Haunt Water

by Leigh Selfman

  Just then the daughter/waitress comes out, holding Trevor's doggy bag.

  I take it and both Trevor and I thank Anabella profusely (though I do it with a lot less saliva.) Then I leave a big tip and we take off.

  "Well, Trevor," I say when we're back in the car, driving home. "I guess the script got it right after all. The evil ghost definitely did it, and the fact that he keeps moving that knife around doesn't mean anything more than that he likes to play with knives."

  I look at Trevor for a response but he's too busy sniffing the edges of the doggie bag, to pay me much mind. Admittedly, they do smell great. In fact, except for the fact that they’re shaped like bones and fire hydrants, they look like regular sugar cookies topped with frosting.

  I almost consider tasting one, since according to the menu they're made with all natural, healthy ingredients. But as if reading my mind, Trevor shoots me a look and then sticks his snout right into the bag – thereby claiming them all for himself.

  "So selfish," I say.

  He sits back, a self- satisfied expression on his face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  As soon as I get home, I put Trevor inside my bungalow and head next door to talk to Gabriel. It's been days and I feel like I need to have some kind of communication with him, no matter how it turns out. Even if we wind up fighting.

  If he wants to break up with me – I'll have to just deal with it because at this point I really can’t handle being ignored.

  Or so I tell myself.

  His car is in the driveway, and I hear Buster bark as I walk up to his door - so I'm pretty sure he's home. Which makes me a little nervous.

  My heart starts doing a drum solo in my chest and I realize I really, really don’t want to break up. But it’s too late to turn back now. Buster, obviously sensing my presence, is now barking to beat the band.

  I have no choice…I ring the doorbell. A moment later he answers. (Gabriel not Buster.)

  "Hey," he says, in his low voice.

  I'm trying to read his face for clues (story of my life) and I can’t help but notice that he doesn’t have the light in his eyes that he usually gets when he sees me.

  "Hi," I say. I smile, or maybe it's more of a half-smile.

  He doesn't smile back. Which I think is a pretty big clue.

  "Sorry, Arden, but I really have to get back to work. I have a deadline. So..."

  "Oh. Okay. I was just hoping we could talk or..."

  "Now's not a good time."

  "Oh. Okay." My voice cracks.

  I hurry away before I start crying.

  I get inside and Trevor jumps up and circles around, greeting me like I've been gone for a few months rather than a few minutes. I scoop him up and sit down on the couch, telling myself not to cry. Then I proceed to cry. To really cry. A long, good cry, if you can ever call crying ‘good’. Then I take a short nap and I wake up, feeling sad.

  I just can't believe how cold Gabriel’s being to me. That he's really ditching me over this ghost thing. It doesn't make sense.

  I consider going over and trying to talk to him again but he was so icy. He clearly didn’t want to talk. Instead I get up and go over to the window to look out. And as I do, I see a face staring back at me in the dark.

  I shriek and jump back.

  The curtain falls closed.

  As I hold my hand to my pounding heart, I take a deep breath - which is when I realize who the face belongs too.

  "Tony!" I say angrily as I open the curtain again. But the tabloid photographer is nowhere to be found.

  I stalk over to the front door and open it up and without even waiting for an invitation (which was not going to come) he brushes past me and comes inside, saying, "We need to talk."

  I stare at him, speechless.

  Seriously, the nerve of some people.

  "Tony! You can’t just barge in and…”

  "Listen Arden. You haven't been coming through for me, as per our deal." He shoots me a look of disappointment as he goes over to the coffee table where the script is sitting open.

  "Hey, is this the movie they’re shooting? They've been keeping it all pretty hush hush but maybe if I read the script I could get some ideas for some angles on our story."

  As he lifts the script up and starts to flip through it, I hurry over and grab it out of his hands. "Absolutely not,” I say. “I signed a nondisclosure. And I already told you, I'm not going to tell you anything about the ghost or the movie or anything like that. I'll do what I can to find out about Buck Ames’s love life but that's it. And even then – I’m not going to get much because I barely talk to Buck. He maybe says hello to me and that's it. It's not like he's going to confide in me about the latest starlet he's dating."

