Talon looked up at me. “Stanley, the guy I’d lost the money to, he’d had an ace of spades tattooed on his forearm.”
“I’m going to get you a Xanax, Talon,” I said. I walked out of the room and into my bedroom. I went into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and took out the little green bottle of pills. I then went back to the bar and poured him a glass of orange juice
“No!” Talon’s voice shot across the condo, “You’re dead, leave me alone!”
I ran back to Talon’s bedroom with the pills and the juice to see him sitting on his bed with his face buried in his hands. Opening the bottle, I took out two white pills and held them out. “Talon, I want you to take these.”
Talon took the Xanax and the juice. Putting the pills in his mouth, he took a gulp of juice and swallowed them. A few seconds went by and he smiled at me. “You know, Sara, it’s too bad you met my dad first.” He suddenly swatted at the air again and his face twisted red. “I told you I’d pay! It’s your fault you died like that anyways!” he yelled at nothing.
I bit my lower lip and shook my head. How did I wind up in this mess? A whacko, gambling stepson, a forty-seven-year-old husband who thought he was twenty-five ... that painting had been good.
One of the top art dealers in Soho had appraised it for almost thirty grand.
Talon’s body relaxed and the redness in his face went away, “One good thing about you being with my dad though—”
“Yeah?” I asked.
His mouth widened into a Joker grin. “At least you’re not out there punishing the world with your art.”
I let out a small chuckle, turned, and walked towards the door, “See you in the padded cell, Talon.”
I walked out of Talon’s room and into my bedroom. Grabbing my purse and car keys off the dresser, I went back into the living room and towards the apartment door.
“Where are you going?” I heard Talon ask from the entrance of his room.
“I don’t know,” I said without looking back, “but I’ll be back for my painting.”
“What should I tell my dad?”
“Whatever you want, Talon,” I stopped at the apartment door, put my hand on the knob, and looked back at him, “You always do.”
I opened the door and took a step out. I turned back around, “And Talon ...”
“Yeah?” he asked, his face now drooping like a lost puppy.
“Do something with your life.”
I slammed the door shut and before I could leave my eye caught a faded white marking on the upper left corner of the door’s beige wood. My heart beat a bit faster as I squinted at it. It was an “A.” Underneath it was the faint shadow of a spade.
“Son of a bitch,” I whispered. I ran my hand over the A and a streak of cold shot through my palm and into my body like someone had injected ice water into me. I took my hand away and my body warmed up again.
So ghosts are as real as pain-in-the-ass stepsons.
I thought about going back in but the last thing I needed was a pissed off ghost chasing me around. Hell, dealing with Talon - and Sam - had been enough of a headache for the past ten years. I nodded and walked down the gray carpeted hallway towards the elevator.
Ghosts and desert landscapes.
Perfect imagery for all the painting I would do in my new life.
Iflipped the switch on the wall and the office lights lit up the little army of white cubicles. It was late for me to be here, but I had to get the reports finished or life with management was going to be living hell tomorrow. Naturally, Ashley had been pissed when I told her I was coming back here tonight and she’d instantly started bugging me again about going into the deep sea fishing business with her brother.
But I didn’t get a Stanford MBA so I could go play in the ocean, and this was the way the corporate game was played. Work yourself to the bone, impress the right people, move up the ladder.
Very simple.
Unfortunately, Ash didn’t see it that way, and our two-year marriage was starting to strain. I guess she didn’t take me that seriously the night we first met when I’d told her I was a committed workaholic. Fortunately, the next promotion meant another twelve grand a year and money always had a funny way of making our relationship better.
The office was totally empty, which was good because I wanted to be out of there by 11:00 p.m. and I didn’t need any distractions. When I got to my cubicle by the window I set my laptop and office key card down, grabbed an energy drink from the machine in the break room, and got to work. The first hour pretty much floated by, but I could tell I wasn’t going to be anywhere near done with the reports until after midnight. I was going to need some more fuel, so I pushed my chair back and went to get another Red Bull.
When I got back the key card had fallen on the floor. I picked it up and set it back on the desk, stopping to look out at the lights glittering like little blue and green jewels in the LA night. I got back to work and about twenty minutes later I stretched my arms out and saw that the key card was gone. I looked down and saw it on the floor again. Was the desk slanted or something? It didn’t seem like it was.
Who cares? Just focus so you can get out of here before midnight.
Another hour went by and I hit a snag when the computer server froze up. My face got hot and I scratched the back of my
