Queen of the Sea (one of two) : red lady

 'I've never seen one this close before.'

  “We call that one the Red Lady,” Imile said. She watched Brianna's expression with a pleasant smile. “For obvious reasons.” She tossed her hair and started walking again, not interested for long. “She dances every night that there's live music, so you will encounter her often.”

  'I've never seen a living woman that pretty in my life. She can't be real. That's... a really fantastic sculpture, or... something.'

  Slowly, deliberately, the ghost turned her head until she seemed to look at Imile's back. Her impassively thoughtful expression looked more like disgust in the change of light.

Ah. Okay then. That was very human. It had just been the angle and moonlight.

Brianna tore her eyes away and walked a little faster to keep up with the clacks of Imile's heels.

“You'll have to rely on your own abilities,” Imile said sternly. “Sound equipment would ruin the ambiance. That means that we expect you'll be very careful to protect your voice.”

“Of course.” Brianna tried to sound as professional as the older woman. “I understand completely.” She stole a glance back. The Red Lady was still watching, but she gave no indication that she noticed Brianna turning around.

'Of course not,' she thought, irritated by her own shiver. 'I'm being paranoid. Everyone knows they can't see the living. She's acting out whatever she did two hundred years ago before the ship sank. There was probably someone where Imile was standing.'

Brianna wanted to keep this job, so she put the ghost out of her mind and focused on learning the layout of the rooms she would be performing in. Imile sat at a piano in both the dining hall and the more intimate lounge and played while Brianna sang a bit to get a feel for the acoustics.

They didn't stay long, because Imile's schedule wouldn't allow for much more than an hour on this part of training.   

“Who will be my accompaniment?” Brianna ventured to ask on the walk back. “I assume that you're too busy to come out every night.”
 
 Imile laughed, a warm sound that lit up the still night air. “Absolutely,” she agreed. “You'll work with a few different people. Later you might work with the band, but for now you're only going to work with a pianist.” She walked past an open door without a glance, despite the dim glow that could only be coming from the walking dead.

Brianna stole a glimpse as they passed- the ghost was an old man, sitting on a bed and looking out into the hallway. She held her coat shut a little tighter.

'I swear it's colder. Doesn't she feel it? Or do you just get used to that when you work here for long?'

She tried really hard not to laugh.

This was not the kind of workplace that a person just got used to. First off, it was only accessible by golden elevators that took nearly twenty minutes to reach the top. Brianna hadn't yet been brave enough to peek out a window to see the city below, but she was fairly certain it was going to make her feel ill.   

“I'm going to leave you with the stylist who will give you an appropriate haircut, and then you will take yourself to the costumer for your wardrobe.” Imile listed, as though this was a totally normal 'first day on the job' conversation. “All modern clothing and technology are to be left in the recreation areas below decks on the residential skyliner.”

Secondly, the job was a little intense.

“I understand perfectly,” Brianna said, because she needed this job.   

Her roommate wasn't there when she returned with a new coif that was more than a couple decades out of style. Brianna got all of her new clothes put away and packed up all of her personal belongings to take downstairs. She hesitated over her cosmetics- was it really crucial that she use only the antiques they'd provided in glass bottles and crystal compacts? They were beautiful, really, but no one was going to know what was going on in the personal space of an employee.

'Method acting, I guess.'

A little resentful, she did as she was told and scoured her room of anything that wouldn't have fit in the cruiseliner that was now a museum suspended in the sky. Because obviously everything about that was exactly time period-accurate.

A group of the other new hires were lounging when she brought her things down. Brianna dumped most of her things in her locker and brought her cell phone over to the couches.

“Hey!” Brendan waved enthusiastically, interrupting the conversation that Miles was having with two women.   

She gave him a weak smile, because she hadn't been that sad to leave him behind when they got off the elevator. “Hi, Brendan. It's good to see you.” Brianna pulled a cushion onto her lap and nodded to Miles. “Hi. I'm glad you found this place after all.”

