Within the Shadows

by Brandon Massey

  And Carmen, though she could be a flirt, didn’t need to use sex to get what she wanted. You wanted to please her because she was such a sweetheart.

  He shook his head. Why was he comparing the two of them? He knew Mika as a lover, and Carmen as a friend. He shouldn’t be doing this.

  Carmen noticed his attention. “What’re you looking at?”

  “Uh, can I have some tea, too?”

  “Sure. But you might want to finish off that water first, since ogling me’s got you all hot and bothered.”

  Heat flushed his face. He drank the rest of his water.

  She laughed. “I was only joking. Jeez, you act like a guilty man. Should I change clothes? Throw on something grungy?”

  “No, you’re fine.”

  “Am I? That’s so sweet for you to say that, Drew.”

  “You know what I meant.” But he blushed again. She had an uncanny knack for embarrassing him.

  She came to the table with two glasses of tea and slid into the seat next to him.

  “Back to business,” she said. “Take out your notebook, honey. Time to talk about this ghost of yours.”

  “Okay,” Carmen said, “as far as we know, we’re assuming that the haunting began Monday, at the cookout. With the water running in the bathtub.”

  “Right.” He scribbled, “water running in tub” on a spiral notepad.

  “Next, the ghost knocked over some wineglasses, left the cabinet door open,” she said.

  Nodding, he wrote her words down.

  “Then it turned on the PlayStation, popped in a game, had the volume cranked up,” she said.

  He wrote, “video game incident, volume high.”

  “Lastly, it left not one, but two messages on your computer. Said ‘hello, Andrew’ and ‘don’t be scared.’ Picked up the food you’d spilled on the floor, too, right in front of your eyes.”

  “Yeah.” The memory sent a shiver down his back.

  She snapped her fingers and grinned. “My dear Watson, I think I’ve got it.”

  “What is it?”

  “This ghost has been trying to get your attention. But you weren’t picking up the hints, so it came right out and did something bold today. Something that you couldn’t write off to a bad memory or coincidence.”

  “It’s definitely got my attention now. But why? What does it want?”

  “Don’t know. But I bet I know how you can find out.”

  “How?”

  “You’ve got to ask it, Drew. Ghosts are usually trying to communicate stuff to us, warn us about things, or comfort us, like my granddaddy did for me. You’ve got to start a dialogue with this spirit. Find out who it is, what it wants, and why.”

  He put down the pen. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. I don’t wanna talk to this ghost. I want it to get the hell outta my house.”

  “Okay.” She shrugged. “Then call Ghostbusters.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I don’t know what else to tell you. I think you need to talk to it. I don’t think it plans to hurt you. Why else would it say, ‘don’t be scared’?”

  “But, Carmen . . .” He dragged his hand down his face. She didn’t understand how badly the experience had rattled him. His life had been invaded by the supernatural. Things like this simply did not happen to him. He was a rational guy, with an orderly life. And here she was, telling him to chat with a ghost? It was crazy.

  She touched his hand. “You don’t want to go home, do you?”

  “Not tonight. I want to get some distance, sort this out some more. I wouldn’t sleep for a minute knowing that there’s a presence or whatever in my house.”

  “You can spend the night here,” she said. She added: “In the guest room.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  “But later, I want you to follow my advice. Talk to it. We can sit up here all night spinning theories, better to get some direct answers.”

  “I agree, and I’ll do that,” he said. “Later.”

  She smiled, squeezed his hand.

  He smiled at her, too.

  He didn’t want her to take her hand away from his.

  The doorbell chimed.

  “That should be the pizza,” she said. “My, that was quick.” She rose and walked out of the kitchen.

  He watched her leave. Thoughts about her that went far beyond the boundaries of their platonic friendship flitted through his brain.

  Let it go, man. She’s just a friend. Leave it at that.

  Sighing, he returned his attention to the notepad. He wrote, “next step: talk to the ghost,” and underlined the words.

  Talk to the ghost. Had he entered the twilight zone or what?

  “Andrew, can you come here, please?” Carmen said from the doorway.

  Mulling over what he could possibly discuss with a ghostly visitor, he got up, entered the hallway.

  He stopped.

  Holding a red umbrella and wearing a sugar-sweet smile, Mika waited at the front door.

  Chapter 14

  When Andrew saw Mika waiting at the door, a swarm of questions buzzed through his mind in a matter of a few seconds.

  How did Mika know he was there? Had she followed him? What did she want? Was she going to think he was sleeping with Carmen and cause some drama? What was Carmen going to think of this?

  And again: how did she know he was here?

  He’d lost his ability to speak. A lump as large as a golf ball had lodged in his throat.

  “Andrew, you have a guest,” Carmen said. She addressed him as Andrew only when she was upset with him.

  Mika’s saccharine smile never wavered. Twirling the umbrella, she said, “Goodness, I need to get out of this cold rain,” and stepped inside.

  Closing the door, Carmen shot her a look of thinly concealed disgust.

  Mika acted as if she didn’t notice. She was dressed for a night on the town: black miniskirt, red silk blouse, pumps, platinum jewelry. Her long, wavy hair was freshly styled; her jasmine perfume teased his nostrils.

