Nathan's Clan of Deadheads Page 9
Nathan understood where they’d gone and nodded. “Went with that Teresa’s sect, huh? I’ve seen my share of folks who did that. Can’t say I rightly understand it, though. I like it here a tad too much for that.”
“A tad too much for what?” Jenna asked as she came through the door, a bright smile on her face and a hand extended in greeting.
Marvin rose to give her a peck on the cheek. “Oh, we were just discussing Colleen and Patrick.”
A soft, almost inaudible sigh escaped from Jenna, and her smile faltered. “I miss that old woman.”
Nathan rose from the couch, removed the toothpick from his mouth and stashed it in a pocket of his jeans. His Big Mama would say, ‘Put your eyes back in your head, child.’ And that’s exactly what Nathan tried to do as he held out his hand to Jenna. The radiance of her auburn hair and green eyes stunned him, and a pang of envy poked at his midsection when his eyes darted to Marvin, who stood taller than he had moments before. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”
“I’m Jenna. It’s nice to meet you…” Jenna dangled the phrase in a question as her hand held onto his.
“Oh, Nathan, ma’am. My name’s Nathan.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Jenna withdrew her hand and turned to face Marvin. “Okay, Marv, what was so important that you felt the need to head off on a rant as I left? Don’t think I didn’t hear you.”
Marvin squared off in front of her. “I knew you could hear. You do that to me all the time, I’ve got something I need to talk about and you have something more important to do.”
“And does it kill you to have to wait?”
Tommy giggled. “ ’Kill you.’ Dude, that’s funny.”
Marvin poked a finger at Jenna. “Would it kill you to wait once in a while?”
Her hand went right through as she swiped at his finger to knock it away. “Don’t start with me, Marvin, you know what I do is important.”
“Oh, and I’m not, is that it?”
“Knock it off. I’m not having this conversation with you again.” Jenna’s stature grew, as a scowl broke across her face.
Marvin broke out into a smile, though from Nathan’s perspective it didn’t register in his eyes. “Oh, go fall—”
“Not this time, Marv. Now, behave yourself.”
Nathan’s jaw clenched and bit down on the toothpick that wasn’t there, and he again eyed possible exits. The woman’s countenance reminded him of the three deadheads in the Cincinnati bar. If she and her anger rose, he might be a goner, as some of the old geezers back home liked to say. He set his wine on the coffee table with as much delicacy as he could muster right at the moment. “Perhaps it’s best if I go.”
“Nonsense,” Jenna said, and waved a hand at him without turning.
“Now, now, children.” Mike threw an arm across Marvin’s shoulders. “Don’t fight. You’ll get Tommy all upset, and then he’s going to want to run around giving everyone hugs.”
“You’re right, this is no way to conduct ourselves in front of our guest.” The tension in the room eased as Jenna’s height returned to normal. With a friendly, pleasant smile on her face, she turned and indicated the small table near the kitchen of the suite. “What is it you needed from me, Nathan?”
“Well, ma’am, I sure don’t want to be a bother. If you’d think I could might come back when you have less on your mind, it wouldn’t be no nevermind to me.”
Jenna waved a hand through the air. “I’ve done what needed to be done. Never mind us. Marvin and I are always jousting. In all honesty,” she said with a glance and a wide grin in Marvin’s direction, “we kind of enjoy it.”
Following her to the table, Nathan pulled and held a chair. “Ma’am.” The expression on her face as she nodded and thanked him as she took her seat told him the gesture of southern kindness and manners might be a bit strange to her. But he couldn’t help it. His mama would’ve boxed his ears a good one if he’d done otherwise. Of course, there was no chance of that since she stuck to home in Baltimore along with a bunch of his other relatives ‘still haunting folks’ as they liked to say, but still… “I guess I need a tiny bit of clarification. I asked the menfolk here.” He pointed toward the living area where Tommy, Marvin, and Mike sat. “They suggested you might be the best to explain things.”
“Hold the thought.” Jenna held up a finger. Turning to the boys, she asked for Nathan’s wine to be brought to him. “And could you pour me a glass, Marv?”