  "Well you better do what you can to get him to confide," Tony says ominously.

  I'm just about to tell him how impossible that is. And not just because I turn into a babbling idiot around Buck – when just then, the doorbell rings.

  Please be Gabriel, I pray. Please be Gabriel.

  I go to answer the door and to my utter surprise, I see none other than Buck Ames.

  "Oh my gosh," I say.

  He gives me a slow smile. "Is this a bad time?" he asks.

  Yes! Very!

  "No. Of course not. Um just give me a second. I slam the door shut and look at Tony in horror. I can't be caught harboring a tabloid journalist in my apartment. That would ruin me for sure.

  "You have to get out of here," I say, grabbing Tony by the arm and pulling him into the kitchen, towards the side door.

  "Is that really Buck?" Tony asks, resisting my efforts to get him out of my apartment. "And after you just told me you never even talk to him?" He shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Is that what our relationship has come to? Lies and deceit?"

  “It was always about lies and deceit,” I mutter as I wrangle him to the side door and try to shove him outside.

  But he resists, seeing that the area on the side is walled in on all sides. "I'm not going out there in the dark."

  "Listen, you want me to spy for you, right? Then don't blow it. Just wait out here ‘til I'm done. Or if you want, climb over that wall and out into the alley. You’re probably used to doing stuff like that, right?"

  He looks at the high wall that's topped off by a dangerously spiky fence. He shakes his head in irritation. "Just speed it up," he tells me.

  "I'll try," I mumble as I close the door behind him. I pause to catch my breath. Then I smooth down my hair and go to answer the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "Hey, I'm really sorry for intruding," Buck says, as I open the door to let him inside. He looks at me, his blue eyes sparkling like jewels. "I hope you don't mind, I got your address off the call sheet. But I thought I heard you talking. So if you're busy..." He glances around to see if anyone else is home.

  Is he one of the most gorgeous humans ever?

  "Yes."

  "What?” His beautiful eyes look surprised. “You’re busy?”

  "No. Not at all. I just meant, um...yes. I'm happy you came by. And that you didn't intrude at all! Come on in. I just had to...um...get off the phone."

  He smiles and follows me inside. "So Arden, the thing is…”

  As he talks, he goes over to a tall white candlestick holder that's sitting on the end table near my sofa. He picks up and runs his finger along it, and though he probably doesn't realize it, it's an insanely sexy thing to do.

  “The thing is…I don't want to insult Phil. I mean I know how much time and work he put into writing the script. But it's just that since this whole thing started...with the ghost or whatever, I'm just worried that maybe the script got it wrong. I mean... I love this project. I love how it’s written - but only if it's true. Y'know?”

  He looks at me and it’s as if his eyes are staring right through me. “I mean…If the ghost is like... telling you something, or communicating something else to you, I want to know. I need to know, to make it authentic.”


  I nod eagerly. "Right. Yes. Of course I get it. I understand what you're saying. But Buck," I'm just about to tell him that so far, nothing I've learned contradicts the story as it’s written. But just then, I happen to glance over at the kitchen – and see Tony’s beady little eyes peering back at me.

  "Oh no."

  "What? Is something wrong?" Buck puts the candle down and moves closer to me. Boy does he smell good. Like a mixture of a clean sandy beaches, mixed with expensive something…soap, maybe. Or aftershave. Or maybe it’s just how movie stars smell.

  "Um...I just remembered...I have to walk Trevor. Trevor!” I look around and spot him on his bed in the corner. “Trevor has to go out, right now!" I say as I walk quickly across the living room and over to where he’s curled up, trying to draw Buck's focus towards me and away from Tabloid Tony.

  "Now?" Buck looks over at Trevor who is conked out on his bed, dead to the world.

  "Yes. He's on a schedule." I laugh nervously as I lean down and rub Trevor's neck to wake him up. He opens his eyes and stretches, then closes his eyes again.

