Fated Memories, page 6
Kitty resettled herself on the living room floor to continue digging through the paperwork she’d been organizing. She had no intention of giving in no matter how much Maggie nagged.
“And I can’t leave Harrisburg, not yet anyway,” Maggie continued. “This may be just a casual fling on his part so I'm afraid to get too close. I need you to be there as a buffer to help me keep this on a casual level until I figure out if something is happening between us or not.”
Kitty understood her reluctance to get herself into a situation where she might get hurt. They’d both had their hearts incinerated before and were now quite cautious. Still, claiming to have lived before is pretty spooky. She hoped this guy didn’t have any other deep dark secrets.
CHAPTER 6
Having the backbone of a wet noodle, Kitty caved in with just a few more feeble arguments. She’d been so busy helping Maggie, and running errands, that music and a few drinks sounded like a good idea. The distraction would be a welcome stress reliever for both of them and she’d been washing and wearing the same clothes over and over again for so long, it would be refreshing to get dressed up for a change.
Maggie whistled when Kitty emerged from her bedroom. “Woo hoo, look at you, hot mama! And that eye shadow highlights the green in your eyes so well. You’re so beautiful.”
“Oh yeah, Angelina Jolie watch out, Ethel Mertz is on the prowl.”
She wore the black skinny jeans and black-and-green stretchy tee-shirt with the push-up bra that Sonia had insisted she bring and had used Maggie’s curling brush to fluff up her hair. She even applied a dab of mascara along with the green eyeshadow she’d found at the drug store. Pleased at Maggie’s positive reaction, she twirled to give her the full-effect and nearly fell off her low-heeled sandals.
“Careful with those twirls there Ethel, Ricky’s waiting for us at the club and I don’t want to have any ‘splaining to do.”
Maggie’s skinny jeans were similar, but hers reached her ankles like they were supposed to, and her white, silky knit top with keyhole cut-outs at the shoulder clung to her curves just enough to emphasize Mother Nature’s generosity. She hadn’t taken the locket off since she’d found it and it now hung at her throat skimming the neckline of the top, the gold-encased roses standing in stark relief against all that white. Another drugstore find was the shiny, red, ceramic rose earring studs she wore to match the locket.
Maggie handed Kitty the teardrop jade earrings she’d admired from grandma’s jewelry box. “Here these are for you. I’m sure Grandma would’ve wanted you to have them and they’ll match your outfit.”
Tears started in her eyes and she willed them away to prevent mascara from running down her face. Kitty fastened on the earrings and fluffed her hair back to admire them. “What do you think? Do they look as pretty as I feel?”
“They, and you, look wonderful. Now let’s get out of here before I get emotional.”
Kitty fastened the strap tighter on her sandals to keep them secured better. If she was unsteady sober, she could just imagine how she’d be after a few drinks. They decided to take her mom’s BMW to eliminate the temptation to overindulge, knowing she’d have to drive home. Kitty’s other reason she kept to herself. She thought that if Maggie and Simon stepped up their relationship tonight, she’d at least have a familiar car to drive home. Not that she thought Maggie would ever leave her stranded; she only wanted to give her the freedom to follow her heart.
The roadside club was just off the highway and Kitty paid special attention to memorize the route in case she wound up driving home either alone or with a passed out companion. Loud music and laughter resounded all the way to the outer edge of the gravel parking lot, where they found an open spot, and emerged from the car amped up and ready for a good time.
From the outside the club looked tiny, but once inside the door, the room opened to a huge cavern packed to capacity. A strong smell of alcohol with a mixture of colognes permeated the air. The DJ played eighties rock with a heart-thumping bass, and so many people packed the small dance floor they seemed to blend into one gyrating person. Off to one side, three bartenders worked hard to keep up with the orders. Somehow, Maggie spotted Simon waving to them from a bar-height table he’d commandeered at the edge of the dance floor. They made their way over to him, squeezing through the crowd. Kitty was pretty sure she’d gotten felt up at least three times on the way, but in this crowd, who could say for sure whether it was intentional or not? Besides, with so much padding in the push-up bra, she couldn’t feel much in that vicinity anyway.
