Toe to Toe Read online

  “Nonie?” Rita’s voice rang throughout the funeral home. “You okay in there?”

  Nonie winced, then growled at Guy. “Fine, Mom. Just touching up the sprays.”

  “Did you say something earlier?” Rita called to her. “I thought I heard you talking.”

  “Nope,” Nonie lied, and glared at Guy. He held a hand over his mouth as if to stifle a laugh.

  “Well, hurry up, dear,” Rita said loudly. “More flowers just arrived.”

  “Coming.”

  Nonie heard Margaret cough then start talking to Rita.

  “Go,” Nonie demanded, and scowled at Guy. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

  He held his arms out at his sides. “Nothing stopping you, babe. You can walk right through me anytime.”

  “Move,” she whispered. “I don’t want to do that walking through you thing again. It makes me feel . . . weird.”

  “Feels pretty good to me. A rush actually. In fact. . .” Guy looked down at the fly on his slacks. “I don’t know if ghosts can have woodys or not but—”

  “Oh, don’t even,” Nonie warned, holding up a hand. She quickly slipped around Guy and hurried towards the door.

  This time, instead of popping back up in her face, he called out, “Don’t you want to know about your present?”

  She batted a hand behind her, dismissing him, and crossed the threshold into the sitting area. That’s when Nonie heard Guy whisper in her right ear. “You’re going to love what I’ve got for you. Tonight, baby. I’ll show you tonight.”

  Nonie winced. Where Guy Skinard was concerned, alive or dead, surprises could easily become troublesome.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nonie arrived at her duplex around seven-thirty already exhausted. There’d been thirty-five floral arrangements to set up in the viewing room, vacuuming the stray baby’s breath, and writing the obituary, which had been painstakingly hard to do. It’s one thing when a family pays tribute to a loved one at the time of their death and you didn’t know that family. It was another when you did.

  The entire town of Clay Point knew Dover cheated on his wife, stuck his hands in the city’s till, and was a loudmouth, arrogant old fart. He made certain that for every favor he granted the recipient stayed forever in his debt. Taking the flowery hero write-up the family had faxed over to the funeral home and what she knew about Dover, and melding the two together in her mind was like trying to turn a cow’s tongue into filet mignon. It had taken Nonie over three hours to write, but she’d gotten the job done. And Margaret, true to her word and smelling like she’d inhaled an entire pack of Camel cigarettes, had completed printing the prayer cards.

  Much more work lay ahead in the morning. Dover would have to be casketed and set up in the viewing room before the family arrived at nine a.m., with the general public viewing starting at ten.

  As Nonie stepped towards the porch of the duplex she spotted Dora Arsemont, her neighbor, sitting in a rocker on the duplex’s porch. The old woman’s face held more wrinkles than a shar pei and her white, scraggly hair had been curled haphazardly around plastic rollers, each held in place with a plastic pick that stuck out like small Martian antennas. She wore a purple and pink flowered housedress and bright red lipstick that wavered up and under the line of her lips. A red dot floated when she moved, the ever-present cigarette Dora had hanging from the left side of her mouth.

  Nonie groaned softly. She wasn’t in the mood to chat with Dora and wasn’t looking forward to the houseful of visitors Buggy planned to bring over. Nonie wasn’t the most fastidious housekeeper in the world, which meant she had dirty clothes, dishes and empty pizza boxes to stash before they arrived.

  Dora nodded from the rocker as Nonie clomped onto the porch and started to head for her side of the duplex. At full height, Dora stood no taller than five feet, weighed barely a hundred pounds and thought she was the remake of Gloria Swanson. She was puffing on a cigarette with one side of her mouth and blowing smoke out of the other, all the while applying mascara sans a mirror.

  “Evenin’ Ms. Dora,” Nonie said politely, while she scrambled for her house key in her purse.

  Dora lowered her mascara wand and cigarette ashes plopped onto her housedress. She quickly brushed them off, then pinched the cigarette out of her mouth with a thumb and forefinger. “Mah you late tonight, huh?” Dora said, her Cajun accent so far from the fluid sensual tone of Swanson she might as well have been a duck. “I heard about de poor mayor. It’s a wonder he didn’t drop dead sooner. Big man like dat. All de booze he drank. He was nuttin’ but a heart attack waitin’ to happen. I knew dat, me.”

