***AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do not own the rights to the Travel Channel or to Ghost Adventures. Zak, Nick, and Aaron, or any other real-life characters, are NOT owned by me, however the interactions with these characters in this chapter ARE mine. All other characters in this chapter are owned by me. Real life references to locations, brands, and musicians/artists are not owned by me, and the characters' interactions with them are purely fictional.***

Chapter XXV – Jerry and Barbara

I awoke to birds singing outside the window. I rolled out of the California King-sized bed and my feet creaked on the cold wooden floor. The scent of coffee and bacon was wafting into my room from the air vents.

I selected a black silk robe from the closet and pulled it over me as I padded down the dark hallway towards the kitchen. My great-uncle was working over the stove, frying enough bacon to feed an army.

"Good morning, Sister," Jerry said, without turning around.

"Morning," I grunted, going straight to the coffee pot. I pulled an oversized coffee mug out of the cabinet and poured myself a cup. "Where's Barbara?" I sniffed the air. The smell of homemade biscuits was escaping from the oven.

Jerry huffed and set some of the bacon to the side to drain. "She's already up at the bar."

I looked at the wall clock in the kitchen. Five am. Why am I awake? "They guys aren't showing up until this afternoon!"

He shrugged. "She's always up there this early. She counts the sales and does inventory as soon as the bar closes at 4."

I shook my head. For being in their later years, this odd couple sure runs like they're a hell of a lot younger. I unlocked the screen on my phone as I sat down with my coffee at kitchen table. I had two new text messages. One was from Holly, sent last night around eleven. [I just waved off the guys at the airport. Ya'll have fun!]

The other was from Zak at two-thirty in the morning, [Hey doll! We r safe n sound at our hotel in dtlr. Will see u in the morning.]

I smiled and responded: [Well you aren't scheduled to meet up with Jerry until 3. Sleep well in ghetto-ville.] Downtown Little Rock is not a place where you want to be out after dark.

Jerry brought biscuits, preserves, and bacon to the table. He sat down heavily next to me and, taking a gulp from his coffee mug, gave me a sideways look. "So why are these boys wantin' to come out and check out Red's?"

I selected a biscuit and brandished my butter knife. "Did Nick not tell you on the phone?"

"Something about a TV show for the Travel Channel."

I laughed. "Jerry, it's a ghost hunting show."

He rolled his eyes. "No wonder Barbie was so excited about it." He put bacon on his plate and reached for the biscuits.

"Are you okay with that?"

He shrugged. "Well I suppose. There is somethin' goin on in that building." He took a bite of bacon and turned to look at me. "These boys ain't gonna bring us any trouble, are they?"

I gave his a reassuring smile. "They're good guys, don't worry."

His bushy eyebrows narrowed. "One of them is sweet on you, huh?"

I hate how well this man reads me. I blushed and focused on my food. "I don't know that I would say that."

"Uh-huh." He shook his head and turned his attention back to his breakfast.

After we were done eating I helped Jerry clean the kitchen, then went back to my room. As I dug through my suitcase I looked over the walls, telling of this older couple's dynamic pasts.

Jerry was in the marines as a young man. After World War II, he was awarded two purple hearts and the medal of honor at the age of seventeen, which made up for his lack of a high school diploma when he applied for and eventually became the lead accountant for a very large insurance firm by the time he was in his late twenties. ("glorified bean-counter" as he puts it.) Barbara was a young widow who never made more than minimum wage until she met Jerry when he was in his thirties. She was begging for tips at local diners and selling her paintings at meager costs to charities around town, scrounging for money to keep food on the table.

Jerry gave her the budget to get her degree in art school and to supply her with enough material for her painting. The exchange was for her heart and her hand in marriage. Now she sells portraits and abstracts for thousands of dollars, and after almost fifty years of marriage they are still very much in love with one another. They own a small pool hall and bar in downtown Little Rock called Red's Billiards.

I selected a black v-neck sweater and pale blue skinny jeans that hugged my ass just right. I gathered these, my knee-high boots, and my toiletries, heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.

