Haunted Hideout: Paranormal Suspense (The Haunted Ones Book 1)

by Dorey, Michelle

  “Look,” I said, “If I give you this extra money, you have to promise me you’ll buy food with it.” I leaned forward a little. “And only something to eat. No booze or drugs. You gotta eat something, mmister.”

  He cackled. “You just called me ‘mister’.” He grinned, and after looking at the mess his teeth were, I wish he hadn’t. “Been a long time since I been called that.” He reached out for the money.

  I snatched my hand back. “No. You have to promise me. A real promise.”

  His eyes were riveted on the money. “Sure. Cross my heart, hope ta die, alright?” He even did the thing with his fingers across his chest, and held out his hand again.

  I shook my head no. “I want a real promise. Swear on…” I paused and looked into his eyes. “Swear on the memory of the person you’ve loved the most.” I have nooo clue where that came from, okay? But it had an effect.

  His head rocked back like I had slapped him. “Dorothy?” he said. “I gotta swear on Dorothy?” His eyes misted. “I ain’t thought of her in a long time, ma’am.”

  “Swear on Dorothy, and get something to eat, okay mister?”

  He kept his eyes downcast. “I swear on Dorothy LaRussa that I’ll use this money only to get something to eat.” He lifted his head. “Promise.” His eyes were filled with sorrow and loss. Looking at his face broke my heart.

  “I believe you. Here.” I passed the two bills to him and they disappeared.

  He cackled at me. “Maybe I’ll buy bourbon balls at some chocolate shop, huh?” He waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll eat pizza.” He then smacked his lips. “No! There’s a White Castle just a few stops down!” His eyes got soft. “I ain’t thought about Dorothy in a long, long time, ma’am.” The forlorn expression was replaced by a smile. Sure, it was wistful and bittersweet, but it was a smile. “God, I loved her.” He tipped me a two-fingered salute, “Thank you for that memory, ma’am,” and turned away. I watched him approach his next victim, a well-heeled corporate woman in a black silk Donna Karan jacket.

  Just as the next train’s doors closed and pulled out of the station. Damn. I almost laughed. No good deed goes unpunished.

  ‘Ma’am!’ Did I look that old? Sure, I didn’t have time to put any makeup on but how many ma’ams wear Zara leggings with three-inch stilettos? I pulled out my Clinique compact and flipped open the mirror. Yeah, I looked like hell. But not like a ‘ma’am,’ okay? I looked like your average, hungover, twenty-three-year-old student in a rush to get to class. That’s all.

  If it was really bad, a visit to one of the doctors up in midtown could straighten it out, no problem. I’ll worry about that after I finish school and start auditioning. By then I’d have an agent who would tell me flat out if I needed some work done or not. I was still checking for crow’s-feet and laugh lines—none!—when the next train pulled in with its screeches and clatters.

  Twenty minutes later I entered the brick brownstone which housed the American Academy of Drama and took a deep breath to clear my head. My heels tocked-tocked on the terrazzo floor, while the sounds of voices raised in reciting scripts drifted from the rooms I raced by. I had only gone two steps up the broad stairway when a voice stopped me cold.

  “Ms. Swanson?”

  Oh damn. I knew that voice. I’d sat across from the director of the school just last week. With my heart in my throat, I turned and managed a small smile. “Yes, Mr. Morris? Can I see you later? I’m late and I really have to—”

  “No. I’m afraid we need to talk. Now. Follow me, if you would be so kind.” He pushed the thick-framed glasses up his aquiline nose and spun on his heels, the overhead light casting a glare on his bald head as he strode down the hall.

  For a moment all I could do was stand there clutching the handrail and blink. This couldn’t be good. The last time I’d sat in that office, he’d given me the lecture about how privileged I was to be attending this exclusive school, and the whole Meisner spiel that “acting was living truthfully in an imaginary world.” And of all the times for him to be roaming the hall, it just had to be when I was running late! Shit!

  I trudged down the steps and walked down the corridor into his office, just in time to see him pluck a wilted leaf from the ivy plant on the windowsill. His smile was tight under flinty gray eyes which zeroed in on me like a bird of prey. He pulled out the chair in front of the desk and with a slight gesture indicated for me to take a seat.

  My muddled mind kicked into high gear. “I’m sorry I’m late for class today. My roommate’s mother was in a car accident and I was up late with her at the hospital.” Please God, let the acting classes pay off enough for him to buy it. I sat down into the seat and leaned forward, giving my best wide-eyed, innocent look.

  “Miss Brady. While it is tragic about your roommate’s mother...” With fingers steepled, he placed his forefingers across his lips, and cleared his throat. “Keira, why exactly did you enroll in this school? What is it you want from this program?”

  Duh. It was hard not to roll my eyes. “I want to be an actress, of course.” Something he was preventing right now, with this crap in his office. I should be in class, or anywhere, but right there.

