Unwed and Dead (The Dead Ex Files Book 1)

by Claire Kane

  Stop it, Lacey, she said, as the night wore on. Stay out of his personal life.

  “So,” Greg finally said, his speech slightly slurred, “tell me more about this monster-loving boyfriend of yours. I’ve done all the talking tonight.”

  Lacey smiled, demurring slightly. “Well,” she said, “things happened kind of fast between me and Victor.”

  Greg raised his eyebrows.

  “Not like that,” she hastily added. “Just… well, it was at that party you threw three months back.”

  “Ah,” he said. “I don’t recall any ‘Victor’ working for our station. New guy? Did H.R. let in another intern without consulting me?” He smiled easily.

  Lacey tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Actually,” she said, blushing, “he crashed the party.”

  Greg’s eyebrows went up again. “My kind of guy.” He leaned forward and patted Lacey’s knee twice. “Keep hold of him. Which station does he work for? Maybe we can steal him away.”

  Lacey glanced down the concourse, wishing they’d call her new flight. “He’s an accountant, actually. Interning in Japan.”

  “Well,” Greg said, leaning forward and folding his hands, “we can use another good accountant. And how very lucky for you that I tapped you for this trip. Great experience for you and a free trip to see Mister Right. When’s the big day?”

  Lacey’s eyes widened and she waved her hands. It was all she could do to keep from sputtering. “Mister Mendoza, sir—”

  “You need to quit calling me that. Mister Mendoza is my father. I’m Greg.”

  Lacey paused. “Right. I barely know the guy. I mean, he’s charming, and intelligent, and handsome—come to think of it, he’s actually gorgeous…” She trailed off, smiling to herself. Before she could resume, a woman’s voice came over the PA announcing the flight.

  Greg glanced at his watch. “Wow. Will you look at the time? Good thing I can sleep on a flight; I’m gonna need it after that saké.”

  “I hear saké is bad for your health,” Lacey said, standing and collecting the few bags she brought with her.

  “Nice that my employees care about me,” Greg said, fishing some loose bills out of his wallet and dropping them on the table before standing not altogether steadily. “And Lacey,” he said, stepping forward and placing his hand on her arm, “I do mean that. As the guy who has to answer for all the crew, it’s nice to think they may be looking out for me too. That’s what makes us a family. Thank you again for getting off the flight.”

  Lacey smiled, a small sense of pride blossoming inside. She’d made a good impression on the boss again. That may not mean much now, but she knew the value of small steps. Speaking of which, she’d have to have a little chat with Victor about considering making their own steps a little smaller when it came to their new romance. She couldn’t deny that it had been almost too much fun, though. Still, she couldn’t deny how she felt about him. She’d focus on work while in Japan, yes, but her off hours? She knew exactly with whom she’d be spending them.

  *

  Lacey’s stay in Tokyo was entirely too focused on work. More precisely, her boss. Between that and Victor’s own, insane schedule, she found that what was meant to be time getting to know her new man evaporated as soon as it appeared. Even the one day when the KZTB group made a surprise appearance at Kyoto Consulting, she’d barely gotten more than a glimpse of Victor. Of greater concern was that it was quickly becoming apparent that they’d need more than text messages and perfunctory phone calls if they wanted to turn a quick fling into something lasting.

  The memory of one of their final conversations, shortly before she’d flown home, surfaced. They’d met in the lobby of his apartment; she’d resisted his invitations to come up, and when he’d appeared to greet her, her face was closed.

  When they’d greeted, he kissed her, and held her tight. He gushed about how he’d spent his summer helping needy Japanese children through surprise and random acts of charity; something about finding “gifts” in various places, then depositing the money in banks around town. The situation instantly raised red flags with Lacey, but she still had business to do in Tokyo, and precious little time to do it.

  “I don’t have the time to visit further, Victor,” she’d said, wondering how well her eyes could hide what she felt. “Greg—Mister Mendoza has me on a lead here.”