After my shower I spent fourty-five minutes straightening my spanish-hillbilly curls. I brushed my face over lightly with powder and blush, drew black lines around my eyelids, and played up the mascara. I wet my eyeshadow brush and colored my lids black, using a tissue to blend and smooth the lines. I ran my hands through my hair with anti-frizz serum and gassed myself with hairspray for a finishing touch. I dabbed a dark red gloss on my lips and stood back to give myself a look in Barbara's full length mirror.

Not bad at all.

I grabbed one of her black berets hanging on the back of the bathroom door, picked up my boots, and headed to the living room. I was immediately bowled over by Howard, Matilda, and Winston. They are the "kids" that Jerry referred to the night before; three massive, fluffy sheepdogs.

When Jerry and Barbara's two children grew up and moved out, they filled their "empty nest" with puppies. Once Jerry retired over a decade ago, he became very involved with charity programs. One of which is animal therapy, for which he puts his dogs through extensive training. Nine-year-old Howard and five-year-old Matilda are well known in the area's hospitals, retirement homes, and hospice care programs.

The two-year-old, Winston, is still a hyper little shit and has yet to graduate obedience school.

I loved on the three monsters, then pulled myself up and brushed off my jeans. I sat down on the couch next to Jerry and began to tug on my boots. He looked me over and shook his head, chuckling.

"You are spending too much time with my bride."

"I haven't even seen her yet!" I grinned at him. "Did Barbara tell you that she bought me these boots last year?"

"She didn't have to tell me. I know your mother would never buy you those."

"I could've bought them myself."

"Yeah, right," he pointed at the label. "You can't afford those."

"True story," I grumbled, zipping up a boot over my left leg and jeans. They were black leather with 6 inch heels and a 1 inch platform, and they hugged my leg all the way up to just below my knees.

I finally got all the way into the shoes and stood up, putting the beret on my head and cocking it forward. I shrugged into my ruched black leather jacket and struck a pose for my uncle. "So?"

Jerry sighed. "You are just like her. You look like you're out to cause a car wreck."

I bent over and kissed the top of his balding head, smoothing his thin hair with my hand. "I'm just heading out to join her."

He stood up and gave me a hug. "Be safe, Sister. Love you."

Twenty minutes later I pulled up in front of Red's Billiards. I fed the meter and looked up at the massive four-story historic building. It feels more like it belongs off of 6th street in Austin than in the questionable streets of downtown Little Rock.

Red's has live local bands come and play every weekend, and they make the best burgers in the state. However, only one level of the building is open to the public. Barbara had a contractor and an army of family, friends, and artists renovate the second floor as a dinner hall for events like wedding receptions and corporate functions. She also planned to develop the third and fourth floor as an extravagant loft apartment for her and Jerry so they could move out of their old, cramped home.

I walked in the door and a large… I mean, GIGANTIC… black man stepped out to block my way. His bulk would make even Zak look puny. Michael Clarke Duncan, is that you?

He folded his massive arms across his chest and looked down at me. "Sorry, ma'am, we're closed until eleven am."

I decided to play with him a bit. "Then why was the door unlocked?" I threw out a hip and crossed my arms. He looked down contemptuously at me, muscles bulging. He didn't say anything regarding the unlocked door, just held out a hand the size of a dinner plate, gesturing for me to turn around. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait a few hours."

I laughed and shook his hand, catching him by surprise. "I'm Desiree, Jerry's grand-niece."

His eyes went wide. "Oh, shit!"

I batted my eyes at him. "Is Barbara here?"

He opened his arms wide and gathered me into a grizzly-bear hug. "I didn't even recognize you, girlfriend!"

I giggled. "It's been a while, right.?" I had no idea who he was… but if he remembered me, great.

He smiled a buck-toothed smile. "Sure has, shorty. And yeah, she's in her office." He gave me a flamboyant "ladies first" gesture and I stepped past the security table and into the bar.

