Page 28 of Ghosted (The Ravenwood #1)

TWENTY-THREE

“Oh my god, stop,” I beg, doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down my face. My cheeks are aching from laughing so hard.

Rebecca sits on my counter, a full smirk playing on her lips.

She just finished telling me about how she drew bloodied lines in red lipstick on her ex’s mirror while he was in the shower, like some B-list horror movie scene.

She’d found a box of her valuables that Kyle had shoved in a corner of the closet, along with a couple of her lingerie sets (ugh).

By the time he was done showering, she’d emptied the entire box and strewn the contents around the living room

He was so scared, he ran outside in only his towel, and then she locked the door behind him so he couldn’t get back in. Kyle was outside, naked as the day he was born, with nothing but a too-small towel for three hours until his new girlfriend came home and let him back inside.

She looks down at her perfectly manicured hand with a grin. “It was fantastic. Even better, when his girlfriend finally let him inside, she saw all of my stuff. She pestered him for over an hour, and he finally gave in and told her about me. It was positively decadent to watch him flounder.”

“Please tell me she broke up with him,” I say, fetching my half-empty bottle of rosé from the fridge and a clean coffee mug. I pour myself a healthy amount of wine and lean against the counter next to her.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Duh. He told her we ‘sort of overlapped.’” She snorts and carries on, “If you consider an engagement, ‘sort of overlapping.’” Her mirth dies a slow death at that.

“To be honest, I feel a little bad for her. She didn’t know, and I’ve been messing with her too, because I kind of assumed she knew.

She couldn’t believe he asked her to moved in within weeks of me dying.

It creeped her out on top of feeling betrayed.

Now she’s back to living with her mom in a one-bedroom apartment, nursing her own heartbreak. ”

“You know you did her a favor, right? Kyle was an asshole. He was bound to cheat again. Maybe scaring her wasn’t the most moral move, but it served a better purpose in the end,” I say, reaching out to touch her knee.

“What the hell?” she exclaims, jumping at my hand. “Since when can you do that little party trick?”

“Well, while you’ve been playing Amityville, I’ve been learning some new skills, too.”

“Who have you been practicing on? Don’t tell me you’re cheating on me, too!” Rebecca exclaims in mock outrage.

So, I tell her the whole story. My stellar date with Dean.

How his untimely demise is maybe (probably) a murder.

The way I’ve been helping him and the tenuous ground we’re walking on now.

How we’ve kissed a few times, but I’m trying hard to keep my feelings at bay.

It’s cathartic to talk to someone who isn’t related to me about this.

It’s odd to say, but I think Rebecca and I are friends.

What is with me forming attachments to the dead lately?

“Wow,” she breathes, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know. We figured out he wasn’t alone when he died. Someone must have come in, restrained him with what I’m guessing is the same duct tape that was used on the vents, and then cleaned it all off the car after he was gone. That way, it looked like a suicide.”

“How’s he doing with that information?” she asks sympathetically.

I tilt my head consideringly, remembering how he flickered in and out.

He stuck around long enough to say that he needed time to process.

He burned through his ghostly battery with the couple of hours we spent together, and then his heightened emotional state sapped the rest. Dean said he wanted to go before he was forced to, because apparently that makes it easier for him to come back sooner.

“He’s doing alright. It’s a lot to take in, but I think he’s grateful that we’re starting to get answers. He knew he didn’t commit suicide, so we’re trying to piece together what actually happened.”

“Alderwood, are you never not thinking of me?” Dean’s smooth voice teases from behind me.

I fight a blush at being caught talking about him.

I’m impressed with his ability to be back so soon after having to rest. He’s definitely getting stronger.

I turn to face him and offer an awkward little wave that I regret immediately.

“Ah, so you’re the lover boy,” Rebecca says, hopping off the counter and circling Dean the way one might circle a prized bull at auction.

“In the flesh,” Dean responds, then scowls. “Or not. I guess. I’m not very fleshy at present.” He allows his hand to drift through the lamp on my end table as if we might have forgotten that he’s a spirit and needed a demonstration.

“ Ew, I don’t want to hear about your flesh,” Rebecca says. “And on that note, let’s just avoid the word ‘flesh’ from now on.” I’m a little amazed at her ability to snark at someone she just met, but then I remember our first few interactions. I guess it’s not that surprising after all.

