Page 12 of A Haunting at Keystone Manor

Brandon calls after me as I leave. “You don’t pay me!”

***

After some searching, I find Jake lounging on his bed in room three, staring at the ceiling. This can’t be good for him. The man needs to get out more.

“Hey, Jake. I was just looking for you.” He looks at me for a moment before resuming his perusal of the ceiling. I look up and see a speck of dust on the ceiling fan.

I gasp. “You’re so fired, Frankie.”

“Huh? Who’s Frankie?” Jake asks, confused.

“Oh, she’s the cleaner that replaced me. I knew she was too good to be true. Your ceiling fan is filthy.”

“This room has been closed off, when would she have been able to clean?”

I glare at the ceiling fan, knowing I’m being unreasonable, but I’m jealous that she can just waltz in and take my job. I console myself that I’m in management now. I’ve been promoted, and I don’t have time to clean.

“This room is no longer a crime scene. It should have been cleaned,” I say.

“Alex, no one will be staying in this room but me. At least for a while. Don’t be silly. Now, I’m assuming you came in here for a reason?”

“Yes! I was going to ask if you wanted to go on a date with me.”

He chokes on air before regaining his composure. “A date,” he repeats, deadpan.

“Yes, a date. With me. You need to get out more, and I need to work on wooing you.”

“And where would we go on this date? There’s not much for a ghost to do around here at the moment.”

“Well, I was thinking we could check out the living room? I haven’t been in there in a while.”

“You want to take me on a date to the living room,” he confirms.

“Yep, I thought we’d keep it simple today. Now get up. God, you look perfect, you don’t even need to get ready.” I grab his hand and force him up. “Let’s go. I need to update you about the investigation.”

“I never said I agreed, brat.” I try to pull him along, but he stands firm, and I can’t get him to budge. Damn his muscles.

“If anything, you’re the brat here. You need to obey me. Come on.”

"This isn't a date," he repeats.

"Have it your way. It's an outing. You can’t spend all day in this room. It’s not healthy," I say.

"We're not going outside, it can't be an outing."

"Oh my god, are you always this much trouble?"

After considering for a moment, he gives in and reluctantly follows after me. I noticed he hasn’t dropped my hand, so I consider that a win. I look up at him, and he appears almost fond before he schools his expression when he notices me looking. No one can resist my charms for long, it’s impossible.

We get to the living room and–yes! It’s empty. Operation Woo Jake has commenced. He’s so guarded. I want to work on getting him out of his shell and out of the funk he’s been in since his death. I know that it would be too easy for him to sink into a depression and waste his afterlife staring at cracks in the wall. I want him to like me, and I want him to want to be around me, not just tolerate me. I have to tread carefully. I know if I push too hard he’ll pull away again, but at the moment I have him right where I want him. At the very least I have the investigation as an excuse to be around him. Not that it’s much of an investigation. Despite my newfound obsession with true crime, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’ve never investigated anything.

I sit down on the couch and pat the seat beside me. He gives me a withering look and sits on one of the chairs opposite the couch. Playing hard to get. That’s okay, I’m a patient boy. I get him up to speed on my conversation with Brandon. He listens intently, nodding along every once in a while.

He rubs his legs as I finish. “I have to admit, I’m a little nervous. I want to remember what happened, but I know it’s going to be awful. How am I supposed to live with that, after?”

I give him a sympathetic look. I want so badly to hold his hand. “It’ll be hard, I know. I’m nervous too. But Brandon’s guy is a professional. We’re in good hands, I promise, and I’ll be there every step of the way if you need me. I won’t leave you to deal with this on your own.” He nods, seemingly mollified.

“Thanks.”