  Nonie wasn’t about to correct the woman on the details of Dover’s death so she kept the small talk small. “How’ve you been?”

  “Not too bad, not too good. My art’ritis you know. My son Brian came over dis morning and brought me my new med’cine but it don’t seem to be workin’ too good.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Want to come eat a little bit before you go in you house?” Dora asked. “Got some shrimp sauce picante on de stove.”

  “No, thanks, Ms. Dora. I’ve got some friends coming over.”

  One of Dora’s painted eyebrows shot up. “Yeah? Who’s comin’? Dat’s not usual for you to have comp’ny like dat.”

  “Just some friends.”

  “Hmm,” Dora mused. “You don’t wanna say who dey are? You embarrassed?”

  “No, Ms. Dora. Buggy’s coming, and she’s bringing over a few people.”

  “Who’s dem few people?”

  “A couple of people from town, and one I haven’t met yet.”

  “Oh, you bes’ be careful wit’ dat,” Dora warned. “We two good-lookin’ ladies livin’ alone out here. Dat person you didn’t meet yet, it’s a man?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dora stuck her cigarette back into the corner of her mouth and puffed. “Bes’ be careful, dat’s all I’m gonna say. Dat strange man could wait ’til I’m sleepin’ in my bed, den bus’ through the window and have his way wit’ me right dere in my sleep.” A look crossed the old woman’s face that looked a little like wishful thinking. “Jus’ be careful, and y’all don’t make too much noise, okay? Don’t let ‘em play dat rat music and drink too much. If y’all do, I’m gonna have to call Sheriff Buchanan. Not to be mean, you know, but I gotta get my beauty res’.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I understand,” Nonie said, relief flooding over her when she finally latched onto her house key.

  “And none of dem sex orgies, no,” Dora added.

  “No, ma’am, they’re just coming over to visit,” Nonie said, quickly unlocking her door.

  “Mah, okay. We’ll see,” Dora said, and went back to her cigarette and mascara.

  Nonie hurried into her apartment, closed the door and leaned against it for a moment and said a quick prayer to anyone listening that Dora would turn in for the night before Buggy showed up with the rest of her gang. If not, each would be drilled with more questions than a police interrogation.

  After her ten-second reprieve, Nonie dropped her purse on the couch and started scurrying around the apartment, tossing dirty clothes into a hamper, dirty dishes into the sink, which she covered with a dish towel, and newspapers and pizza boxes into a large trash bag, which she stashed in her bedroom. Her place wasn’t big, thankfully. Living room, one bathroom, one bedroom, small kitchen with a dining table that sat four.

  She tossed a dirty pair of jeans under the couch. Then grabbed a coffee-stained newspaper and whirled about to head to the kitchen trash bin when she found herself almost nose to nose with Guy.

  “Crap! Would you stop jumping out at me like that?”

  “Aw, Nonie, my little bologna.” He smiled, and she was suddenly awash with the scent of him, the way she remembered way back when. Soap, wintergreen mouthwash, and the air after a spring shower. It made her heart ache every time she smelled it or saw him for that matter. She could no longer hold him the way she used to.


  “I don’t have time to wrangle with you right now,” Nonie said. “You’re gonna have to go wherever you go when you’re not around me. I’ve got company coming.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder as she tossed the newspaper into the trash then hurried over to a pile of old mail and hid it under the couch. Nonie suddenly stood and propped a fist on her hip. “Wait . . .Were you eavesdropping on Buggy and me at the funeral home?”

  “Just a little actually,” Guy said. “I stayed in the embalming room and got to take a look at Dover’s wiener, by the way. Just as I figured. Nothing to write home about.”

  “You’re a pervert.”

