Free The Vision by Heather Graham Page B

Bethany—had rubbed along his like a
    brush of living silk.
    She smiled. “Sorry. After the other day…you know.” She stared firmly at Bethany.
    “We’re not going to talk about ghosts.”
    “I just asked if Thor believed in them,” Bethany said.
    “No,” he said flatly, and stared at Genevieve again.
    “Pass the bread, will you, please?” she asked.
    “Have you been to our cemetery?” Bethany persisted.
    “Bethany, drop it,” Genevieve warned. “He doesn’t believe in ghosts.”
    “I didn’t say he did. If he hasn’t been there, it’s kind of a cool place, that’s all,” Bethany said.
    “We used to try to walk the girls by there late at night and scare them,” Victor put in from across the table, next to Bethany. “It is a cool place. It was established in the 1840s, after a hurricane washed up a bunch of old coffins. You should check it out. The graves aren’t
    set up like in New Orleans, though there are a bunch of mausoleums. They’re stacked on
    top of one another. There’s a nice little memorial to the Maine. And if you go by at
    night…it’s creepy. I tried to make out with Genevieve there the first time.”
    Genevieve let out a sound of exasperation. “The first time?”
    He laughed. “Okay, the only time. It was sad. She was three feet taller than me at the
    time. I needed a ladder.”
    “Very funny,” Genevieve told him.
    He blew her a kiss.
    “We could take the ghost tour,” Bethany suggested.
    Genevieve groaned aloud. “I do not want to take the ghost tour. I thought we were going
    barhopping?”
    “We are barhopping,” Alex said from the end of the table.
    “Actually, that’s when most people see ghosts,” Jack chimed in ruefully.
    “Yeah, the Hard Rock Cafe is supposed to be haunted,” Bethany said.
    “We’re not going to the Hard Rock,” Genevieve said. She had sounded a little impatient
    and looked at him with just a hint of apology. “The Hard Rock is fine, and the building is
    supposed to be haunted. One of the Currys committed suicide upstairs and a prominent
    citizen shot himself in front of the fireplace. The staff tends to be super nice and the food is fine. But you don’t believe in ghosts anyway. It’s still a fine place. It’s just that…we’re going to our local friendly favorite places. Hey, Clint is playing tonight, you know.
    We’ve got to take our guests to hear Clint.” She looked at Thor again. “He can do
    anything. His own stuff, country-western, Buffett, the Eagles—and U2.”
    “Hey, the girl down at Duffy’s is good, too!” Marshall called.
    “Yeah, she’s great,” Genevieve agreed.
    Their entrees came, some fish, some chicken, some steak. Just like the appetizers, their
    main courses were delicious.
    Just then the check came, and Thor picked it up.
    Genevieve turned to him. “Are you going to put it on a card? I’ll just give you cash.”
    “Don’t give me anything.”
    “It’s not as if we’re all on a date.”
    “And it’s not as if I’m paying. We get reimbursed for meals,” he said.
    “We’ll divvy it up later?” Marshall called to him.
    “Doesn’t make any difference. I’ll just put it on the expense report.”
    Marshall gave him a thumbs-up sign. Genevieve flushed uncomfortably and hoped no
    one noticed.
    By the time he had paid the check and returned to the table, the group had risen and was
    milling outside the front door. This town wasn’t as insane now as it was during Fantasy
    Fest or the dead of winter, when the snowbirds flocked down, but the streets in Key West
    were busy year round. People did what they called “the Duval crawl”—just shopping and
    barhopping up and down Duval Street—into the wee hours. In Old Town, shops,
    restaurants and bars often kept their doors open, air-conditioning wafting out onto the
    street. With the amount of people around them as they headed to the first bar, Thor didn’t
    realize at first that both Bethany and Genevieve had disappeared.
    In the bar, they