I could still smell the sweat, the stale beer, the spilt liquor, the cigarette smoke from the night before. It's a true "dive" bar, but it also has a private club license, allowing them to serve liquor into the wee hours of the morning. They close every morning at four, opening up just seven hours later in time for the lunch-hour drunks.

"Yo, Red! You've got family here for ya!" I heard the bouncer shout over the buzzing still air. He led me past the bar and the pool tables, up onto the postage-stamp stage. He opened a door behind the stage wall, displaying a rickety old staircase.

"Hey, Desiree!" I heard a very heavy country accent float down from the stairs. "C'mon up here! Thank you, Damien."

Oh yeah, that's his name. I gave Damien a wink and began to climb up the stairs, hearing every creak and moan of the old wooden steps. I finally arrived in a small loft the size of my bedroom. It had a niche in one corner for a wrap-around desk and a railing separating the staircase from an ancient couch, a couple bookshelves, an antique television and a squat refrigerator.

Barbara was behind her massive oak desk, hidden by piles of paperwork. I walked up and sighed teasingly as I leafed through one of the piles. "You know we have computers now, right?"

She stood up and spread her arms wide. "Computers don't think like I do. Come here, honey!"

Barbara is an older woman of seventy-five, but has the heart of a twenty-five year old… literally. She's had heart replacement surgery and a lap-band, so despite the aging of her skin, she looks and acts more or less like she's my age. She'd had cancer in her left leg years ago, and she lost her leg from the knee down. Her hair never grew back from the treatment, so she now wears a prosthesis and a wig of long, wavy, red hair. She wears hats to keep it from looking too rough when she doesn't have time to mess with it. That being said, today she was wearing a gold beret, a black loose-knit pancho over a gold sweater, black slacks, and dark red leather boots.

I walked over and embraced her. "Ohh! So good to see you again, Desiree," she gushed as she squeezed me tight.

I pulled back and smiled. "I figured I'd get an early start. I'm sure the guys are still asleep."

"Yes, what-his-name…" she rifled through a pile of papers, settling on an email printout. "…Nick. Nick said that they would be getting in very late, so they would contact us around lunch time to confirm our appointment." She sat back down in her chair and motioned to the fridge. "Help yourself. There's diet coke, vodka, and bloody-mary mix."

"Vodka? It's a little early to start drinking, isn't it?"

"You never know, Sister."

I selected a soda and sat down heavily on the couch.

"So… who are these guys?" She put a cigarette in her mouth and fumbled with the lighter a few times before the spark caught. Still exhaling her first drag, she waved her hand and clarified, "I mean, I know who they are, I researched their show after they called us. But how do you know them?"

I sighed. "Holly and I accidentally befriended them at the airport when she came down for a visit when I was still living in Dallas. We ended up all going to a concert together in Austin… and now that I live in Las Vegas, they are in my circle of friends… more or less."

Barbie peeked her head over the paperwork at me. "Just friends?"

I threw my hands up. "Yes! Gosh, you and your husband are relentless!"

"Well we want you to find a good man is all."

I rolled my eyes. "I figured ya'll just need to know who to put on a hit list."

"Well, yeah… that too." She winked at me.

Jerry had involvement in the mob back when he was much younger, and he still has ties to "very scary people." He has had no problem holding that over the heads of potential boyfriends over the years.

"Well what about that Zachary boy? He's very cute!" She fanned her hand across her face and pretended to swoon.

"Yeah…" I couldn't help but blush.

She squealed and stood up, hobbling over to me. "I knew it! Are you seeing him?"

"I guess... Not like we are an official item or anything."

She gave me a smooch on my cheek and turned back to her work, laughing. "Poor bastard."

I wiped her lipstick from my face, laughing, and pulled my Kindle out of my bag. "Shaddup and get your work done."

She flipped me off but swiveled in her chair, picking her pen and calculator back up. I busied myself with reading while she finished her daily calculations and order sheets.

After a while, my phone rang the opening bars of Real Gone and I groaned.

"Bueno."

"Desiree, I heard you were in town!"

Fuck!

