The Ghoul Next Door

chapter Nine

I never thought I’d be in this situation—I guessed with my life I shouldn’t be surprised— but I was riding down the road with Elvis Presley in my passenger seat. What would we talk about? Where did I start? Music would be the obvious first choice. There were so many questions. Luckily, he’d taken the front seat. He glanced over at me occasionally as he took in the scenery.

“I love all your songs… and your movies. I went to Graceland once and took the deluxe golden tour.” I used air quotes with one hand while steering with the other. “Like the whole shebang. I saw everything and even stayed in the Heartbreak Hotel.” Okay, way to stay cool, Larue. I was a blathering fool. Thankfully, I’d left out the part about crying over his grave and secretly looking for his ghost.

Elvis gave a hearty chuckle—a sexy, hearty chuckle. “I’m glad you enjoyed the visit. I know a lot of people go to Graceland and I’m happy that it’s there for everyone to enjoy.”

“I bet you enjoyed it when you lived there.”

“Yes, ma’am. But I had to buy the place. The neighbors at my old house got tired of all the fans around. It wasn’t fair to them, so I found Graceland.”

“I can see their point.”

To my disappointment, we pulled into my driveway and it was time to end the conversation. With any luck, we could pick back up later without the interruption of Mr. Fine.

I hadn’t lied to Mindy when I said the day had been an uneventful one, all things considered. I would admit though, having ghosts hanging around wasn’t easy, but when one of them was Elvis Presley, well, that was almost too much to handle.

I made my way through the front door with Elvis and Mr. Fine following close behind.

“Please make yourself at home, Elvis. My home is your home.”

“Hey, you didn’t say that to me.” Mr. Fine pointed at me with his cigarette.

“Exactly.” I smirked.

“You have a lovely home,” Elvis said as he looked at the photos on the mantel.

“Thank you.” I smiled.

“Whatever,” Mr. Fine huffed.

I’d bought an old farmhouse of the outskirts of town. It was a great combination of old and new. I’d painted the walls with warm yellows, greens and browns and added splashes of color around to add cheer. One of my favorite things was the overstuffed sofa. I loved to curl up with a good book.

I made my way from the living room into the kitchen, but something was different. The house now held a strange vibe. It was as if it was being haunted, but it wasn’t the ghosts standing next to me that made me feel that way. Had the shadow being returned? Becky Schultz had been a nasty witch who sent a shadowy being to harass me. She’d been taken away for practicing black magic just like Brianna.

I wanted to chalk the feeling up to my imagination, but I’d only be fooling myself. There was something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and I was usually very good at finding the source of bad vibes. This one had me perplexed. I really needed another living person around to help me shake the bad feeling. Since Callahan was busy doing inventory at his shop tonight, I couldn’t ask him to stop by. I’d have to beg Mindy to come over after her class.

Sure, I hadn’t allowed Mindy to talk me into pole fitness, but I knew I’d owe her a class attendance. She’d get me soon enough. In reality, she should beg me not to attend. I wasn’t exactly graceful. Most other students in the classes I took part in spend the whole class watching me make a fool out of myself instead of actually exercising. But I digressed.

If I asked Mindy over for a margarita night and burritos, maybe I could sweet-talk my way out of a few classes. Not to mention, she wouldn’t be able to resist coming over to hear more about my latest celebrity ghost.

Mindy picked up the phone after one ring. “You think you’re so clever by calling me after class.”

“Hey, I haven’t scared anyone with my gyrating body moves, bruised myself, or embarrassed you, so I think you should thank me.”

“You can’t get out of doing my class forever. I’ll catch up to you,” she warned.

“Why don’t you come over for burrito and margarita night?” I said in a singsong voice.

“Darn you, Larue. You know I can’t say no now. You have Elvis Presley in your living room. I know I can’t see him, but just knowing he’s there. He’s still there, right?”

I glanced over at Elvis who was trying to be polite to Mr. Fine by listening to his God-awful caterwauling. “He’s still here. He’s actually singing in my living room right now.”

Okay, I lied. That was so not nice of me, but I figured it was a little payback for all the embarrassing pole fitness classes. I’d make her tough it out for a minute, then confess the truth.

“What! That is so not fair. I want to be psychic too.”

“Careful what you wish for. It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.”

“So what song is he singing now?” she asked around a sigh.

I couldn’t hold back my giggle. “He’s not singing right now. He’s just sitting in my kitchen.”

“I’ll get you for that, Larue Donavan.”

“Are you coming over here for margaritas or what?” I asked.

“I’ll be over in a few.”

“Oh, pick up some cheese,” I said. “We need lots and lots of cheese.”

“Yum. I miss cheese,” Elvis said.

Note to self: don’t bring bananas or peanut butter into the house while Elvis was there.