  “And how do you see yourself in that profession?” He genuinely looked perplexed as if he had no idea what his school was all about.

  My lips twitched in a smile. This was so obvious, it was dead simple. “Successful. Maybe in Hollywood getting millions for every picture, or a sweet gig on a successful TV series.” I shrugged, because it really didn’t matter which one. “Either way, my...” I arched an eyebrow, “profession would encompass glamour, followed by fans and stalked by paparazzi.” I twirled a lock of hair around my finger and shrugged again, already seeing myself on the cover of People magazine. Movies or television, I wasn’t picky.

  His eyebrows rose above the rim of his glasses, making an accordion of his forehead. “Like a Kardashian, perhaps?”

  The grin now spread across my lips. I’d give my eyeteeth to be a household name like them. “Well, they are pretty famous and rich.”

  His hand slapped the desk, making me pop back in my chair.

  “Wrong! The world doesn’t need another Kardashian! The correct answer would have been a reference to the craft, your passion to become another person on the stage.” He sighed and pushed the glasses up onto the top of his shiny dome. “Do you know how many students applied for the program this year? We turned hundreds of applicants away. You wouldn’t be here except for your parents. I accepted you as a favor to Richard and Susan.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

  My heart was in my mouth but my words rushed past it. “But, Mr. Morris, I do like to act. I mean... like I might not have said it right awaaay... but it’s true.” Even to my own ears it rang hollow. There were too many early morning classes, too many scripts to memorize. It was grittier and tougher than even the photography program last year. But if I didn’t finish this, what would I do?

  He huffed a chuckle and shook his head. “Keira, that’s probably the best performance I’ve seen in a while. I’d like to think that you learned that acting skill here, but even I’m not that delusional to buy it.”

  Ignoring his sarcasm, I plodded ahead. “Please Mr. Morris. Give me another chance. I’ll prove to you I can do this.”

  He just shook his head and his eyes were downcast. “I’ll send a partial refund of the tuition to your parents.” He stood up and extended his hand, ending the session.

  Oh no. That was the final shot. Mom and Dad would know and then there’d be hell to pay. I pushed myself up and my hand was numb shaking his. “I wish I could say this has been a pleasure but...” My mouth pulled to the side and I tugged my shoulder strap higher.

  “Good luck, Keira. I’m sorry this didn’t work out for you here.” He stepped from behind the desk and his hand rested on my arm for a moment. He actually did sound like he regretted all this, but it was probably having to give the money back to my folks.

  “Sure.�
� I shrugged and my face hurt when I smiled. “What is it they say? One door closes but another opens?” The hangover was the least of my problems now. I walked out of his office and down the hall looking at the doors of the classrooms where I’d been just the day before. I wouldn’t miss the early mornings or getting chewed out for flubbing my lines anymore. Screw it.

  Outside, the morning sun streamed gold across the sidewalk. A monarch butterfly swooped by and landed on the wrought-iron railing next to me. It perched there, gently waving its bright wings as I stepped down the stairs. I stopped and watched it for a few moments and then smiled. It was a harbinger of something better. I just knew it.

  As far back as I could remember, I always saw a monarch just before something special would happen. When I was seven years old I saw one on my way home from school, came through the door to find out Mom and Dad were taking me to Disney World.

  “I hope you got something for me, Mister Monarch,” I said. “Because I’m having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”

  It flapped its wings twice then fluttered away.

  The vibration of my phone in my bag was followed by my favorite dance tune. I scooped it out, almost running into a jogger who was racing by.

  The screen showed Cerise, my partner in, if not crime, then for sure, drunken debauchery. I smiled when I held it to my ear, remembering the hotties who hit on us the night before.

  “Hey girlfriend.”

  “Hey yourself. How you feeling today? I think I’m still wasted.” Her words were a little slurred.

  “Think you got it bad? I just got kicked out of school... again!” It felt good to have a shoulder to cry on. God only knew, my parents wouldn’t be sympathetic.

  “What? No. Way! Why’d they give you the boot?” Her voice blared and I had to pull the phone away. The hangover was starting over again and between her baying and the air brakes of the buses stopping next to me, the pounding in my head came back full force.

  I sighed and for a nanosecond tears flooded my vision. “I don’t know. Morris caught me coming in late. He reamed me out about this not being the thing for me, my motivations... yadda, yadda.” I stood at the corner waiting for the light to change, watching businesspeople in Brooks Brothers’ suits scurry by like mice on a treadmill.

  “What the hell does he know? Sounds like he was bullying you. Maybe you should get a lawyer and sue his sorry ass right to hell and back. He can’t just kick you out. You paid a shitload of tuition.”

  “I wish.” I jerked to the side when the person behind me, some Goth teenager in a black hoodie, bumped into me.

