Page 4 of Ghost

The guys Hadley had the displeasure of dealing with tonight sent their food back twice and "accidentally" dropped two beer bottles on the floor. They were too loud and almost got into it with a couple of regulars, men who would have wiped the floor with their butts if Sully hadn't stepped in and defused the situation.

"Those jerks left two dollars and thirty-seven cents in change as a tip for putting up with their sorry asses."

"Are you serious?" I ask, shaking my head.

"We can't all have regulars like Russ." Hadley waggles her eyebrows. "I'm telling you, that man has it bad."

I roll my eyes. "No, he's just a sweet man, not my type."

"You should see how he watches you when he's here. Seriously, it's creepy." She shivers.

If I'm being honest, I have noticed how Russ looks at me, which kind of weirds me out. He gets this intense look on his face.

"You two quit dilly-dallying so we can get out of here," Sully fusses.

"Alright, alright, keep your pants on, Sully," Hadley grumbles.

"Come on." I giggle while pulling on her arm. "Let's finish so we can go home. My feet are killing me."

It's close to 2:00 a.m. when Sullivan, Hadley, and I are trudging through the empty parking lot to our vehicles. My friend tosses a wave over her shoulder, and I wave back. Our boss stops at his truck which is parked right beside my car. "Appreciate you coming in, Bea. You always rescue me when I'm in a bind."

I look at Sullivan and take in his haggard face and sparkling blue eyes. He should have retired five years ago, but this bar is his life. He has two sons. One is in construction, and the other has an excellent job at the bank. Neither are interested in taking it over. I suspect he doesn't have the heart to let it go. He talked about selling the business a few months before my dad passed, but nothing ever came of that notion. I often wonder if he keeps the place because I keep coming to work.

I admitted to Sullivan one day, not long after losing Dad, that I thought about leaving Boston and starting over elsewhere. With my dad gone, this place no longer feels like home. Since my confession, my boss has pushed me to bite the bullet, get out of this city, and start living. The only thing holding me back is fear. I'm afraid of leaving what's familiar and going off into the unknown.

"Anytime." I give him a tired smile. "I'll see you next week, Sully."

"I hope I don't, kid." He climbs into his truck. Sully says those exact words to me every night I leave the bar. After my little confession, he told me he secretly hopes every day is the day he doesn't see me walk into his bar. He said the day I don't show up for work will be the day he knows I've decided to leave and live the life I deserve instead of wasting my days with an older man like him. And every day I walk into that bar to work my shift, I can see the disappointment on his face for a split second.

When I pull up to the house, I cut the engine off and stare through the cracked windshield. I close my eyes and think back to some of the last words my dad spoke to me.

"Go off and live your life, Bumble Bea. Find what makes you happy. I'll always be with you, no matter where you go."

Shaking those thoughts away, I climb out of my car. I'm just about to my door when the hairs on my arm stand up, and I hear footsteps behind me. Turning, I let out a gasp, and my purse falls to the ground when I see Russ step out of the shadows. "Jesus Christ." I clutch my keys to my chest and take in a lungful of air. It doesn't take a moment for me to come to my senses, and when I do, a ball of dread starts forming in my stomach. Everything about what's happening is setting off alarm bells.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, Beatrix." He takes another step toward me, and I tense.

"Ru-Russ, what are you doing here? How do you know where I live?"

Russ tilts his head to the side. "I always make sure you get home safe."

"Um…Russ, I'm not sure that's appropriate." My voice shakes. "I think you need to leave."

His demeanor changes. "You should be thanking me for keeping you safe." He takes another step toward me. I retreat, my back hitting the front door to my house. Not wanting to anger him any further, I try a different tactic.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Thank you, Russ, for making sure I got home safe." My shaky hand fiddles with my keys. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted and want to get inside." I twist my body sideways and try to insert my key into the lock while not wanting to take my eyes off him.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" He becomes more agitated, and my eyes drop to where he's pulling something from his pocket.

"I'm—I'm sorry, but I’m tired. Maybe some other time." There’s no denying the fear in my voice. As I turn back to the door, the keys fall from my grasp, and Russ lunges at me.

"No!" is the only word I get out before his cloth-covered hand clamps over my mouth. The last thing I remember before my vision blurs and darkness takes me is the feel of his sweaty forehead against my cheek and his heavy breathing in my ear.

3

GHOST

I glance around the smoke-filled bar and take another sip from the glass of whiskey—the bitter liquor coats my taste buds and sets fire to my throat. Setting the glass on the table, I lift the lit cigarette from the ashtray to my lips. My lungs burn as I hold the nicotine in, only expelling the smoke from my body when my brain tells me I need to breathe. The bar scene usually isn’t my thing—too many people. But the low-key bar is the meeting place we agreed on since Laredo contacted me with the information. I keep my eyes trained on the bar’s entrance.

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