I rolled my eyes. "Crap, it's Gramma," I whispered to Barbara, hand over the microphone.

"Yes ma'am, I am, just for a few days."

"Well you should come have dinner with us tonight!"

Jerry's deceased brother, Maurice, was married to my dad's mom, Thelma. With Maurice gone, Thelma went off the deep end, her selfishness running unchecked. She is the queen of guilt-trips. On the other hand, my mother's mom, Mary, is so relaxed that if I was in town but did not have time to visit, she would be just fine with it.

Not Thelma.

"Gramma, I'm actually in town on business, so I can't guarantee that I'll have time to come and see you." It's not like she's lonely. My father's sister, her kids, and their families all live in the area.

I could taste the sourness in her voice. "Okay, then. Just keep me in the loop if you find the time."

"I will, Gramma. Love you."

I hung up and looked over to see a bitter look on Barbara's face.

When Maurice died, he was very specific in his will about his belongings. Specifically – a hunting lease, his guns, his boat, etc – were to go to Jerry. However, since Thelma saw Jerry and Barbara as heathens for owning a bar, for not going to the Baptist church, and for Jerry's occasional gambling, she set out to make sure that Jerry did not inherit one bit of it.

In the process there were some very angry, degrading words between her and Barbara, and Barbara hasn't quite gotten over it yet. I nodded apologetically to her, acknowledging the internal turmoil

"What a ridiculous old hag," Barbara muttered.

Just then, a Slipknot song began to scream from my phone. "Man…" I looked at the clock, it was only nine am. "What is he doing awake this early?" I hit the speakerphone button and sighed.

"Morning, Hulk."

"Mmm… Good mornin', hot stuff."

Shit! I quickly turned off the speakerphone as Barbara shrieked with laughter. I should've known better.

"Who's that laughing?"

"My great-aunt. She heard you."

"Fuck."

I winked at Barbara. "What are you doing up?"

"I dunno. I'm too pumped about this investigation to sleep. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Yeah, like four hours ago."

"What the hell?!"

"I'm staying with old people, dude."

He laughed. "Good point. Want to meet up somewhere?"

"Stand by." I looked up at Barbara, still snickering. "When you getting out of here, Barbie?"

"Not until tonight. He wanna take you to lunch?"

"You're so good, it's creepy."

She mockingly brushed at her shoulder, smirking. "You should take him to Thelma's house to see if he's really up to the scary living things on this earth!"

"Don't be a bitch!" I uncovered the microphone. "I'd like to see you. I—"

Barbara grabbed the phone from me. "Hey sweetie, if you boys wanna come on down to the bar, I'll have Angel make some lunch. If not, you're welcome to come collect her whenever you want."

She listened for a moment, then, "Oh no, it's no problem at all."

Another pause.

"Sweetie, she is one hell of a woman. As long as you're good to her, I don't give a damn." She handed the phone back to me, grinning viciously.

I swatted at her as I yanked the phone out of her hand. "Sorry, dude."

"Ask him how many burgers they can eat, and if they want anything other than fries," Barbara said, moving back towards her desk. She flopped down in her chair and began pounding out a number on the old fashioned rotary phone on her desk.

"I heard her, but I'm still in my room. Let me find out what the guys think and I'll hit you back."

::Click::

I turned to her. "Really. Nothing is going on between us. You're horrible!"

She winked, her desk phone tucked between her chin and her shoulder. "Of course, Sister." She swiveled in her chair and produced a notepad as whoever she dialed picked up the other end of the line. "Angel! Hey girl, can you get up here a-sap? We have some V-I-P's comin' for an early lunch today."

My phone buzzed. [We will eat whatever we're given.]

Another hour later, Barbara finally slammed her hands down on her desk in triumph. "Let's go downstairs." She picked up the notepad along with some random loose papers and a sequined binder. She dramatically kicked her chair back under the desk and gave me another kiss as she walked past me.

I turned to follow her and felt a cold breeze blast my back. I whipped around just in time to see a white misty figure disappear into a corner of the wall.

I guess this place really is haunted.