"She's No Angel" - Chapter Two

Here's the second chapter of my work in progress, "She's No Angel."  Comments welcomed:

Winston and Megan flew to Kingston, Jamaica for their honeymoon.  To Winston’s chagrin and dismay, his grandmother insisted on going along.  Thankfully, she promised not to intrude in their bedchamber, but was otherwise hovering an inch above Winston’s right shoulder everywhere else they went.

     Back home, Winston had become accustomed to walking the streets with his grandmother, conversing mind-to-mind, with passersby totally oblivious, but on the streets of Kingston, and along the beach, crowded with tourists and locals, he noticed that the Jamaicans gave him furtive looks as they passed.  They could clearly see the little figure hovering over him.  Whether it was because, like his friend Dennis, they were more highly attuned spiritually, or from the potent marijuana, called ganja, that so many of them smoked quite openly, he couldn’t tell.  A few of them made the sign of the cross as they passed, but no one said anything.

     Even though the locals appeared to accept the apparition on his shoulder in good stride, it made Winston nervous, so he convinced Megan to spend most of the time in the hotel, which was no great feat; her plans for their honeymoon didn’t include a lot of sightseeing, for she, like Winston had led a mostly celibate life and she had a lot to catch up on.

     What his grandmother did when they were in their honeymoon suite, Winston didn’t know, and could have cared less.  He was just glad she wasn’t there.

     When they took a break from ‘getting to know each other,’ Megan and Winston made friends with another honeymoon couple staying in their hotel who were also from the Washington area.  They appeared as smitten with each other as Winston and Megan were, but were happy to join them for drinks before dinner for the first two days.

     Their happiness was marred on the third day when the desk clerk informed them that the young woman and her new husband had been the victims of a carjacking that morning, and the wife had been killed.  The distraught husband had checked out of the hotel after giving a statement to the local police and had taken his wife’s body back home for burial.

     Winston and Megan were sitting in the lounge, sipping some of the fruity concoction that was the special of the house, and consoling each other.

     “Such a tragedy,” Megan said.  “And, on their honeymoon, too.”

     “Yeah,” Winston agreed.  “Looks like the streets here in Kingston are even more dangerous than in DC.  Glad we decided to spend most of our time in the hotel.”

     Winston’s grandmother popped into view, floating just above his drink.

     “Terrible thing, that was,” She said.  “But, I think there’s more to it than just somebody trying to rob them.”

     “What on earth do you mean, granny?” Winston asked.  “The police seem to be satisfied that it was a carjacking.  Oh, and would you park yourself somewhere else.  I don’t like having you floating over my drink like that.”

     “Oh, stop worrying, boy.  I ain’t gonna drop nothing in your drink.  We spirit folk don’t have to do stuff like that.”

     Megan laughed.

     “You know how Winston is about his food, grandmother,” She said.  “He won’t even drink from a glass that I’ve used without washing it first.”

     “The way you two been swapping spit these past few days, I sure don’t understand why he’d do that.”

     Winston gingerly slid his glass aside so it wasn’t beneath his grandmother’s hovering form, and made a sniffing sound.

     “You haven’t been eavesdropping on us, have you?” Megan asked.

     The little figure pulled herself up to her full nine inches with an indignant look on her narrow face.

     “Of course I haven’t,” She said.  “But, you make so much noise I can hear you from outside.”

     Both Winston and Megan colored at that remark.  They hadn’t realized that others were aware of what they’d been doing.

     A waiter, a tall, dark man dressed in black pants and white jacket, came to their table.  He looked down at Winston with a frown on his ebony face.

     “There be sometin’ wrong wid your drink, sah?” he asked. “I can get you ‘nother if you like.” 

     Winston picked up the glass and handed it up to the waiter.

     “If you don’t mind,” he said.  “There was a little pest flying over it, and I’m afraid it might have contaminated it.”  He made a face at his grandmother.

     “That’s not nice, Winston Lee,” she said.  “You’re as bad as that man whose wife got killed.”

     “What do you mean by that, granny?”

     “Oh, just that there was something strange about him.  I don’t think the police got it right about his wife.  More to that one than meets the eye.”

     “You’re always looking for the worst in people, granny,” he said.  “Not everyone is as bad as you think they are.”

     “No, most of them are worse.”

     The waiter brought Winston a fresh drink.  Winston kept the glass in his hand, just in case his grandmother decided to float over it again.

     “Would you like another drink, Megan sweetie?” he asked.

     Megan rubbed her stomach, a queasy look on her face.

     “No,” she said.  “They’re a bit too sweet for me, and my tummy doesn’t feel so good right now.”

     Winston’s grandmother floated over in front of Megan, her eyes screwed up in concentration as she stared down at her midsection.  Her brown face brightened up.

     “In a few weeks you’re gonna feel worse,” she said.