I give him a wry smile. “To be fair, you don’t know me so you can’t know what I like.”
He tilts his head back and I can feel his eyes on me despite the sunglasses reflecting back my own face. My dark circles stand out more than anything and my blonde hair is thwarted by fly-aways. I look like absolute shit.
“No I suppose I don’t know you at all,” he says finally, his attention back to the menu on the side of the stand. “Bibimbap,” he repeats. “Fun word, isn’t it?”
“So how do you know them?” I ask. “The Knightlys.” I pause. “Is it true that Sage was in the band Hybrid, that Dawn was a journalist?”
“Who told you that, love?”
“My dad. He’s not a fan or anything. He was just talking to them earlier.”
“Well if they told him that, it must be true.”
“And so . . .”
“I’m a family friend,” he supplies. “Here to help them settle in. I’ve always been a helper of sorts for them. Anything they need, they know they can count on old Jacob.” He adds sympathetically, “They’re getting older, you know. Their minds still run like it’s the ‘70s, but bodies don’t keep up so easily. Such a shame, really. How unfair life is in that regard. They say you’re only as old as you feel but try telling that to a ninety-year-old on their deathbed, just wishing he could do all the bloody things he wants to do.”
Jeez. Second Debbie Downer conversation in the last half hour.
“You have youth, love,” Jacob says, nudging me to move forward when the man behind the counter beckons me forward. “A young body, a young heart, and endless courage. That last part is the most important. Don’t let anyone tell you any differently. Why do you think we used to send so many kids your age off to war?”
I’m trying to absorb what he’s saying while placing my order for the bibimbap wrap. When I’m done paying, I turn around to face Jacob.
But he’s gone.
There’s only a pair of teenage girls with obnoxious neon sunglasses, staring down at their phones.
I step away from the line and look around but Jacob is nowhere to be found.
Now I’m wondering if I’m going crazy. If he was really there at all.
The girls can’t tell me since they’ve been on Facebook this whole time and when I get my food and ask the guy behind the counter if he remembers the man behind me, he says he’s not paying attention to who’s in line and goes back to handling a myriad of orders.
Despite being confused, I still manage to shovel the food in my face and head back to Dex and Perry. Thankfully they’re just leaving as I’m coming over.
“I think I’m ready to go,” I tell them quickly.
They exchange one of their glances. It either means moody Ada or crazy Ada.
I’m not sure which one I am these days.
As we’re heading back to the car, I blurt out, “I think I’m seeing ghosts.”
They stop walking.
“What?” Perry asks, pulling me to a stop.
“I mean, I know I normally do. We all do.” I glance at Dex. “It’s just that I feel like one is repeatedly seeking me out.”
“The guy from your dream?” Perry asks.
“No,” I say carefully, though now I’m wondering if he’s a fucking ghost too, finding some way to invade my brain. “No, this guy I met yesterday and . . .” I trail off and scrunch my eyes shut, pressing the heel of my palm into my forehead. “Never mind. He can’t be a ghost. Dawn Knightly introduced us. I mean, he drove a car and everything. You remember seeing that old Mercedes outside yesterday.”
“Yeah,” Dex says. “Sweet ride. But even ghosts need cool cars.”
“No. No, he’s not a ghost then. I just thought . . . I don’t know, I ran into him here and he said some cryptic shit and then pretty much disappeared.”
“Into thin air?” Perry asks.
“No, just when I was ordering my food. I guess he could have walked off. I don’t know, there was just something so odd about him. A feeling, something familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Do you know his name?” Dex asks.
“Yeah, Jacob. He’s a family friend of the Knightlys.”
Dex’s eyes nearly bug out. “His name is Jacob?”
I frown. “Yes.”
“What did he look like? How old was he?”
I shrug. “I’m not good with ages. Maybe mid-fifties?”
“That’s impossible then,” Dex says, shaking his head and I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Well impossible or not he was about dad’s age, maybe a tad older. Tall, red hair, really cool eyes, like amber glass, face looks like it’s been beaten up a few times but still handsome in a weird way.”
Dex is on his phone, frantically typing in something.
“What is it?” Perry asks, peering over his arm to look at the screen.
Dex holds up his finger, motioning for us to wait, then he shoves the phone in my face. “Was this the guy?”
I take the phone in my hand, staring at the picture. It’s a black and white photo, grainy, but in it is Jacob, smiling with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, wearing what looks like a horrible checkered suit.
“Yeah, that’s him. Who is he?” I ask, handing it back.
“Are you sure he looks exactly like this?” Dex asks.