“Yeah. I know. I’ve been busy.” Cooper’s voice is more terse than I’ve ever heard.
“Really? So have we. With a crap-ton of stuff to keep Miss D and us out of jail and break the curse that’s hanging over your soul, but that’s all right. You keep busy with whatever it is you’ve been doing. With Taneea, I assume.”
I hold my breath, hoping he’ll deny it.
Cooper’s silent for a few seconds. Then he clears his throat. “What do you want me to say?”
My stomach pings. Not exactly a denial.
“Say you’ll meet us at your family’s cemetery in a half hour,” Jack says.
“Now?” Cooper asks.
“No, next week. Come on, you of all people know how important this is.”
“But I’ve got plans. Can’t we do it later?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Fine. I’ll be there.” The line goes dead.
My jaw hangs open. “He didn’t ask about me. Or ask to talk to me. And he’s been with her.”
Jack’s gaze drops to the table. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening.” Is it possible that she really is his type after all?
“It’s got to be the Beaumont Curse. You said so yourself. This is Coop we’re talking about. He’s not normally such a twonk.”
Jack’s right. Cooper’s behavior has been way off the rails. Even if he has lost his mind and decided to be with Taneea, he’s got no reason to ignore me and Jack—his best friends for eight years—especially with all that’s hanging over our heads. The Beaumont Curse may not have stolen his soul yet, but it’s got to be affecting his thinking.
I slide my chair out from the table and rise to my feet. “The only way to know for sure is to break the curse in time and see if he snaps back to normal. But first we’ve got to make sure the mortar and dagger are safe.”
A half hour later, Jack and I are at the Beaumont family cemetery, sitting in the golf cart waiting for Cooper to show up.
We wait.
Then wait some more.
After three hours, Jack’s fuming in the summer heat, hot, hungry, and madder than a rabid raccoon, pacing the kudzu-choked perimeter. If it wasn’t for my sketchbook and pastel pencils and the looming live oaks that cast some fairly decent shade, I’d be right there with him. Instead, propped up against this sturdy tree trunk, I’m doing my best to conserve what little energy I’ve got left and be Zen. It’s not too difficult. Despite the fact we’re in an old cemetery, the setting is pretty perfect for drawing. Plus, the strange and beautiful birds flying over the adjacent salt marsh make great subjects, too.
“Where is he?” Jack kicks a clump of emerald-green brush. His toe catches the corner of a gravestone hidden beneath the foliage. “Ah!” he howls and cradles his foot in his hand. “This is all Cooper’s fault.”
“Right. He made you kick a stationary object.” I blend the final touches of yellow into the pelican’s head then squint at my latest masterpiece.
“Yes, he did,” Jack snaps. “Because he broke his word, again. And because he made me mad enough to kick it in the first place.” He glares.
“You know, we could have rolled the mortar to the crypt in the time we’ve wasted waiting for him.”
“No. I’m not giving him another out. He’s going to help us, even if it takes all day.” He pulls out his cell and dials Cooper for probably the hundredth time since we’ve been here.
“Okay.” I sigh and flip the page, readying to start another picture. This time I think I’ll draw a black skimmer in flight. I love how their white wingspans and underbellies contrast with their black backs and orange beaks.
The plantation’s second golf cart hums toward us. Cooper pulls up next to ours and turns off the engine. He steps out of the cart. I do a double take. He’s wearing a black leather jacket over what looks like a wife-beater T-shirt, a backward baseball cap, and super-long jean shorts that hang down around his backside, but provide an eye-popping glimpse of the top half of his boxers.
Jack rolls his eyes.
Cooper approaches in neon-orange high tops. “Sorry. I lost track of time.” He doesn’t look apologetic, but he does look ridiculous. And hot, but not in a good way because that leather definitely doesn’t breathe.
“Hey, Cooper.” I can’t help but gawk at his heinous new clothes.
“Hey.” For a split second, he looks embarrassed by this getup, but then recovers his swagger.
Jack sets his foot down and limps toward Cooper. “Dude. How does a half hour turn into three and half? And what’s with not answering my calls?”
Cooper shrugs. “I told you I was busy. I can’t drop everything just because you want me to. I’m here now so what do you want?”
“For starters, for you not to be such a sphincter and to start helping us because while you’ve been shopping, we’ve had to deal with a whole lot of stuff, including hiding evidence.”
Cooper’s face twists in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Jack tosses his hands in the air. “I don’t even know where to start.”
I flip the cover on my sketchbook, then jam it into my messenger bag. Standing up from my comfy spot at the base of the tree, I dust off my shorts and step around a half-dozen graves to get to where they stand. “A lot happened after you left yesterday.” I fill him in on all he missed, highlighting our suspicion of Claude.
Cooper scratches his temple. “You could have told me everything back at the Big House. Or on the phone. Why did I have to come here?”
“Dude. Did you miss the part about how Miss Delia made us take the dagger and mortar out of her house and promise to keep it safe? If Claude really is trying to frame your dad, we can’t keep that stuff where it can be easily found. We need you to bring the mortar to the crypt. We’ll hide the rest of the stuff there too.” Jack points to the ancestor’s mortar on the backseat of the golf cart.
“You dragged me away from Taneea to move something for you? Bulk up and carry it yourself.” Cooper’s skin flushes a shade of scarlet I’ve never seen before without a sunburn. He turns and stomps toward his own golf cart.
Jack charges after him. “Hey!”
Cooper pivots on his rubber soles. “What? I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“Do you think we asked you down here for fun? Or that I enjoy harassing you? We need you. When you didn’t call us back yesterday, we drove the cart on the road and could have gotten picked up by the sheriff’s deputies. Then I almost slipped a disc trying to carry that mortar. We’re supposed to be a team but you’ve gone lone wolf on us and don’t seem to give a crap about anything but Taneea, though I can’t understand why.”
“Listen, I was trying to be nice about it, but I’m with her now, okay? I don’t expect you to get our relationship because it’s come as a surprise to me as well. But we’re good together. Perfect, in fact. There’s a good chance I’ll lose my soul in two days. Can’t I enjoy the time I’ve got left?”
The blood drains from my head as I work to make sense of his words. But it’s impossible because even though we’re using the same language, it’s as if he’s speaking Greek. He and Taneea are perfect together? How is that possible?
Jack’s mouth hangs slack. “Well, congratulations. I guess. But I still need you to move the mortar.”
“Fine.” Cooper strides toward our cart. Whipping off the leather jacket, he takes several deep, preparatory breaths, then hoists the mortar up in his arms. Grunting under the strain of the heavy granite vessel, he begins the slow journey to the crypt. His biceps are ripped and the cords in his throat are pulled taut. Jack follows, his arms filled with other supplies we took from Miss Delia’s.