Me and My Ghoulfriends (25 page)

The gang was huddled around the center aisle, gazing at me with pitying looks. How sad was I? Ghosts felt sorry for me.

“I can see you’re upset about the wedding.” Mr. Haynes said.

“Yes, of course I’m upset. I don’t think it’s right. He doesn’t even know her. Now, all of a sudden, they’re getting married? Living happily ever after.”

“I know it’s hard for you to accept. We’re here for you, though. If you need a shoulder to cry on.” Mr. Haynes looked around at the others to confirm the sentiment. Everyone nodded, except for Mrs. Williams of course.

“Thanks guys, that means a lot to me. And ladies.” I nodded at Vivian. “Mr. Haynes, I’ve been meaning to ask you something for some time now.”

“Yes,” he said, moving closer to me.

“Why are you still here? You don’t want to stick around with me. I’m boring and have a whole lot of drama in my life.”

Mrs. Williams snorted. “You can say that again.”

I shot her a nasty glare.

“I’m just alternating my time between you and the Mrs. When the time is right, I’ll be gone. I was friends with your grandparents, you know. I knew they always worried about you.”

I sighed. I had to admit I would be a little sad when, and if, he left. I was getting attached to the little guy.

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Me and My Ghoulfriends

Chapter 23

Pole fitness, as it is referred to by the experts—Mindy corrects me when I call it pole dancing—should have come with a disclaimer.
Will cause humiliation and endless amounts of bruising.
I had a eureka moment during the class, and that eureka moment was that I was sure the sight of my posterior, as it spun around, was not terribly appealing for all to see.

During class I discovered the hard way, that if you are fully covered when you pole dance, it makes it very difficult to hold on to the pole. I had the bruises to attest to that. So wearing all my clothing like I wanted to did not work.

Then I realized, if I tried it while just wearing my workout gear, my skin was guaranteed to pinch as I gyrated around like a complete idiot. The hideous screeching sound of flesh on the poles that rang out throughout the room during the class was extremely painful to hear. Alas, bruising was not the only physical pain that came from that damn pole either. The aforementioned pinching was also involved to a great extent.

I came out of there looking like I’d been in a bar fight, except I figured it would be pretty hard to get thigh, armpit, ankle, and palm bruises from a bar fight. Or maybe you can. I’d never been in a bar fight, so I couldn’t say for sure. I had aches from muscles I never knew even existed until Mindy had been kind enough to point them out with her damn class.

Usually when someone thought of pole dancing, I was sure a rather sensual image came to their mind, but I was sure anyone watching our class wouldn’t use the word
sensual
to describe what they were witnessing. All I needed was big hair, big lips and big… well, you know, and maybe I would have been just like Pam Anderson.

Except I wasn’t like that. I wanted to be sexy, but not in
that
way. I wanted to be confident sexy, and not flaunting-every-asset sexy. As I attempted to spin around, my bruised and aching body would make a loud galumphing sound as it landed against the pole. Finally, I’d given up and fallen to my feet, completely dizzy, trying to regain my balance with Mindy barking orders at me constantly. Thank God it was over and I had survived. Barely.

After that embarrassing class, I was headed back to my house for a much-deserved rest. My mouth was watering, and I could already taste the lime and salt from the forthcoming margarita fest. I needed a night of drinks and girl talk after all I’d been through.

The worst part out of everything that had happened lately was not the crazy woman trying to harm me, the jerk who’d led me to believe he really liked me, or the ghosts hanging around. No, the worst part was the exercising with friends of my grandmother’s on a stripper pole.

Damn Mindy for getting me into that mess.
It wasn’t like I needed to do it. I was perfectly happy with my walking fitness routine. Whatever happened to plain old aerobics, or maybe a session of tennis? It wasn’t as if I was sneaking out after dark to some smoky bar to grind on a metal pole with men leering at me. No, I was doing it in the light of day for my health.

I’d never been graceful. As it was, I’d been told to stop dancing class when I was eight. My mother was informed she should help me find some other hobby. I needed to focus on other activities, they told her. Which meant simply that I couldn’t dance. I’d eventually gotten better as an adult, but I’d never be a ballerina. So I had no business attempting pole fitness, and Mindy knew that.

As soon as I’d trekked my sore butt into the house I made a beeline for the kitchen. I scoured through the cabinets to dig out my favorite pitcher for the margaritas. It was a pretty multi-colored ceramic one my grandmother had given me several years ago. Finally, I located it on the top shelf so I had to grab a chair and hoist my sore butt up to retrieve it. Next, I grabbed the brown bag that had the tequila I had just purchased tucked inside. Since I didn’t drink often, when it came time for margarita night I always had to buy liquor. Mindy was always laughing at me because of it. As I waited for Mindy to show up, I added the salt to the rims around the glasses.

A sharp knock jarred me, making the glass almost tumble from my hand. I grunted as I trudged my sore muscles to the door. Several grunts later, I grabbed the door and Mindy cheerfully popped in. Sometimes I hated her perky self.

“The margaritas are waiting. I figure we can have one while you prepare the burritos,” I said as Mindy walked in with her hands full of bags of ingredients for our dinner. I pulled a couple of bags from her hands and followed her into the kitchen.

