Page 10 of Ghost of a Chance

S he ignored his last statement and kept walking as a light rain began to fall on them, the droplets sticking to the top of her head. The temptation to brush one of them off was so strong he shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants.

He liked her. He’d liked her the night of the Dead Boys concert. But Paul had fucked that up. Or, if he was being honest, he fucked it up for himself by not recognizing her or explaining himself properly the next day. “What are you going to do when you get to the bookstore?”

“Check and see if they have my book. Then introduce myself to the staff and ask if I can sign the stock and put some bookmarks in them,” she said.

“Do they let you?”

“Indie booksellers do. Some of the chains, just depends,” she said.

Once again it was easy to see writing and being an author relaxed her. Her entire demeanor changed when she discussed it.

“Interesting. Have you ever seen someone reading one of your books?” he asked.

“No.”

“What would you do if you did?”

“Nothing.” Her mouth quirked up in a secretive smile.

“Well, that’s not true. Maybe I’d try to sneak a photo of them reading it.

I don’t know. It’s never happened so it doesn’t matter,” she said, turning onto a street that was lined with small shops.

There was a café and bakery on the end that he’d frequented as a student.

She paused in front of it, studying the sign before glancing up at him. A shiver went through him.

“You know this place?”

“Paul and I used to hit it at least twice a day.”

“Tell me more about him,” she invited.

“Nah. I don’t like to think about him.” Everything with Paul was complicated.

And he felt like an ass that he was still mad at Paul for dying.

For not being around to see his influence had turned Jasper into a productive, functioning adult…

and the book didn’t count. He wanted to talk to his friend, not be haunted by him.

“Dude, this entire exercise…me being stuck in Burlington with only a cameraman, Gia and you is about Paul. You’re going to have to talk about him,” she said in that direct way of hers, cutting right to the core. Leaving him no choice really.

Paul . He didn’t mention that they were cousins or that he’d been more like a brother to him. That was too personal. They’d roomed together sophomore and junior year because the frat they rushed was too expensive. Their place was shabby and a little run-down but had suited them.

“What do you want to know?”

She tipped her head to the side, studying him. What was she hoping to find? When she laughed, he realized he must be pulling a face and shrugged, a blush creeping over his cheeks.

“We were roommates and friends. He was like a brother to me. We had one class together but liked to study either here at Joe’s or in the library. Being at our place…we kept for chill time. Plus, Paul was in a lot of study groups for all his different classes. He liked to discuss topics he studied.”

“Not you?”

“Me not so much. So I usually found a quiet corner and wore my noise-canceling headphones.”

They were walking again toward the bookstore at the end of the block. “Sometimes I go through phases where I’m really into things then not so much.”

“Even now?” she asked.

“Yup.” No use lying. She’d figure out soon enough that he was a drifter, stumbling into things that took hold of him. Like the job at Bri’s show. Like meeting her. He couldn’t say why, but he was starting to feel like he’d been drawn to Kirsty from the first moment because of something bigger.

“Why?”

He stared into the shop window to avoid answering. That was his way. “My dad.”

“Is he one of those real intense and demanding ones?” she asked.

“No, he’s dead.” May as well rip off the bandage. “Is yours demanding?”

“Oh, I’m sorry about your dad.” He quickly glanced at her face. Her eyes were cast down on to the gray sidewalk below them. “No, mine ghosted me and my mom when I was six. Been just the two of us after that.”

“My dad died the night I was born. Car accident on the way to the hospital. Never met him,” he admitted.

She reached out to touch him. Her hand hesitated over his wrist before she seemingly realized what she was doing. She squeezed it and then immediately pulled her hand back, tucking it into the side pocket of her tartan pants. “That’s tough. So how did he affect how you are?”

Man, she didn’t want to hear this. Or rather, he didn’t want to talk about it.

This was what he got for trying to avoid telling her anything personal about Paul.

