Kaya congratulated Brian. The Arts Consortium surpassed her expectations, which, she confessed, had always been absurdly high.
“That’s why I skipped out on the orientation. My hopes for this were unrealistic.”
“Well, unrealistic might be what we’ve got,” Brian said. “I have plans in case people lose enthusiasm. Everyone will participate in forums, but the euphoric atmosphere scares me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“No, you’re right,” Kaya said. “It’s Wednesday, only the third day of classes, and is there anyone who’s not in love with someone on the premises?”
[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]
After the show at the Avalon last night, the women students had paired with the Jamaicans. No one had showed up for breakfast. They were all working now, fueled by dreams and super-charged lust. At least that’s what Brian supposed.
“In these small groups, everyone knows everybody’s business. That’s why I wanted the students to stay in Asheville.”
“I checked on liability, Kaya—all that stuff—before the students even arrived. And Angelina wanted them here.”
“Well, Angelina’s entitled,” Kaya said. “She is. And if we tried keeping strict rules about who slept where, we’d lose. People sneaking around would be twice as dangerous.”
“You know who helps, don’t you?”
“Trevor.”
“He calmed Crescent,” Brian said, “but after last night, he’s moved on, apparently.”
“Crescent was happy last night, sleeping at Angelina’s.”
“I’ve asked Trevor what he says to mend hurt feelings. And he said, why don’t I stay and witness next time?”
Kaya smiled. “Really? Be sure to let me know.”
After the next two gigs at the Avalon—“Awake” owned the ten pm show now—Trevor found a new girl.
He told Brian, during one of their morning runs, that he always invited the girl to stay a little while, but explained it could never be for long. He liked lots of girls.
“And no one begs for more time?” Brian asked. “No one assumes she’s special? Amazing, you know that, right?”
Near the end of the loop, a squirrel jumped on Trevor, who stopped and tried to hold it, cupping the animal in both hands. But the squirrel bit Trevor, its nut-cracking teeth sinking deep into the underside of his wrist.
Trevor no sooner returned from his rabies shots, than he tripped over the bright orange cord to a circular saw. He plugged the cord back in its socket and a visible flash of electricity ran up his leg. And smoked his jeans.
Two days later, Angelina and Trevor stopped by her friend’s huge white house with a three month supply of Jacob’s ganja. Leaving in good spirits, they walked along a flagstone path. A decorative brick from the third-floor window broke loose and hit Trevor’s head. Knocked him down and out.
Angelina wanted to take him to the ER in case he had suffered a concussion. But Trevor said first they needed to find Royce, the senior carpenter. “Mussi a duppy,” he said.
“What?”
“A duppy’s a ghost, Angelina. Evil scientists call up an innocent spirit and make it injure or even kill whoever has the spell on him.”
Everyone at the lodge gathered in the main yard. Brian pulled Trevor aside. “Forget about duppies, and go get an MRI.”
Royce didn’t believe in duppies but his grandmother had. A cat had attacked her one night while she slept. It had clawed her arms and the inside of her legs. The next morning she had married Royce’s grandfather, instead of another man.
The Consortium voted. Conquer the duppy first, and then Trevor should go for an MRI. Lloyd remembered a tea a woman used to brew. It had tasted like dirt.
Jacob knew that same tea—and where to find stiff, reddish twigs that often grew near the ganja plants. An hour later, Trevor drank the tea. Soon after that he vomited.
Angelina drove him to the hospital, wondering what were the odds that the car would crash? At the hospital, the tests showed Trevor’s brain was unharmed. The doctor recommended a few stitches for Trevor’s head wound. No way. No one was shaving Trevor’s dreads, not one.
(Click here to read the next episode)
