A Tale of Two Lady Killers

By Christin Haws

Edda Blue is making a new start and she's making it in Coral Pearl, Florida. She's got her Grandma Ruby, her car, a place to live, a job...and soul bonds with two strangers: Mack Sexton, gigolo and scotch drinker, and Jake Lusk, attractive mechanic.

After a messy divorce, Edda finds the two soul bonds (which only she can see; an ability she's had all of her life) the disturbing. She's not ready to get herself into another mess now.

There's another thing, too, something Grandma Ruby neglected to mention in her pitch to get her to move down there.

A serial killer.

A serial killer that Edda finds herself sharing a soul bond with.

Will Edda's new life end even more horribly than her old one did?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christin Haws
• Release date: Jun 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310403279

Christin Haws

Christin Haws is a writer and podcaster with a fixation on reruns and cop shows, a love/hate relationship with the Chicago Cubs, and a tendency to use humor as a coping mechanism. Decidedly unhip, she occupies space in a small town in the middle of a cornfield.

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A Tale of Two Lady Killers

By Christin Haws

Copyright2014 Christin Haws

Smashwords edition

This is a work of fiction.

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Table of Contents

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About the Author

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One

Edda Blue pulled into Coral Pearl, Florida after a straight through drive from Totter's Knife, Oklahoma, a tiny town that had only seen this many people and palm trees on television. Coral Pearl was a moderately sized city, stuck on the coast between Palm Beach and Miami, overshadowed by the bigger cities that surrounded it, but to someone from a town of a thousand, Coral Pearl looked like a bright, busy metropolis, the architecture getting shorter and the buildings including residential dwellings as the city expanded to the beach. Downtown throbbed with closely tucked together businesses and hotels, restaurants and night clubs. Edda had seen this throng of pastel colors and flesh tones, the swaying palms and the bright flowers, the blue sky and blue water, the sand and the city all before, no stranger to it since Grandma Ruby retired and moved to a bungalow in a nice part of town and opened up her own business in a more questionable part of the city.

The drive was no different than any other road trip to see Grandma Ruby, but this was the first trip Edda made without a wedding ring and without any intention of going back to Oklahoma. Everything she owned, everything that hadn't been taken, stolen, or destroyed rode along with her in the black 1970 Pontiac GTO that she rebuilt from the ground up in all of the free time that consumed the last few years of her marriage. That car, two bags of clothes, a box of knickknacks, a box of books, five hundred and three dollars, and her maiden name was all Edda pulled into Florida with. Everything else plus a hometown, ten years of marriage, and a ruined reputation she left behind in Oklahoma.

Edda had two choices when she left Totter's Knife: drive to Coral Pearl and live with Grandma Ruby or drive to Dallas and live with her daddy. As much as Edda loved her daddy (and since he was the only parent she'd ever known, she did love him a lot), there was an undeniable fragrance of failure that accompanied moving back in with a parent, no matter the circumstances. Moving in with a grandparent, even one so spry and in such excellent health as Grandma Ruby, had a more honorable feel to it. Besides, Edda had explained to her daddy when she informed him of her choice, starting over would be easier in Coral Pearl since she actually knew the town. She'd get lost and never find herself in Dallas.

Even with Grandma Ruby's promise of a job (or maybe because of it), Edda's daddy wasn't completely convinced that Edda moving to Coral Pearl was the best decision, but he respected his daughter enough to know that further argument would be futile and supported her choice. Edda, on the other hand, knew it was the best move. She felt it the minute the Judge's tires crossed the Florida state line, a huge weight came off of her chest, letting her lungs expand and her heart beat again. Edda rolled down the window and pulled the band from her hair, letting the wind whip it around her face as she drove. It was the freshest breath she'd taken since her first one. Everything was going to be better here. Going to Florida was like the Universe handing Edda a clean slate and she was determined not to fill it with meaningless scribbles like she did the last one.

