Ghost Writer (Raven Maxim Book 1) (47 page)

C
up of Dreams
was bustling, bursting with cheery chatter and the clanking of forks on plates. Soft jazz music played like a lullaby in the backdrop, while fresh snow, the first accumulation of the season, fell lightly from the sky, sprinkling the sidewalks like powdered sugar. All the tables, dressed in cloths with vibrant colors and whimsical patterns, were laden with decadent desserts, light pastries, and gorgeous glasses and mugs.

The chairs were stuffed with patrons’ asses, everyone’s mouths busily chomping on their food or pouring forth abundant guffaws. Emerald sat across from two young adults, one of which bounced Sloan’s ten month old grandson on her paisley-printed lap, and the other sporting a tense grin and shifty eyes. Sloan had disappeared into the bathroom during the brunch hour, leaving her to her own devices. She was certain it was deliberate and made a mental note to kill him later…

“So.” The tall, rail thin woman dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a deep purple cloth napkin, her movements delicate and sophisticated. With her dark hair pulled up in a loose bun, showcasing a mass of auburn highlights atop her head, she possessed a natural elegance that reminded her of her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. “My father said you are the one who did that fine job on his favorite chair that he now has sitting in the corner of his bedroom. It’s perfect.”

“Well, thank you, Michelle. Yes, I did it. I volunteered, actually.” Smiling, she took a generous sip of her coffee. To her right, the crowded place teemed with energy. She scanned the area, hoping to see Sloan making his return, but had no such luck.

“That was generous of you. It looked terrible before.” Michelle rolled her eyes. “Emerald, we’d begged him to get rid of it for years, but he refused. One time our mother even set it out on the curb, but he found it before the garbage collectors did their rounds and brought it right back in the house. I hated that thing but now it looks absolutely gorgeous, not even like the same chair. Who taught you how to restore furniture?” she asked.

“Believe it or not, initially, no one. I began as self-taught.”

“Wow, really? How’d you do that?” Michelle’s brow arched as she placed a bottle to her son’s lips. The child’s blue eyes started to close and he was on the verge of dozing off, despite the noise around them.

“Yeah.” Emerald smiled and leaned back in her chair; one leg was slightly shorter than the other three, causing it to rock whenever she adjusted her weight. “I was doing it on my own after watching others in their workshops. I spent many weekend afternoons going to woodworking shops and just observing. I also did a lot of reading up on it, and educated myself on what it would take for me to start my own side business after I finished a few pieces just for myself. I felt like I could really do it, so I went on and took some professional classes for about six months, got a certification, and I’ve been hooked ever since. I advertise my services online and in the local paper. So far, business has been great.”

“Well, you’re really gifted.” Michelle put the now empty bottle, after securing the cap over the nipple, in her bag, then adjusted a little beanie hat upon the baby’s head.

“Thank you, Michelle. It’s nice to be paid for something I’d do for free.”

Michelle smiled down at her baby, whose tulip shaped lips hung ajar, his little self now firmly under the spell of slumber. Emerald loved watching that scene. The innocence and sweetness of a baby always lured her into a state of nostalgia. She anticipated the day when her daughter and wife would grow their family, so she, too, could experience a bundle of butter soft skin in her arms once more.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I ask you a personal question or two?” The young man with the cleft chin leaned forward, his dark hair falling in his eye as he maneuvered about in his seat. A mischievous grin started to form on his face, softening the hard angles. With a sleight of hand, he ran his fingers through his flowing tresses, pushing them back, exposing vibrant green eyes that mirrored his father’s.

“Well.” Emerald smirked. “It depends on what it is… What’s on your mind?”

“Please don’t get offended, but—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Michelle interrupted, her forehead wrinkled and her pink lips upturned as she turned to her brother in disgust. “Don’t start any crap, Joel. Ya just couldn’t stand it, could ya?”

“Stand what?!” He shrugged.

“Dad isn’t sitting here. That’s why you’re pulling this mess, aren’t you? You’d never do this if he was sittin’ here.”

“Pulling what mess?” The guy raised his hands in faux shock. “And I’m not afraid of Dad. I’d ask whether he was here or not.” As he spoke, his right eye twitched.

