Page 28 of Man of His Dreams

The little electronic keyboard had been Tony’s idea, a sort of extra enticement, like bait on a hook. He and Flip had taken a Lyft to Target, bought the thing, and dragged it back to Flip’s apartment. It now sat on the bed beside Tony. If they were unsuccessful, Flip had no idea what he’d do with an electronic keyboard. Donate it to charity? Maybe he’d learn to play it himself.

At least Tony had been willing to go along with his plan. Flip appreciated that.

“I’m going to open my Eye all the way now,” he announced.

“You’ve never seen him while you were awake, though. What if you can’t?”

“I’ve seen other ghosts outside of my dreams.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. Go for it.” He braced himself on the mattress as if expecting an earthquake or a gale-force wind.

But Flip simply stood straight, took a deep breath, and mentally pried his spectral eyelid as wide as it would go. The bedroom immediately seemed… more three-dimensional, somehow. The colors were brighter, the shadows deeper, and an invisible energy made his skin tingle. More startling, however, was Tony, who emanated waves of soft, soothing colors, and who was tied to Flip with a glowing filament. Although Flip didn’t mention the filament to Tony, Flip found its existence reassuring.

“Scratch?” Flip called. “Can you hear me? I’d like to introduce you to your great-great-great nephew. And we have a piano for you to play if you want.”

Nothing happened, so Flip called again, and then a third time. Maybe Scratch had had enough of him. Maybe Flip could reach him only in dreams. Maybe?—

“That’s Anthony Bergeron?” Scratch stood beside the bed in his snazzy three-piece suit, Homburg cocked and eyes squinting as he stared at Tony. He held the umbrella in one hand.

“You can’t tell? He looks just like you.”

“He ain’t as good-looking as me.”

“Um, Flip?” said Tony, barely above a whisper. “Is he….”

“Standing right in front of you.”

“I can’t see him,” said Tony, at the exact same time that Scratch said, “He can’t see me.”

Shit. This was going to be harder than Flip had expected. He frowned, trying to think of the best way to facilitate matters. But before he could think of anything, Scratch huffed and put his free hand to his hip. “Don’t be so selfish, boy. Share your Eye.”

Flip hadn’t been aware that such a thing was possible, and for a moment he had a gruesome image of plucking out one of his eyeballs and handing it over. Then good sense took over and he moved the keyboard so he could sit close to Tony. “Hold my hand.”

Looking doubtful, Tony did. The contact crackled like static electricity, which sent a pleasant frisson down Flip’s spine and into his groin. He might have gotten distracted by that if Tony hadn’t gasped.

“Scratch!” Tony’s voice was choked.

Smirking, Scratch struck a pose. “In the flesh. Well, actually not. My flesh is long gone. But in the spirit.”

“I… uh… it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You ain’t.” Something desolate showed in Scratch’s eyes. “Nobody knows nothing about me.”

“That’s not true. I was named after you!”

“Nah. There’s a lot of Anthony Bergerons. Wasn’t me.” But Scratch nonetheless seemed slightly soothed.

“It was, and some of the old people, they tell stories about you.”

“About the fool who got himself killed ’cause he couldn’t keep it in his pants? I bet that keeps ’em laughing over their beers.”

“About your talent as a musician. They say you were the best piano player in Storyville. And they talk about how joyful you were—how you seized life with two hands and made everyone around you happy too.”

Scratch’s shoulders drooped and he stared at the floor. “Didn’t seize it hard enough, did I? It got away from me.” He glanced at Flip and then lifted his chin. “I saw him first, you know. Before you. You, you’re almost as pretty as I was, you could have anyone you want. You got a whole world full of living folks to choose from. But he’s all I got.”

Flip wasn’t sure how he felt about being the consolation prize, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to antagonize either the living man or the dead one.

“I’m not nearly as popular as you imply,” Tony said softly. “And Flip isn’t yours. He isn’t mine either—he’s his own man. But Scratch, you know the two of you have no future together. A living person can’t be partners with a ghost. It’s not fair to either of you.”