Erin McCarthy [McCarthy - It’s a Ghost’s Life

One

Bailey Burke, do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

I cleared my throat. I do.

Does this dress make me look fat? my best friend, Alyssa Dembowski, asked me, emerging from her dressing room at Saks.

Dicey question to pose to a man, but to ask me, her bestie since high school, it was no big deal. We knew how to be honest but delicate with each other. It is truly the girl code to not let your friend go out looking less than her best, but in this case, Alyssa was worrying for no reason. She looked fabulous in the red polka dots with her dark hair.

No, you do not look fat. You look amazing and Im completely jealous of your cleavage.

Alyssa eyed herself in the mirror and wrinkled her nose. Vera makes me feel insecure.

I had to laugh, glancing over at Vera, who was draping herself in a fur coat that was approximately seven sizes too big for her. My grandma Burke was searching for the rack of cardigans that all looked exactly like the one million cardigans she already owned.

Vera is ninety-five years old, Alyssa. Literally ninety-five. She had her birthday last October.

Yeah, but look at her. Shes stylish as hell and back in the day they called her Va Va Voom Vera. She still somehow oozes sexual confidence. I feel frumpy next to her.

Thats insane. You are not frumpy.

Im old, but not deaf, Vera said, turning toward us and pushing up her enormous round black glasses. I can hear both of you. Alyssa, a woman needs two things in lifeconfidence and a red lipstick. Youve got the lips, now put your chin up and sell it.

That was something I personally sucked at. I go for cute, not an attempt to sell it. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a slight woman with wild red hair and fair skin, being swallowed by a puffy navy blue coat with a faux fur trim. It looked cheap next to Veras palazzo pants, designer boots, fur, and expensive glasses and haircut. Just because it was January in Cleveland didnt mean I needed to give into schlumpy. I usually lived by that creed as well as Vera did but it had been a particularly harsh January and I was having post-Christmas blues.

All of which meant I just needed to do as Vera instructed Alyssa and put my chin up.

Sell it. Got it, Alyssa said.

Vera came toward us and handed the fur to Alyssa. Try this. To me, she said, Found any dead bodies lately?

Not since before Christmas, I assured her.

Vera looked at Grandma Burke. She looks so innocent.

Margarets always been competitive. It used to be medals at Irish dance competitions. Now its dead people.

Um, what? Grandma, I am not looking for dead people in a quest to be interesting. I wasnt even going to ask her not to use my middle name Margaret. Shed been doing it since I was born and my mother had the audacity to give me a non-Christian first name. Grandma Burke is Irish, shes stubborn, and if anyone is competitive, its her. She wanted to out-do Vera, who generally speaking had had a much cooler life than my grandmother. Apparently, the plan was to do it vicariously through me and my unusual brushes with death of late.

Vera and Grandma Burke were an unlikely pair. Vera had grown up in Cleveland in a wealthy Jewish family before heading to Hollywood in her twenties and spending two decades modeling, acting in bit roles, and dating leading men. Eventually shed come back and settled down, but still had her fair share of scandals and men well into her eighties. My grandmother had been married from twenty until my grandfather passed away, and prided herself on her soda bread and her ability to recite the rosary for hours on end.

They had met at the cardiologists office at the Cleveland Clinic five years ago and for whatever reason, adored each other instantly. Now that I think about it, not much different from Alyssa and me. We have completely opposite personalities. Neither Grandma nor Vera drive anymore, and everyone on the road is thankful for that. But for a girls day out of drinkie, shoppie, lunchie, as Alyssa called it, they needed me to drive. I didnt trust them to use Lyft or Uber. Vera would just walk up to a random car and demand they drive her somewhere without ever even downloading the app.

So how do you explain you racking up dead bodies like pool balls? Vera asked. She pulled the corner of the fur down off of Alyssas shoulder. Show some skin.

I need somewhere to go to wear this, Alyssa said, turning and spinning, giving us all lots of shoulder. I feel like a man killer right now.

See? This is how you kill men, Vera told me. Not the way you do it.

Im not killing anyone! Geez, you have a couple of dead bodies under your nose and people start judging. Id only found two bodies, and one was only a thigh and an arm, so did that even count? Id seen a third dead body, shot while lounging by the lake in swim trunks, but that turned out to be a ghost, and not an actual body, so Im sticking with two as my final number. Besides, I have a boyfriend. I dont need to be a man killer.

Oh, honey, thats where youre wrong. Its harder to keep a man than it is to get one. They all go for shiny and new. You have to stay shiny.

Great. Now Vera had me feeling as insecure as she had Alyssa.

I didnt worry a lot about losing Jake Marner, my super-hot detective boyfriend, but sometimes when he sighed, I suspected I tried him to the depths of his soul.

Because did I mention I see ghosts?

Marner sort of believes me but maybe not entirely, though he tries hard.

It started the day my best friend, and his partner, Ryan, showed up in my kitchen talking crap and mocking my weight loss. Hed been dead eight months and then suddenly there he was, like no big deal. Wearing work boots and a flannel shirt and telling me I needed to solve his murder.

Me, Id thought it was a big deal. Because Ryan appearing to me was cool after my initial freak-out and had helped me get through some of my grief. But after Ryan appeared, so did other random ghosts and five months later it still stunned me to think that my life had become a hostess stand for the disenfranchised dead showing up for a table.

Stay shiny. Will do. I gave Vera a thumbs-up.

She looked at me like I was a lunatic. Lets go to lunch. I want a martini.

I did too because it had just occurred to me clear out of the blue the next day was the one-year anniversary of Ryans death. Id been so busy with Christmas and planning a trip to see my sister in Texas, and managing my home-staging business, Put It Where? that I hadnt realized the anniversary was so soon.

I gripped the zipper on my puffy coat and felt awash in emotion.

The old ladys right, a voice said right behind me.

I jumped and whirled around. Ryan was standing there. What? I said out loud before I realized I couldnt have a conversation with a ghost in Saks without the disdainful sales woman calling for security.

What what? Vera asked me. I said I want a martini. Get the lead out, doll. I could die before we reach the restaurant.