Author's Note: A spectral interloper in
An Excess of Possession
challenged the relationship of Ray and the girls. They thought he was gone, but he's not. Brooke's book, however, is a success. Julia's webcam show is taking off. Destiny's spiritual insight is unmatched. All of that outstanding achievement and confidence is about to get hammered.
Doesn't anyone answer the door anymore? The man with the briefcase rapped the door knocker again, but harder. He pressed the doorbell, but it apparently didn't work at all. Suddenly, the handle turned and the front door creaked open. A woman with disheveled dark hair and a red silk robe stood just inside. The fabric was loosely gathered around her waist and gaped open in the front, exposing pale skin and the hint of a very fancy tattoo under her boobs.
"Yes?" Julia asked.
The man's countenance brightened instantly, like a light switch; a skill most con men master very early in their careers. He stuck a business card through the gap and said, "Hello! My name is Jody Goode, with Planetary Productions. Is the man of the house at home?"
Julia narrowed her eyes and glanced at the card. She found the man distasteful. "Yeah," she said, "What's this about?"
Mr. Goode turned on the charm and said, "Well we produce adult films. Some material was recently brought to our attention and..."
Suddenly Julia brightened up. "Is this about my webcam show?" she asked excitedly. Before the man could answer, she grabbed his hand and yanked him through the door. "Please come in!" she said.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Julie asked as she led Jody to the couch in the living room.
"Well, eh, no. Thank you." said Mr. Goode.
"Please make yourself comfortable," said Julia, as she sat down in one of the chairs facing the couch.
The man set his briefcase on the coffee table and pushed aside the votive candle and decorative offering plate to make room. "Are these chicken bones?" he asked with a furrowed brow.
Julia ignored him and gushed, "I am so glad you're here. The girls and I just knew my webcam show would be a success. I always hoped to be discovered, you know. Everyone says I should be in film." As if to prove a point, she recrossed her legs seductively to offer a peek at her nethers and let her robe open further, exposing a smidgen of one of her nipples.
The man stared at her for a moment and said, "Well I..."
"The answer his yes! Absolutely yes! " Julia beamed as she hastily dragged fingers through her bedraggled hair.
The man stared at Julia's boobs for a moment, but said nothing. He turned and clicked open the latches on his briefcase. With a grunt he hefted a book from the case and placed in on the table. It was titled 'Naked Ray.'
Mr. Goode put his index finger on the book and said, "This is the material I was referring to."
Julia froze for a moment then deflated like a punctured hot water bottle. She closed her robe with white-knuckled fists and said, "Oh."
She stared back at Mr. Goode, who she again found distasteful, and said dismissively, "That's Brooke's book. I'll get her." She rose and left the room without another word.
The clock on the mantel ticked as the minutes passed. When it chimed at the top of the hour, Mr. Goode heard soft padding on the floorboards behind him. Brooke appeared on his right, dressed in flannel pajamas and bunny slippers. She smiled brightly, held out her hand and said, "Julia tells me you want to talk about my book.... and something about a movie?"
"Yes, well, we were very intrigued when we saw your book," said Mr. Goode.
Brooke interrupted him and said, "...and you want to make a documentary showcasing my erotic art? What a fabulous idea! You know I almost had a gallery showing recently. I draw custom tattoos as well, and I've had this idea about framing 'human canvases' on canvas, you know. I think that's the hook you need, but I have a million other ideas too!" she paused but her enthusiasm was overwhelming.
Mr. Goode was expressionless. This was not going well. He sighed, opened the book at the middle, flipped it around so Brooke could see, and thumped his finger on the image for effect.
"You misunderstand me." he said, "We'd like to meet this guy."
Mr. Goode was pointing squarely at Ray's oversized dick.
-----
"...and in the book of Ecclesiastes," continued Father Muttathupadathu, "We learn that man's fate, does not depend on righteous OR wicked conduct." He glared at Destiny in the front row to see if she was getting his point. Her eyes had rolled back in her head earlier, but now they were closed all together, and her head was tipping back. Frustrated, the priest banged his fist on the lectern to punctuate his point.
Destiny rocked forward and blinked her eyes open as the priest droned on.
"You see," the priest said. "Only God determines our fate, not the actions of man. That's the mystery we need to embrace."
Destiny closed her eyes again recalling the ghost problem they had in the house. Her Creole voodoo had failed to eradicate the forceful spirit that was wreaking havoc on their sexual relations. Father Mutta had suggested she attend Mass with an open mind and 'return to the love of Jesus.' She'd grown up in a culture steeped in Christian tradition, but always found the belief lacking in practical solutions for problematic kitchen spirits. Her best advice at home had come from local witch doctors. They had never failed her ... til now.
