Destiny's Dark Fantasy Boxed Set (Eight Book Bundle)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “Yeah…”

  “Good. See you soon, kiddo.”

  And then the line went dead. I exhaled and slowly hung up the phone.

  Melody gave me a perky smile. “Man troubles?”

  I smiled despite myself. “I guess you could say that.”

  ***

  The next day and a half was completely upside down for me. Dex emailed me my flight tickets, which meant that everything was set to go. The only thing I had to do was call in sick on Friday morning.

  I didn’t actually think Frida would have a problem with it. Meaning, she might feel inconvenienced and perhaps a bit fearful that I may not come in on Monday (though I would assure her I would), but I didn’t think she’d jump to the immediate conclusion that I was playing hooky. After all, the swine flu thing was still going around.

  No, the problem I knew I’d have was with my parents. How on earth was I going to tell them I was sick and then hop a plane to Seattle? I had a cold that only a Seattle doctor knew how to fix? Might as well tell them I was going to Seattle Grace Hospital to get checked up by Doctor McDreamy.

  I knew if I told my parents the truth they would be so terribly disappointed in me. I could tell they were relieved when it seemed like this whole ghost show wasn’t going anywhere, and I knew how happy they were when I got promoted. I couldn’t bear to disappoint them after so many years of constantly letting them down.

  It got so bad, that on Thursday night I had to sequester Ada in my room and ask her for advice.

  I lay on my bed, my stuffed elephant squeezed between my arms, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. Ada sat at my desk watching me thoughtfully. It felt like a bizarro shrink and patient scenario.

  “Well?” I asked, frustrated at how silent she had been while I poured my heart out to her.

  “Chill out. I’m thinking,” she answered, put upon.

  “Are you? Or are you humoring me?”

  “I’m humoring you, duh!”

  “You’re the second person in two days to use that phrase,” I pointed out.

  “Just tell Mom and Dad you’re going to work, and tell your work that you are sick,” she announced. “Do you think I always go to school when I’m supposed to?”

  “Ada!” I exclaimed, the big sister in me coming out.

  “Phfff, whatever, you were a druggie,” she said defensively.

  “Please stop throwing that back in my face.”

  “No, you please stop acting like you give a shit. I’m fucking fifteen, Perry. Think I’m going to listen to whatever sisterly advice you try and give me? Wake up and smell the apathy.”

  “Oh geez, how emo can you get?”

  “You wanted my advice, you got it. You think I’m going to tell you what you want to hear? If you want to be all like smart and adult about this shit then do the right thing. But if you want to do something fun and take a chance, then screw what anyone else thinks. Rock and roll, man!”

  I laughed at that last bit and sat up. Ada had gotten out of her chair and was picking up my guitar.

  “You never play anymore,” she said wistfully.

  “I’ve been busy. And I still suck.”

  “Dream big, dream big.” She strummed it absently, chords all wrong but her words resonated in my head. I used to dream big. It seemed like somewhere along the way I had forgotten about that. And gave up.

  “OK,” I said, coming to a decision. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad that I’m going to work. I’ll take the bike to the airport and just hang out there for a few hours. Then I’ll tell them that I’m going out after work or something so they won’t worry when I come home late.”

  “I think you can be pretty smart when you want, Perry. You didn’t need me to tell you all of that.” She put the guitar down and brushed her long bangs out of her blackened eyes.

  “Thanks,” I told her.

  She smiled sheepishly. “You only get one compliment from me every couple of months, OK?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good luck,” was the last thing she said before leaving the room.

  I have no idea how I fell asleep that night. My nerves were buzzing and my thoughts were high, but soon enough, the sun came up.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I got on the airplane with my heart fluttering in my chest like some panicked bird and gave the flight attendant the biggest smile I could muster when I handed over my ticket. I felt like a very important person, even though that was not the case. Still, there was a sense of mystery and “fugitiveness” to my actions since everything I did was kind of a lie. I must admit, it was very exciting.

  I called Frida at six-thirty a.m. to add to the realism of my excuse. If there was anything I knew about calling in sick it’s that you rarely have the strength to call at the appropriate time. She did sound slightly suspicious, which made it hard to do the dance between sounding too sick to come but not sounding so sick that it didn’t seem like I would come in on Monday. In the end, though, there wasn’t much she could do, and she told me to call her on Sunday night to confirm that I would be OK to work.

  My parents were a bit easier. I just got dressed and ready like I always did. I was jittery, though, and my excitement showed even before my morning coffee. While I grabbed my leftovers from the fridge, my mother asked if I was I was OK. Thankfully, Ada was there and she switched the conversation over to her before I could say anything. I almost winked at her in thanks but had my mom caught that, we would have both been toast.

  It was a short hop on a small plane before landing at the Sea-Tac airport. The flight was uneventful but I couldn’t stop fidgeting in my seat like a barrel of monkeys. By the time we landed and were coasting to the gate, the quiet old man next to me patted my hand and said, “It’s OK, we’re safe now.” Oh, if only I knew that was true.

  When it was time to exit, I grabbed my purse and walked down the aisle to the door, brimming with excitement. I felt like a character in a romantic movie. Again, this was stupid girly thinking on my part, but there was no way I could pretend I didn’t feel that way.