Driving with the windows down on the Interstate was fine, but in the stop and go traffic of the city, the heat started creeping in and with it came an oppressiveness that made it hard to breathe. Edda rolled up her window, trying not take the heat wrecking her feeling of freedom personally, and settled for the air conditioning as she flowed with the business and tourist traffic to the east side of town. Only a few cars, with loud thumping music and rims more expensive than the cars themselves, cruised with her when she turned south. The businesses and buildings in this part of town lacked some of the luster of the rest of Coral Pearl.

Edda pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript building, squat, square, beige, and devoid of any personality. She parked at the far end of the lot, tucking away in a corner by a dumpster to minimize the risk of her car getting dinged up or scratched. Judging by some of the people strolling the streets, though, that was probably the least of her worries in regards to her car. She shut off the engine and sat for a minute in the fading cool air.

Well, she thought, I made it.

Edda got out of her car (making sure to lock the doors), stretched her cramped muscles, took one breath, and gagged on the humidity. June in Oklahoma was hot, but it wasn't this humid there. Edda felt like she needed gills just to breathe. The water in the air weighed down her lungs and coated her skin. In only three or four steps, her clothes started to stick to her, her dark hair collecting the heat and holding it to her scalp, trapping the humidity against the back of her neck. Edda quickly pulled her hair back into a pony tail, which offered only a little relief, and hurried past the few cars in the parking lot to the building, desperate for some breathable air.

Now she fully understood why Grandma Ruby insisted she always visit in the winter and why so many people in Florida bleached their hair.

There was only one door leading inside, the full-length glass tinted nearly black, the name of the business scrawled in white, curvy font across it, an open sign barely visible behind it. Edda pulled open the door of The Gin Mill and was smacked in the face by a welcomed gust of chilled air. Going from the bright parking lot to the dim bar required an eye adjustment and Edda stood just inside the door a moment, blinking while it happened. Gradually, the interior came into view.

From the door was a short hallway that led directly to the bar, a polished wooden slab that stretched down one wall, barstools and rows of bottles and glasses stretching with it on opposite sides. Lights positioned above the glasses and bottles of liquor made for a twinkling effect that seemed almost surreal. From the bar, the room opened up into a neat square filled with round tables and straight backed chairs. A DJ booth stood along the wall opposite the bar, blending in with its surroundings in the dim light. Along the back wall sat a low stage. A row of amber rights outlined its T shape. Edda couldn't see any poles.

Walking to the end of the bar, Edda looked for her grandmother, but the only people she saw were the two men sitting at the bar. The man sitting closest to her finished his drink in a large gulp and left his money on the bar. He glanced at Edda as he left, but more out of reflex than anything else. The door swung shut behind him and that left just Edda and the other man, the two of them connected by a clear soul bond.

Edda had been able to see soul bonds since she was little. She didn't know why she could see them and didn't know anyone else that could, and though Edda was used to them, she didn't like having them with anyone outside of family. They only led Edda to trouble, like Alice going down the rabbit hole. Sharing a bond with a stranger and having it in place before she'd even had a good look at his face definitely didn't bode well.

The soul bond itself was innocent enough, a clear little thread that somehow didn't reflect the light nor let it pass through it. Clear meant that the bond was undefined which at that moment was Edda's only saving grace. An undefined bond was easier to break. A single action could do it. That comforted her, but only a little.

The man was focused on his drink and Edda was reluctant to do anything to attract his attention. She felt stupid standing there are the end of the bar, waiting, but she didn't want to move any closer to the guy, lest he reach out and grab her and suck her into his life against her will.

Grandma Ruby saved Edda from a death by awkward, uncomfortable tension by appearing from the depths of the burlesque club, strutting from a doorway on the far end of the bar, near the stage, heels clicking and hips swaying, a red scarf dangling at her waist and sharply contrasting against the white pants and light pink blouse she wore, her short red hair perfectly in place. Her Southern, honey-whiskey voice put Edda immediately at ease.

Edda Jean! I see you made it in once piece. Come on around here, let me see you.

As Edda walked along the bar to her grandmother (and closer to the guy at the bar), Grandma Ruby refilled the man's glass without any prompting. Edda forced herself to stand next to the man as casually as possible. She got his attention now and he looked her up and down and then up and down again, not being a bit shy about it. Edda ignored him. Grandma Ruby didn't.