  "Sorry Trev," I whisper as I lift him up and carry him to the front door. On the way out, I grab his leash and clip it onto his collar. Then I open the door and head outside. Thankfully, Buck follows me out.

  I place a still-sleepy Trevor down on the front stoop and turn to close the door behind me. And as I do, I peer inside for Tabloid Tony – eager to give him a death-stare -- but he seems to have disappeared. Or at least he's no longer visible in the kitchen doorway. I can only hope that he ducked out through the side door, and went away.

  Though my hopes for that aren't high.

  The thought occurs that he could he have gone into my bedroom - which is beyond creepy. But there's nothing I can do about it now.

  "So, the ghost?"

  "Huh?" I turn to face Buck.

  "The ghost. I'm just wondering, did you sense anything that leads you to believe the script is wrong?"

  "Oh right," I say, coming back to reality and trying to force myself to focus.

  On the bright side, my worry over Tabloid Tony has got me so distracted that I’m not the blabbering, star-struck idiot that I usually am in Buck's presence.

  "Right. No. I didn't actually learn much of anything," I say. "I mean, I thought the ghost might be trying to tell me something, what with that moved knife and everything. Like maybe he didn’t really do it, or something. But then I went to talk to Anabella Klee, and according to her, Duke definitely did it. There's no question."

  "Really." Buck nods, taking it in. "But I thought she didn't remember anything about the murders. How'd you even get her to talk to you anyway? Phil said he tried to contact her and she wouldn't talk to him about it at all."

  "I have my ways," I smile. "And it turns out that some of Anabella's memory has come back. She says she clearly remembers that Duke did it. She remembers him holding the knife and coming towards her, threatening to kill her."

  "Yeah?” Buck listens intently as I speak. “Huh. Well that's good. I mean...you know what I mean. But listen..." he pins me with those baby blues. "What else can you tell me. I really want to get this guy down right. I want my performance to be real, you know? Is there anything you can tell me. Anything he's communicated that would help me really nail this character?"

  I want to help Buck - I really do. I want to be the inspiration for his performance. To be the one he thanks right after his agent and the academy.

  But unfortunately, I have nothing to offer him. "Well he's really angry," I say with a shrug. After all, I have to say something and that one's pretty obvious. Anyone who went nuts and killed all those people would have to have some pretty serious rage inside, right?

  Buck nods, looking serious and focused and intense - and did I mention...gorgeous.

  I glance over toward Gabriel's window hoping he'll look out and see me with Mr. Handsome movie star, and maybe get jealous enough to want me back. Or at least start talking to me again.

  But no such luck.

  "But why is he so angry?" Buck asks.

  I sigh and close my eyes.

  Why is he so angry?

  I have no clue.

  But I do know that one shouldn't walk with their eyes closed.

  "Ow!" I say, as I nearly trip over a tree trunk in my front yard. Buck grabs me and I reach for him, clutching onto his forearm to keep my balance. As I do...the world suddenly starts spinning like a top.

  Everything gets vague and blurry. I blink hard, trying to focus. When I can finally see clearly, I realize that I'm on the deck of the Andrea Clair. We're out at sea. Out in the middle of the blue, blue ocean.

  Somehow…I’m there watching as Duke and Mr. Baker sit at a table, drinking beer.

  Mr. Baker looks enraged. “You can't know what's best for me or my family!” he screams, red-faced with anger.

  “No. Of course not.” Duke smiles at him, blinking slowly, like a cat. He takes another sip of his beer, then continues. “Alls I know is my old man sent me to military academy and it was the worst thing in the world for me. I mean seriously. Just look at the kid. Look at him. He's creative. He's not meant for the military.”

  “Which is exactly why he needs the discipline that military academy will give him!” Mr. Baker yells. “It worked for me! It worked for my old man!” Mr. Baker slams his beer down on the table so hard that the bottle breaks.

