Chapter 3

They’re gonna be late.

Don’t be silly, Grady, my love. It’s Simon’s big day! She sat, holding the hand of the man she’d waited an eternity for, as clouds pillowed around them.

Yep. They’re gonna be late.

God was in his heaven and all was right with their world, but Simon? That boy was gonna be late!

****

Oakland, California

“Evie, we gotta go! Are you ready?” She could hear Simon hollering down the hallway from his seat in the living room. She’d left him sitting patiently, checking his email and letting the social media time-suck calm his nerves. This was his event and he was already sweating through his shirt. It probably made him feel clammy in his own skin.

Evie stared into the full-length mirror of her closet door. What was she doing? She took a deep breath and tried to quell the shaking of her spray-tanned legs, balancing on four-inch spiky heels that sparkled like a million stars in her reflection. Why had she told Simon she’d be his plus-one for this…this what? Coming out thing? Game party? She was dressed to the nines and it made her want to vomit.

She was a soldier. No. Strike that. She used to be a soldier. Give her a full complement of terrorists armed to the teeth and she knew what to do. She knew how to dress for that; desert camo-boots, ACUs, Tactical Banshee body armor, a forty-pound pack on her back, and she was ready to meet and greet. But an award party for some fancy video game with cute 3-D glasses and a buzzing glove? Really?

“Evie!” The tone indicated he was losing patience. “The guest of honor is going to be late for his own introduction. Can you move it a little, babe? It’s a long drive to Cupertino and there might be traffic.”

She took one more deep breath, or tried to, tucked her full breasts a little more down into the gown that almost covered her chest, and turned toward the doorway. Immediately her heel caught in the soft plush rug of her bedroom. She still wasn’t used to soft and comfortable after years of military acceptable. She grabbed the edge of the dresser to balance. “Slow and sophisticated, Evie girl. Slow and easy. You can do this mission.”

Simon had helped her pick out her dress for the evening’s celebration, since her idea of formal wear was black Dockers and a clean T-shirt. He even insisted on paying for it as well! Simon wouldn’t let her see the tag, he said he just liked the color, and how it fit so snugly. It didn’t matter that the strapless burgundy satin hugged like a second skin, well, partial skin anyway, and felt like Clingwrap. It sure didn’t cover much, showing her rich honey shoulders and one long, shapely leg, almost up to her hip. Every time she saw herself in the dress, she felt the need to take cover! The salon downstairs had sent a make-up artist up to do her war paint and now her shimmery lips could be seen miles away. Her hair was plastered with so much hairspray it would take a week of shampooing to get it out, and her scars were covered with some sort of paint-on plastic and airbrushed to invisibility. She hadn’t looked this good since her high school prom. She hadn’t shown so much skin since surgery at Walter Reed!

She looked almost normal. Almost. “Coming, Simon. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it down the hall.” Evie put both hands on the door jams and successfully eased out of the room. The hardwood flooring of the hall presented another challenge as she wobbled and clicked the way toward her man-of-the-hour. As Simon stood to take her arm, his phone dropped along with his jaw…nearly all the way to the floor and he stood there like a statue, frozen in space and time. He was acting as if Evie was the most incredibly luscious woman he’d ever seen. Like she was some angel from heaven wrapped in silky satin. It was evident his genius mind had stalled at the sight, but his body sure didn’t. Evie couldn’t help noticing one particular part rose to the occasion with a good deal of speed and precision, tenting the front of his slacks with a sure fire Howdy Duty salute that couldn’t be missed by anyone, let alone the woman who’d caused it!

Evie teetered a foot away. “This is tougher than a recon mission in Mosul.” She moved her feet back and forth in place. “And harder! Simon? Simon close your mouth, please. You look like you just saw an eighteen-ounce slab of prime rib.” She chuckled in her soft Cajun manner.

Which did nothing to help Simon with his problem. He bent to adjust and cover his intense reaction and to retrieve his phone. “Ah…” His mouth wouldn’t work. “Ah…”

“You’re stuttering, genius programmer and creator of the hottest new game on the multimillion-dollar market.” She reached out and smacked his shoulder.

The typical Evie snap-out-of-it smack brought Simon to his senses, which only did more to exacerbate his problem. Her get-ready team had applied all sorts of jells, creams and other unidentifiable stuff to her skin and now she smelled of honeysuckle and sugar rum, and molasses. It almost reminded her of home, but without the dress and heels. Her face shone with light sparkles and rich tones that were strategically intended to capture a man’s eye. When his gaze settled on her lips, he had to sit down to catch his breath once again. Evie laughed at Simon’s reaction. It was clear he was having trouble standing, speaking, just remaining upright.

“Holy cow.” Simon licked his lips and Evie laughed again.

“I squeeze myself into this tight, red gunnysack, paint myself up like a trollop, and all you can say is holy cow? Do you know how much work went into this?” Evie did a slow, sexy spin on her tippy toes, motioning from hair to heels like Vanna White with a riddle. “Really? It took an entire tactical team of specialists to accomplish this.”