Miles nodded back without fully lifting his head, cautiously pleased. Maybe he thought she'd forgotten him since he'd stopped her in the breakfast area that morning to ask directions. He seemed like a nervous person- he was a handsome black guy nearly 6 feet tall, but he seemed to be hoping to develop the power of invisibility at any moment. She wished him the best, but invisibility hadn't come through for her yet either so it seemed unlikely.

The other two girls were looking over with a polite level of interest, so she should probably introduce herself. Brianna leaned forward, making eye contact with the tall, slim woman with dozens of braids. “Hello,” she started, “I'm-”

“Today was such a good day!” Brendan flopped down dramatically in between Brianna and the small group. “Miles and I found the coolest spot-”
 
Miles opened his mouth and Brendan steamrolled over anything that might have come out.
 
“We are going to be working in the- well,” he fake-laughed. “I'll be the ghost-chef, for those who are daring enough to dine in the haunted ship.”

The two strangers exchanged looks. The short one ran her hands through her long, loose hair.

“How about yourself?” Brendan rolled his head to blink over at her. He had really long, dark lashes.

Brianna glanced down at her phone, wishing this conversation was over. “I'm going to be working on the exhibit ship as well. Miles, does that mean you're in the hotel?”

He nodded. “I'm going to-”

Brendan talked over him again. Miles seemed resigned to it at this point, looking down at his hands while Brendan recounted everything that had happened in the last five hours, including the novel fact that he'd been forced to dress entirely in historical clothing. That would have been interesting, except that every single employee in the room was dressed the same.
 
She took a moment to be quietly grateful that her roommate was a normal person.   
 
 The two women left without an introduction. Brendan never stopped talking or seemed to notice. After a few minutes of nodding or trying to get out more than, “I see,” Brianna started surreptitiously checking her emails and texts. An email from her bank about current loan rates for her first home- ha! Like she could afford a house. Funny joke. - and some memes from her friends, along with a pregnancy progress photo from someone she didn't talk to often anymore. There was nothing much, and scrolling her social media accounts didn't bring any satisfaction.   

At least. It probably wasn't edifying enough for her to linger too long in the communal area and learn waaaay too much about poached eggs through auditory osmosis.

She gave Miles a pitying look when she eventually abandoned him.   

It seemed like he understood. He waved morosely and mimed texting- ah. She shot him a couple of messages, including a sad cat pic. Then she finally got up, stretching a little. Miles opened his mouth and got out a quiet, “Good-”

“Goodbye!” Brendan shouted cheerfully, apparently aware enough to notice that she was leaving. “Good luck on the job tomorrow!”

Brianna gave him a queasy smile and put her phone in her locker. “Thanks. You too. Have a good night, Miles.”   

The walk back to her room was quiet. It was the lull between holiday rush times, so the glamorous hotel wasn't nearly as full as it would in a week. Which made it a good time to start job training, obviously. Most of the people she passed were dressed up as well, but they still might be customers. People liked to rent the costumes for their stay.   
 
'If I ever marry a really rich woman and can afford to come to places like this, I will definitely do the full experience,' Brianna determined. 'And I'll tip the staff well.'

And then maybe she'd go to the moon. Ha.

Brianna passed one group of obvious tourists in street-clothes. One of them elbowed his friends to point at her, whispering something she couldn't make out.
 
The scoffed reply was louder. “That's a person, stupid,” she heard a man say. “Her feet are on the ground, see?”

He was factually correct about both of those things. But, like. She resisted the urge to look down at her pointy-toed leather boots or give the tourists an incredulous expression.

'Ghosts don't float. There are fact sheets on that all over. How can a person stand in one of those elevators without reading at least a little?'

Maybe he'd stared in the mirrors for the whole trip. The elevator was full of them- gold metal-work surrounded mirrors on three sides. The other side was glass and that was just horrifying, so Brianna had spent the trip staring into the leather embossed book full of museum trivia and illustrations of the excavation and pretended that she was on the ground.