  “Am not. Just curious. After I saw it I got bored and just kinda hung around for a little while. Not long. That’s when I heard Buggy. She was talking so loud, people from the next parish probably heard her. All I picked up on before leaving like you asked me to was Buggy saying something about ghost hunting and money. Then something about people coming to your house.” Guy frowned, giving her a serious look. “Look I don’t know what the whole ghost thing is about, but Nonie you have to listen to me. Don’t get involved with stuff you don’t understand. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into where ghosts are concerned.”

  “Since when’ve you become my father, my priest, or my big brother for that matter?”

  “I’m only saying you know it’s different here on the other side, but you don’t know the whole of it. Some spirits are good, some bad.”

  “But living people are like that. Do you think I’m stupid enough not to know the difference, dead or alive?”

  “Yeah, it’s like in life, only when the bad ones die and stick around instead of crossing over they can do things to you when you least expect it.”

  Nonie huffed. “Like when you appear in front of me out of the blue and scare the crap out of me?”

  “Worse,” Guy said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Hell, even some of the good ones are so desperate to be seen and heard again they’ll latch onto you.”

  “What is it with you guys anyway? Isn’t there some kind of bright light you’re supposed to go to once you die? I know you already told me about your purple light, but what about everybody else who’s hanging around? Why don’t they just go to the doggone light and get it over with?”

  Guy shrugged. “Fear. Unfinished business. Unable to let go of the past. I don’t really know. I can only answer for myself.”

  Nonie shook her head, hoping to clear it. “Never mind. I don’t have time to get into all this hoohah. Buggy and the rest of the crew will be here any minute, and I have to get the apartment looking half decent.”

  “Just hear what I’m saying, please. Don’t do it.”

  “Look, we’re talking five hundred dollars a pop. Do you realize what that means? No more dressing up to go to work at the funeral home every day. Having to show up early, work late. I can go back to doing exactly what I want and wearing what I want. Besides, the work will be a hell of a lot more interesting than sewing labels on T-shirts.”

  “I know about the dressing up part. I heard you arguing with your mother during the last visitation about the dress she wanted you to wear.” Guy laughed, a sound that made her heart thud. It brought back memories of the times they’d laughed so hard together over the stupidest things that they’d cried.

  “Anyway, I really want to give the scouting gig a shot,” Nonie said.

  Guy sighed. “Whatever. You’ll find out about the different type of ghosts soon enough. I guess all of the spirits who haven’t moved on have their own reasons. The bad ones may see the light as a scam, the same way they saw most things in life. Maybe they’re afraid that although the light is warm and exudes love and welcoming, they’re afraid that beyond it is really a fiery pit, just waiting for them because of the terrible things they did when they were alive.”

  “Is there a fiery pit?” Nonie asked quietly.

  “If there is, I haven’t seen it.”

  Nonie suddenly made a shooing motion at Guy with her hands. “Enough. I can’t go there right now. Like it or not, you’re gonna have to bleep yourself out of here and go somewhere else. I can’t have you hanging around when everyone gets here. It’ll be too distracting for me. I’m supposed to be paying attention to whatever equipment some man’s bringing over so we can learn how to use them.”

  “Nonie, don’t—”

  “I’ve already made up my mind. I’m going to do it. I’ve gotta get out from underneath my dad and mom some time. I’ll only work at the funeral home until this new project gets off its feet then it’s bye-bye dead people. If I never walked into that place again it would be too soon. Now go, shoo. Take yourself and any of your ghost friends you might have hanging around nearby with you.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Go,” Nonie said, while brushing Frito crumbs off the kitchen counter.

  In that moment, she heard a knock at the door, then Buggy’s voice shout out, “You’ve got company!”

  “Damn,” Guy said, then quickly faded out of sight.

  “Be right there,” Nonie called back. She quickly threw a second dishtowel over the sink full of dirty dishes and hurried around the kitchen corner into the living room and unlocked the front door.

  Buggy led the pack into Nonie’s apartment, followed by Lyle, her boyfriend. The rest of the crew trooped in behind him. One Nonie could only assume was Tatman since he had inked sleeves that rode all the way up to his neck. He wore a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and a pair of jeans with grease stains.