“Liar,” Michelle mumbled under her breath, turning away from him as if she couldn’t deal with the sight of him any longer.

“What is your question?” Emerald interjected, ready to get whatever agenda the fellow had out in the open.

“So, uh, let me ask you this.” Joel grew serious once again. “Did you know who my father was when you first met him? Like, did you realize he was kinda a big deal? They’re making a big movie based off his last book, you know.”

“I’m aware that his book is being turned into a movie, yes…” She smiled wide and took a generous taste of her coffee, saddened that the delicious drink was dwindling away far too fast.

“So what about the first part of my question?” His brows dipped. “All I know is that he saw ya in a grocery store and you two struck up a conversation.”

Emerald took another sip of her coffee, this one a bit stingier than the last as she paced herself. She placed it down upon the white and gold trimmed saucer, then clasped her hands together before placing them atop the table. Back straight, she looked into the young man’s eyes as her thoughts crawled, walked, then ran together. A crumb from her long-gone honey glazed croissant stuck to her baby finger, but she let it be. There were far more important things to address.

“Well, I—”

“Joel, stop it!” Michelle barked, interrupting the mess. The young woman seemed to attempt to keep her voice low, but Emerald was certain that others had overheard the young lady’s protests.

“No, I will not stop it!” He cut a harsh glance at his sister, then a quick glimpse back towards the restrooms. His right eye twitched once again. “There’s nothing wrong with what I asked her.”

Emerald reached for some punctuation… a period. Something to draw an end to the kangaroo court the dimwitted boy attempted to create.

This punk thinks he’s smarter than me… Well, it’s about time I take him to school.

“Joel, that’s not really your question though, is it? Your
real
question is, ‘Do I want your father for his fame or for who he
really
is?’”

In an instant, the young man’s eyes grew large, and his lips parted as if he was gearing up to state his objection. Michelle scooted about in her seat, then suddenly rose to her feet, holding her baby close to her breasts.

“I’m just going up there to the counter to order another cupcake. Anyone else want anything?” She shot them both a glance. Joel shook his head, keeping his eyes glued on Emerald. Emerald broke their gaze and looked up at the woman.

“Would you be a sweetheart and flag down the waitress? Your father’s cup is empty and mine is almost finished, too. We need some refills,” she said with a smile.

“Of course! No problem at all.” Michelle turned abruptly towards her brother. “And I’ll be finding out what’s taking Dad so long, too,” she warned him, her tone low and scolding as she hurried away with her child in tow.

“So, to address your true question, Joel, yes and no.”

“I don’t understand that answer.”

“If you’d be quiet for a second and let me respond, you will.”

The boy immediately turned beet-red and pursed his lips, no doubt holding back some retort.

“Here is what transpired. I’d heard of your talented father, Sloan Steele, but didn’t know he was the man I’d spoken to the night we met. I had never seen him. He didn’t include a photo of himself in the book of his I’d read, at least not that I recall. It also is not common, from my understanding, for a fiction author to use their birth name as their penname. Furthermore, I want to make something clear to you.” She pointed at him.

“For the record, Sloan is the one who asked me out and took the initiative for us to get together. I asked that man for a wine recommendation and had no idea who he was, nor did I care. Now, I have a question for
you
.” She crossed her arms over her chest, unable to hide her annoyance as she thought about the gall of the bastard. She could definitely see why Sloan complained about his son every now and again, though she tried to remain open minded about the kid, nevertheless.

“I’m going to ask you this question, and I want you to think about it before you answer. You’re sitting there, so ready to interview me, you’re half listening to my replies right now. I’m not stupid; we both know what your intentions were and it wasn’t to get to know me. Had to say that just so we’re clear. Now, are you ready to answer my question?”

His face turned even redder, though she’d never thought that possible. He gave an imperceptible nod. “All right…”

“Why didn’t you ask your father this? He’s a pretty honest man and from this time I’ve known him, he’ll tell just about anyone what he really thinks about people. He is not a sugar-coating kind of fellow.”

“Well.” Joel lowered his head, a silly smile on his face. “I did actually but my father is sarcastic… you probably know that by now. He gave me a senseless answer and refused to tell me anything more. He acts so secretive sometimes.” His huffed and slumped his shoulders.

