Page 4 of Ghost of a Chance

“I work here. I’m a segment producer. I told you that last night.”

“Of course you do,” she said. “Well the PA already took care of everything, so you can leave.”

It didn’t seem like he was in charge of her segment or anything that could harm her reputation. Although now she was freaked out all over again.

“Uh…”

“Uh?”

“I sort of need your help,” he said.

“With what?”

“This.”

He thrust a book at her. Instinctively she reached out to take it and then wished she hadn’t.

It was heavy and the pages were yellow with age.

A battered copy of a textbook, University Physics with Modern Physics with Mastering Physics.

Convoluted title, but then all science felt that way to her. “I don’t do physics.”

“Great. I need you to get the ghost of my roommate out of the book. He died junior year and has been haunting me ever since.”

Of course he did. Maybe this was a setup from the show. He’d been playing her this morning with the TV and now had a book with his dead roommate in it.

Was this concocted? Had Bri sent Jasper to “meet” her last night to make her appearance more interesting?

Or…

Was Bri trying to prove that Kirsty was a fake? The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Was Bri O’Brien the one who’d dispel the rumor she could talk to the dead?

Her hands were sweating and shaking. She put the book down. Crossing her arms under her breasts to hide it she gave Jasper her most severe glare.

Whether this was a joke or an attempt at throwing her some good publicity, she had to refuse. She wasn’t pretending to exorcise this guy’s roommate on TV. “No.”

“You saw how chaotic my life is with him. Last night and this morning. The TV and the lights…”

There were notes of frustration and sincerity deepening his voice. Jasper definitely believed his roommate was trapped in that book.

“I saw a fan who’s a little too into my books. You know that everything that happened in your apartment was pulled from them. I’m here to talk to your boss about my latest release. If you leave now and don’t speak to me again while I’m here, that’s all it will be,” she said.

His shoulders fell as he shoved his hand through his thick hair, giving a hint of resemblance to the guy she’d met last night. A part of her almost wished she could help him. But she was an author, not a ghost whisperer.

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“Me either. Get out,” she said.

“I’m serious, Kirsty. I didn’t know who you were last night or I would have talked to you about Paul then.”

“Paul?”

He gave her a hard look. “My roommate who’s trapped in the book. Supposedly that’s what you do, right? Talk to ghosts that can’t pass on?”

“I’m a mystery author, not a clairvoyant,” she pointed out. “I’m here to talk about Roses for the Dead . Not an actual dead person.”

“Yeah, but even your bio says occult experiences are a part of everyone’s life.”

That damned bio. Her white lie may have helped her career. But the consequences…

“The answer is still no,” she said.

“Fine.” He glanced at her, desperation plain on his face. “And if we hadn’t met last night…”

“The answer would still be no,” she admitted.

He touched the earpiece he wore, switched a button on the receiver on his belt and told someone that “the talent” was ready and he would bring her to set.

“Ready?”

“The talent is ready.”

He just rolled his eyes and shook his head as he turned on his heel and walked to the door.

* * *

It was like Paul was determined to haunt him forever.

That would be on-brand for his cousin. From the moment they’d become roommates freshman year.

Making sure he remembered his assignments, taking him to the dining hall when he hadn’t eaten all day.

Paul was the stability to Jasper’s chaos. Had he ever been anything else?

Seemed like from his earliest memories he was behind everyone else. Meandering on some path that no one else saw. It was only now, when he was halfway through his twenties, that he’d begun to understand that this trail might lead to nowhere.

His mom always blamed herself for his tendency to wander through life. Like it was her fault that she was dealing with the death of her husband, and a newborn baby, at the same time. He could barely handle himself without all of her emotional baggage in the mix.

He’d been Googling exorcists during the meeting when the pitch for K.L.

Henson had come up. He’d only been half listening since book segments weren’t his thing, but the moment he’d heard her bio read out loud, he’d started to pay closer attention.

Then of course forgotten about it until last night when Fern had reminded him that she was coming on today.

He was the one who pushed hard to book K.L. Henson. He needed her to get rid of Paul.

It also didn’t help that she looked nothing like mediums he had seen in TV or movies.

He’d never expected someone so quirky, young and interesting.

Maybe he should have actually researched her online and taken a look at her photo.

Now he was stuck leading her to the set, haunted textbook in one hand, metaphorical disappointment in the other.

Stan the tech dude came over and checked her mic before she was given a moment with her PR person. Stan finished with Kirsty and headed over to Jasper.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Bri asked me to mic you up, too,” Stan said.

“Why?” This was unusual. Bri never had him miked. There was no way she could know that he’d met K.L. last night, right?

“You want to ask her?” Stan moved around Jasper’s body, threading the lavalier mic under his shirt, hooking the battery pack to his belt, and finally testing it. “You know how to work it?”

“Of course I do.” Fern, their boss and showrunner, walked over to him.

“Did you talk to K.L. about your problem?”

“Yeah, it’s a no-go.”

“Oh no. That stinks—at least you tried.”

“Bri’s on the move,” Jasper heard in his ear minutes before she strode in.

“Alright, people, let’s make some joy,” Bri said as she breezed into the backstage area to wait to be introduced.

She was a tall woman, almost six foot, with long reddish-blond hair that was stick-straight for today’s show.

His mom said Bri reminded her of a young Cher.

But to him, she just looked like his boss.

One who could be very generous but also didn’t like screwups.

Like the one he just made when he’d asked their guest to exorcise his physics book.

It was fully within Kirsty’s rights to bring it up to Bri, but he hoped she didn’t. Bri would be disappointed. She wouldn’t chew him out but he’d know he let her down. Something he hated doing.

Maybe this was the universe reminding him to solve his own problems. He shrugged to himself as they got ready to start the show. Whatever would happen, it was a problem for after filming.

Bri liked to film her show in order, but that wasn’t always possible, then go back to do their non-audience cutaways and B-roll at the end.

The set was meant to be casual, so there was a long sofa in Bri’s signature emerald green, with bookcases behind the couch that held props from Bri’s film career and other mementos from famous guests.

The seating was thick and luxurious. Up to three guests could fit on it.

Then there was a large armchair with a low back so that Bri stood out.

There was a table between the host chair and the sofa where props and water were kept.

Bri got into place and, once action was called, they started filming her opening monologue and Jasper got to work doing his job. Today it was harder to pay attention than usual.

Not that he ever was super engaged. This was fine and paid well.

But he had no passion for broadcast. It was just the one degree he’d been able to get with his haphazard course selection.

Plus they’d needed interns at this show years ago, and after graduation they offered him a job.

His mom called stuff like this serendipity, Jasper leaned more toward dumb luck and opportunity.

Kirsty was called out to start her segment.

Onstage, she was so different from the woman who’d laughed with him and done tequila shots the night before.

The short black skirt, dark kohl eyeliner and chunky Doc Martens set the vibe but her attitude did the rest. This woman gave zero fucks but had an easy charm about her.

The deep red lipstick made it hard to comprehend anything Kirsty was saying. She was mesmerizing.

Last night, she’d been blowing off steam. Just enjoying a night where she could be anonymous. Something he would do well to remember, instead of how she felt on his lap. How she kissed him like she was starving and he was the only thing that would satiate her. If Paul hadn’t gone all poltergeist…

Story of his life.

If .

There was something about Kirsty that had made him feel like none of that mattered. Or maybe that was the shots. Whatever it was, last night he’d felt something he hadn’t before. Like maybe he was in the right place at the right time.