Page 39 of Ghosted
“‘Keep around’ is probably the wrong term. She’s living her own afterlife, but comes by occasionally when she needs someone to complain to,” I say, giving her a teasing wink.
“Yes, I tend to prefer torturing men for fun in my spare time,” Rebecca says gleefully.
He raises his eyebrows at that and I clarify, “Really, only one man. Her slimy ex that cheated on her.”
Dean purses his lips in thought, and I try not to think about kissing him. It’s unfair that he gets to look like that all the time. Rude, actually. Uncouth.
“You know what? I support it,” he says looking down at me. “Once we find out who yanked me from the mortal coil, I wouldn’t mind haunting his ass.”
“Why are you so sure it’s a man?” Rebecca asks, crossing her arms.
“Because statistically speaking, men commit the most murders,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Or maybe women are just smarter at covering their tracks,” Rebecca says, some how looking down her nose at Dean. An impressive feat considering she’s shorter than me by a few inches, and shorter than him by around a foot.
Dean considers for a moment and says, “You could be right.”
“Anyway,” I interject, knowing that Rebecca can turn even an agreement into an argument if she’s in the mood. She’s the one who should have been a lawyer, if you ask me. “Do you guys want to watch a movie?”
It’s Saturday night, and I spent the last half of my day talking to ghosts on behalf of paying customers—I’m tired. We’re halfway through October and gearing up for our Night Before All Hallows Eve Ball. We do it every year; a time for customers to come hang out decked out in extravagant ball gowns and tuxes, enjoy themed hors d'oeuvres and cocktails, and bid on auction items. It’s a huge money maker, drawing tourists and locals alike.
“What movie?” Rebecca asks skeptically.
“Um, only the most classic Halloween movie ever,” I say. I turn on the TV and pull up a streaming service. “It’s showtime!” I exclaim gleefully as I press play onBeetlejuice.
Rebecca frowns. “I’ve never seen this before.”
Dean and I gasp in unison. “That’s a crime against cinema,” Dean says gravely. “You have to watch it at least once before you move on.” He walks through the couch and then sits down, patting the spot next to him for me.
Since I can’t discard the laws of physics, I walkaroundthe couch. I snag a blanket, knowing being sandwiched between two ghosts will be cold, before sitting next to him. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” I call to Rebecca, like I’m attempting to domesticate the feral neighborhood raccoon. “Besides, if you hate it, you can just pop back into the ether or go devise a new way to torture Kyle,” I argue.
She sighs a large sigh that probably would have made her lightheaded if she were alive. “Fine.”
“I guess it was okay,”Rebecca says with a sniff when the credits roll. “You two are disgusting, though.”
“What?” I ask, completely confused.
Her pointed glare is sharp enough to break skin. “I can sense your infatuation from here. It’s like one of those horrid body sprays preteen boys choose to douse themselves in. I can’t taste anything anymore, but I swear I can taste that.”
I look at Dean. “Do you have more sensory input too?” I’m choosing to disregardwhatshe was sensing, but this is the first time in my life I’ve had long, ongoing interactions with spirits.
He nods and says, “Yeah. I can feel the energy shift in aroom, especially if you’re in it. I didn’t think to assign them with emotions, but now that she says it, that’s absolutely what it is. Huh.” A slow smile spreads over his face, and it’s like watching the sun come up over the mountains, painting everything in gold.
“Ack! See? Disgusting.” Rebecca scowls, looking like someone just spat in her coffee.
“Just because you’ve been burned, doesn’t mean others can’t enjoy themselves,” Dean says imperiously, not taking his eyes off me.
“Ugh. Okay, I’m gone.” Rebecca says, standing from the couch so fast, I can’t track the motion. “Thanks for the movie or whatever. See you soon,” she says to me before disappearing from the room with a pop that covers my skin in goosebumps.
“What was she talking about?” I ask Dean, turning to face him on the couch.
He bites down on the corner of his smirk. “Well, dearest Rae Alderwood. Your desire for me is a force to be reckoned with. It bathes the room in a specific energy. It makes us feel what you’re feeling.”
My cheeks immediately flame. Oh,god.I never thought that I was projecting my emotions like that. “Is this something you notice with everyone?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
He shakes his head. “No. Just you.”
Fantastic. So being a medium means I have even less privacy than I thought. Even when Wren isn’t here, my inner feelings aren’t safe.