“Hmmm, a silly answer? What did he say?” She tilted her head to the side, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“Emerald, I don’t think it would be appropriate to repeat it.” Joel’s body stiffened and his gaze went berserk roaming about the place, as if he could no longer stand to face her. He ran his hands up and down his arms like a man suffering a chill.

“Why?”

“Like I said, it would be unsuitable to recap… Dad can be a little crude at times.”

“Don’t act bashful. You had the nerve to sit here and ask me if I was gold digger, so—”

“Ohhhhh, hold the presses!” He put his hand up. “I didn’t accuse you of any such thing.”

“You did and you know it. I make my own money and have never asked your father for a dime, but that is beside the point. Please don’t pretend to care about protecting me from the ugliness of the world.” She rolled her eyes. “There’s no need to act coy and classy
now
. Too late. I’ve got your number, dialed it, left a message and hung up.”

The man swallowed, cleared his throat, and sighed as he slumped back onto his seat, a ‘woe is me’ expression on his face. “My father is insane.” He emitted a sound that seemed half way between a giggle and a snort.

“Well, we both can agree on that. So get to it; what did he say that was so crazy?” She looked down into her empty coffee mug.

That woman won’t be getting a tip…

“He said he’d jumped into the produce area, in one of those big bins filled with peaches, when he saw you coming. He said he made sure all of his body was covered, except… except one part. He said he then unzipped his pants and shoved his testicles in the air, hoping they blended in with the peaches and that his plan worked, because you came over and tugged on them, and then at that very moment, you two fell hopelessly in love…and…that everything was peachy keen.” Joel kept a solemn expression, but his lower lip quivered something terrible.

Emerald looked at him just as seriously, trying to maintain her composure, but that was short lived for she burst out laughing to the point she couldn’t catch her breath.

A thick vein protruded in the middle of his forehead as he practically choked with laughter, his chair rocking, his whole body trembling. When he regained his equilibrium, the first thought that hit her was how much he reminded her of Sloan. The way his eyes turned to slits while he laughed, the tear inducing cackling, and the feigned look of shock when called out on absolute bullshit. No wonder they butted heads so much; they reminded her of her and Nikki, birds of a feather flocking together.

“See?” He wrapped the word around more giggles, barely able to speak. “I can’t… I can’t trust him, Emerald.” He finally settled. “He’s just plain crazy…but he’s my best friend… I love him.”

“I know you do.”

“Look, uh,” he said, tending to an itch on his forehead. “I’m sorry. I was explaining to my sister the other day that I just want our dad to be happy. I know it sounded bad, but I wasn’t necessarily believing you were a gold digger, though it sure as hell sounded like I’d said it—can’t blame you for coming to that conclusion. Guess I just wanted to find out where your head was at.”

“Then, once again, Joel, you never asked the right question. See, asking the right questions could save you and others a bunch of wasted time and energy. You need to work on that.” She winked at him before polishing off her coffee. The very last sips were cold, disappointing. Just then, the waitress showed up at the table and refilled their cups.

When the server turned to leave, he leaned over the table and asked quite seriously, “What should I have asked you, in your opinion?”

“That’s obvious. You should’ve asked if I love your father…”

He looked at her for a long while. “Well, do you?”

“Does a ghost named Peter Jones go bump in the night?”

This made the man smile, showing all of his teeth. “Hey, he loves ya.”

“I know he does. We’re happy together.”

“I’m glad about that. I really am. You know, there’s this—” Just then, Sloan approached the table, his leather jacket swaying open as he tugged at his belt. He wore a goofy grin.

“I had to drop off some babies at the pool. That bran muffin ran right through me.”

“Dad!” Joel cackled.

“You two bein’ good?” Sloan retook his seat. “Where’s Michelle?” He plucked his coffee cup from the table and took a gulp. “She’s Joel’s babysitter. My grandson moans less than he does,” he teased.

Joel crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “She went to get a cupcake but then I saw her chattin’ it up with another lady with a kid, too,” he explained. “She’s over there still talking.” He pointed down the way at his sister, who was standing there bouncing her baby and smiling, deep in conversation.