Free Grave Refrain: A Love/Ghost Story by Sarah M. Glover

place. How much is the rent?”
    “It’s cheaper than our place,” said Zoey, “that’s the beauty of it. And it’s a Victorian. And it’s an apartment, not the whole house, so don’t start worrying about cleaning and all that because there’s no need. It’s getting some work done.”
    Margot barked a laugh. “Sounds like it’s getting Botox. What do you mean exactly when you say ‘work’?”
    “Nothing that we can’t live in,” answered Zoey a bit too quickly. “Wait till you see her—the wainscoting, the fireplaces, the light, and there’s even this little garden, and we share a conservatory in the attic.” She began to sketch the layout on a nearby napkin and continued on in an orgasmic Architectural Digest fashion about the vintage Chambers stove and the window seats, but all Emily could hear was one word: share.
    “Whoa, whoa…share?” Margot interrupted before Emily could open her mouth. “You mean to tell me we’ll be living in a apartment with God knows who traipsing through it every day to make sure it doesn’t collapse on our heads, plus we have to live with other people?”
    Just then a body walked onto the stage, and Emily’s heart skipped a beat. She nearly snapped the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. But he was only there to check equipment and quickly left.
    Why was she so nervous? She had until midnight. Wasn’t that true of all fairy tales? Then this fantasy of hers would return to just that. She didn’t want to think about it anymore, the reality of expected disappointment. All she wanted were beginnings and hope and happiness, not what she knew would come once the last encore was done and the lights came up and they said hello. But what happened if they did hit it off? If he found her beautiful and charming and intelligent? Was that so farfetched?
    Suddenly the lights dimmed, and Emily’s heart began to make its way to her throat via her lungs. Her hands were sweating and freezing all at the same time. The room was beyond capacity at this point. Bodies were everywhere, all holding their collective breath.
    Again, the metal-studded girl scurried on stage to announce the band. The door opened up from the side of the stage, and The Lost Boys entered. Wild applause rang out.
    Christian was the first to take his place. He grabbed his bass from its stand and fiddled with it, while Simon followed and snatched up his sticks, getting comfortable behind his barricade of drums. Both were wearing low slung jeans and dark T-shirts. They grinned as the crowd cheered and raised their hands in greeting.
    Andrew was the last to come on stage, not because he wanted to make an entrance, but because he was speaking quickly to the girl who had introduced them. He made a motion with his hand to the audience, nodded in understanding, then jumped up onto the stage. The applause was deafening.
    His fans were back in droves. He seemed a bit puzzled by the number of shrieking women but just shrugged his shoulders and welcomed the crowd.
    “Thank you. Thank you very much. It’s a pleasure to be back here at the Skellar tonight. You have a charming city here. I’ve been told that the natives are quite friendly.”
    The natives erupted in screams. He grinned back. It still disconcerted her to hear his clipped British accent from the Mediterranean combination of blue eyes, tan skin, and dark hair.
    “The first song we’d like to perform for you tonight is from our forthcoming album. We finished recording it back home over the holidays. Hope you enjoy it.”
    Christian smiled back at Andrew’s nod, and Simon set the beat on the drums. Zoey let out a whistle of delight, while Margot sat perfectly still.
    By the middle of the third song, the audience was feverishly pressing in around the stage. Zoey hauled them closer, not satisfied to have to stand on the chairs to see the band like so many others were forced to.
    After the song ended, Andrew put aside his electric guitar and took up his