Once they reached their seats, a waitress appeared to take their drink orders. Maggie gave Kitty the fish eye when she ordered a vodka and cranberry juice.
“I thought you weren’t going to drink tonight, remember?”
“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten. I’m going to have this one drink to loosen up and that’s it. I promise not to embarrass you. Or Simon.” She flashed a smile Simon’s way.
“Don’t worry, ladies, there are so many people in here no one will notice anything you do, unless you fall flat on your face on the dance floor.”
Maggie lifted her eyebrows at her as a reminder to be cautious. Regardless of her clumsiness, Kitty came here to have fun, so she stood her ground on the drink. After a long sigh Maggie gave in and ordered her own. “Scotch rocks for me please.” Orders taken, the waitress somehow teleported herself back through the crowd.
After getting used to the noise and finding the right speaking level, Kitty cornered Simon. “So, Maggie told me you’ve had past life memories that took you back to Civil War times. That sounds incredible. Can you tell me about it?”
Simon’s mouth opened then closed as he fixed Maggie with a sideways stare. “Well, a toy gun I got for Christmas one year triggered the memory. I was just a kid and didn’t know I’d said anything unusual until I saw the dumbfounded look on my father’s face.”
Kitty couldn’t help smirking. “I’ll bet. That’s a hell of a thing to hear your kid say. What about the kids at school? Did they tease you because of it?”
He glanced at Maggie then lowered his head. “No, it wasn’t something I went around telling just anybody.”
Simon’s discomfort got a momentary reprieve as the waitress reappeared at their table without spilling a drop of their drinks on the tray she carried. She rolled her eyes as they argued over who got the bill for this round, and since Simon won the argument, she disappeared again with his credit card.
The bartender had gone heavy on the cranberry juice and the first sip made her pucker. Kitty stirred the ice cubes to dilute the tartness while she continued to interview Simon. On the surface he seemed okay, and Maggie was obviously smitten, but she was too important to let her get mixed up with a nut.
“So, tell me more, what was your name? Do you remember it being different? Were you someone famous like a general or something?”
“No, no, nothing of that sort. You know many people claim to remember past lives, but I've always been skeptical of those who claim they were Cleopatra or Attila the Hun or some king. In reality there’ve been a helluva lot more of us common folk than otherwise so, seriously, what are the odds of remembering to have been a famous historical figure?” Simon had a head start on the ladies and downing this second drink eased his discomfort on the subject. “My memory puts me as a rifleman-sharpshooter assigned to the infantry. I guess in today's military terms they’d be called Special Forces. I’m sure that’s why the toy gun initiated the memory. As far as a name, though, I have no idea. I can't remember knowing it or having anyone call me by it.”
So not General Grant riding in on his gallant steed to save the day; at least that lent credibility to his madness. Kitty still didn’t buy his story though. There’s been so much in the news lately celebrating the heroics of the Special Forces, he may have gotten it from there. “Maggie probably hasn’t told you much about me, but I’m a sci-fi nut and odd things like this arouse my interest. I’ve also read there are ancient Eastern Indian religions who believe we’re doomed to be reincarnated over and over again until we either learn all the lessons living can teach us, or until we apologize for whatever heinous misdeed one of our ancestors committed that passed the bad karma down through the generations. I'm going with the lessons learned part, since I'm clueless as to why I'd need to apologize.” She slurped the rest of her drink through the straw.
“I thought I remember you saying you weren't a religious person.” Kitty caught the air of challenge in his voice. Okay, I probably deserve it from the way I‘ve been pressing him.