'Bad thoughts. Do not spend too much time remembering where exactly you are, or you're going to scream and get fired and go back to delivering newspapers to pay rent and selling plasma for grocery money and have to move back in with a really terrible roommate who never does the dishes.'
 
 She kept her expression blandly pleasant and continued up to the next flight of stairs. That put her on the same level as the lounge and dining hall.

The hotel was a perfect model of the reconstructed cruise ship, except for the lowest decks- they were reserved for staff in the hotel, and inaccessible on the real ship. Walking through the mirror image of the exhibit was a bit creepy late at night. Brianna bit her lip and found herself slowing down when she passed the twin of the room with the male ghost in it. The door was shut, the light was off. Normal.   

'If I went back to the cruise ship, would the Red Lady still be there? Imile didn't seem surprised to see her at all. Maybe I can find her again.'

The question nagged at her as she got ready for bed and turned out the light.
 
She wouldn't go, of course. Sneaking around at night was not a good way to retain a job. Finding employment as a singer was a little harder than she'd thought it would be when she was in school.   

'I couldn't even afford the price of the elevator ride back down,' Brianna thought, darkly amused. She turned onto her side and fought the streak of romanticism that had led her into her current career in the first place. The museum was free, at least, and full of priceless art and beautiful restorations. She could drink her heart's fill of loveliness there and not think about the things she couldn't do.
 
But. Still.

'That woman was beautiful. I wonder who she was, before. Did she die when the ship sank at first? Or when the rescue ship sank? What happened to her?'

Brianna idly curled her fingers into the necklace she wore as part of her costume. Then she blinked, surprised she was still wearing it.  It was pretty, sure, but here was no need to keep it on all night.

Brianna squirmed her other hand out from under the pillow because she needed two hands to unclasp it.   

The door opened.
 
Brianna blinked into the puddle of pale light that her roommate let in. “Hello.”

When Miho turned her head, the light caught something glittering in her dark hair. “Sorry, did I wake you up?” She closed the door quietly.

Brianna shifted onto her back and then sat up. “No, not at all.” She leaned over the put the necklace on her bedside table. “Have a good day?”

“Yes, thanks for asking.” Miho sat on the edge of her bed and began taking down her hair. The glittering decoration seemed to lose light when she set it down next to a line of pins. “I think they're going to keep me busy. I'm also doing some translation work when I'm free from tours.”

Something about that was weird.

Miho yawned, barely getting her hand up in time to cover her mouth.

Hmm. Brianna fought a yawn of her own and tried to remember what had seemed so important a moment ago, but it was gone.  She sighed. “Let's talk more tomorrow.” She laid back down and twisted to lay on her stomach.   

Sleep came easily. That was good, because the next day came and went quickly. Before three pm, Brianna was singing in the lounge. Her partner was a middle-aged man who had fast fingers and eyes that skimmed over her like she wasn't there.   

She copied his poise and kept in character as tours came through and through and through. The daylight was a less popular time for tours, because there weren't going to be many ghosts visible until the sun set. But people hoped- once, Brianna thought she saw a flickering figure watching the performance. The ghost never coalesced into solidity, but it might have been a heavy-set woman in glamorous furs.

The pace picked up after sundown- from about 7pm on, there was a good chance that at least one ghost was relaxing with a drink in hand. None of them were nearly as striking as the first spirit she'd seen, but the tourists enjoyed them. There was a strict policy about phone use and cameras, but more than one person tried to get a selfie. The deceased placidly ignored all of this to peer up at the small stage.

Brianna felt like her smile was plastered on. The ghosts were watching historical performances- she was just there to fill in the blanks of the scene for atmosphere. They weren't actually looking at her, their eyes didn't follow when she moved across the stage. It was still a little creepy.