Mack, this is my granddaughter, she said, the warning in her voice clear to Edda, but apparently not to Mack.

He held out his hand. Mack Sexton, he said, putting extra emphasis on the first syllable of his last name, a ploy Edda was sure never got him laid in high school.

Edda Blue. Edda shook his hand. He held on a little longer than she was comfortable with.

Normally, Edda would have to concentrate and squint to see a soul bond, but the dim light worked in her favor and she could see them without really trying. She shared one with Grandma Ruby, of course, red plaited with gold. A family tie, as Edda thought of it. A yellow soul bond drifted between Mack and Grandma Ruby. Yellow meant friendship, at least to Edda, and it put her a little at ease. Grandma Ruby had impeccable taste.

And, of course, there was that clear one floating between her and Mack, taunting her.

Mack's a gigolo, Grandma Ruby said as easily as she might say, I'm making spaghetti for dinner.

Edda pulled her hand away but resisted the urge to wipe it on her pants. Oh.

Mack laughed. He wasn't a bad looking guy, anywhere between forty-five and fifty-five, Edda guessed. It was hard to tell since Mack obviously colored the salt out of his pepper hair and moisturized the wrinkles and lines off of his face as much as possible. His clothes, a blue linen buttoned down shirt and white linen pants, told more about his age than his face. Edda wasn't sure exactly what about him appealed to the ladies. Mack came across more cheesy than sexy.

Don't look so worried, Mack said with a smile. I'm clean.

That's because you're between women, Grandma Ruby said. Edda caught the hint of truth in the good natured back and forth. Can you keep an eye on things for me while I take my granddaughter to the back and assure her that she won't be taking off her clothes for money?

Mack looked Edda up and down again. Edda quirked an eyebrow at him.

She won't be? Mack asked. That's a shame. I'd pay to see her.

Grandma Ruby slapped Mack's arm and he laughed. Edda was torn between feeling uncomfortable and amused.

He grows on you, Grandma Ruby assured her, pinching Mack's left cheek. Like warts or mold. Or barnacles.

Mack laughed again. The warmth in it was contagious and Edda couldn't help but smile.

I'll keep an eye on the bar. Mack looked around. I'm sure I can handle the flow.

Just then the front door opened and in walked a young man about Edda's age, dressed in the grease stained clothes of a mechanic. Blond hair poked out from underneath his ball cap and he worried two dollar bills between his fingers as he walked up to the bar. For the second time that day, Edda was caught off guard by the appearance of a soul bond between herself and a stranger, another thin clear one.

More shocking, though, was the clear soul bond between the mechanic and Mack.

Hey, Miss Ruby, the mechanic said. May I have change please?

He laid the bills on the bar. Mack watched him with only mild interest, but not really any recognition. Grandma Ruby, on the other hand, was very familiar.

Sure thing, Jake. She took the bills and traded them in for quarters, which she counted into his outstretched hand. How are things down at the shop?

Hot and busy, Jake replied with a smile. Thanks for the change.

No problem, darlin'.

All three of them watched Jake leave. As soon as the door closed, Grandma Ruby turned to Mack. You have it all under control?

Absolutely, Mack said with a wave of his hand and a swig of his drink.

Uh huh. Holler if anyone comes in. Come on, Edda. You've seen the bar, now I'll show you the other place you're going to be seeing a lot of.

Edda followed Grandma Ruby across the bar. She threw a glance over her shoulder at Mack and wondered what mess she'd gotten herself into now.

The back of The Gin Mill was a hallway lined with doors. A fire exit door with a push bar and an alarm stood opposite the doorway and from there Edda counted six doors, three on each side, before Grandma Ruby led her through the last one on the left. The office was small, white, brightly lit by a fluorescent light, filled with a desk, a couple of rolling chairs, and two stacks of filing cabinets. Houseplants, bright green ferns that dripped over their pots, broke up the bland color scheme.

So, how was the drive down? Grandma Ruby asked, sitting down in one of the rolling chairs in front of the desk. She put on her reading glasses and picked up a stack of four or five papers from the desk. Even the harsh fluorescent lights couldn't age her. She was somewhere in her seventies, but didn't look a day past sixty, and had a body like a forty year old trying to pass for thirty.

