4
Roe
The way I see it,if I’m going insane or being haunted, at least I’ll enjoy myself. My apparition is fucking gorgeous. Or my imagination does good work. I suspected as much in the hotel but up close and personal she’s a knockout.
At first glance, she might be mistaken for the typical California Blonde, but the longer I study her shocked expression, the harder it is to tear my gaze away. That round and innocent-looking face has already burned its way into my memory. Her eyes slant up, like that Icelandic supermodel, giving an air of bashfulness even now as they widen in surprise. Her skin is warm and smooth, and her pulse beats wildly against my fingertips.
She rips her hand away and holds it to her body in horror. She hasn’t responded to me. What, am I not supposed to talk to her? Is this some sort of trap? Had Paul not looked right through her I’d think this is some prank.
Her mouth opens and closes, her light eyebrows high in surprise. A sound, garbled and far away, leaves her mouth—like drifting to sleep and hearing someone call your name.
“I can’t hear you if you’re trying to say something,” I say. “I didn’t know ghosts could talk. Are you dead?”
She frowns with an intense glare. Her lips move and I get the distinct impression I’m being chided. I’m torn between wanting to offer her a coat… and not. Fingers snap silently in front of my face, drawing my attention back up as an arm covers her, a little too late if you ask me. She’s clearly ranting about something but I still can’t hear her.
“Yeah, still can’t hear you,” I say, pointing to my ear. Maybe she’s the ghost of some old-timey actress, killed too young. She has the vibe. Her beauty is striking with flawless, glowing skin. But her hair is long and styled in a trendy way. Not retro at all. Even though her face is crystal clear, her body shimmers slightly as though she’s behind fogged glass. Her legs are pulled up and crossed, otherwise, I’d be getting a full show.
“I wonder…” My hand rests on her knee. It’s warm and smooth as I run it higher up her thigh.
Her hand shoots out to smack my cheek. Very real, the sharp sting assures me.
“Sorry.” I take my hand back.
The haziness around her disappears and she snaps into focus.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the woman yells.
“You can talk?” I flinch back.
“What do you think?” She pulls herself in tighter. “Stop looking at me like that. Stop touching me. I have to think.” Her knees tuck tighter against her chest, her elbows keeping her closed up tight as she rubs her temples. “This makes no sense. The other guy didn’t see me.” I don’t think she’s talking to me.
“If you don’t want people to look at your goods, then maybe you shouldn’t be butt-ass naked in a public theater.”
“No. It’s not like that. I can’t believe this—wait, did you just say ‘butt-ass naked’?”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. You dolt, it’s ‘buck-ass naked.’” She shakes her head and suddenly I like it a lot better when I can’t hear her. “That isn’t the point. The point is you shouldn’t be able to see me.” Goose bumps break out over her skin as she shudders.
“You’re alive?” I ask.
“Yes. I’m alive. You get a gold star.”
“Hey, I’m not sure why you’re mad at me for you being buck-ass naked,” I enunciate clearly, “but there’s no way this is my fault.” I did run my hand up her thigh. I throw my arms up in the air and point with one finger where I grazed the soft skin. “You can’t blame me for that. I wasn’t sure you were corporeal.”
She stills then studies me with a frown. Despite the chill, her cheeks turn pink. “Yeah, well, I give you a point for knowing ‘corporeal.’ But you can’t just go touching whomever you please.”
“I know that.” My ears burn.
“And can you do something about those eyebrows?” She glowers more fiercely.
“What’s wrong with my eyebrows?” I slowly lower them when I register their location on my forehead. “People love my eyebrows.”
“I’m sure they do. Too low,” she adds.
“Hey now—”
“Turn around.”