  After giving the pilot an enthusiastic salute as I walked into the terminal, I saw Dex.

  I wish I could say that he was “just a man” as I had told myself all week, but seeing him standing there by the gate, it just wasn’t true.

  He was leaning casually against a supporting pole, a toothpick darting in and out of his mouth. His dark hair was spiked up at the front and the scratch down his forehead had faded. It still added a little roughness to his face, which looked younger and fresher than ever. His eyes were bright and shining, and I could have sworn his eyelashes were longer or something because he almost looked pretty. Even his Errol Flynn ‘stache barely showed and his goatee was groomed as clean as an early ski run.

  His attire was different, too—a white long-sleeved dress shirt and black pants. He could have been a waiter if it wasn’t for the oversized army green windbreaker he had on top.

  I can’t lie. The sight of him made my heart turn into syrup, swirling around in slow motion in my chest. Our eyes interlocked, and as if I was in some hormonal tractor beam I felt myself being drawn to him. Thank goodness the tractor beam had enough sense to stop as soon as I was within striking distance of him.

  “Hi,” I said, my voice squeaking more than I would have liked.

  He took the toothpick out with one hand and flicked it on the floor in front of a woman walking by. She gave him a dirty look. He gave her a sleazy grin in return and wagged his eyebrows at her suggestively. Then he turned to me and grinned.

  “You came.” He sounded surprised.

  “Yup,” I replied, adjusting the purse on my shoulder, a bit unsure if I should hug him or not.

  “You’re more foolish than I thought,” he reached out and smacked my arm. “God bless the youth.”

  Before I could even process what he meant by that, he took his pocket watch out of his pant pocket and glanced at it.

  “We better get going, hmmm?”

  And he was off li
ke a shot down the terminal. I trotted after him, starting to wonder if I had made a mistake. I also found myself wishing his coat was a bit shorter so I could see his ass better. Yup. I was pretty done for at this point.

  The drive downtown was fairly long, with traffic jams and construction zones clogging up the I-5. During that time, I was filled in on what had come out of the footage.

  “At first I thought we were fucked because a lot of the shots were just black with the occasional sound coming through. But then I realized if I could at least save the audio and then play them at other parts then it would add to the whole ambiance. And then if I could get your narration at certain points it would fill up the blank spots.”

  Watching Dex speak about the film made me realize how much he actually cared about the whole thing and how he knew exactly what he was talking about. He could see the big picture, whereas I couldn’t imagine how anything we shot would become remotely interesting. If I had the camera myself up in Old Roddy’s face, it would have been a different story. But Dex seemed so confident that he had something amazing on his hands, even if I didn’t believe it myself.

  He must have seen the cynicism on my face because he turned to me and said, “Believe me. It looks good. We’ve got a good thing going on here.”

  “One of those instances where I’m going to have to just trust you, right?”

  “I would hope you’d always trust me,” he answered rather seriously.

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. I looked out the window. It’s not that Dex wasn’t trustworthy. He saved my life, in a way. But because he was so unpredictable, I had a hard time accepting everything he said. There was also the whole self-admitted liar/bipolar thing, and the fact that I wanted nothing more than for him to pull the car over so I could climb on his lap and molest the crap out of him. Well, I knew from experience that you weren’t supposed to trust the guys you thought were as sexy as hell.

  Dark, brooding and mysterious? Handle with care.

  And of course there was the term “always,” as if he knew for a fact we would be working together indefinitely. As much as I wanted to, the responsible adult side of me needed to know exactly what I was getting into. Would it interfere with my job? How much would I get paid, if anything? Basically, what was in it for me? The last thing I wanted was to be taken advantage of.

  I mulled these things over during the rest of the drive and even until we were in an elevator going up one of Seattle’s skyscrapers. I guess for a little internet company they were actually doing quite well for themselves.

  We got off of the elevator and turned left at a sign that read “Shownet.” We paused in front of a French door made of pebbled glass.

  Dex reached for the handle and then stopped. He looked at me.

  “You OK?”

  I nodded. I was OK, though each step toward the door had me feeling more and more anxious until I was shaking in my boots.

  “Just a bit nervous,” I admitted. “But I always get nervous. Always. No matter what.”

  “Let’s hope he finds that as endearing as I do,” Dex said, with his tone not as promising as I would have hoped.

  We entered the room and said some polite introductions to their receptionist Leigh, who responded to Dex with all the sparkle of a Barbie doll but whose eyes turned positively demonic as soon as she spoke to me. And I thought I was a bad receptionist. Sheesh.

  Then we went into a small but pleasantly attired boardroom. A fancy-looking espresso machine sat in the corner, which I eyed feverishly.

  Dex caught my stare. “Do you want some?”

  He was about to go to it when the door swung open and a slender, balding Korean man with hipster glasses stepped into the room.

  Dex promptly sat down in a chair and motioned for me to do the same. The bald man walked to the other side of the glass table, threw a binder down with a loud clank and leaned across it, peering at me.

  “Jimmy, this is Perry Palomino,” Dex said quickly.