“I'm not. Not in the familiar sense of the word anyway. Don't get me wrong, I’d never judge anyone else for their personal beliefs, it's just that science and cosmology are more credible to me.” She leaned forward so he could hear her better over the increasing level of the music. “Have you ever read any of Carl Sagan's books? He says we're all made of stardust from comets carrying organic DNA that crashed into the earth millions of years ago and spread their seed so to speak. To me, that supports the idea of a cosmic universal relationship that lives in and among all of us; as though we're spiritually connected somehow. My brain can't digest the concept of an omnipotent supreme being overseeing our lives, nor do I feel it necessary to perform the rituals or attend the services of organized religion. So no, rather than religious I guess I'd call myself spiritual.” She rested back in her seat again giving him time to digest what she’d said. Challenge met.
Maggie had slipped away to the restroom for a minute, but now she was back and pleased to see Kitty and Simon in deep conversation and getting along so well.
“Okay, I'm back, you can stop talking about me now, did I miss anything important?”
“Kitty was explaining the universe to me.”
“Oh, well I'm glad you've been brought up to speed on that important issue. I'm ready for another drink, how 'bout you guys?”
Through all the noise in the club, Maggie's words ‘another drink’ carried to the waitress's ears, and she magically reappeared.
“Another round for everyone?”
“Make mine a virgin vodka and cranberry,” Kitty said.
“That’s just cranberry juice you know.”
“Oh, huh, so it is. That's okay, I'm driving.”
With the DJ taking a break, the MC for the night introduced the karaoke contest with an open invitation to take part.
Amid the cheers and whistles several people hurried forward to put their names on the list. Without the music, the decibel level decreased to a near normal level and only the talking and laughing of people having a good time lingered. Maggie and Simon had their heads together in a private moment. Not wanting to interrupt, Kitty excused herself to the ladies’ room.
“Hurry back, Kit, don't be too long.”
“Okay, don't get excited, I'm only going to the ladies’ room.”
“Yeah, but hurry back.” Maggie’s eyes were wide and pleading as she jiggled in her seat.
Jeez, is she that afraid of being alone with him? He’d impressed Kitty as weird, but not dangerous. She had planned to give them some private time, but she’d come back sooner if she could get through this damn crowd.
As Kitty made her way back she noticed Maggie craning her neck watching for her. Something made her very nervous. Kitty wished Simon would take a break so she could get Maggie alone and find out what the hell it was.
The decibel level had dropped now except for a few laughs and cheers as this poor half-drunk guy onstage sang this comedic version of The Black Eyed Peas’ “My Humps”. Kitty admired his nerve and self-confidence to even get onstage, drunk or not. She clapped and cheered the same as everyone else when he finished. But she was floored when the MC called out, “Okay, thanks Alan, next up we have Maggie and Kitty singing “Wannabe.” Let's give a big O’Malley’s cheer for Maggie and Kitty!” The room erupted with shouts and chants of “Magg-ie, Kitt-y, Magg-ie, Kitt-y.” Kitty broke out in a sweat as the walls began to close in on her.
“Lucy!” She accused her, “You're freakin’ kidding me! Tell me you didn't do this.”
“Lucy?” Simon did a double take when he heard Kitty call her that, but Maggie impatiently waved him away.
“I knew that if I’d asked you first, you would’ve said no, and then you’d have missed out on all the fun.” Kitty couldn’t tell if Maggie's face had turned red or if she was just seeing red.
Simon waved his arms pointing to them and shouted, “Here they are, over here.”
The crowd practically carried them up to the stage. “Listen, you can kill me when we get home,” Maggie murmured. “Right now everyone's expecting us to sing, so let's just go with it.”
Kitty’s anger now turned to fear. “Maggie, you know when I’m nervous I have a tendency to lose my balance. What if I fall on my face on stage? I’ll be mortified.”
“Oh honey, don't worry. It’s just for fun. Look around, everyone’s so drunk they couldn't care less how we sound, and I specially chose “Wannabe” because we did it at Christmas and I knew you were comfortable with it. Remember how you fought with those men at the old house? What did you do to gather your courage then?”