My mouth was watering just thinking about Mindy’s yummy burritos. Extra sour cream and loads of cheese and an extra ingredient she would never disclose to me. I justified the extra calories as needed to help ease my sore muscles. That was a legitimate reason, right?

My home was buzzing with activity, as if a party were taking place, a paranormal party. Abe and the gang were sitting in the living room talking amongst themselves.

Mindy was hard at work in the kitchen stuffing the tortillas with chicken and rice. She topped the burritos off with a nice dollop of sour cream. I grabbed the plates and handed them to her.

“So are they here?” Mindy whispered as she placed the burritos on the plates.

“Yes, they’re in the living room.”

“Do you think they want a burrito?” She laughed.

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“When are you getting rid of them?”

I slumped my shoulders. “I have no idea.”

“Abraham Lincoln has been around for a while, huh?” Mindy pulled a couple of forks from the drawer.

I heaved a sigh. “Yes, he has. And he is very opinionated.”

“Well, he was president.”

I laughed. “Good point.”

I poured another round of margaritas and we made our way to the dining room table. I loved my dining room. My grandmother was great at decorating. I’d found a fantastic distressed table at a flea market, and my grandmother had then incorporated reds and yellows into the area. She’d said those colors would stimulate the appetite. Not that I needed mine stimulated, it was already that way.

Mindy and I spent the evening devouring burritos and downing margaritas. The only bad part was that we didn’t stop at one pitcher. No, we had to have two. Needless to say, Mindy ended up spending the night because she was way too tipsy to drive.

We laughed over ideas we came up with to get back at Brianna. And the fact she thought she was so trendy, but in reality, she really looked stupid. With her orangey fake tan, and clothing that clearly cost a small fortune, yet looked just plain silly. We weren’t jealous, though. No way. Well, maybe a little jealous of her shoe collection.

The next morning I felt like hell. Someone had snuck into my bedroom with a hammer and was pounding on my head with it. I prayed for a hangover tonic. Some elixir to make it all go away. I cursed that second pitcher. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Mrs. Williams was lucky she didn’t try to perform for me, I didn’t know what I would have done if she had.

Cursing under my breath, I rolled out of bed, when all I wanted to do was snuggle back under the sheets. Maybe I should have just crawled to the shower, it would have been easier. I could hear Mindy stirring upstairs. I wasn’t sure how she was going to give a morning class. Between my sore muscles and hangover, there was no amount of money that would have gotten me there. If she asked me to do another class today, I knew I might kill her. I’d have to use that damn pole on her.

I trudged into the kitchen with a few disapproving looks from the ghost gang. I ignored them; I didn’t need a lecture of the evils of alcohol from them. I grabbed a bowl and was pouring my cereal when Mindy walked in.

“How are you feeling this glorious morning?”

“Oh My God. One too many margaritas that’s for sure.”

“Do you want breakfast? I have cereal.”

“No way, I don’t think I can handle it. I’m taking off. I’ll stop by
Book Nook
in a few. There are a couple of things I need to do real quickly. I’ll see you soon.” She grabbed her things and headed for the door.

I wasn’t sure if it was just me or she was being a bit mysterious. I wondered what that was all about.

“Bye.” Mindy disappeared out the front door.

“That was some giggling session you ladies had last night,” Mr. Haynes announced.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I laughed. It had felt good to laugh last night. It had relieved a lot of tension. Although I was paying for it this morning.

As usual, Mrs. Williams rolled her eyes. I took that as a sign she didn’t approve. I didn’t think she would.

“You need to have fun. It’ll do you good,” I said to her.

She just glared at me and then said, “I’m dead. How much fun can I have? And you look like hell, by the way.”

Ugh. I turned my back to her.

“How are you feeling?” Vivian asked with a worried look.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” I guess she was worried about my drinking. She probably thought I was an alcoholic.

“I’m very sorry to hear the news about the wedding. There will be other men—I know there will be.”

“I’m fine, really. Like I said before, we just had a few dates, no biggie.” I slurped the milk off of my spoon.

“You shouldn’t mope around. Get out and enjoy life,” Mr. Haynes said.

“I know that. I’m not moping around for him. Forget him.”

I said the words, but honestly, I knew I was having a hard time forgetting his kisses, not to mention the way he smelled. And his arms. No, I needed to erase him from my mind completely. Pretend he never existed. But then, I was always brought back by the thought of Brianna wrapped in his arms. And the new ring on her finger.

The reality was, he was not worth my thoughts. I just needed to remember that. There were other guys out there and someday I would meet one. So what if I might be eighty years old before that happened?

“We’re here to help you. If you need anything,” Abe continued as I walked to the front door to leave.

That’s just it. I didn’t want them there to help me. I just wanted to be alone. For once in my life, I wanted to be alone. I’d always had someone around. As a kid, it was nice to have playmates. Everyone thought they were my imaginary friends. But as an adult, I just wanted to be alone. Alone with my thoughts. No commentary constantly playing in my mind. Yet, somehow I felt guilty for having those feelings. I let others’ feelings overpower my own.

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