They had only had time for a bit of practice before the tours started, so they were stuck performing the same two songs all night. By the time 10pm came and the museum closed, Brianna was thoroughly disenchanted with 'Gentle Annie' and 'How Can I Leave Thee', but she'd probably be singing them again tomorrow.

The pianist snorted when she mentioned that. “Could be worse.” He picked up the folder of music that he didn't need. He'd only used it as a prop when a tour was in the room. “New ghosts show up every once in a while. One of them might take your job.” His pitch dipped low  and insinuating on that last bit.

Brianna laughed, but his expression was a little off and it made her uncomfortable. She wasn't sad to leave him and head to the dining hall. The one in the museum, that was. She could hear Brendan singing to himself in the kitchen.

He didn't have a bad voice, actually. It was clear and strong and echoed through the hall, covering up the quiet noises of people cleaning up after a day's worth of guests.   

'This room is perfect to sing in. I want to do that soon.'

She took a moment to realize that one of the women carrying out dishes was an especially strong ghost. Her glow was faint but unmistakable once Brianna really looked. No one else seemed excited, moving seamlessly around the dead girl to bus dishes and spread out clean white cloths.

'It's weird... So many people died here that they're almost mundane.'

Absently, she ran her fingers over the stones of her necklace. It was pleasantly warm in the cold museum.

A tired-looking older woman who must have been full-time staff herded her to a back area where other staff members were eating a late dinner of chicken in a mushroom sauce with braised potatoes. She scarfed down her food and got out before Brendan came soaring out of the kitchen to ask people what dish was the best.

That became the routine- every day she perfected another song or two, sang from the afternoon until the evening, and went to sleep about the time that Miho returned from escorting tourists around. Until the fifth day, when the Red Lady showed up to hear her sing.

A tour group of about fifteen was in the room. There were two listening ghosts who Brianna had come to think of as regulars- the portly woman in furs, and a young man who was always nursing a short glass. The tourists lingered so long that Brianna was almost to the end of her repertoire. Irritated, she struggled to keep a blandly positive expression on her face as the pianist started playing the introductory notes for the only sad song of the bunch.

“She was a beauteous flower, just blushing into day.” Brianna struggled to keep her voice smooth, although the customers weren't really paying attention. One of them, a younger girl, was watching her with sparkling eyes. The others were murmuring over a slightly dented metal tea set with an educational note about where it had been carried by ocean currents. They had already exhausted their enthusiasm over ghosts that never turned their heads and couldn't be photographed. Brianna was halfway through the line about blight overtaking lovely bloom when she felt someone watching her. She turned her face to the side and barely managed to hit the next note.

The Red Lady was looking at her.

'No, she's not,' Brianna reminded herself. 'It just seems that way.'

It was uncanny. Brianna didn't have much space to move, but it really seemed that the Red Lady's eyes were following her. She made it through the next verse and until the part about the girl passing away to be lost to mortal eyes- and it really seemed like the watching ghost reacted to that line.   

'I could swear that she winced.'

The ghost definitely seemed morose. It was a coincidence. But it made Brianna nervous and she really wanted to finish the song. Her singing picked up speed.

There was an ugly dissonant moment before the pianist corrected his speed to catch up with her and finish the song. The tour seemed to take the ending notes as a cue and finally wandered out.

The instant they were out, the pianist gave her a dirty look. He didn't comment, but he stalked out to take his break.

Guilty, she didn't want to follow him too closely. She stepped off the stage, refusing to indulge her imagination and look at the ghost. Because she certainly was not superstitious or jumpy, she pointedly took the empty seat next to the older lady ghost. She was still rapturously intent on the stage- whoever had sung before must have had a long set. Brianna poured herself some water from a carafe and sipped. She did not turn her head to look. She crossed her legs at the knee, she let her free arm rest on the table beside her. She was calm, cool, and collected. Everything was perfectly fine and she was not going to let her imagination run wild.