“I, ah…I…” A grin played across Simon’s face. “If I said you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?” Heaven only knew why that particular saying came to his mind, but it did, and crawled right out his gaping mouth.

“My body or the song?” Evie had him, and knew it. It’d been a long time since she’d seen a reaction like this. Never because of her.

Simon choked and dropped his phone into his lap, just missing his body’s standing ovation.

Evie laughed. She was enjoying the effect her appearance had on Simon. It was almost worth the hours she and an entire team of make-up artists and clothiers had spent on her get-up. “I thought you were in a big hurry, Mr. O’Sullivan? Stand up, man.”

The apartment intercom interrupted her enjoyment. “Your limo is here, Mr. O’Sullivan.”

“Limo? Ah, Simon, you shouldn’t have.” Evie pulled her matching wrap from the couch, grabbed a small clutch and opened the door. “Vamanos, baby.” She motioned toward the driver who stood in the open doorway.

The mirror next to her door showed it all. The purposeful picture of her backside had obviously sent Simon’s mind into overdrive and she got another quiet chuckle out of his attempt to stand and follow the procession, without hurting himself. It was still hard to believe, in about two hours, she'd be standing next to him as he received the industry’s highest accolade. In front of millions of people. Simon followed Bull, and Evie into the elevator. It was nineteen floors to the basement, and about twenty steps to the car. She was sure he could do this. Sitting next to a satin-clad gift from heaven she looked to be? Maybe not. At least, maybe not without a good amount of mental manipulation and a significant dose of saltpeter!

“You’re staring, Simon.” Her sultry comment had Simon studying the floor and blushing to his roots.

Bull’s huge frame shook as he chuckled. “That be cuz my man here never been with a sweet sista. He be all bunched up.” Bull grabbed his crotch and moved it up and down.

That got Simon’s attention. “Oh, for the love of Jesus, Bull. Can you please clean it up?” Ever since Simon had been dating Evie, or whatever it was they did together, Bull had been part of their life. One such sorta-date night, Simon’s childhood history overflowed his mouth with a little too much fruity rum and chips. Evie learned a lot about her sensitive geek. Bull was a gang thug from the Oakland hood where Simon grew up. They’d been friends since second grade, when a bully from the other side of the tracks tried to steal Simon’s lunch money. Bull beat the kid down and took everything he had, including his bright new tennis shoes. Like a self-appointed Robin Hood, Bull handed out what little money he took from the kid to his buds, then gave Simon the tennis shoes. After that, no one fooled with the scrawny genius who had a tattooed guardian angel with his own private army.

Bull straightened, as much as he could, for a six-foot, eight-inch, three-hundred-pound man in a small elevator. “Of course, Mr. O’Sullivan. Right-oh, chap.” Bull affected a British accent and snapped a sharp salute. For a fellow raised in the inner city of Oakland, Bull’s quick sense of humor and keen observational skills had served him well and kept him alive in some tight situations. His ability to mimic just about any accent lent the huge man a kind of comical timing that often drove anger to comedy, and deadly to survivable. That was until Simon pulled him out of the sewer and dressed him up as a bodyguard and driver. They were close, like brothers from a different mother, and Bull still protected his sibling. Now he just had a better set of duds and more expensive resources.

A quiet ding announced their arrival in the underground garage of the apartment complex. “Showtime.” She placed a restraining hand on Simon’s arm. “I hope I don’t embarrass you, Simon. I’m not used to this kind of get-up. I…” She stalled.

He kissed her on the cheek. Her perfect shiny, glossed lips were off limits until after the Kodak moments on the green carpet of the gaming industry’s celebratory evening. In fact, he’d only once kissed her lips ever, when he was drunk.

Simon tried a flirty comment to ease the tension. “We could ditch this circus and go back upstairs.” His smile widened as her very exposed cleavage drew his eyes like a precious new toy at Christmas. He pulled at the collar of his ruffled shirt. The bow tie was way too tight and Evie understood his discomfort. It was hot and muggy in the garage and the tuxedo he wore probably felt like a straight jacket from Hell.

“No can do, boss. Mathers said I was to get you there at any cost.” Bull opened the door and waved them into the spacious limo.

One more reassuring peck on the cheek and Simon straightened She was well aware of what they both knew would come. “I’m more worried about me embarrassing myself, Evie. You will do fine. Me? Not so sure.” He helped her into the back seat. “Bull, sometimes…” Simon made a fist and punched his palm in a warning gesture.

“Uh huh, boss. Only in those fantasy games you make.” Bull laughed.

“Really!” Once, back in high school, according to Simon’s alcoholic historical, he had lost his temper. He seldom allowed that to happen and when it did, he was ashamed. He’d actually hit the wall of his uncle’s living room. That had required a trip to the Emergency Room. The wall went unscathed. Bull was right about his physical acumen.

“Get in the car, Simon.” Bull turned the man by his tailored tuxedo and gave a gentle shove, Evie played catcher and sent a subtle wink Bull's way. Once, during and unexpected heart-to-heart, Bull told Evie just how precious his relationship with Simon was. He'd also weighed in on Evie with admiration. He understood her scars and respected her military career. He thought she played straight with his brother and appreciated her no-nonsense approach to life!