  “Hey jerk! Watch where you’re going! I’m walking here!” he barked at me.

  I shook my head, glanced at the green light and continued walking. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll figure out something. There’s got to be more to life than getting up at the crap of dawn and putting up with their bullshit.”

  “That’s the spirit! Hey! We should go out tonight. Console you with multiple vodka gimlets. Alcohol therapy’s the best.”

  My stomach rolled at the thought of anything other than soda crackers and maybe marshmallows... big fat, monster marshmallows on top of juicy melon chunks. Still, Cerise had a point. After the first drink, whatever vestige of a hangover I would have would disappear. Maybe those guys would be there. “I’m in. The Underground again?”

  “For sure! Catch up with you there at ten-ish?”

  “Absolutely! Ciao, baby!” I clicked off and headed down the stairs to the subway, leaving my cares on the street above. I could pick up some Chinese and then pass out for a few hours. If those guys were there, I wouldn’t have to worry about buying drinks.

  I’d think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life tomorrow.

  TWO

  WHEN THE PHONE RANG THE NEXT DAY, I groaned seeing my mother’s name on the display. News traveled fast, it seemed, especially if it was bad.

  “Hi Mom.” I wandered into the narrow galley kitchen, rummaging in the fridge for anything edible. This was going to be a call which required some fortification. I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder and peeled the lid from a container of yogurt.

  “Keira! I just heard from Alex Morris. You were kicked out of school, again!” Her words were like bullets from a machine gun piercing my ear.

  My eyes closed for a moment and I slumped down into the kitchen chair. “Yes. I showed up late and he threw me out. Can you believe that? I was doing so well and—”

  “You weren’t doing well! His email contained a progress report from the instructors there. Keira, you missed fourteen classes! There’d only been fifty six at this point in the curriculum! You blew off a third of your classes!” Her voice was cutting my head in two. Hangovers two days in a row were painful.

  “No! That isn’t right. Maybe I was late but I didn’t miss them entirely. He’s exaggerating. I swear, he never wanted me there. It’s—”

  “Enough!” There was silence for a moment or two followed by a sharp sigh. “You need to come home. Be here tonight at six thirty.”

  “Tonight’s not good. I made plans with Cerise to go to the new Star Wars movie. Maybe, on the weekend?” Actually, it was a lie but there was no way I was getting together with Mom, not until she calmed down. Give her a few days and she’d be all right.

  “This isn’t a request, Keira. It’s a family meeting. Your father and I need to talk to you. And just so you know, the credit card and bank account we set up for you is canceled. I’m afraid it’s going to be a little hard for you to go out with your friends without money.”

  My mouth fell open and the Kiwi yogurt slid off the spoon which was halfway to my lips. No money! Holy cow, this was serious. “You can’t do that. My name is on those accounts.”

  She let out a bitter chuckle. “I just did, Keira. And another thing... pack your things. I’ve contacted your landlord and your lease is officially broken. You need to be out of there in three days time for the new tenant.”

  I leapt out of the chair, striding across the kitchen. She couldn’t do this to me! “Does Dad know about this?” My words were short and clipped.

  “I know.” It was my father’s low voice breaking through the blinding rage in my head.

  “What? You know?” My eyes opened wide. He was my only ray of hope. Surely he’d take pity on me. I was his little girl, after all. My tone became softer, wheedling even. “Daddy, please. Give me a break, will ya? What am I going to—”

  “Just be here, Keira.” His voice was followed by a soft click.

  The disappointment in his voice brought tears to my eyes. Or was it the fact I’d lost him as an ally? My mother’s voice broke through once more.

  “I’ll expect you at six thirty—sharp.” Sharp, just like her tone.

  My jaw tightened. “Oh yeah? How am I supposed to get across town without money? Huh? How’s that gonna work out for you?”

  “I don’t know or care. Walk, if you have to.” There was a click, not so gentle this time.

  I tossed the phone onto the counter and my hands scraped through my hair. This couldn’t be happening! What the hell was wrong with them!

  I looked around at my kitchen. Sure it was small and the countertop was ancient and cracked but it was mine! I’d put the cute little fridge magnets on the old white appliance to jazz it up. Now the yawning jaws of the hippopotamus seemed to be laughing... at me. The loopy-necked giraffe cast a knowing sneer my way. Even the sunflower on the tea towels seemed to wilt and fade.

  It had taken weeks to find this place! Even though it was a basement apartment, it was in the heart of Greenwich Village. What about the coffee shop down the block, and the organic grocery where they knew me by name?

  Tears ran down my face as I went into my bed-sitting room and looked around. All of the things I’d bought to imprint me on this place would be gone soon. The bright yellow throw cushions, the blue paisley comforter, the rug from Mexico. I fell down on the oversized bed and buried my head in the plush
pillows.