Page 9

chapter five

With the garage cleaned out, they managed to begin inventorying the items they thought they might be able to sell, along with the items for the local sale and the possible ones for online auction.

The garage, once gutted and swept out, became their main area of operation, the base where they stored everything from supplies to their inventory of items.

Ghosts still visited them, at least three a day, but they almost got used to the interruptions and expected them, although cleaning up after them didn’t help their timeframe any.

“Well, hey, hey, howdy ho, my good friend, how goes it on this Magnificent Monday?” asked a familiar voice.

Meredith looked up from the box of glass cups with silver-lined tops she slowly wrapped and sorted into a box to see the host of the show, Marshall Dobbs, silhouetted by the bright sunshine outside the garage. “What are you doing here?” she asked him bluntly.

“Two-pronged reason for my visit, actually,” he said, clapping his hands together. With a gesture at Slater, he said in a different tone of voice entirely, “Cut the camera, kid. I need to talk to them off record.”

Slater brought the camera down to his lap, but Meredith noticed the green recording button stayed on. Slater did that a lot, likely from his time in the porn industry. He never missed a money shot.

“Firstly, I want to congratulate all of you on your successes up to this point. There have been ghosts, there have been tensions, it has been great entertainment, and the numbers blew out of the water all of our expectations when we planned the pilot episode and stream,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his feet.

“Have you ever heard of a shit sandwich?” he asked.

“I have,” said Meredith, raising her hand as if they were in class because she saw the others do it. “It means you compliment, criticize, then compliment, and it’s purpose is to make the listener realize you’re not trying to hurt them, because you like the product, but improve it nonetheless.”

“Wordy,” said Marshall, his face scrunched in a sneer. “But close enough.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Jeremiah.

“So, here’s your shit sandwich,” continued Marshall, his voice oily with corporate sleaze.

“Despite numbers being faboo, despite ghosts being constant, people are tapering off in interest. Yeah, sure, it’s great to see a real live dead ghost on screen in a stream in real time and watch the people react, but we want more to this stream than that.

We want human emotion. We want connection… ”

“How is this a shit sandwich?” Jeremiah repeated his earlier question.

“We need a romance element,” Marshall explained. “Maybe a love triangle? Maybe a love square? I don’t know, but to be honest, we figured if we put people in their twenties in the same house, it would work itself out.” He shrugged. “So far, you people are boring.”

As the only female in the group, Meredith felt heat flooding her cheeks again. There was always a chance, despite their limited options and close proximity, the men simply didn’t find her attractive, something the network execs likely thought of already.

“Are you adding another female, to sex it up more?” asked Meredith, proud her voice didn’t crack on the question, despite it stinging her pride.

“No!” Marshall said with a smile. “We already have you, and they already like you. We have tons of video of them staring at you longingly, so it’s great!”

New heat flooded her cheeks, and she felt a little lightheaded. She didn’t dare look at either Bodie or Jeremiah, knowing they meant they had video of them looking at her. So, they were interested? Like, for real real? some teenaged version of Meredith’s memory asked.

She breathed through her nose, still unable to meet anyone else’s eyes, and still wondering furiously if Marshall might be right—if they might like her.

“If you already have tons of footage, what are you asking for?” Bodie asked, snapping to the point.

“Dates,” Marshall said clearly. “I want time alone with her for each of you, a few hours of it a day, to allow the tension to build naturally and organically. We’re not asking you to pretend anything, since the viewers are loving the truthfulness and honesty of the programming, so it isn’t really about changing what you’re doing at all. It’s really about…improving it”

“Improving,” Meredith repeated, finally sneaking a glance at Jeremiah and Bodie. Both men stared at her openly, their interest obvious and blatant.

“So that’s your shit sandwich,” continued Marshall. “Ghosts look great, remodel is going fabulous, interactions are terrific, just add dates.” He clapped his hands, brushing them off as if he finished a task.

“So, the camera will go with us on these dates?” Bodie clarified. “You want to film us with her, but you said you wanted PG13,” he pointed out. “I’m not making any promises.”

Marshall flushed, seeming to realize perhaps for the first time the intimacy of his request and the sheer impropriety.