Genetics that Edda hadn't been blessed with. That or she'd been cursed by a witch.

Long. It's been a while since I've made this trip, Edda said, sitting in the other available chair, a comfortable leather roller like the one Grandma Ruby was sitting in. She felt an exhausted ache spread through her bones. I think it was easier to drive all night on a little sleep when I was younger and my blood stream was mostly caffeine.

Grandma Ruby snorted in agreement and shifted the papers. Every week I say the same thing about something new. Last week I remembered how much easier it was to read when I was younger and didn't have to constantly search for my glasses. I've got two pairs in the office, two stashed at the bar, one in every dressing room, and another pair in the storage room. The bathroom is about the only place in the business that I won't be caught off guard with the need to read. At least I haven't yet.

Edda laughed.

What do you think of the weather so far? Grandma Ruby asked.

I was only out in it for a few minutes, but I already prefer winter to summer here. How do you breathe in this humidity?

You don't. You hold your breath and run from air conditioning to air conditioning. Grandma Ruby glanced at Edda. Well, you do if air conditioning became a part of your life before you were fifty. The old folks don't believe that it's hot or humid and young people are all sissies.

Are you including yourself in that group?

Oh, no. I admit that it's hot and humid, but I still think you young people are sissies.

Edda laughed again as her grandmother put down the papers she was reviewing and turned to the computer on the desk. She tapped a key and the screensaver, a white marquee (The girls will play and the boys will pay) scrolling on a red background, disappeared.

Your daddy has called me about ten times since you decided to come live down here. He is just convinced that I'm going to have you stripping.

Well, that might have something to do with you owning and running a burlesque house.

Grandma Ruby turned and looked at Edda over her spectacles. First of all, burlesque is different than stripping. Burlesque is all about teasing and tantalizing. It's all costumes and strategically places hands and boas and fans. It's all about showing nothing but making them think they've seen everything. It's a master craft of illusion. David Copperfield would drop dead from envy.

David Copperfield?

That's as up on the times as I care to be in regards to illusionists. At least I didn't say Houdini.

Edda snickered.

And secondly, I'm inclined to be offended that my son would honestly think that his mother would put his daughter to work taking off her clothes. I mean really.

Well, you did raise the man. I'm sure he learned at an early age not to put anything past you.

Even I have my limits, Grandma Ruby said with a sly grin. She turned back to the computer. For the record, as of right now, I have no intention of putting you on the stage. That could change, of course. As a lady, I always reserve the right to change my mind.

Edda raised a suddenly concerned eyebrow at her grandmother. Grandma Ruby replied without looking at her, like she knew instinctively that her granddaughter was questioning her.

You'd be keeping your clothes on, of course. There are plenty of things to do on stage that require you to remain fully clothed.

Edda let out a breath of relief she didn't realize she was holding.

Did you really think that was a possibility?

I learned not to put anything past you either.

Grandma Ruby laughed. She took off her glasses and swiveled her chair towards Edda, her legs remaining crossed in a ladylike fashion that Edda never mastered.

Well, I hate to disappoint you and your daddy, but this is where you're going to spend most of your evenings. Grandma Ruby spread her arms with a pretty flair, her reading glasses dangling elegantly between two fingers of one hand. Her arms floated down and she pointed to the door. The office, the dressing rooms, the back hallway in general with all of its chaos. The bar will be your home in the afternoons, though. We don't get enough customers before five to justify a part-time bartender, so I've always done it. It'll be nice to leave the bar in your hands instead of Mack's. Besides, I feel guilty leaving Mack out there all by himself, no charming lady to keep him company.

Edda's laugh bounced off of the walls. Grandma Ruby put on her glasses and swiveled back to the computer.

So, what color are the bonds?