Marvin opened a new bottle, refilled Nathan’s glass along with pouring one for Jenna. He nodded to the duet of thank you’s and returned to his seat, with “Always my pleasure to serve you,” under his breath.
Jenna shot a frown in his direction, took a few sips of wine, and then sat spinning the glass by its stem. She smiled, leaned in to Nathan, and rested her chin in one hand. A finger of her other tracing the edge of the goblet replaced the spinning. “Now, what’s bothering you, Nathan?”
“Well, ma’am, it’s these new rules and all. It’s got folks down south pretty riled up. On edge, you might say.” He stole a glance at Marvin to find a scowl and deeply knit brow.
The spinning halted. “New rules? New rules about what?”
“Yes, ma’am. Well, about not bein’ allowed to slip into folks.” Nathan reached for a toothpick to chew on, but wanted to be mindful of manners and picked up his drink instead. To help relieve his anxiety his toes fidgeted in his boots. “Word is it’s an actionable offense.”
One of Jenna’s brows raised. “It sounds as if you’re guilty of it. Are you?”
Nathan skirted the question with one which had nagged him since the scuffle in the bar. “Why is it okay for some but not others, that’s what I want to know.”
“If it’s not done maliciously, there’s no harm, no foul, right?” Mike said from the couch.
Nathan swiveled in his seat across from Jenna to address the question. “Well, that’s not the way it went down. These poor folks were minding their own business and were told that only certain individuals are allowed.”
“Where did you hear that, who told them this?” Jenna asked.
“A band of these new so-called Keepers, ma’am. I’ve seen it happen, seen them swallow folks up for it with nary a pardon me.”
“Where, when did this happen?”
Not one to lie, Nathan figured it might be in his best interest to just leave out a few parts. “Well, ma’am, it was about a week ago, now. I was in the stockroom of a bar when they came busting in, accusing this group of breaking the rules and said it just isn’t tolerable. The most awful skirmish took place, and before I knew it they’d gobbled up every specter in the whole place.”
“Wait a minute,” Marvin butted in. “Jen, the whole gang of you—”
“And even Jason—” Tommy echoed in.
“Hush.” Jenna waved them off.
Nathan glanced around the room. “Is it true? We aren’t supposed to do that any longer?”
Mike rose and went into the kitchen for a refill. “Oh, please. It happens all the time.”
“Messing with the living is entertainment. Dude, a rule like that could take half the fun out of being a deadhead. Truth be known, ninety percent of us would be goners.”
“Well, now, see, that’s what I thought and I’m relieved to hear it. But, some kind of massive migration happened. Deadheads scattered in all directions; those who were left, anyway. I sure as heck didn’t see many in the time I stayed. Hundreds came this direction right along with me.” Nathan’s toes ceased their antics, but their tightly-curled position remained. “Cincinnati is a ghost town.”
“Not any more, dude.”
Nathan issued a nervous chuckle; Marvin and Mike let out raucous laughter.
Jenna studied him, her gaze flickering across his face as if searching. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” She put her glass on the table, still more than half-full, and rose. She pecked Marvin on the cheek. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”
Nathan promised to meet the guys for breakfast at ten the next morning, though it was a good four hours later than he was used to. Except on rare occasion, his routine never changed from the days at the mines. He went into one of the suites for the night; the place didn’t impress him. He’d stayed in better, but of course that took being in physical form, and his credit card, facts best not shared with these new friends.
After turning on the heat and taking a hot shower, he dropped onto the bed and spent a fitful night filled with nightmares of being haunted, chased by unknown phantoms who grew and loomed over him as they approached. Ducking and escaping their clutches, they would somehow manage to find him again.
He woke with the sun and stood at the window, looking out over the city. A portion of the Wright-Patterson runway glinted in the distance, and the park with his stashed truck, laid out like a ribbon of strange shades of brown and black plaid. With better than three hours before the agreed-upon breakfast, he decided it might be a good time to go check on his truck.
