Page 28 of After Life
She glared so hard at us, I was surprised we didn’t burst into flames. “See that it doesn’t. This is not yours,” she seethed, waving the book at us. “You have no right to it!”
The door slammed in her wake, and we were quiet for several long moments. Finally, Oscar spoke. “That was way more intense than I think the situation called for,” he muttered.
“No argument here. What the hell is so special about that book that she’s treating it like it’s her own child?”
Oscar shook his head, his face scrunching as he fought a yawn. “No fucking clue, but it makes me wonder if she’s hiding something about it.”
I snorted. “Like what? Her precious monograph hidden in the pages?”
He shook his head, yawning again. “Christ, I can barely keep my eyes open,” he muttered. “I might need to lie down a bit.” He trudged toward the sofa and sank down with a groan. “What’s that,” he asked, as he slumped to one side. “Is that a receipt or something?”
A thin piece of paper lay on the floor at my feet. I scooped it up and huffed when I saw what it was. “It must’ve fallen out of the book,” I muttered, hanging it to Oscar to see. “It’s got some of those sigil designs on it.”
“Huh.”
Sandra’s clattering steps sounded outside the study, so Oscar shoved the paper into his waistcoat pocket and gave me a sleepy, slow wink. “Get me in an hour?”
“Promise.”
“JULES! MY FAVORITE skeptic!”
“Ezra, are you drunk? It’s half past ten in the morning!”
Ezra snorted. “Not where I am, thank you very much.” He paused, then added, “Oh, shit, wait, it is! Harrison! It’s not even noon and I think I’m pissed!”
There was a scuffle, then Harrison’s much less bubbly voice came over the connection. “The breakfast buffet had mimosas.” He sighed. “He said he thought it was regular orange juice, but after the second one, that excuse ran out of steam.”
“How many did he have?”
“Somewhere between four and seven.” Harrison sighed. “They weren’t very strong, really, but it’s still alcohol, and Ezra’s kind of lightweight when it comes to drinking. Hold on a sec.” He muffled the phone, but I could hear him gently scolding Ezra that just because he felt too warm didn’t mean he could take off his pants in the hotel lobby and yes, he was positive they had air conditioning on.
“Sounds like your hands are full,” I said when he came back on the line. “I’ll let you go—”
“No, it’s fine. He’s sitting on one of the sofas. We were going to take a tour of old homes in a few hours so we’re having sober up time right now. Water, food, and a lot of fresh air.” He paused. “Is it safe to guess that something wrong, given that it’s you calling Ezra rather than Oscar doing it?”
Truth time. “I wouldn’t say wrong, just... weird. And Ezra’s known him forever, so I thought maybe he might have some insight into the situation.”
Harrison lowered his voice, the background noise changing just a little to let me know he’d moved somewhere away from Ezra’s tipsy rendition of Modern Major General that had some nonstandard lyrics. “What’s going on? Is this a legal situation or medical?”
“Neither. I mean. Maybe medical? I’m not entirely certain.” I gave Harrison a précis of what had been going on—Oscar’s exhaustion, what he had claimed about the body swap incident. “I know I’m working on being more open to the supernatural, but Harrison, this is beyond seeing the ghost of my dead best friend. This is...” I trailed off.
“Weird,” Harrison supplied succinctly. “Real fucking weird.”
“In a word, yes.”
He was quiet for a long moment before sighing. “I gotta be frank with you. Ezra could answer but he’s likely to do it in a dramatic fashion and insist on coming to Broken Palm immediately.”
“He could try, but the ferry’s not going to run again for a few days. We’re getting the outer bands of Hurricane Nelson, apparently.”
Harrison muttered for me to hold on a sec and there was a rustling sound. Then Ezra’s voice came down the line. “Jules. Honey. Babe. Dude. I made Harrison give me the phone because it’s mine so all the words in it are mine. And I think I might be more drunk than not. Do you know mimosa’s aren’t a grandma drink? I thought they were. Like fucking... lemon shandies or something, you know? Something weak. Like, what’s that word my mum used? A tipple.”
“Ezra, it’s fine,” I said quickly. “Don’t worry about it. Oscar’s fine. I just got worried over nothing. Thought he was too cold.”
There was a long pause before Ezra replied. “You called me... because you thought Oscar was too cold.”
I winced. Yeah, it sounded absolutely ridiculous, but I was fully committed now. “Yeah, just... weird being on our own,” I said, forcing a laugh. “Guess I got nervous. Y’all have fun on your old home tour.”
Ezra huffed. “You’re lying to me, Julian Weems, and I don’t know why. It’s not close to my birthday, so it’s not about a present. And Oscar’s birthday is coming up, but I have a suspicion this isn’t about what to get him.”