  She gave him a megawatt smile.

  At last, he found his voice. “Mika, what are you doing here?”

  Mika came forward and grasped his hand. “Oh, darling, don’t you remember that we had dinner plans for this evening? We discussed it this morning—after you left my suite.”

  He blinked. Was she serious?

  “I sent you a message on the pager,” he said. “I won’t be able to make it for dinner. I’ve had a really crazy day and—”

  “Which is why you need to come spend the night with me again, baby,” Mika said. She stroked his arm. “I’ll make it all better.”

  “I don’t need to see any more of this,” Carmen said. Glaring at Andrew, she turned to walk away.

  “Carmen—” Andrew said.

  Mika’s face brightened. “Oh, so this is Carmen? Andrew has told me so many great things about you.”

  “Has he?” Carmen asked. “Funny, he hasn’t told me about you.”

  “He hasn’t?” Mika said. “That’s not too shocking, I suppose. We met only yesterday. My name is Mika.” She extended her hand.

  Carmen shook her hand quickly. She rushed away, saying, “I’ll let you two chat. You must have so much to discuss since you’ve already spent the night together.” She didn’t even look at Andrew.

  Damn. He was in trouble now.

  Mika watched Carmen leave, and pivoted to face Andrew. Her smile fell away.

  “What are you doing over here?” she asked.

  “I need to be asking you that question. Did you follow me here?”

  “I have my ways, especially where my man is concerned.”

  My man? Had he heard her correctly?

  He cleared his throat. “Listen, Mika, it’s not like that between us. I’m not your man. I’ve known you for one day.”

  “How can you say that, Andrew? We had such a fabulous time together, packed months of passion into a few hours.”

  “But it was only one day! That doesn�
��t give you the right to follow me around.”

  “Why are you being so mean to me, baby?” Her eyes glimmered wetly. “I only wanted to see you. After last night, I thought that you cared about me.”

  He wiped his hand down his sweaty face. He wasn’t good at dealing with emotional conflict. It was messy, unpredictable, stressful. His natural inclination was to avoid drama and hope that the problem faded away, took care of itself. But he had the unsettling feeling that Mika wasn’t an issue that was going to be so easily resolved.

  “It’s her, isn’t it?” Mika said. Her gaze sharpened like a knife. “That bitch, Carmen. You’re in love with her.”

  “First of all, she’s not a bitch. Don’t disrespect her like that. And I told you, she’s only a friend.”

  Mika laughed hollowly. “Only a friend? Walking around in high-cut shorts and a tank top that shows off her titties? Are you going to make love to her tonight, Andrew, or are you just going to fuck her, like I guess you did to me?”

  He paused. Stared at her.

  Mika’s eyebrow twitched, as if currents of dangerous energy had overloaded her nerves. At that moment, she seemed capable of anything, and he was afraid of what she might do.

  He looked at her tiny black purse, wondered if she had concealed a gun or a knife in there.

  He backed up a couple of steps.

  “You promised me that I’ve no competition.” She stepped closer.

  “I was telling the truth. We’re only friends.”

  “You better not be lying to me, Andrew. I don’t like liars.”

  She was about five-feet-seven, several inches shorter than he was, and he outweighed her by probably fifty pounds. Physically, she was no match for him. But the steel glint in her gaze promised a fight.

  “Mika, I’m not lying. Really. We’re only friends.”

  Her face softened. “Then come with me tonight, darling.”

  “I can’t, not tonight. We’ll talk about this later. Okay?”

  “I want you tonight.” She draped her hands around his neck, stroked the back of his head.

  The memory of last night’s passion sparked an awakening in his groin. As if they had a mind of their own, his hands moved to her hips.

  She smiled, knowingly. “You want me, too. Your little friend has perked up.”

  He wanted to curse. His body had betrayed him again.

  “I’ve got what he wants,” she said. She moved her hand to his crotch and massaged his erection, which, in spite of himself, was growing more rigid by the second.

  “Mika—” he started.

  “Come with me tonight, baby,” she said. “Please don’t make me beg.”

  “Listen, Mika, I can’t.”

  She lowered to her knees. Tugged his belt buckle.

  He backed away.

  “Not here,” he said. “Not in my friend’s house.”

  “Afraid she’ll get jealous? She’s in love with you. It’s all in her eyes.”

  “I’m sorry, but you need to go. I’ll see you later.”

  Her head drooped forward suddenly, hair falling over her face. She knelt there like that, silent, for at least ten seconds. Like a wind-up doll that had lost power.

  A frown crinkled his features. Something wasn’t right about this woman. He’d told her that he’d see her later, but that was only a delaying tactic to make her leave. He didn’t think it would be a wise idea to see her anytime soon—if ever again. There were so many red flags waving in his face that he’d be a fool to ignore them, no matter how strongly he was attracted to her.

  She finally raised her head, and rose.

  “Fine, Andrew.” She smiled blandly. “We’ll see each other later. Unless we see each other in our dreams tonight.”

  “ ’Bye, Mika.”

  “Good night, soul mate eyes.” She picked up her umbrella and let herself out.