  Duke picks up the jagged, broken bottle and touches the sharp end of it with his finger. A pinprick of blood seeps out. He stares at it, then puts it in his mouth and licks off the blood.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Feeling like I’m about to suffocate, I gasp for air and open my eyes.

  Suddenly, everything is back the way it should be. I’m in my front yard, standing next to Trevor.

  I look up, to find Buck looking at me with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay, Arden?"

  “Yeah.” I nod and pull my hand away. "I just...I just had the strangest vision."

  I take a deep breath and try to get my bearings. "It was so weird. I was with Mr. Baker and Duke. We were on the boat and I was watching them argue about sending Hugh to military academy."

  "You're kidding. Really? You just saw that? Just now?"

  I nod and swallow hard. "Yeah. It was terrifying. Duke picked up a broken glass beer bottle and cut his finger a little. He was looking at the blood, enthralled. It was creepy."

  Buck is staring at me, a bemused expression on his face. "Does that happen a lot? These visions?"

  "No, not at all. It usually only happens if I'm where the ghost is. Or if I’m holding onto an object that belonged to the ghost or…something.” I shrug.

  "Huh. An object that belonged to the ghost?" Buck says with a thoughtful nod. "I bet I know what happened." He holds up his arm and shows me his watch. "You grabbed onto my arm. Right over this watch. Which used to belong to Duke. Or so the story goes."

  "It did?" I frown and look at the big, silver watch encircling Buck’s tanned wrist. It has big white numbers on a deep red watch face.

  "Yeah,” Buck says, unbuckling it. “Phil lent it to me to wear during the shoot. He got it online or something. He wore it the whole time he was writing the script. It supposedly belonged to Duke himself."

  "Wow."

  Buck takes off the watch and holds it out to me. "See, it's inscribed and everything."

  I back away from it. "No thanks. I'll take your word for it. I don't want to go anywhere near that thing again. Thanks anyway."

  He smiles. "Yeah. I get it. But hey, thank you, Arden. You gave me something interesting to go on for my role. The fact that Duke went to military academy - and that he and Mr. Baker argued about it. It sounds like he maybe had some issues with authority."

  "Yeah. Exactly," I say, realizing that that's probably true. "Well, I’m just glad to help."

  Buck smiles, then he looks at the watch. "Well, I better bounce. See you tomorrow on set. Oh and hey...” He gives me a look that makes my knees go weak. �
�Arden, you mentioned that you wrote a script about all this ghostly stuff, right? Why don't you bring a copy to set tomorrow? I'd like to take a look. I was never into any of that kind of stuff before…but since this whole experience, it's becoming a lot more interesting to me."

  "Really? Yes, okay. That'd be great,” I say. Then I watch him go, unable to stop a huge smile from spreading across my face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Buck Ames wants to read my script! I can’t believe it.

  I head back up the three steps to my bungalow, then I stop. I really want to go next door and tell Gabriel the great news. In fact, I need to.

  So before even giving it a second thought, I head over to Gabriel’s bungalow. But as I get closer to his place, my pace slows until finally, I come to a complete stop.

  I can’t go over there.

  I keep seeing Gabriel's expression in my mind- how he looked when he told me he was too busy to talk to me. It was like a slap in the face. There’s just no way I can deal with that again. Not right now.

  Besides which, I suddenly remember that my own bungalow is infested with a tabloid reporter! Who is still lurking somewhere inside.

  So I hurry back over to my place and go inside to deal with Tony.

  “TONY! TONY WHERE ARE YOU?" I call out, as I step inside.

  Not seeing him in the living room, Trevor and I proceed to go from room to room to room to room - which actually only takes a few seconds, as I have only two smallish bedrooms, a dining room/ living room combo, a kitchen and laundry room.

  When I see neither hide nor hair of Tony in any of these rooms, I go to check the bathroom, just in case. Nope. Not there either.

  So I head back through the kitchen and over to the side door to look outside. He's not in the little enclosed space out there, and there’s really no other place he could be -- which tells me that he probably scaled the wall and escaped into the alley, after all.

  Well...at least he's gone. And good riddance.