Whatever Happens

Chapter One: Cara

     My nose wrinkles every time I walk into the club's dressing room, and this time is no exception. You'd think 100 years of experience would prepare me for the thick stench of hairspray and perfumes, but my senses beg to differ.

     Being an early bird definitely has its perks, as the dressing room is mostly empty when I get there. Caleb is talking to Willie in a corner, and for a moment, I see the kind father I once knew. But as soon as I blink, that moment disappears and I only see the cold-hearted monster he's become. Just do some deep yoga breaths, I think, trying to calm my nerves- a technique I learned from my meditation teacher Sherrill. Granted, she has no clue I'm a regular Wednesday morning attendee, but that doesn't matter, I'll be here long after she's gone anyway. Life as a ghost isn't all everyone makes it out to be.

     I'm almost finished with my performance makeup before I notice the room is steadily filling up. A hush falls over the cast, signaling it's time for Caleb's usual pep talk. Yoga breaths. The only decent thing about this ghost life is the regularity.

     Caleb's steady voice rings over the cast, "Who's ready for tonight's performance?" The usual excited roar of the cast follows, and my usual tune-out follows quickly after. I go back to putting on my mascara when Caleb says something completely out of the ordinary, "Now don't forget to treat our special guests like they're royalty tonight."

     I almost stab my eye with the mascara wand, we have special guests? I don't remember Caleb telling me anything about this, and he should have, considering we are co-owners of the Hollywood Ghost Club.

     Caleb hushes the soft murmur in the crowd and continues, "I've had a table reserved for Willie's friends right front and center. Make these spirits feel special, feel connected, and feel welcome here." My mind is racing, the thought of yoga breaths far gone. I am beyond confused. New ghosts? And how are they special? The closest we've come to even having "special guests" here are the lifers who party with us, but Caleb has never called them that, let alone reserved tables for them.

     With a wave of his hands Caleb finishes his speech like normal, "Now perform like your life depends on it!" Ironic, I know, considering we're all dead anyway. But there is some truth to it, because every performer has Caleb's stamp on their souls, everyone except me.

     With his job done, Caleb starts making his way out of all the pre-performance bustle, but before he can leave the dressing room I pull him aside.

     This is the first time I've approached him in months, and before he even has time to react I ask, "So what's the big deal with Willie's special guests?"

     "Oh," he says, looking startled, "They're just some musician ghosts I want for my house band."

     Now it's me that looks startled, "Don't we already have plenty of musicians for the band? I mean, we have entire casts of musicians in New York, London, Tokyo, Sydney, Dubai, and here in Los Angeles. What's a couple more musicians to you?"

     "Just don't worry about it," he casually responds, "I just need you to perform your best tonight, like you always do."

     Caleb puts his hands on my shoulders, in an attempt of some sort of fatherly gesture as I reply, "Yeah, like a star right?" He beams his perfect, fake smile and poofs away before I can say another word. Being Caleb's star is honestly all I'm good for anymore. Yoga breaths, I remind myself. At least he can't ruin my favorite part of the night.

     As a lifer, I loved baking. There's just something I find so peaceful in the constant, steady rhythm of the kitchen. So honestly, it was no surprise to me that my ghost abilities had to do with food. It started with me making food physical for ghosts to eat, but now I've developed the skills to make almost anything physical for our use. My father on the other hand, has the ability to make ghosts visible to lifers. Our parallel abilities attest to our family relation, but that's as far as I'd like our similarities to reach. Everyone always says we look so much alike with our dark brown eyes and hair, but I hate the thought of me looking like a monster.

     The kitchen staff greets me with their usual warm welcome. I'd like to think that they're my family here, but I know to them I'll always be their boss. At least a sense of false love is better than none, even though this "love" can do nothing to fill the void my father left in my heart.

     I'm running later than usual so I hurry to make the food physical for tonight's guests. The menu is a bit odd tonight, considering we don't normally serve crappy meatball sliders, pizza, and cheeseburgers, but I don't have time to even question it.

     As soon as I finish my work in the kitchen, I poof myself backstage. It's just mere moments before the show, and I have to do several yoga breaths to calm my nerves, another thing I thought 100 years of experience would make me better at. Caleb always tells me performing is in my blood, but I never felt it in life and I definitely don't feel it now. But there's no time to think about that, the show is starting and I can't miss my cue. I smooth down my glittery, rose-gold dress, and take a nice, deep yoga breath. It's time.

     The lights flash and I poof myself onstage right next to Caleb. I perform my usual choreography facing the jazz band, but nothing could have prepared me for the moment I turned around to face the club. For right there, front and center as Caleb promised, were the most captivating brown eyes I have ever seen.