Page 26 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
Lucky came across Maverick’s podcastHypnopompic Remnantswhile in college. She always listened right before bed, purposefully trying to scare herself. Any self-respecting supernatural researcher had to be ready for anything, which she’d erroneously interpreted to mean desensitizing herself to fear. Nightmares would be nothing.
Two episodes later she was basically addicted to Maverick’s smooth and emotive narration. Wearing headphones, she’d drift off to sleep, comforted by his voice telling her his unusual and enthralling supernatural tales.
He continued, “The details are a little fuzzy now, but I remember thinkingfive hundred dollars. I’d moved out of my parents’ house. I had primary custody of Rebel. I was working full-time at a warehouse. We just needed an extra five hundred dollars a month and we’d be okay. Things wouldn’t be so tight all the time. I couldn’t get another job and still be a dad, you know? I had to find something I could do at home at odd hours. So, I started writing. I wrote in the mornings during my commute, recorded at night in a closet after Rebel went to bed, and edited on the weekends during her quiet time.”
Lucky glanced at the crawl space entrance before forcing herself to look out the window. “Then what happened?”
“My audience grew steadily until the snowball effect took over. Timing was on my side, I guess,” he said. “The right person on the right day boosted one of my episodes and almost two years’ worth of weekly content went viral overnight. That’s how Xander found me. A couple of meetings later, he offered me a job.”
“I remember that announcement post. I was so happy for you.”
“It was a good day.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I really did start on this path because of money but it isn’t what keeps me here. I’m not sure when it—Ichanged but I think I’ve known it for a while. I hadn’t actively thought about it until this afternoon because of you.”
“What?”
“You said ‘truth’ but I realized that wasn’t quite the right word. It should’ve been stories. Their stories.Mystories.”
“Oh yeah, that happens,” she said, hot with embarrassment. “It’s really easy to get lost in translation. Sorry.”
“I’m not correcting you,” he said gently. “Youwereright. Iwrite stories to help me process my truths and to make sense of the monsters I dream about. On my show, it doesn’t matter if the ghosts or hauntings are real because that’s not the point. The people are the point. Finding ways to help them tell their stories about their lives is the point. Everything else is just fascinating noise because that’s my true purpose. Thank you for helping me see that.”
Lucky was utterly speechless. She’d never been thanked for one of her readings before.Ever.
Most people didn’t like hearing the truth about themselves. Trying to translate what she’d seen was hard enough. Add people snapping at her, thinking she was weird, talking about her behind her back, and she’d given up on telling anyone anything. It’d been so long since she tried, she honestly didn’t know if she’d even be able to handle trying to convince production without panicking, but sheneededto do it—for her career and for herself. So, she’d started small. She’d started with Maverick.
And he thanked her. He thought she’d helped him.
“You’re welcome.” Her voice was less than a whisper. Stunned beyond all hope for recovery, she locked the slats back into place to reseal the crawl space. Peppermint escorted her the entire walk back to the suite. “Change of plans. I think I’m just gonna go to sleep tonight.”
“Really?” He sounded skeptical. “Are you okay?”
No.“Yeah. I’m just tired. Today was a lot. I don’t want to push myself too hard.” And she desperately needed to hang up before she started crying. “Thank you for wanting to look out for me.”
“Of course,” he said. “That’s what I’m here for.”
10
Early the next morning Lucky was deep in analysis mode. She slouched down in her work nest—laptop balanced on her thighs, and surrounded by equipment, research books, and journals. She’d taken a nap to reset her emotional state and allow Hennessee House some time to do its thing before getting to work. Her footage wasn’t going to review and take notes of itself.
Exploring the remaining rooms at 3:47 a.m. had been regretfully uneventful. The house must have decided it didn’t have anything else to show her. No thumps in the night. No moans through the walls. Nothing except the crawl space, making it her top priority. She’d been awake for hours by the time Maverick called.
“Are you going to do this every morning?” she asked in lieu of hello.
“Affirmative. We’re only scheduled to be there for this week, and I don’t like showing up somewhere unannounced. How are you?”
Emotionally compromised!“Why only this week?”
“In a few days, if you stay that long, we’ll start you on the transition to self-tapes.”
“I’m staying.”
“I believe you,” he said. “Odds are good I’ll continue to call after that. Even if you answer, say ‘I’m fine,’ and then hang up on me. I’ll still do it.”
She laughed gently. “You don’t have to worry about me. I promise.”
“I worry about everything. I can’t help it.” He sighed. “You being in that house has inexplicably shot up to my top five so”—he paused—“hearing your voice makes me feel better.”
Lucky frowned, biting her lip. She wasn’t used to being worried about. She wasn’t even used to having people in her life long enough to get to that point. “Oh, well in that case, you may continue. See you soon?”