After a walk through the deserted lobby, it took a minute to get his bearings, and then he headed north to the bridge. The streets were still void of much traffic. A linen truck he’d seen from his window, as it pulled into the hotel parking lot, trundled past and he hitched a ride on the rear bumper. At the intersection with the bridge, he jumped off and headed across the river to the park. The tedium of moving through the world on this plane of existence—unseen and unheard except to other deadheads—made him hope for a quick resolution.
At the edge of the park, a steep embankment led him down and through the trees barren of foliage. In true physical form, the ground, strewn with hues of winter would crunch underfoot and offer up a rich aroma of nutrients. As it stood, he passed as silently as a bird floating on drafts of hushed winds high above the earth. He longed for a more tangible and absolute reality.
Halfway to the parking area, he spotted the hood of the truck. Its pale tan blended fairly well with trunks and branches, and the dormant grass. Moving into an open expanse, his step quickened. Something to the south, right at the edge of the tree line, caught his attention. Three familiar, slightly transparent yet darkly dense individuals stood blocking his view of who they were conversing with. Nathan changed course and headed east again, hoping to pass by unnoticed.
Keeping watch on the group, he wended through the trees, until the sensation of walking through solid mass made him realize he’d bumped the front end of his truck. Calling himself a couple of derogatory names as he moved to the driver’s side, he noticed a bright orange sticker plastered to the window declaring the vehicle to be abandoned on public property and subject to towing and impoundment. An identical notice had been stuck to the rear window. “Dammit, I was afraid of this.”
He moved around to the passenger side, pushed through the door, and rummaged around under the seat until his hand grasped the handle of the snow brush. It took more than ninety minutes to peel off both signs with the ice-scraper end, layering the pieces of sticky paper as they shredded away from the glass in tiny, exasperating strips. The pile got folded and stuffed into a pocket. Knowing how underhanded some of the county sheriffs back home could be, he looked for and found markings at the back side of each tire; scratches deep enough into the pavement appeared to have been made with a tire iron. “Ya’ll thought you would pull one over on old Nathan, huh? Well, now, I’ve played in this pigpen too many times.”
Nathan peered around the parking lot, pulled the key from his pocket. With no one in sight, he melded his way through the door hoping live folks wouldn’t stumble upon the act and freak out to see a truck move without a driver. He’d read about several companies rushing to compete in the self-driving car business, and issued an ironic chuckle at the image of seemingly empty vehicles moving along the roadways. Well, nobody was about to believe it of an old Ford pick-up. He started the engine. Another fast glance in the mirrors, the crunching of tiny bits of gravel meeting his ears, and the truck moved slowly to the other end of the parking lot. To make it obvious the vehicle had moved, he backed into the new spot.
He slipped from the truck, gave a satisfied nod, and snuck along the inside edge of the tree line. Of course, it wouldn’t do to be seen by any deadheads either, particularly the arguing group on the other side of the park.
Once on the road, he put a hand to shield the sun from his eyes. The four figures stood in the same spot and, though no words floated along the air currents, gestures told Nathan they were still lost in discussion. A wave of panic washed over him as the flutter of auburn hair glinted from a sudden chilled gust of wind. He hurried away. It was only when he had the thick wooded area of bare tree limbs between them that his steps slowed to a brisk walk along the western down-slope of the bridge.
Chapter 20
He’d been back in his suite for close to an hour, sipping on coffee, by the time Tommy stuck his head through the door. “Dude, ready for breakfast?”
“Ready.” Nathan set his cup on the table, stood, and headed toward the door.
Tommy pointed at the cup. “No, you can’t leave that.”
Nathan halted in his tracks. “Why? Aren’t there maids to clean up?”
“Dude, are you serious?” Tommy moved through the door into the room. “Well, once in a while they come up to dust, but that’s about it unless the room gets booked. If that happens and the front desk gets a complaint about a dirty room, the manager makes a fuss. All kinds of accusations and finger pointing goes on. We sure wouldn’t want anyone to get fired for—”
From outside the door Marvin’s muffled voice said, “What are you doing in there? Come on already. Shake a leg!”