Dean snorts good-naturedly and comes to greet me, reaching out to brush his hand against my cheek in a now-familiar gesture of affection. “Who’s Sunshine and Rainbows over there?” he asks, tossing a thumb in her direction.

“That’s Rebecca. My friend,” I say, smiling a little at her when I see her expression warm a bit. From our few interactions, I gathered she didn’t have many friends when she was alive. No time like the present to make friends, I suppose. Even if you’re dead.

“I didn’t know you kept other ghosts around,” Dean says in a way that makes me think he actually might be a little jealous that he isn’t my only recurring ghost. Not that I’ve ever had a room full of ghosts before, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.

“‘Keep around’ is probably the wrong term. She’s living her own afterlife, but comes by occasionally when she needs someone to complain to,” I say, giving her a teasing wink.

“Yes, I tend to prefer torturing men for fun in my spare time,” Rebecca says gleefully .

He raises his eyebrows at that and I clarify, “Really, only one man. Her slimy ex that cheated on her.”

Dean purses his lips in thought, and I try not to think about kissing him. It’s unfair that he gets to look like that all the time. Rude, actually. Uncouth.

“You know what? I support it,” he says looking down at me. “Once we find out who yanked me from the mortal coil, I wouldn’t mind haunting his ass.”

“Why are you so sure it’s a man?” Rebecca asks, crossing her arms.

“Because statistically speaking, men commit the most murders,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Or maybe women are just smarter at covering their tracks,” Rebecca says, some how looking down her nose at Dean. An impressive feat considering she’s shorter than me by a few inches, and shorter than him by around a foot.

Dean considers for a moment and says, “You could be right.”

“Anyway,” I interject, knowing that Rebecca can turn even an agreement into an argument if she’s in the mood. She’s the one who should have been a lawyer, if you ask me. “Do you guys want to watch a movie?”

It’s Saturday night, and I spent the last half of my day talking to ghosts on behalf of paying customers—I’m tired.

We’re halfway through October and gearing up for our Night Before All Hallows Eve Ball.

We do it every year; a time for customers to come hang out decked out in extravagant ball gowns and tuxes, enjoy themed hors d'oeuvres and cocktails, and bid on auction items. It’s a huge money maker, drawing tourists and locals alike.

“What movie?” Rebecca asks skeptically .

“Um, only the most classic Halloween movie ever,” I say. I turn on the TV and pull up a streaming service. “It’s showtime!” I exclaim gleefully as I press play on Beetlejuice.

Rebecca frowns. “I’ve never seen this before.”

Dean and I gasp in unison. “That’s a crime against cinema,” Dean says gravely. “You have to watch it at least once before you move on.” He walks through the couch and then sits down, patting the spot next to him for me.

Since I can’t discard the laws of physics, I walk around the couch.

I snag a blanket, knowing being sandwiched between two ghosts will be cold, before sitting next to him.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” I call to Rebecca, like I’m attempting to domesticate the feral neighborhood raccoon.

“Besides, if you hate it, you can just pop back into the ether or go devise a new way to torture Kyle,” I argue.

She sighs a large sigh that probably would have made her lightheaded if she were alive. “Fine.”

“I guess it was okay,” Rebecca says with a sniff when the credits roll. “You two are disgusting, though.”

“What?” I ask, completely confused.

Her pointed glare is sharp enough to break skin. “I can sense your infatuation from here. It’s like one of those horrid body sprays preteen boys choose to douse themselves in. I can’t taste anything anymore, but I swear I can taste that.”

I look at Dean. “Do you have more sensory input too?” I’m choosing to disregard what she was sensing, but this is the first time in my life I’ve had long, ongoing interactions with spirits.

He nods and says, “Yeah. I can feel the energy shift in a room, especially if you’re in it.

I didn’t think to assign them with emotions, but now that she says it, that’s absolutely what it is.

Huh.” A slow smile spreads over his face, and it’s like watching the sun come up over the mountains, painting everything in gold.

“Ack! See? Disgusting.” Rebecca scowls, looking like someone just spat in her coffee.

“Just because you’ve been burned, doesn’t mean others can’t enjoy themselves,” Dean says imperiously, not taking his eyes off me.