Run by emily_michele
Author's Chapter Notes:
What?? I'm updating this story?? I'm as surprised as you are.
“What do you think that means?” Nick asked his bandmates as they all stared across the table at him, dumbfounded after his re-hashing of what happened on the day Josh Donohue died.
“Holy shit,” AJ muttered under his breath. Howie shook his head in disbelief and gave Nick a brotherly squeeze on the shoulder while Brian gave him a wistful half-smile through tear-filled eyes. Kevin took a more diplomatic approach.
“Do you think maybe he had an out-of-body experience?” he asked calmly.
“Yeah! LIke he saw his brother as he was going into the light? Something like that!” Brian piped up excitedly.
NIck pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. “That’s what Annie said,” he remarked. “But…”
“But what, Nick?”
“Annie’s--” He paused, looked each of his brothers in the eye, then stared down at the table. “Different.”
Kevin reached across the table and gave Nick’s forearm a reassuring squeeze. “Give her time,” he said gently. “It’s been what? Two weeks since her brother’s funeral?” Nick nodded. “She’s grieving, Nick. She may always be a little… different.”
“I understand that,” Nick interjected. “It’s just that--” he trailed off and looked back down at the table. Should he tell them? It’s just that I’m pretty sure I’m being haunted by the ghost of my fiance’s dead husband. You know-- Andrew? The guy my dead almost- brother-in-law wrote about before he died!
“It’s just that what, Nick?” Brian and Howie asked simultaneously from either side of him.
Nick sighed and groaned, running his hands up and down his face in frustration. “I’m sure I’m just going crazy.”
“I’m sure you’re not crazy, Nick,” Kevin reassured him with a squeeze on the forearm.
Nick groaned again. “Just forget I said anything, okay?”
“You’re not getting away that easily.”
“It’s almost like he’s haunting me,” Nick whispered.
Suddenly, before anyone else had a chance to respond to Nicks revelation, there was a spark in AJ’s eye, a turning on of the proverbial lightbulb above his head. “Maybe I can help,” he said, his big brown eyes both eager and hopeful.
*******************
“Alex, where are we going?”
“You’ll see, Nick. Just chill out.” AJ drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, the chipped black polish glaring in the afternoon Los Angeles sunlight, as he waited for the left turn light to turn green. “We’re here,” he said just moments later, as the black sports car slowed to a stop on the side of the street outside a quaint little white house on the outskirts of town. AJ turned off the engine and opened the door, lighting a cigarette as he did so.
Reluctantly, Nick followed suit, stooping down to avoid hitting his head on the door frame as he climbed out of the small car and stretched his legs. He turned to watch his bandmate take a long drag on his cigarette, then toss it on the sidewalk and stomp it out. Unlike in the more affluent areas of LA, it was obvious the street sweepers didn’t make the rounds here. The sidewalk was littered with cigarette butts and sand.
He ran his fingers along the gothic, dark purple lettering against a black painted background that adorned the handmade sign standing in the yard. It was barely legible from the road, but now that he was up close and personal, he could clearly read that it simply said, “Madame Alexandra.” Wasn’t she a doll maker? He could vaguely remember Angel fawning over some doll on QVC when he was eighteen, and he promptly whipping out the shiny new credit card that was burning a hole in his wallet and ordering it for her. Somewhere in the depths of his brain, his file of useless information reminded him that was actually, “Madame Alexander.” He raised an eyebrow in AJ’s direction. “Madame Alexandra, AJ? Really?”
AJ shrugged and galloped up the front steps. “We’re kindred spirits.”
“So you brought me to see a psychic?” Nick couldn’t hide his amusement. Leave it to AJ to bring him to a psychic in an effort to solve all his problems.
“Pshh- of course I didn’t bring you to a psychic, Nick. I understand how serious this is…..” He trailed off and raised his hand to use the gargoyle-like door knocker on the otherwise plain wooden front door. “She’s a medium.”
“A medium.”
“Yes, Nick. A medium.”
“A medium???”