  “What kind of lead?” Victor asked eyes narrowing.

  She looked away, and she could tell Victor would get the hint not to push it. She’d given him a quick wave and an even briefer kiss goodbye. She felt like a liar, and could sense his eyes on her all the way to the double doors of the lobby. She took a deep breath. She should tell him. Or, at least, give him something to cushion the blow. Pausing, she turned, and put on her most sympathetic face. “We’ll talk more later,” she said. “I have a deadline. And… a lot to think about.”

  She felt her heart sink at the tone of her own voice. She could tell she’d just announced a break up. Knowing Victor, he was probably already taking it hard. He hadn’t been good at hiding the fact that he was playing for keeps, despite the rapid-fire pace of their relationship. He tried playing it off smoothly, as she turned again for the door, but she knew they both were well aware that what had started with a bang between them, was just about to end with a fizzle.

  NINE

  Present Day…

  The memories faded with the shake of his head, and Victor felt something strange—a new softness in his mind, like liquid silk flowing through his brain. He could feel Lacey’s thoughts more clearly than ever, and didn’t feel like he was a sock in a dryer. He almost felt… feminine.

  “Okay, that’s weird,” he said, as he walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed out on Tokyo. Lacey had been put on the 21st floor, affording a truly towering vista of the city, despite the cluster of buildings stretching toward the sky. In a way, the wall of structures almost felt like a protective wall—a barrier against the darkness that he knew lurked in the streets below.

  “Be glad you can’t see them, Lace,” he said quietly.

  “Who’s there?”

  Victor perked up instantly. “Lacey?” He spun to see her sitting up on the bed, scooting quickly back toward the headboard, her hand groping for anything that might be used as a weapon.

  “It’s just me, Lacey. Victor.” Though the room was unlit, he could see every detail on her face, down to individual freckles that he’d always lovingly thought of as sprinkles of cinnamon. And her eyes—they were even more beautiful than he remembered when he was alive.

  Rao nudged him earnestly. Tell her something that only the two of you know, you dolt.

  “Right,” Victor said. By now, Lacey was halfway off the bed, and looking around with a tension just shy of panic. Her hand felt its way across the tabletop, then clutched the hotel phone. Knowing his time was running out, he bypassed the million memories he was sifting through, opened his mouth, put on his best singing voice, and went for it.

  “With or without you, with or without you…” The words gushed out, him dragging out the notes just the way he knew Bono would have. Lacey jumped, and her eyes seemed to lock right on to him. He stopped singing, and took a quick step toward her, his arms coming up for a hug. “I’ve missed you so—”

  Without warning, Lacey flung the desk phone handset at him. He flinched instinctively, but it stopped before even reaching the foot of the bed, held fast by a cord that refused to stretch clear across the room, and dropped limply to the floor.

  “Well, that was a nicer greeting than you gave me two weeks ago,” he said.

  Lacey’s eyes widened. “V-Victor?” Suddenly, she was sure of it—she could see her dead ex standing not ten feet away. More accurately, she could see through her dead ex.

  He smirked. “In the flesh, baby. Well… not really.”

  And with that, Lacey promptly fainted.

  *

  Lacey was certain she was dreaming. Dreaming about Lucky Charms and tabby ca
ts and Victor. Why Victor? Then again, why not? A pang took her heart at the sudden thought that he was dead. She still had so much to do she wasn’t sure she had time to properly grieve the loss. Instead, she decided it would be best to get a good night’s sleep so she could help Nainai in the morning.

  The dirty orange light that filtered through the window told her it was morning already. She looked herself over—everything was fine. Whatever scare she’d had last night must have been part of her dream. Grateful she hadn’t been the target of an intruder, she yawned and blinked, and stretched luxuriously. Maybe a good, hot bath to start the day; she’d noticed a complimentary bath bomb on the tub when she’d first come in. The whole idea sounded divine, and she had no qualms about at least starting the day well.