  I was about to give Jimmy my hand but he just nodded dismissively and sat in an overstuffed swivel chair. If he had a cat in his lap, he would have been the perfect arch villain in a comic book film.

  I glanced over at Dex for support. He reached out under the table and squeezed my knee. Slightly inappropriate but comforting nonetheless.

  “So you’re the one,” Jimmy said slowly, his voice high and careful.

  “That’s me,” I agreed brightly, hoping I was projecting some kind of charm.

  “You know, I was going about my business, making some money,” he started, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Dex and I waited patiently while he did this. He slipped his glasses back on his face and looked me straight in the eye.

  “And then you come from out of nowhere.”

  He left it at that. Should I say something? Should I apologize? I wasn’t sure where this Jimmy fellow was going with all this but he didn’t seem like the easiest person to talk to.

  Dex turned to me. “Jimmy just wants to make sure you’re fully into this.”

  “Well, perhaps,” I said as confidently as possible. “But I want to know exactly what I’m getting into. What are we talking about here?”

  “At least you seem smarter than you look,” Jimmy sniffed. I took offense to that but didn’t let it show. I felt Dex stiffen up beside me.

  Jimmy pulled some papers out of the binder and looked them over but didn’t hand them over to me.

  “If I decide to do this, which is a huge ‘if’ because even though I like what Dex has shown me, and I do think the man can make a pile of shit taste like fucking candy, I’m still not sold on you. But if I decide to give you both the go-ahead, I hope you realize this isn’t going to make you famous and it isn’t going to make you rich. All I want is to bring in enough advertisers to make ends meet and maybe give Dex a new fucking camera.”

  I looked over at Dex. He was embarrassed and looked down at his hands.

  “I make money,” Jimmy continued, “by keeping costs lower than they should be. For you, Ms. Palomino, that means an hourly wage based on exactly how many hours you contribute to the project. That might mean a lot of money one week, it might mean shit all the next week. I’d suggest you keep your day job as a barista or whatever the hell you do.”

  “I’m a production coordinator at an advertising firm,” I said proudly.

  “Oh? So you are smarter than you look. Well, that helps for something.”

  I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes at him. I’d never been in the presence of someone who rubbed me quite the wrong way as this guy did.

  “Perry will decide whether she needs to keep a job on the side or not,” Dex spoke up for me.

  “Don’t be a hero, Dex,” Jimmy said dismissively. He turned his beady eyes on me again. “Dex here tells me you have quite a natural affinity for sussing out these so-called ghostly situations.”

  I did?

  Jimmy continued, “But I think that’s a load of horseshit. Do you think it matters to me whether you’re the next fucking ghost whisperer or not? I don’t care. But if you can sell it, and Dex has assured me you can, with your writing at least, then that’s all I care about. You guys do the groundwork, you do the research, and I’ll send you both to wherever you need to go in order to create a fucking good show.”

  Dex leaned forward in his seat and spoke to me. “I’ve already got a case down in Laredo, Texas, we could go investigate. Should be something really fantastic. Mimic ghosts.”

  I didn’t know what mimic ghosts were but the idea of going to Texas was pretty cool. Jimmy look unconvinced though.

  “Now, the main problem I have with you, Perry,” Jimmy said bluntly, “is that while I think you can write a compelling story, and Dex says you’re easy to work with, I just don’t think you’re attractive enough to be on the internet.”

  My face immediately flushed with sparking heat and my jaw dropped a little bit.

  He continued, “It’s not that yo
u aren’t pretty, you’ve got something there, but you’ve seen what we have on the other shows. Dex’s gal Jennifer, well her body—no offense, Dex—is what brings in the traffic and the dollars. Plus, you’ve got her friend on the side and those two could vomit wine all day and people would still watch. I just don’t see people watching a show with a, um, bigger girl on it. Again, no offense. It’s just the reality.”

  I felt like someone swiped at my guts with a ragged hook. This had to be the most humiliating thing I had ever been subjected to, and that said a lot coming from someone who was known as “The Chubster” in high school. I waited for the tears to flow, but I was in too much shock to react in any way.

  That didn’t stop Dex though.

  He suddenly got to his feet; his chair flew out from under him and wheeled backwards toward the wall. He slammed his hands down on the table with such force that I was afraid the glass was going to shatter. He leaned across until he was very close to Jimmy’s worried face.

  “Do you ever get sick of being a complete asshole, Jimmy?” Dex growled, his voice scraping the bottom of the register, spitting with rawness. “She may not be a self-obsessed stick-thin bimbo, but she’s more than right for this job. You’re right in that she’s got something about her, and we have a right to share that with the world. This show is more than just stupid ghost stories. This show will go further into those mysteries than any show has before. It will bring that real back to reality programming. She’s smart, she’s funny and she’s not afraid to take risks. Not to mention that she’s beautiful, sexy and charming. You know it, I know it, and soon everyone else will know it. The only person who doesn’t know it is her because of archaic fuckheads like yourself telling her otherwise.”

  My mouth dropped open another inch. I couldn’t believe what Dex had just said. It had to be the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said about me, and his words and passion melted me from the inside out. I felt the tears finally coming.