Kitty considered that for a second and, as the music started, she squared herself up as though getting ready for a fight. Which, in a sense she was; only the fight was with her own fears. A few seconds into the song she understood Maggie’s point. No one was listening at all because they sucked and still the crowd yelled and cheered them on like rock stars. Her heart thumped in time to the music, her arms waved with abandon, and she smiled so wide it hurt. But she didn’t care. They strutted back and forth across the stage as if they had rehearsed and performed the song a dozen times. The most remarkable thing to Kitty was that she stayed on her feet the whole time!
No drug in the world could have duplicated the high she experienced as she left that stage. She could've conquered this world and the next single-handed, outrun a speeding bullet, leapt tall buildings in a single bound. Superman had nothing on her.
“Did you see that? Did you see us?” Maggie hugged Simon so hard Kitty thought she'd break his ribs.
“Of course I saw it. You girls were awesome.”
Kitty started to raise her hand for the waitress, but she was already there. This woman was spooky.
“Another virgin vodka and cranberry for me please. And it's my turn to buy this round so don't you dare take a dime from either of those two.” She handed over her credit card, and the waitress melted back into the crowd.
Kitty felt a hand on the back of her chair and turned, thinking this couldn’t be the waitress coming back so soon. Nobody could be that fast.
“Heeyy, McGrail, you never told me you were a Spice Girl, and who's this lovely lady with you?”
Okay, he had her complete attention. Right height, athletic body, stylish, gorgeous eyes, and he'd called her lovely. All the perfect components. Except that drawn out ‘hey’ blew right into her face boosting her blood alcohol level a couple of points. This guy was seriously lit.
“This is my cousin Kitty. Kitty, Marshall Doyle.” The bland expression on Maggie's face didn't match her congenial voice and Kitty wondered if these two had a history. She shook his offered hand anyway, and he took that as an invitation to join them, slithering right into the vacant chair beside her.
“And this must be the brainiac boyfriend, huh?” Doyle extended his hand to Simon who took it without enthusiasm.
“The name's Simon. And I’m not sure you'd call me a brainiac..."
Maggie linked her arm through Simon’s and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Oh, honey, what Doyle means is that I told him you were more the academic type.” She stroked his muscular arm. “While you’re obviously fit, you’re not so much into sports as I am, that's all.”
Simon caught on and played along. “Oh, yeah, right.” He patted her hand. “Maggie outshines me in sports, but we have other things in common. Don't we, sweetheart?” He kissed her chastely on the lips.
This overacted performance turned Kitty’s stomach and Doyle didn’t seem too happy at that kiss. She tried to divert his attention, pointing to the stage and moving her finger right in front of his eyes so he’d have to follow it. “Oh my, check out that guy on stage. He's so into that song isn’t he? Do you know who he is?”
“Yeah, that’s one of my buddies, he’s okay.” He stayed hyper-focused on Maggie, who clung to Simon’s arm and avoided Doyle’s gaze as much as possible. Since that little distraction hadn’t worked, Kitty would have to try another tack.
“So, Doyle is it?” She rested her hand on his arm and squeezed it to get his attention. “What do you do for a living, Doyle?” Before he could answer, the magical drink fairy came back to their table.
Once she’d served everyone, Simon took up the question with Doyle. “You were going to tell us what you do for a living, Doyle.”
“Oh, yeah, well I'm a project engineer with Rawlings, one of the local companies here. I do feasibility studies and job cost analyses, that sort of thing,” Doyle explained in a self-important and condescending voice, slurring a little. “And what about you, Professor, what do you do?” He glared at Simon with eyebrows raised as if challenging him to come up with something better.
What an asshole. Now Kitty understood why Maggie didn’t like him. The polite banter was a sham to keep the atmosphere pleasant around Simon, but she must be itching like crazy to tell this guy to bug off for good.
Familiar with the game being played, the muscles in Simon’s jaw set tight, and his eyes bore into Doyle’s. He answered in a casual tone as if it wasn’t impressive at all. “My brothers and I own a thriving sheet-metal fabrication plant up in Wellsboro. It pulls in just under a couple mil a year.”