  She’d leave for home the day after tomorrow, and she was planning on spending most of today with Nainai. In her heart of hearts, she knew she may never see the old woman again after this trip, unless she could somehow convince her grandmother to come home with her. But if not, she counted her blessings that her grandmother had still been alive this time around, when KZTB had sent her back for a follow-up piece on a story she’d done over the summer… back when she and Victor were still a thing.

  “We still could be a thing, you know,” he said.

  She gasped and hugged herself instinctively. Victor, who had been standing guard all night, had settled into the desk chair and was watching her from across the room. He had to admit to himself that he’d always enjoyed spooking her from time to time. He hadn’t meant for it to be quite this literal, however.

  Scurrying up against the headboard, she pointed an accusing finger at Victor. “Who are you and why do you look like my dead ex-boyfriend?”

  “One question—can you see Ms. Tibbits as well?”

  Lacey opened her mouth to speak, but the utterly nonsensical question was not the creepy, stalker threat she had anticipated. She paused, her heart hammering in her chest, and actually gave it a moment’s thought. Squinting at the vaguely translucent image of the man who’d once compared her to the giant moth monster from Godzilla (and thought he was complimenting her), she frowned deeply. “I don’t see anyone else. Just tell me who you are. Better yet, get out of my room before I call the cops.” She reached for her cell phone, but noticed it on the desk next to her crazy hallucination. Her hand shot out to grab the hotel phone.

  “It’s on the floor, Lace,” Victor said. “You sort of threw it at me last night. I guess I freaked you out pretty bad. Sorry about that.”

  Lacey continued to back away, scooting off the bed, and toward the door to her room. She formulated an escape plan in her mind and began counting down. 3…2…1… now!

  Whirling, she bolted for the door, only to find Victor standing right in front of it.

  “Yeah,” he said with a smirk, “I move pretty quick now. Even being dead has its perks if you look for them.”

  Lacey couldn’t help but shriek.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Victor said, worried that she might wake half the floor. “Calm down, please. I promise I’m really Victor, and I promise I’m not going to hurt you.” Slowly, carefully, he eased out of her way and gave her some space. Gesturing at the door, he smiled kindly. “There. I’m not going to stop you. I know this must be totally freaky for you.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” she said, her knees trembling in the most embarrassing manner. She was grateful she’d slept in her clothes, and even more grateful that she hadn’t actually made it into the bath. Had this insanity happened there, with her in all her glory, she wasn’t sure how she would have dealt with it.

  “I should say something about you in a towel,” Victor said, “but I won’t. Come to think of it, I never have seen you in a towel.”

  “Get out,” Lacey said quietly. “Please, just… whatever you are, stop talking to me, stop haunting me, stop making predatory comments.”

  Victor sighed. This was not the happy reunion he’d planned. He still wasn’t entirely sure what he’d said or done, but somehow he’d figured out whatever puzzle Rao had alluded to, and now Lacey could see and hear him. He wanted to jump for joy, watch twenty-four straight hours of Godzilla films, take Lacey in his arms and fly into the clouds and do barrel rolls. Those dreams exploded when she had shrieked. And now, he felt confused fear radiating from her like waves of heat. He knew he had to act quickly. Once again, he decided to just go for it.

  “I need you, Lacey.”

  Lacey had heard that line a few times in her life; usually when a guy had had a few, and figured she was equally off-kilter. The line had never worked, and it wasn’t working now. Not daring to make an attempt to retrieve her personal effects—all still set on the desk—she hurried to the door and frantically undid the locks. Just as she was opening it and making for safety, five words stopped her.

  “I died, last night, Lacey.”

  *

  Being an investigative journalist meant that Lacey had come across some really tall tales before. But as she paced in front of the rumpled mess of her hotel bed, trying hard to pretend Victor wasn’t transparent, or that she wasn’t in need of serious medications, Lacey contemplated one of the wildest stories she thought she’d ever hear.

  Her brow furrowed, she looked up at Victor through narrowed eyes. “Let me get this straight. You, like an idiot, tried cooking for me.”