  The Rolls Royce waited for her at the curb. A chauffeur—a hat pulled low over his head hiding his face—opened her door, and in seconds, they glided away into the stormy night.

  He closed the door and leaned against it.

  Talk about a helluva day. A ghost was haunting his house. A woman he’d just met had become a borderline stalker.

  The predictable, routine-dominated life he’d created was coming apart at the seams, like an old coat. He longed for a return to normalcy, as boring as it had been sometimes.

  The doorbell rang.

  Afraid that it might be Mika again, he cautiously peered through the peephole.

  But it was only the pizza delivery guy.

  Carmen sat at the kitchen table, reading an issue of Essence.

  He brought the pizza into the kitchen and placed it on the counter. “Time to eat.”

  The cheer in his voice sounded false, but he didn’t know what else to say to her.

  Her eyes punctured him like needles.

  “I don’t believe you, Drew.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t say a damn thing about meeting a new woman. Whatever, though, I can deal with that. But you slept with her on the first date?”

  He leaned against the counter, folded his arms. “Carmen, that’s personal.”

  “The first date?”

  “Listen, I didn’t plan it, things just happened. When did I claim to be a saint?”

  “Never.” She closed the magazine. “But it disappoints me. I thought you were better than that.”

  Hearing those words from her hit him like a blow to the stomach.

  Carmen held him in high regard. She always bragged about him to her friends, used him as an example of how there really were some nice guys left in the world, said he was proof that not all men were sex-crazed animals who dropped their drawers at the earliest opportunity. He cherished her admiration and respect for him. He felt as though he had failed her.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said.

  “Whatever, like you said, that’s your personal business. But I think you could’ve chosen better. Did she follow you over here?”

  Lips pressed together, he nodded.

  “That’s some crazy shit, Drew. You’ve known this girl for a day and she’s following you?”

  “Honestly, I never thought this would happen. She seemed normal at first.”

  “Has she been to your house?”

  “No.”

  She smiled ruefully. “I bet. If she trailed you over here, you better believe she knows where you live, too.”

  He didn’t want to think about it, but he suspected that she was right.

  “I don’t want to tell you how to handle your business,” she said, “but I think you need to kick her to the curb. Like, ASAP.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “If you string her along, it’ll only get worse. When someone starts obsessing over you, they can be like a pit bull. Lock their teeth on you and you can’t ever shake ’em loose.”

  “She’s a nice girl,” he said. “She’s only needy, I guess.”

  “That’s how psychos are, Drew. Nice and needy—and nutty.”

  “She’s had some bad experiences, stuff that’s damaged her.”

  “Sure she has. So have all of us. That’s life, deal with it.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “You’re a softie, and I love that about you, but you can’t be like that with this woman,” she said. “She’ll use that to take advantage of you. Manipulators recognize your weaknesses and use them to get what they want.”

  He didn’t like the way she spoke about Mika as if she were some femme fatale, some psycho stalker. Mika wasn’t that bad. Carmen wasn’t being fair, and he wasn’t going to give her more ammo so that she could continue to attack Mika’s character.

  Part of him, however, questioned whether he was letting his physical attraction to Mika soften his opinions about her. He knew from experience how easy it was to make excuses for all kinds of behavior after someone had rocked your world.

  “Anyway, I’ve got it under control,
” he said, his cue to change the subject.

  “Was she jealous of me? I bet she was.”

  He recalled Mika’s venomous comments. It’s her, isn’t it? That bitch, Carmen . . .

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I told her the deal between you and me.”

  “Told her we’re just friends? She’ll never believe that. She’s going to push harder now that she thinks she’s got some competition.”

  “Doesn’t matter, it’s over,” he said. He opened the pizza carton. He put slices on plates for himself and Carmen.

  But the scent of Mika’s perfume remained on his skin. Sexy jasmine. Yeah, she was way out of line for following him—but he couldn’t help wondering what they might have done if he’d spent the night with her again. His imagination cooked up a dizzying mélange of erotic scenarios.

  Let it go, man. She’s crazy.

  Later, he’d have to take a thorough shower to scrub all traces of her fragrance from his body. Or else, his mind would persist in churning out forbidden fantasies.

  He returned to the table with the pizza.

  “I still can’t believe you slept with her,” Carmen said.

  He paused with a pizza slice near his lips. “Carmen, will you please let it go?”

  “Forget it, it’s none of my business.” She took a bite of her pizza, flipped through the magazine.

  Carmen was jealous. She probably was “disappointed” in his poor judgment in sleeping with Mika on the first date, but her jealousy likely loomed larger in her mind than anything else. He didn’t know why he didn’t see it before now.

  “So, does Mika have any competition?” he asked.

  She didn’t look up. “Not from me she doesn’t.”

  Her reluctance to meet his eyes only verified his suspicion.

  The other day, he’d admitted to himself that he was jealous of her dating other men; she obviously was jealous of him dating other women. What did that say about them? Was their “we’re just friends” categorization of their relationship merely a front for what they really felt for each other?

  It was an awkward subject that he wasn’t quite sure how to approach—and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. He liked what they had together, whatever it could be called. He didn’t want to drag it into the spotlight, subject it to examination, and risk spoiling it.