Frizzy haired and overweight, sixteen year old Elizabeth Summers hears ghosts. She also reads people's auras and sees when something bad is headed their way. Unfortunately, she can't choose which ghosts visit her psychic hotline or when her paranorm...
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I'm a little thrown by Dylan's invitation, but I'm also excited. I've never been asked out, and it's come as quite a surprise. Maybe it's Dylan's way of saying thank you for helping him?
Whatever the reason, Julia's revved up when I tell her I'm going out to a show. I omit the fact I'm going to see Dylan's band. She thinks I'm finally becoming socially active with some of the other girls at Union High. She looks at me intensely for a moment, as if struggling with herself, then abruptly harrumphs as she makes a decision.
"You know Lizzy you've dropped some weight over the last few weeks. I think you need fitted clothes to update your wardrobe." She trots over to side table near the front door and grabs her purse. "Come on, we're going shopping." This is Julia's war cry. The one I haven't heard her utter in years. I know that my grandmother spent a lot of time in Europe and knows haute couture, but what surprises me is how she is also a connoisseur of urban street style.
Once downtown, we don't just browse for clothes, she also books an appointment for me with her beautician, Dorothy. The woman is about sixty years old, with platinum blonde hair, and leathery, iguana skin. After years of smoking, her voice sounds like walking over crushed gravel. At first I'm a little apprehensive of this woman cutting my hair, but Dorothy doesn't notice my discomfort. She sits me down in a big, black, comfy swivel chair and throws a blue, plastic cape around my shoulders. Picking up a lock of my hair, she rubs it between her fingertips, nodding in approval. "You're hair's in good condition. What you need is a more sophisticated, layered cut, with a proper conditioner to smooth the cuticle."
Like a modern witch from Macbeth, she selects special concoctions from her work station. She scrubs my scalp fiercely, before rinsing my hair with scalding hot water. After she combs out the tangles, her sheers effortlessly fly through my hair, like Edward Scissor Hands cutting garden topiary. Effortlessly, she tames my hair into submission. After she's done thinning out my frizz, there's about two feet of spidery hair piled on the floor. I'm thrilled when I notice my head instantly feels a pound lighter. Looking in the mirror, I reach up and touch my face. "Oh, my goodness, I have cheekbones!"
The Nano technology hair straightener and styling product she uses does magic. The hair cascading onto my shoulders feels wonderfully smooth and silky. Now that I'm not weighted down by a frizzy mop, I feel as if I'm floating two feet above the ground.
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After the hairdresser's, Julia and I find sculpting jeans that stretch with whiskered fading at the department store. "You're a genius!" I exclaim. These fitted jeans make me feel like I've lost another twenty pounds."
My grandmother smiles smugly as she picks out a lemon-colored Dooney & Burke bag with matching shoes for herself. "I've dated quite a few costume designers over the years. I know all the fashion tricks." We top off our shopping spree by having lunch at TheBlue Oyster. Once we're seated, I'm surprised and happy to hear Julia order a glass of iced tea, instead of a shot of tequila. During the meal she starts confiding her fears and her concerns about life to me. All of a sudden I realize she feels I've become more of an adult in her eyes. "Lizzy, I'm sorry if I've been overprotective of you because of what happened with your mother. I should have realized you're a much more level headed person than she was. You'd never sneak around behind my back with a boy. By the way you're not going out with that Dylan tonight, are you?"
"Uh, no. I'm not going with him to the show." Technically it's not a lie. I'm going to meet him at the club. I try to distract her from any more questions by asking her about Dylan's family. "I never knew Dylan was related to Jerry Knight. The detective on Dresden's police force. He said that's his uncle?"
Julia takes a sip of her tea and nods. "It's not a true relation. Jerry was taken in as a foster from another family the Grants knew but they never formally adopted him. When he was younger he was a real lady's man. She frowns as she remembers this detail. "He was such a wolf. He used to call me a sweet thing all the time."
"What did you say?" I'm reading the menu, only half listening to her.
"It's because of Jerry's nickname."
"What's that?" I reach for my iced tea, now curious.
"Women called him the "Gray Wolf. He has a tattoo on his upper body. Something he picked up from his time in the Marines."
"The Gray Wolf!"!The sip of iced tea I've just had goes down wrong causing me to start spluttering. I wave Julia off as she offers me a napkin. I'm amazed at how much information she's able to unearth when she's not inebriated. Recovering from my choking fit, I chew on this new piece of information while my grandmother's voice fades to the back of my mind. I have a new dilemma. Should I tell Dylan his step uncle might be the prime suspect in Katheryn's murder?