  Victor shrugged. “I’d been taking classes online. You should have tried the sashimi roll I made two weeks back. No one died from it. No pun intended.”

  Lacey rolled her eyes, but otherwise pretended he hadn’t spoken. “Then, you drank some wine—wine you assumed I bought, without taking even a second to ask whether I’d buy you wine in the first place, let alone cheap wine—”

  “Hey, I just thought you were being nice. Sheesh. Kill a guy for assuming someone’s acting kind.”

  Rao groaned beside Victor. He ignored it.

  “As I was saying, you assumed—assumed—I had no taste in spirits—”

  Victor laughed aloud at that and, after a moment, Lacey got the joke. She glared at the man (she refused to think of him as a ghost). “See, Victor, this is why we fell apart in less than two months. You’d never take anything seriously. You’re… you’re dead, and you’re not even serious about that.”

  “Funny thing is,” he said, standing with ease, and striding across the entire room in a single, gliding step, “I feel almost more alive now than I did before. Except that I can’t really taste or smell anything. Or feel anything. That’s kind of lame. But I am taking this seriously. You’re the one who continued with the dead guy jokes.”

  “Look,” Lacey said, holding her hands up, “I’m done with this. You’re the one who came to me for help. I’ve got a flight home in two days, and I may need to pack my grandmother’s entire apartment and shuttle her across the Pacific as well. I’m not about to stay here and let you drag me around Japan trying to find some random person in the middle of almost fourteen million people. I came here to follow up on a story and—” She stopped suddenly, choking back an involuntary sob before it escaped.

  Victor was suddenly beside her, and she could actually feel, much to her surprise, just the barest whisper of a touch as his arms came around her. “You’re worried about your grandma. I know. Man, I wish I could really hold you,” he said, resenting the fact that his throat wasn’t closing up with the rising sadness he felt. That was a part of life he hadn’t expected to miss.

  Lacey said nothing, but Victor could feel everything she wasn’t saying. After a moment, she regained her composure, and felt her cheeks flame just a touch; she decided not to explore how much of that was caused by her embarrassment of having nearly cried in front of Victor, and how much of it was his nearness which, despite his… situation… still managed to stir something inside of her.

  You big stud, you, Rao said, nudging Victor again. He shoved her away, and she pretended to fly out of control and smack into the far wall, whereupon she slid down it with a faked gr
oan.

  Lacey squinted at Victor’s antics. She wondered whether death had made him insane. He kept claiming his dead pet cat was with him. “I’m going back to America, Victor. Soon. Since you don’t seem to have any pressing needs anymore, then I wish you the best in figuring out what happened.” She found herself struggling to say the words. Though Victor was a clown, and though she was glad they’d broken up sooner than later, she still cared for him the way one cared for a favorite stray dog. And, if she were truthful, he actually was a very good guy; much better than some of the ones she worked for. If only he’d been a bit more grounded, a bit more grown-up. Why can’t there be just one guy who’s not fundamentally flawed? she asked herself.

  “You know I can hear everything you’re thinking, right?” Victor reminded her.

  Lacey tried not to blanch, and in an instant frantically collected all her thoughts into a tiny ball, like a load of dirty laundry, and hurled them into the hamper of her subconscious.

  “You’re really cute when you play tough, Lace. It’s one of the things I love about you. Anyway, I’ll come with you.”

  Lacey’s retort died on her lips. She paused, and then straightened, acting non-plussed. “Well I don’t suppose you have a ticket, now, do you?” Pausing again, she flicked a sidelong glance at him. “You’re about to tell me you don’t need a ticket because you’re invisible to everyone but me, aren’t you?”

  Victor smirked. “See, babe? You do know me. We’d have been a good pair. I just didn’t get enough time to prove it.”

  Lacey ignored the remark, and tried not to think about the ring she’d found in his charred apartment. The gesture had touched her far more than it should have. “So, why can I see you, anyway? I couldn’t before last night.”