Page 53 of Shake Your Boo Thang

Fuck if I know. All I can feel certain about is that Beau’s got me tangled up in knots and not sure which way’s up or down anymore.

“Come dance with me, darlin’,” Beau drawls. Oblivious to my inner turmoil, he takes hold of my hands and pulls me out onto the floor with him.

And fuck if him touching me doesn’t feel all kinds of right.

“I’m a shit dancer,” I admit, fumbling along with him and my two left feet.

He chuckles. “Just follow my lead, sugar.”

The song switches to Abba’s “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme,” and Beau somehow gets me moving along with him. Not sure I’d call it dancing exactly, but his bright smile and glittering eyes focused on me make the whole thing worth it.

When the song ends, the lights suddenly flicker overhead.

“Aha,” Beau whispers triumphantly, then says in a loud voice, “Come out, come out, wherever you are! We know you’re here. We’re trying to find answers as to what happened in the nightclub when y’all died, and we need to ask you some questions.”

The speakers crackle and then go silent.

I startle and take an involuntary step back when I see six spirits now standing in the room with us.

They’re all throwbacks to the 1970s in terms of their hair and clothing, and they all appear to be quite young, from their late teens to at most their early thirties. Our spirit from last time, Jonathan, seems to be their leader.

Beau holds up his hands. “As you may have discerned, my handsome friend here is unfortunately unable to hear y’all, though he can see you just fine. So just be prepared that this trying to relay what y’all want to say is gonna get a tad complicated.” He moves to sit cross-legged on the floor in the center of the room.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He smiles. “Mediumship is part of my gift.”

I blink. “What the hell is that?”

“Did you ever see Ghost, that movie with Patrick Swayze—RIP, sweet dancer—and Demi Moore?”

“Aye, but a very long time ago.”

“Well, Whoopi Goldberg is a psychic medium in it. She can let ghosts temporarily possess her to communicate with the living.” He tilts his head as if remembering the film. “While the specifics are not true to the actual work, her performance is outstanding, definitely deserving of that Oscar.”

I gape at him, then shake my head. “No. You’re not fucking well doing that.”

“Ah, sugar, are you worried about little ole me?” he asks playfully.

“I saw The Exorcist as a young lad, scared the fuckin’ piss out of me.”

Beau throws his head back and laughs. “Haha! This won’t be anything like that, don’t you worry. In this scenario, I’m the one who remains in control. I can eject an unruly spirit whenever I wish.”

“I don’t like this one bit.”

“I’ll be fine, darlin’.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Why’d you wait until now to tell me this was what you had planned?”

He sighs. “To be honest, I don’t use this ability very often. It’s physically exhausting, and I rarely have someone with me who can watch my back.” He smiles at me. “But I know I’m in good hands with you at my side. You’ll keep me safe now, won’t you?”

“Do you really need to do this?”

The idea of Beau in any kind of danger doesn’t sit right with me at all.

“No, but there are advantages if I do.”

“Such as?”