A cold hand touched the tops of her fingers.

Brianna jerked up, pulling her hand to her chest and turning wide-eyed to look to her left. No one was there. She'd imagined it.
 
Heart-pounding, she checked all the way around the room. The two regulars were applauding some long-ago performance. The Red Lady was gone. It was... some weird trick that her mind was playing on her.

Probably just a cold breeze through an open window somewhere. God only knew that the whole place was rickity with pockets of chill air.

'I'm paranoid,' Brianna thought, laughing a little nervously. 'I got myself all worked up over nothing.' She shook her head and smiled to herself. She swallowed. She went to take another sip of her water, because she definitely needed to take good care of her throat.

That was new.

Someone had put fingerprints in the condensation on her glass. Her glass, which had been in her hand the whole time. She must have done it. But she hadn't moved her hand around the glass. Just. Touched it the once and kept her fingers in the same spot.   

'It had to have been me. Maybe it did it with my left hand when I wasn't paying attention.'

She sat the drink down with a violent clink and smeared the markings deliberately. Her heart pounding, she left the room at a fast pace.

She didn't really remember the long walk to the fluorescent safety of the break room on the bottom of the skyliner. The next thing she really registered was the sounds of conversation happening over someone's speaker playing pop music. She sat away from the door, drew her knees up to her chest, and stared at the fabric of her dress numbly.
 
“Hey.”
 
 The girl with the braids was leaning over. “You alright?”

Brianna blinked. “Yes,” she said on autopilot. “Thanks.”

She got a dubious look in return. “Alright, then.” The other woman sat down, frowning at her own phone. “Is this about what happened with Miles?”

That got her attention. “Is something wrong?”

“You don't know?” She was clearly surprised. “He quit. He went home. I didn't see him, but Coco passed on the news.”

“Coco?” Brianna asked. Maybe she hadn't been social enough. She didn't know anyone. She didn't even know the Red Lady's name. How rude. You can't hold someone's hand if you don't know their name. It's terribly forward. She forced down an irrational giggle.

“My friend, you saw her the other day.” The other woman blinked long, dark lashes. “I'm Lola, by the way. And you are...?”

“Brianna.”   

They shook hands, which was a bit weird, and then sat in quiet for a little while.

“Lola...” Brianna bit her lip. “Do you have any idea why Miles went- left?”

“No.” Lola shook her head, displaying a beautiful net of pearls woven into her hair. “He wasn't happy, so I can guess.” She gave Brianna a meaningful look. “I think Brendan was an overwhelming roommate, for starters.”

Brianna winced.

“And he thought the ghosts are creepy,” Lola said factually. “They are, a bit. But I think it was also financial- he found out that another job offer came through and so he got out.” She shrugged. “He was thinking of it, as of yesterday. You didn't hear from him?”

She had to shake her head. “No, but-” She had a thought and rushed to get her cellphone. “Maybe he left a message?” Brianna posited. She turned it on, checked her texts, and- “Yes, he did.” Miles was polite like that.   

“What's it say?” Lola leaned over. “Maybe I should check mine, too.”

“Mine doesn't say much,” Brianna admitted. She showed Lola the screen. “Just that he's found another job and wishes me the best.”   

“Ah.” Lola sat back, clearly dissatisfied. “I'll check mine.”

Brianna might have wondered what Lola was hoping to hear, but she was preoccupied. Her fingers hovered over the screen, considering it. She typed it out and erased it a few times, but the words 'did a ghost notice you?' always looked unhinged. She stared at the unsent message for a while, trying to work up the will to just send it even though she'd look super-weird if she was wrong.

She erased it. She wrote out, 'It was so nice to meet you! Let's have dinner after this internship ends. I'll tell you all about how spooky my pianist is.' She put her phone away, she returned to work. The pianist never confronted her about messing up and then missing the next set of songs. The Red Lady didn't return that night.

It was fine. Totally fine.