  Following Tatman was Shaundelle Washington, a large black woman with beautiful long dreadlocks. She wore black spandex leggings and a yellow and red blouse that reached just below her ass and sparkled every time she moved. She immediately settled herself into the only overstuffed chair Nonie owned. Tatman, Lyle and Buggy took over the couch.

  With her living room full to overflowing, Nonie went to her small dining table, grabbed two chairs and carried them into the living room. She placed one near the couch, half listening to Buggy blabber to Lyle about some movie he’d promised to take her to. About that time, a man walked through Nonie’s open front door. The sight of him made her breath catch. He gave a whole new definition to fine-as-hell. Black, collar-length hair, a strong chiseled face with high cheekbones, bright green eyes, and a slim, muscular body. She assumed him to be Jack Nagan. He wore khaki pants with a maroon polo shirt that had the television call letters, WXRT, stitched over his left breast. He carried in two metal cases, both larger than briefcases but smaller than trunks.

  “Mind if I place these here?” he asked, aiming his cleft chin at her coffee table.

  “N-No problem,” Nonie said. Then to herself, You can put those cases any damn where you want as long as you always come along with them!

  “Nonie,” Buggy said, nodding to the tattooed man. “This is Tatman, and you remember Shaundelle, of course.”

  “What’s shakin’, girl,” Shaundelle said in greeting. She wiggled herself deeper into the overstuffed chair. “Decent digs you’ve got here.”

  “And the man bringing in the luggage,” Buggy continued, “is Jack Nagan.”

  Jack was the kind of man women fantasized about when they wanted sex, Nonie was sure of it. He laid his two cases down on the coffee table then stood upright. His movements were fluid, and she couldn’t help but watch his large biceps flex when they were in motion.

  “Nice to meet you,” Nonie said, then walked up to shake his hand, forgetting that she was still holding onto a kitchen chair. “Sorry,” she said, and placed the chair on the floor. One of the legs slammed down on her left big toe.

  “Shit” she cried, then slapped a hand over her mouth and looked up at Jack. “Sorry. Chair got my toe.”

  “I hate when shit like that happens,” Shaundelle said, crossing her legs as best she could considering the size of her thighs.

  “Me too,” Tatman said.
“Hurts like hell. I’m always dropping piping and stuff like that on my feet at the shop. Hurt one of my toes so bad a few months ago, I thought they’d have to cut it off.”

  “I’m assuming all of you already know each other?” Nonie asked.

  “Yeah,” Lyle said. “I drove everyone over in the company van. The one you guys will be using on your scouting gigs.”

  “You should have seen my neighbors,” Shaundelle said, beaming. “They was staring out their windows and whistling. I felt like I was a movie star or something. Hey, you got any snacks up in here? Coke? Beer?”

  “I’ve got a couple of Buds in the fridge but that’s about it,” Nonie said. “Didn’t have time to stop at Roy’s.” Roy’s was the local grocery store that kept residents from having to drive twenty miles to a larger supermarket.

  “I’ll take a Bud,” Tatman said, getting up from the couch and making his way into the kitchen.

  “Me, too,” Shaundelle said, struggling to get up from her chair. After a few tries she gave up and sat back. “Bring me the second one, hon, since you’re already up.”

  “Will do,” Tatman said, and seconds later he showed up with two Bud Lights, one in each hand.

  “I’d be happy to run over to Roy’s if anybody else would like one,” Nonie offered. “Tonight’s meeting sort of took me by surprise.” She glowered at Buggy. “Otherwise I’d have been better prepared.”

  “I’m good,” Buggy said.

  “Yeah, guess I am, too,” Lyle said, watching Tatman down his beer, a hint of envy on his face.

  “Jack?” Nonie prompted as she watched him open his cases and start laying out equipment on the coffee table.

  He looked up at her with a surprised, slightly confused expression on his face. “Huh?”

  “I was saying I can run over to the grocery store if you’d like a beer.”

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t catch that. No thanks.”

  “You ain’t a coonass are ya?” Tatman asked.

  “I’m originally from New Orleans. Live in Lafayette now,” Jack explained. “Not sure what that makes me.”