thinking about her being married and all. And what about her assignments? Ghosts didn’t take too well to waiting for help. “You’re leaving town?”
“Don’t worry,” she said, evidently following his train of thought. “We’ll come back if I start feeling ghosts, and I haven’t had any burning sensations all day. I’m hoping I won’t have any spirits calling until I’m safely back in Louisiana next week.”
Thankfully, Monique usually sensed her ghosts a day before they came, so she was probably right. She and Ryan could go to Vegas, tie the knot, and get back before she received another of Grandma Adeline’s letters, as long as they were willing to cut the trip short if necessary.
Adeline Vicknair distributed ghostly assignments to each of the Vicknair mediums—Monique and Gage, their brother Dax, and their three cousins, Nanette, Tristan and Jenee. All of the current Vicknair mediums knew that, like the ghosts, Adeline didn’t want to wait once she’d given an assignment.
Monique’s skin burned when she had a specter coming. Gage, on the other hand, heard the dead ghost cry before he received a visit. Typically, he had about a day from when he first heard the ghost weeping before he actually met his specter, so he was usually at the Vicknair plantation waiting for his grandmother’s letter when it materialized on her silver tea service. Once, however, after hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, he hadn’t been able to leave the emergency room at Ochsner Hospital. Let’s face it; being a trauma doctor simply called for him to remain in the ER during times of trauma. So, even though he heard the crying, he didn’t leave.
The result was horrendous.
Not only did he hear ghosts cry, he heard them wail, and by the time he finally made it to the Vicknair plantation in St. Charles parish, screams of agony pierced his thoughts until he thought his head would explode.
Since that day, he’d never been late to receive a letter. Thankfully, New Orleans hadn’t been hit with another hurricane like Katrina, which made it much easier for him to give his spirited grandmother the timeliness she expected.
“He says you owe him,” Monique relayed to Ryan.
Ryan’s deep laugh rumbled in the background. “Deal.”
“It’s a deal,” she repeated then added, “Love you, Gage.”
“You too, sis. Be careful.”
“I will,” she said, and disconnected.
Gage pocketed his phone, checked his watch then walked toward his apartment. His shift at the hospital didn’t start for another two hours, but he’d need every minute in order to get a shower then maneuver through Friday night New Orleans traffic. If he were lucky, he’d get to the Ochsner ER a few minutes early.
He crossed the courtyard that formed the center of his apartment complex and neared the kidney-shaped pond that housed a magnitude of big, bold goldfish. Tall, decorative lampposts illuminated the peaceful area and made it even prettier at night than it was during the brightness of day.
Gage paused and examined the familiar scenery. Something about the area looked different, felt different. He strained his ears, almost expecting to hear a ghost’s cry, but he heard nothing. Stepping closer, he studied the bright orange shimmer of fish scales gliding beneath flat round lilypads. The fat fish darted in and out of the pads and swiftly swam through the water bubbling at the end of a rock water fountain. Blooming shrubbery, primarily deep pink roses, enclosed the area to offer privacy to those who wanted a few moments of serenity, whether standing at the pond’s edge or sitting at the single wrought iron bench at one side of the courtyard.
Gage looked at the fish, the bench, the shrubs. Something wasn’t quite right, but he’d be damned if he could say what it was. He didn’t hear ghosts, so that was good. Right?
Then why did it feel so odd? And why did the memory of his fantasy woman suddenly fill his thoughts as thoroughly as the blooms on those roses filled those shrubs?
“Strange, isn’t it?” Vernon Medders said.
Gage had been so enthralled in determining what was wrong with this picture that he hadn’t heard the old gardener approaching. Leather-skinned and balding, Vernon Medders was a constant fixture around Lakeside Apartments. In exchange for rent, he tended to the complex’s landscaping and did a very nice job, in Gage’s opinion, particularly with the courtyard, which he babied daily.
“What’s strange?” Gage asked, knowing he hadn’t verbally relayed his odd feeling.
“Them.” The old man pointed to the shrubs. “Blooming again.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind it, since those are my favorite roses, but they’re only supposed to bloom once a year, late spring to early summer, and they did their part back in June. Odd that they’re blooming again in September, and they’re covered up too, aren’t they?”
Gage studied the shrubs, completely saturated with clusters of dark pink roses. That was what had been so different. He’d walked past the courtyard yesterday to get his mail, since the mail bins were located on the other side of the complex, and he hadn’t noticed the roses. He’d have noticed such a surplus of rich, bold pink, wouldn’t he?
“Seem to have burst out overnight,” Vernon said, smiling now. “Sure is odd, but I don’t mind. Really add another layer to the beauty of the place, don’t they?”
“Yeah,” Gage said. But it also added another layer to his belief that something wasn’t quite right here. And the odd thing was, he had that vague niggling sensation that it had something to do with the other side. The spirits often sent visual calling cards that they were coming, little things that signified a medium should be prepared. Typically, the hints would relate to the assignment, but Gage couldn’t imagine what flowers blooming out of season could imply. He believed, however, that he could find out soon. And bizarrely enough, he somehow suspected that it also had to do with his fantasy woman.
Wouldn’t that be his luck? He’d found someone who’d shown him the beauty to sex that was meaningful, and she ended up being a ghost? Maybe he should’ve asked Monique a few pointers for how she managed to keep a spirit on this side, just in case.
Gage strained his ears again. No crying. How long did he have before he found out whether these roses were meant for him? And what they signified with regard to the spirits? Or to that intriguing woman?
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