Tommy turned around and stuck his head through to the hallway. “Dude, take a chill pill. We gotta clean up a little first.”
“Well, hurry it up, I’m starving to death out here.”
“Yeah, we can see you wasting away right in front of our eyes, Brody.” Mike pushed through the wall beside the door. “What needs doing?”
“About done here,” Nathan said from the sink as he dried out the coffee pot and returned it to its rightful spot under the brewer. “What about the towels I used?”
“Did you hang them back up?” Mike asked.
“Yeah. Ya’ll might want to check to make sure I did it right, though.”
Tommy headed toward the bedroom. “Got it. Any trash?”
“Nothing other than the coffee grounds here.” Nathan plunged an arm into the waste basket next to the sink where he’d just dumped the used coffee filter. He bent over and tied the bag closed with a double knot despite the ability of any deadhead to simply slide fingers through and latch onto the contents. Bright orange, dulled against the translucence of the thin plastic, could still be seen inside. He balled up the entirety and held it tight in his fist.
Sticking his face through the center of the door, Marvin said, “Hurry it up in there.”
“Dude, you are a handful this morning, aren’t you?” Tommy called on his way out of the bedroom. “The towels look perfect. Ready then?”
“Ready,” Nathan replied.
Mike moved toward the door with a hand raised to push Marvin out of the way. “What’s the deal, Brody? Jenna being gone for a few hours makes you all anxious. Relax, man, it’s not like she’s gonna die out there without you to protect her.”
“Really, dude, I think she’s proven she’s capable of handling the situation.”
“I’m gonna handle your situation, hippie, if you don’t get a move on.” Marvin backed out, but continued his gripe. “I’m getting tired of her taking off like the rest of us don’t matter.”
“You mean like you don’t matter.” Mike shook his head. “You are the biggest baby, you know that?”
Tommy took one last glance around the suite and followed them through the door. “Now, children, don’t fight. That’s no way to behave in front of our guest.”
“What’re you, the new Miss Manners, or are you
channeling Mrs. McC.? Come on, let’s go. Maybe food will take my mind off Jenna’s being off to God knows where. You know, it’s just getting to be too often.” Marvin headed to the elevators and let out a long and exasperated sigh. “I mean, what was the point of that huge wedding if I’m just going to spend my time wandering around with you two schmucks.”
“Dude, you could do worse.”
“That’s for sure,” Mike agreed. “I’m thinking Diane could still be in town.”
“Or your mother,” Tommy said with a laugh.
Marvin slapped him upside the back of the head. “Bite your tongue, hippie.”
Nathan, still bringing up the rear, spotted a trash can in the lobby, and shoved the bag deep into the bin. “Where to?”
“The only place worth going,” Marvin said. “Epstein’s.”
Tommy, Mike, and Marvin greeted the usual group of deadhead regulars who sat lingering over coffee and headed to the same booth Nathan spotted them in during his impromptu meal. To any live person, abandoned coffee cups and plates of half-eaten bagels and kugel littered the tables.
“Huh. Isn’t that odd,” Nathan remarked with a nod at Tina-I’ll-be-your-server-today, who sat at a table rolling flatware into napkins. “Most places I’ve been, why the food would be snatched right out from under you if you weren’t on the ball.”
Marvin slid over on the bench to make room for Nathan. “Tina used to be a nervous wreck, but last year sometime she caught on and calmed down. She’s used to us now. There’s been no need to hang onto a cup since then. Well, once any live folks are gone.”
“What happened was, she threatened to quit until Moe—he’s the owner, and chief cook—’fessed up about Tommy. Once she understood we did things just to mess with her, boy, did she grab an attitude. One night at closing, she pointed a finger and told him straight up, ‘Tommy, this place better sparkle when I get back in the morning.’ ” Mike’s recount made even Nathan laugh.
After he grabbed a book of order tickets from the wait station, Tommy returned to stand at the end of the table and laughed. “It used to be fun to mess with her. Now, we help her. So, what’s your favorite, Nate? It’s on the house.”