“An individual held to be a channel of communication between the earthly world and a world of spirits.” *
Nick gulped and clenched at his chest, willing his heart to slow down. “Spirits?!”
AJ stared at him pointedly and pulled the sunglasses off his face. “You’re worried because Josh wrote about Annie’s dead husband, right?”
“Yeah….”
“Then maybe Alexandra can communicate with their spirits and see what that was all about? It’s probably exactly what Annie and Kev think, and it was some sort of ‘going into the light’ experience. It that’s what Alex thinks, too, then I’d say you can rest easy.”
Nick could feel his heart rate normalizing. When did AJ become the voice of reason? And why did he call Madame Alexandra “Alex”? “That’s-- brilliant, actually.”
AJ flashed a smile in his direction as the front door opened. A petite, elderly lady with long, white hair in a side braid peeked her head out. “Alex!” she exclaimed, enveloping AJ in a hug. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart!”
“Alex!” AJ exclaimed in return, giving her a quick peck on her crepe-paper like cheek. “I’ve missed you, too!” Nick cocked an eyebrow as he watched the exchange, standing back a safe distance with his arms crossed nervously across his chest. “Madame Alexandra,” or “Alex,” as it were, seemed more like a grandmother than a psychic, er... medium.
“Nickolas… I’ve been expecting you,” Alexandra said, pulling herself away from AJ and beckoning Nick to come closer. Nick’s right hand tightened around his left bicep and he felt himself subconsciously stumble backwards as his eyes widened to saucer-like proportions. “You’ve been on the news, dear,” Alexandra explained gently as she walked towards him on the porch, a loose board creaking under her miniscule weight. “The woman you love is hurting, and you’re looking for answers. Am I right?” Nick licked his suddenly dry lips, pursed them together tightly, and nodded meekly. Alexandra held out her wrinkled hand, reaching upwards towards Nick because of her small stature against hers. “Come inside with me, then.”
Reluctantly, he obliged. Despite the fact that his huge hand seemed to envelop her small one, he suddenly felt small. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, with the poise of Miss America, the gentility, yet assertiveness, of a southern matriarch, but she made Nick feel comfortable, if only for a few minutes. She led them into a sunny living room with a comfortable beige couch, ornately weaved off-white rug, and warm, yellow walls. A lace runner adorned the dark chestnut coffee table, an obvious antique, and three cups of tea were steaming atop matching saucers of fine china with dainty yellow roses hand-painted on them. Alexandra settled herself into a white rocking chair and picked up a cup of tea. She took a sip as she rocked gently. “Sit down, gentlemen, and tell me why you’ve come to see me,” she said calmly.
AJ promptly plopped down onto the couch and helped himself to some tea. Nick eased down onto the edge of a couch cushion and leaned forward, more than ready to get this over with.
“Well, go ahead…”
“My fiancé’s brother died a couple weeks ago after the speedboat we were in was tampered with.”
“Yes,” Alexandra said knowingly.
“Her husband died a few years ago.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. So… before Josh-- that’s Annie’s brother-- died, he wrote her dead husband’s name on a piece of paper. I’m just wondering what he meant by that, exactly.”
“I see.” Alexandra placed her tea cup and saucer gently on the table and reached out for Nick’s hands. He put them in hers, almost eagerly. “You love this woman,” she observed.
“Very much,” Nick responded instantly.
“I can feel how deeply you love her,” she said with a warm smile. Then, she closed her eyes and furrowed her brows in deep concentration while still grasping Nick’s hands. Nick looked over at AJ, who simply smiled and nodded from beside him. Suddenly, Alexanda’s hands started to shake. Nick instinctively tried to pull his own away, but she grasped them harder and opened her eyes.
“He’s angry,” she said simply.
The hair on the back of Nick’s neck stood on end. “Who’s angry?” he rasped.
“Her first love. I’m not sure, why, exactly, but he’s angry. He feels threatened.”
“You mean her dead husband?” Nick asked hastily.
“I communicate with spirits, Nick, dead or alive. Now… are you going to ask me about your father?”
*http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/medium
