“Do you think it was the curse?” Dee asked, a whisper, as we reached our Vespas—hers bloodshed red, mine pale blue—and picked up our helmets, securing them on our heads.
“I don’t believe in the curse. You know that.”
“Still, Penny. You saw the video.” Her eyes widened beneath the clear plastic of the helmet. “You can’t deny how crazy that was, and with everything else . . . ”
“I don’t believe in curses.” I turned around to get on my Vespa. “I’ll meet you at Dolly’s.”
I really didn’t believe in curses, but there was no denying that something evil lurked on this island. Whether it came from the Caliban Manor or our own, or the village, I didn’t know, but it was there. Not one Guzman had lived a long, happy life, free of health issues or a tragic death. As far as I knew, the Calibans suffered the same fate. When I lived here, I’d made it a point to keep them out of sight, out of mind. The less I thought about them, the fewer chances I had of welcoming any of that into my life. When I reached Dolly’s Bar, I parked, switched off my motor, and took off my helmet, hanging it from the handle. I watched as Dee did the same beside me. Inside, we sat in our usual booth, one we hadn’t sat in for over six years.
“It feels so strange to be back here,” I said after we placed our drink orders with Dolly.
“Mind if I join you?” The familiar voice was Martín’s. He was dressed in a dark blue polo shirt and khakis.
“You still stick out like a sore thumb,” I said. “No one here wears khaki.”
His smile fell. “Is that why I just paid thirty-five dollars for a rum and coke?”
“Uh, yeah.” Dee laughed. “And you may join us, if that’s okay with Penny. I’m not sure what’s going on here.” She signaled at Martín and me.
“Oh. No.” I shook my head, frowning slightly. “We just met today. Nothing is going on.”
“She was kind enough to let me talk her ear off,” he said, then looked at me. “Mind if I join?”
“Not at all.” I started to scoot over, but Dee beat me to it, and from the twinkle in her eye I could tell she was interested. I laughed lightly and glanced away just in time to see Dolly bringing us our drinks.
“Oh, this young man is with you?” She set a martini in front of me and a whiskey on the rocks in front of Dee. “You should have told me.”
“Just so you know, we’re paying regular price.” I winked, getting a laugh out of her.
“I wouldn’t dream of charging you any more than regular price.” She winked as she started to walk away. “You haven’t been here in a while, but you can order with the tablets on the table and they’ll bring your food right out.”
“Thanks, Doll.”
“Anytime, love.”
“Thirty-five dollars?” Dee whisper-shouted. “She must be making a killing this week.”
“You’re not kidding.” I looked around the bar. “I don’t think I see one familiar face. Has it been like this every year?”
“Not really,” Martín said, setting his drink down. “I’ve been here for the last three and this is the most crowded I’ve seen it.”
“Wow.” I sipped on my martini.
“I usually leave for Carnival,” Dee said, “I mean, I haven’t lived here for what, four years now? But even then, when I come back home I make sure not to come this week.”
“I can’t imagine being from here and not reveling in this,” Martín said.
“That’s because you’re not from here,” Dee and I said at the same time, then laughed.
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” He shot the two of us a look. “Besides, I already told you, I enjoy haunts.”
“So does Penny and you won’t catch her on this island unless it’s an emergency.” Dee chuckled, then jutted her chin out to me as she sipped her drink. “Did you tell him about your photography blog?”
“No.” I shot her a look. “I don’t make it a point to tell strangers about my work.”
“What photography blog?”
“The Haunt,” Dee provided.
“The blog? No fucking way.” Martín’s jaw dropped momentarily. “You run that? I thought you didn’t like haunts.”
“I lied. Sue me.” I rolled my eyes and focused on my drink.
“Not to be a fanboy or anything, but I’m on there every single day. Do you ever look at the message boards? I’m FableKing66.”
“Nope.” It was another lie. FableKing66 was one of my biggest contributors as far as theories about the haunted houses went.
“She’s lying. She just hates attention,” Dee said. “I bet she can tell you the last time you posted.”
“Maybe a year ago, but not anymore.” I laughed.
“Right, I forgot, you passed the million followers threshold.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.