“My mom wanted me to know my dad and had his baby book and some sort of school years book left. So everything my dad was pictured doing as a kid, I had to do to ‘connect’ with him. She pushed me to live not just for myself but for him as well. Except he died when he was twenty-four. After college, it was like my life went from being all planned out to just being empty. So I guess I’m… ”

“Not sure what to do,” she finished for him. They were in front of the bookstore now. She stepped out of the light foot traffic to settle under the store’s awning, gazing up at him. “What do you want? Your job with Live with Bri O’Brien seems like a good one.”

“It is. Pays decent, Bri’s a good boss. But it’s a job. I bet writing’s more than a job for you,” he said.

Her face lit up.

His heart stuttered.

“I love it. Sometimes I hate it and wish I had chosen something else as a career. But you’re right, it’s so much more than a job.”

“I want that. But I still haven’t figured out who I am,” he admitted. Being way more honest than he’d anticipated.

“I don’t have myself figured out either. You’re not supposed to,” she said. “Every day new experiences and people force you to grow and change. That’s the journey of life.”

The door to the bookstore opened as a customer came out. She caught the handle and nodded for him to enter first. He did, thinking about what she said. Maybe because he felt so rudderless compared to everyone else, he’d supposed that she had her shit together. She seemed like she did.

It was one of the things he liked about her. She didn’t hesitate even when things got wonky. Maybe it was because she had been talking to ghosts for most of her life. There was something otherworldly about her and it wasn’t just the way she dressed. There was an aura around her that only he saw.

* * *

Jasper was growing on her. That always happened when she got to know someone new, she was quick to remind herself. Most people one-on-one were interesting.

There was a part of her that wanted to fix him. Not that he was broken.

She’d always felt like she was thirtysomething. Her mom blamed herself, saying that Kirsty had to grow up too quickly. The reasons weren’t that important to her now.

The truth was she was comfortable in her skin. Even when she hadn’t fit in, she’d burrowed deeper into her own psyche and found a nice comfortable way of dealing with the world.

Her black clothing, heavy eyeliner and dark lipstick were enough to make most people give her a wide berth. Which gave her the option of deciding who she wanted to engage with.

Jasper was different because she’d met him at that damn concert. The one place where she didn’t carry the worries that usually plagued her and just let herself be. He’d wormed his way into her life before she had time to determine what that would mean.

Taking a deep breath she let the smell of aging paper wrap around her. She was home. The world awaited her in the volumes housed in this bookstore. All those characters and stories waiting to carry her away from life. It still gave her a thrill of excitement to think she was an author.

That she was offering escape to others just like the ones she’d found growing up. She was fully present in a way she felt nowhere else. Except sex. She’d blame that mental detour on Jasper as well.

Skimming the signs above the shelves, she looked for mystery first and found it toward the back on the left. There were some armchairs and tables that looked as if they’d come from a secondhand shop. Worn, probably comfortable, they beckoned her to sit and curl up and read.

Yes. This was what she needed. Time to get in her head and out of this place of semi-panic she’d been in since this morning. Faking being a medium with the ability to awaken her third eye and communicate with those on the other side was a lot of pressure.

She slowly walked down the main aisle, aware that Jasper had fallen behind, but she was anxious to see if they had her new book and if any of her previous titles were there.

Her name was steadily growing in the field, but each book was like starting over again, a reintroduction to convince new readers that she could be trusted with their entertainment.

Her newest book was face out and they had one copy of each of the previous four titles, which made her grin. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of them.

“Want me to take one of you?” Jasper asked.

“If they let me sign them, then yes,” she said. She went to find the manager while Jasper picked up her newest book and started skimming it.

It totally didn’t matter if he liked her book… Okay, even she couldn’t convince herself of that lie. She wanted him to like it and be impressed. Her editor thought this book was her best yet, but inside, Kirsty wasn’t sure. All of her books felt so unfinished even when they ended up in print.

She always thought of something that could be different later. Or worse, something that could have been improved on. One of her writing buddies offered that it was the best book Kirsty could write at the time which was totally true.

Was that why Paul was still hanging around? A lack of satisfaction with his life? She jotted that down on the notes app on her phone. Dying young had to mean there was unfinished business. And from what Jasper said, Paul was the type to push himself hard to perfection.