He also thought they made a great couple! Bull said Simon was the geeky genius with more money than God, and Evie was the gorgeous war hero with medals and skills to kill. He knew they both had issues and promised to keep that confidential.

Settled in the back of the limo, Simon took Evie’s hand. “We’ll both do just fine.” His cock-eyed grin said it all. He didn’t even need to add, “I hope.”

She was a soldier. She could do this. “Just one more mission. A little different uniform. No weapons. No forty-pound pack. Just forty pounds of make-up—” She smacked her lips and made a sucking sound. “—and half a gallon of petroleum jelly.”

“Ah, honey, you’re going to slay ’em with satin and half a gallon of petroleum jelly.” For the first time in her life, she felt like perfection, holding her man’s hand and watched as he licked his lips, again. She imagined what trickle of romantic thoughts slid through Simon’s mind. Maybe…Nah!

“Yeah, right! If only Amee could see me now. She’d have a fit. Probably turn the fire alarms on all over MOTCO!”

“They’d both be proud as heck. They are watching. I know they are.” Simon’s eyes watered a touch. Simon would hold back the tears if it was the last thing he did.

Evie squeezed his hand and gave a soft smile. “Yeah.”

It brought Evie back to the beginning. It was a beginning they’d discussed many times and she knew he still found it hard to accept, in his concrete world of computer coding and marketing statistics. Yet, Amee, the infamous ghost of Port Chicago, was why and how Evie connected with Simon almost four years previous. Army Captain Evielynne Gastineau, the Provost Marshal of Military Ocean Terminal Concord, at the time, was the only living person who could hear and see the pesky ghost. Tormented, Evie helped the little ghost find her lost love, none other than Grandville O’Sullivan, Uncle Grady. Between the machinations of Simon and the dedication of Evie, Grady and Amee were able to spend their last minutes on earth together, one as a trapped ghost who’d died on that hot July night in 1944, the other a dying old man who’d lost his only love to the historic explosion. Thinking back to that evening at the Port Chicago Naval Magazine National Memorial still made them both understand real love through the eyes of the doomed couple. That night they actually got a glimpse of heaven, and felt the intense love that transcended time and life itself. They saw Grady as a young black sailor, full of life and adoration for his forbidden love. They saw Amee, the white daughter of a Naval captain, a ghost since her death in the explosion of Port Chicago, take her lover’s hand as they both departed for the next life, together. As the reunited couple waved goodbye to a stunned audience of two, they both saw a flash in the sunset and knew Amyrillis Marie McGee finally wore the silver ring Seaman Grandville O’Sullivan made for her from his lucky nickel, in 1944.

It seemed like a millennium ago. Evie was still on active duty and charged with the safety of Military Ocean Terminal Concord, or MOTCO. A cheesy assignment for a Silver Star awardee, she was still recovering from her imprisonment and torture in Iraq when Amee’s appearance slammed her back into the Louisiana swamps and the Cajun roots that blessed her with the ability to see and speak with ghosts. While her wounds continued to heal, her family’s legacy reared its head and Evie was introduced to a love story that never ended…and a haunting that never would, if Amee could not confess her love for the man she was to meet on the night of her death. Simon was the belligerent nephew who protected his dying great-uncle with everything he had. Which was considerable, since he’d made vice president of Digital Mystery and Mastery, the leading digital game producer in the world. His hatred for the United States military was a brick, steel and titanium wall he built to insulate his uncle from the past and the disgrace of the Port Chicago 50 conviction. But that all changed with Evie, and the ghost of Port Chicago. Ultimately, Simon’s love for the surrogate father his uncle had become, was the salve for his soul. Witnessing his uncle’s passing in the arms of a love the old man had waited over sixty years for, was an epiphany that completely changed his life, and hers. It had also changed their view of not only the disaster in 1944, but love itself.

Evie found Simon to be an incredible crucible of warmth and, dare she say, love, in her structured and concrete military life. In the last few months, since Evie had gone to work for his company, she extended her fledgling civilian wings and gained the respect of her peers. Most of the nightmares that tortured her mind had ceased. All because of Amee and Grady’s great love. She had to admit the little ghost brought something incredible into their lives and left a stamp on their hearts. She found Simon to be a man who understood her, someone she could trust with her scarred life. Someone who didn’t look at her as broken goods, as a crazy woman who heard ghosts and had twenty cats at home!

“Ya know, when I separated from the army, I didn’t think civilian life would be quite this difficult.” Evie shifted precariously, tugging on the clingy satin as she tried for a more comfortable position on the wide seat.

“It’s worth it, babe. You are the most beautiful woman in the world! Right Bull?” Simon yelled at his driver.

“Ah…huh! Yes, sir.” Bull’s huge smile could be seen in the rearview mirror.

“Oh great. Not helpful, Simon.” Evie wiggled and yanked the bodice of her dress higher. “Not helpful at all.” Her cell phone buzzed inside the sequined clutch on the seat next to her. “Probably Tootie wanting pictures.”