What Father Mutta was delivering was not actionable, and was terribly boring.
After mass, the priest took Destiny by the arm and guided her to the rectory where they could have a private chat.
"How did you like the sermon?" asked Father Mutta.
"It was fine," lied Destiny, nodding pleasantly. "Very insightful."
In a quiet room of the rectory, they settled into comfortable wing-back chairs facing each other. "So, tell me, child," asked Fr. Mutta, "What misgivings have you been experiencing?"
Destiny cringed at the priest's choice of words. She replied flatly, "Pratush, we have a ghost problem. They've been pleasant up till now, even complementary to our sexual relations." She paused as the priest grimaced at the mention of sex. "But now, there is a new presence that only wants to have sex with all of the women and tattoo Julia from head to toe."
"Julia?" asked Father Mutta.
"I mean 'Crystal'," Destiny corrected herself, using Julia's stage name.
The priest nodded and furrowed his brow. Tattooing 'Crystal' any further would not please him at all.
Destiny continued, "So, I have prayed, cast spells, made offerings, even sacrificed Brooke to slake his sexual thirst, but none of that has worked. He's still there. He's still making demands."
The priest put a hand over his mouth and adopted a contemplative pose, staring into the middle space thoughtfully.
Actually, he was staring at Destiny's tits. The were wrapped in a multi-colored satin blouse with a neckline slightly too high to see much of her fine dark cleavage. He was very appreciative of how they rose and fell with each breath and jiggled pleasantly when she changed positions. Musing about the size of her nipples, he mentally sketched circles around the thick humps that poked up the fabric, and imagined they might as large as the saucers in his tea set. Not since he was a boy in Mumbai...
Destiny snapped her fingers in front of his face and said, "Father? Pratush?"
"Oh, yes." said Father Mutta, returning to the present. He cleared his throat and said, "I think your reliance on the occult has exacerbated the problem. You have drawn Satan into your house and now face a devil who is empowered by the gratuitous sex practices in your, ahem, family."
The priest's words hit her like a hammer. Was it really her fault? Was it the fault of three women loving one man? She sat stunned as the priest continued in his imperious Indian accent, "What I recommend is that you go on a strict, sexual diet. Certainly no more sex with ghosts, but no more sex at all. Cover your bodies and do not entice one another. Purge your minds of erotic thoughts and sensual activities. Take long cold showers and meditate frequently. And, absolutely don't allow Crystal to be tattooed from head to toe."
Father Mutta, leaned forward and pressed a small leather rosary pouch into Destiny's palm and said, "If you walk with Jesus, I am sure this malevolent presence you perceive will go away."
Destiny blinked and thought to herself, 'How am I going to sell THIS?'
-----
The shingles on Ray's small garage had become decrepit. Unlike the brick house, which had a flat, tar and gravel roof; the garage at the far end of the yard, was wooden and had a pitched roof. With Amar, his friend's help, Ray was replacing the roofing and their hammer work echoed like rifle shots off the surrounding brick homes that shared the alley.
The back door slammed and Brooke strode on the path to the garage. She wore baggy sweat pants and a mismatched, oversized blouse that should never have been sold (or bought.) Her head was covered with a frumpy straw hat and she wore cataract sun glasses. Shirtless men on the roof ignored, she entered the garage and slammed the door shut.
Roofing nails in his mouth, Amar looked over at Ray curiously, but said nothing. He went back to hammering.
A few seconds later, Julia dashed across the yard wearing a baggy, sun dress that might have been fashionable 50 years ago and chunky garden boots. She, too, ignored the bare-chested, sweaty men on the roof, and entered the garage, slamming the door behind her. Moments later, the Duster started up, backed out of the garage and lurched away.
Amar looked over at Ray and asked in his eastern European accent, "These girls? They mad at you?"
Ray glanced over and said, "No, why'd you say that?"
Taking a remaining nail from his mouth, Amar pointed at the distant automobile. "Their clothes. Very ugly." he said.
Ray laughed then sighed. He twisted around, sat on a patch of tar paper and set his hammer aside.
"Amar," he said. "Honestly, we have some problems. To begin with, some guy came by to offer me a job making porn movies."
Amar's eyebrows arched, and he sat down like his friend. Rarely was he asked for counseling, and his now curiosity was peaked.