“It will be for subscribers only, and we will leave you alone if things begin, shall we say, heating up. We’re going for fade to black, not reveal every single sordid detail of your love lives. ”

“How are you so sure that we can date her and maintain a working relationship?” Jeremiah asked, gesturing with a thumb at Meredith. “How are you so sure nobody is going to get jealous?”

“We’re not,” Marshall admitted bluntly in the flat, non-announcer voice. “If there is drama, it will just add to the subscribers and merch sales, silly boy.”

As he walked away, he gestured with one hand and said, “Slater, start filming again. We want one of them tonight, mind you. Set it up.”

Meredith gulped. “Did we just get ordered to date and remodel a hoarder house with a budget of less than 20k in less than a month?”

“Yep,” agreed Bodie, glancing at Jeremiah. “Rock paper scissors for tonight?”

“I love how everyone automatically assumes I don’t want dates,” Jimothy said with a sniff.

“Do you want to date her?” asked Jeremiah, one brow cocked at his brother.

“No, but we could get coffee and compare your dick sizes, that could be fun,” Jimothy suggested. “So, let me into the schedule, too.”

“Are you seriously going to?—?”

Before she could ask, they in unison said, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

Bodie won the first date, and his eyes scanned over Meredith in a way that made her shiver despite the heat of the day and their roaring fire. “Go put on something nice. We’re going out to dinner, Red.”

“I’m not wearing this.” Meredith stood in the bathroom, the only room they successfully fully emptied down to bare bones so far. The intern or whatever shifted from foot to foot, shoving the black lace confection at her again.

“They said it was in your contract,” random intern replied, eyes closed as they continued to hold the fabric out in offering. “Page forty-seven, section c.”

She never read the damn contract, other than ensuring nothing specifically forbade the use of magical interference, familiars, or anything else that might turn out to be a loophole they could use if they caught her cheating.

She blew out a breath, since if they said it was in there, it seemed likely they probably didn’t lie.

In her experience, she couldn’t trust corporations or entities whatsoever, but they rarely lied.

Like Fae of olde, they kept their word…to the letter.

She accepted the black fabric then slammed the door in the intern’s face.

It wasn’t their fault, but still, she had to take out her frustration where she could.

Gary, perched on the sink, purred at her.

“You’re nervous,” he pointed out. “I haven’t seen that in a long time. ”

“Shut up,” she snapped, not wanting to talk about it.

She considered her reflection in the mirror for a few long seconds, taking the time to breathe and ground herself.

In a blink, she replaced her clothing with the outfit they picked for her—a black lace dress over a nearly nude underfabric.

Off the shoulder, it tucked in tight at the waist before flaring out and ending in fringy dangles near her knee that matched the seam at the top, which sliced like a line from shoulder to shoulder.

Pulling her hair out of the restraint she used during the day while manning the fire, the thick red curls fell around her shoulders in a tumble, and she added a touch of red lipstick to further the drama.

“This should get them some decent ratings,” Meredith said aloud, before she puckered up and kissed the mirror, leaving behind a red lip print.

“You look hot, not going to lie,” Gary said, washing his face as if not paying too close of attention to her, though she saw his whiskers twitching in consideration. “You going to tell me yet why you’re so nervous about dinner with a guy? It isn’t like it’s your first date.”

“You always say that like I’m old,” she snarked, giving him a scowl, but the cat wasn’t wrong. In witch years, she had been around a while, even if she still looked early twenties. “I’m not nervous because it is a date.”

“So…?” Gary blinked at her, waiting.

Blowing out a breath, Meredith sat on the toilet, since the bathroom was the only guaranteed camera-free zone. “I like him,” she admitted.

“That’s handy,” replied the feline.

“I like Jeremiah, too,” she pointed out.

“You also like Jimothy,” the cat agreed.

“That’s different.”

If a cat could give a satisfied grin, Gary would’ve. “So, it sounds like they’re going to try to pretend there is a love triangle, which means they’re actually going to pay you to date the two hot men. Since when is that something that would bother you?”

“Since I liked them the way I like them,” she said, frustrated because she knew it didn’t explain things away. “Just trust me. This is a bad idea.”