A surge of tension tightened all of the muscles in Edda's body and she sat up straight. Grandma Ruby looked at her from the corner of her eye, a quick peek before going back to her business on the computer. Edda hated it when Grandma Ruby did that, lulled her into a comfortable conversation and then shocked her by somehow reading her mind and asking her the question that she didn't want to answer. There was no defense against it. Edda didn't have the resistance built up against it like her daddy and uncles did and they still succumbed to Grandma Ruby's interrogation techniques. With those five boys always up to something (both on their own and in groups), very little got past her, and if she suspected something, she wouldn't stop until she found out the truth. Grandma Ruby didn't just like to be in the know; she expected to live there whether you asked her to move in or not.

Those boys just ruined her for the grandkids.

How did you know I saw a soul bond? Edda asked, trying for a little deflection, but knowing it wasn't going to work.

Because you always get the same look on your face when you see one, sort of a half-squint of surprise, Grandma Ruby said, taking off her reading glasses and turning to Edda. She folded her hands in her lap. And you saw more than one. I saw that look twice.

Well, it's the dim lighting. It makes them easier to see. I couldn't help but notice you've got a lovely yellow one with Mack.

"Of course I do. He's a good friend. Now what about your soul bonds?"

Edda sighed. There was no getting out of this. Grandma Ruby wanted details and Grandma Ruby would get details. Even if Edda begged off now, said she was tired and didn't want to talk about it right now, it would only be a temporary reprieve. Grandma Ruby would hound her until Edda either spilled her guts or killed herself, and even then Edda wasn't sure Grandma Ruby wouldn't follow her into the afterlife somehow to get answers to her questions.

I saw three, all together. All of them clear.

Grandma Ruby quirked an eyebrow. Between who?

Between me and Mack, me and Jake, and Mack and Jake.

Ooh, a love triangle. How daytime soap.

Edda rolled her eyes. They are CLEAR, Grandma.

Clear means up for grabs, Grandma Ruby said. A love triangle is certainly possible.

But hardly probable. The ink on my divorce papers isn’t even dry yet. I don't even want to start thinking about that. Especially when it concerns two strangers. It always creeps me out when I've got a soul bond in place before I know someone's name.

You lack a sense of adventure, Edda, Grandma Ruby said, waving a dismissive hand. Think of all us poor people who can't even see soul bonds. Think of how we feel when we've got some irresistible pull to someone we don't know. Think of how scary and exhilarating that must be. You know why you're drawn to strangers. It hardly seems fair. You need to learn to ride it out and see where it goes.

Is there something you're trying to tell me, Grandma? Edda asked. Grandma Ruby's smile revealed nothing. Look, the last time I rode something out and saw where it went, I ended up wasting ten years of my life in a crap marriage and my entire life ended up in the backseat of my car. There was a soul bond in place before I met Travis and look how that turned out. I'm sure you can understand my hesitation, especially since you hated Travis from the get go.

That's true and you had to learn the hard way that a soul bond doesn't replace good judgment. Now, that lesson learned, you can approach this situation with experience.

Edda looked at her grandmother as though the woman had just suggested that Edda could get a doctorate's degree by cutting the head off of a chicken, smearing its blood on her naked breasts, and then offering herself up to the president of the college. The look did not escape Grandma Ruby.

Okay, I take back what I said about a love triangle if it makes you feel better, she said, though I don't think such a little adventure would hurt you. But, the soul bonds are clear, which means they can be made into anything, and I do think you should make the most of them. You're starting over, remember?

Can I at least settle in a bit before I start staring over? Besides, I don't want to have to start over again in another year because of another relationship gone bad.

Coral Pearl is bigger. You'd probably only have to move across town, not out of state to make a clean break.

Grandma, I'm serious. I'm just not ready to deal with this right now.

I'm serious, too. You need to stop worrying so damn much.

Edda sighed, the ache of exhaustion creeping back into her bones and all the way into her brain. She rubbed her eyes in such a way that it wouldn't smear her mascara.

Edda, you don't have anything to worry about, Grandma Ruby said, patting her knee. Edda opened her eyes and Grandma Ruby smiled at her in a reassuring yet wicked way. Mack and Jake are both very nice guys. It will not hurt you one bit to make friends with them. Grandma Ruby paused, then added, "It'd be to your advantage to be friendly with Mack since he practically lives here when he's between women. But