Page 32 of All You Want
“You’re only having him fake the ghosts, aren’t you?” Linx crosses her arms and tilts her head.
I get why she’s skeptical, and from the way Todd’s jaw tenses, he’s even more belligerent. Neither of them wants me to open a tourist trap. Where they see traffic, I see profits. Where they hear noise and hubbub, I hear the cash register and happy people enjoying themselves. Where they smell a rat, I smell opportunity.
“Half of the fun is in the not knowing.” I look from one to the other. “It’s what keeps curiosity alive and gives people something to speculate about.”
“Okay, we’re not going to argue with you about your haunted hotel,” Todd says. “I’m going to write this up and drive you home. Linx, can you take Tami’s car?”
“Why can’t I drive?” I turn toward my car. “I need a plastic sheet so I don’t mess up my interior, but I’m not drunk or anything.”
Todd opens the door to the Chevy Tahoe PPV. “I have plastic you can sit on, and I want to ask you more questions. I don’t think standing out here in the cold is going to help you get the paint off your hair. Not to mention, you’re attracting a crowd.”
“Hey, folks.” I wave like a little girl at the familiar faces gawking and making comments. The pictures and videos should show up on social media soon. “Don’t forget to hashtag #ColsonsCorner #SpookyWeek #HauntedHotel.”
“Back away, folks,” Todd announces. “Until further notice, this is a possible crime scene. No one is to trespass until I finish my investigation. Now, move along. Back to your drinks. Go. Go.”
No one leaves. Instead, they stick around to see what they can see, and a few of the more adventurous guys prowl around the bushes to peer in the windows.
Linx locks up and secures the crime scene tape. She takes my car keys from my splattered kente-cloth purse and says, “Now, you be good. I’ll have your car at my place tonight, if it’s okay with you.”
Before I can answer, Todd says, “It’ll be okay. I’m watching her tonight.”
I’m not sure what Todd is up to, but the people in my town are watching, and I think I see Molly in the background lapping it all up. She spoke to Evan about doing personal haunt effects, and I’m sure she’s coming up with material to enhance our displays.
I wonder if she’s the one behind all of this. I swear, I did see the ghost, but it could also be a projection or a flying puppet. Could Molly have been inside and snuck out the back?
In any case, she’s staring at me and Todd, so I snuggle closer, looping my arms around his neck and make myself comfortable. I like the idea of all the single women in town seeing me drive off with the sheriff. They don’t have to know I’m playing hard to get.
“Why, Todd, I’d love it if you drove me home,” I simper and blink, although my lashes are sticking together. He does have a point. Whether tonight’s incident is an accident or not, the fact that the proprietress—me—is plastered all over social media looking like a blood-splattered bride of Frankenstein has to be good for business.
He ushers me through the crowd. “Miss King is okay. It’s just paint. Nothing to see here.”
“Did you see a ghost?” Jasmine from my yoga class asks.
“It looked like blood,” Brenda from the gas station comments. “You must have been scared out of your wits.”
“It was frightful.” I wipe my sticky face and wave my glistening fingers. “It felt like I was getting whacked by a pickaxe.”
“Pickaxe Polly?” Jared, a Boy Scout who volunteers at the dog rescue, yelps.
“There was a series of chills and the sound of chopping.” I widen my bloodshot, or should I say, paintshot eyes. “And then, it was all over me. Ripping and tearing at me like thousands of fangs and claws.”
“Enough with story time,” Todd interrupts. He shoos several guys who he hung out with in high school. “Let’s move along. Nothing to see here.”
“You should at least give us the inside scoop,” one of the guys says while his buddy pushes a cell phone camera up to my face.
Todd swats the phone, and it spirals to the ground. He leverages his big, wide body to box out the crowd while helping me into the passenger seat of the Chevy PPV. I feel like a princess chased by the paparazzi, blessed with the best bodyguard ever.
Once we’re driving along, I notice Todd taking the long way to my house. He’s winding around the dark, moonlit roads and driving slower than necessary.
It might have been romantic if I wasn’t covered with paint. Maybe he’s mad at me for standing him up.
“Did you miss me?” I hazard a guess.
“Nope. I forgot.” He stares straight ahead at the lonely road.
“What did you forget about, Toddkins?” I hook a glance at his profile. “I mean, there had to be something you’re remembering forgetting.”
He heaves a sigh. “I hope you’re satisfied with yourself.”
