Page 28 of Kept
“Let’s do it.”
I open my eyes with a start and stare down at the book on my lap – this really has to stop, I am starting to believe what I am reading, and that is not going to end anywhere good.
“What’s wrong?” Margareta asks from beside me.
We are travelling first class on the six-hour flight from Boston, Massachusetts, to Vegas, and she is one of those people who never shuts up and never stops eating or drinking when flying. Me though, I like to read quietly and sleep.
“Nightmare.”
“Bout what?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Share.”
“I’ve been reading this book where the vampire rips out hearts and snaps off heads, and then all the news stories lately about dead socialites turning up left right and centre – I dreamt the vampire was doing it and that he was coming for me next because I kept his journal.
“Thought you said it was a manuscript for a novel?”
“Yeah, well obviously, because there is no such thing as vampires.”
“Why don’t you show it to Mr ‘I want to eat croissants from your stomach,’ Hunter.”
I suddenly have a visual image of pastry flakes in my belly button, and shudder.
“You are truly gross, sometimes.”
“That’s why you love me.”
“Yeah, maybe I will when we get home. I thought it was his when he first started at the school, but he says he hasn’t lost a book, so,” I shrug, “it might interest him though.”
“Could be,” she smirks, “now, here is the hotel we will be staying at,” she flashes up a picture on her phone.
“Wow! That looks expensive.”
“It is.”
“How did you choose it?”
“Oh, well,” she looks cagey and flicks through a few more images on the phone.
“Margarita?”
“OK, if you must know, Jerry mentioned this was where he was staying, so I thought I’d surprise him by turning up.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I throw my hands in the air, and lower my voice to a whisper as nearby passengers cast glares in our direction, “you brought me along when you plan to abandon me?”
“No,” she frowns, “he probably has business meetings or something. I just thought we might all have a drink together or something, but then you and I could go and continue our exploration of the city.”
“you are a no-good liar,” I hiss, “and stalking a man who tells you he is going away for the weekend is a bad idea.”
“I’m not stalking him; I’m surprising him, there is a difference.”
“Whatever.”
I clam up and refuse to talk to her for the rest of the flight, instead opening the book and reading the next entry.
New Entry.
