A Lovely Nightmare: A Paranormal Romance Novel

by Wendy Cole

  “I never have.” I stood awkwardly, taking in her side of the room, the multiple posters, multi-colored bedspread, and what looked like origami hanging from the ceiling.

  “No pressure. I don’t do peer pressure. You won’t catch my ass in one of those lame commercials. No siree. Fuck that.” She plopped down on her bed and lit a lighter to the little silver part protruding out of the bottom, then, mouth to the opening, she began to breathe in, causing the water to bubble up and smoke to fill the inside. After a long pull, she leaned back and blew it all out slowly. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I’m Amelia.” I stepped forward and stretched my hand out to her.

  She tilted her head, then made a fist and hit it to the tips of my fingers. “I’m Amber, but people call me Red.” She pointed to her hair. “So, want to go to a party?”

  I took a step back. “Uhh, no thanks. I’m not too good with those.”

  “No parties?” She gaped at me. “That’s downright fucking sad! This is college! You’ve got to party!” She stood, set her still smoking instrument on the table, and puffed her chest out like a soldier. “If we don’t party, then who will?”

  What the hell? I watched her closely, as if she were an exotic animal, or more likely, a ticking bomb about to go off. Brady did this. I know he did. “Like I said, I’ve been to one. It didn’t go so well.” I looked over to my side of the room. Bare mattress, solitary dresser, and nothing else.

  “I’m sorry,” Red said, grabbing a set of keys off the dresser before rushing forward and linking her arm with mine. She began dragging me towards the door, surprisingly strong for her small stature. “I can’t allow that. As your best friend, I must correct the wrong that has been done here.”

  “Best friend?” I choked out as I fought to keep up with her and keep hold of the precious purse.

  She stopped and looked at me. “Of course. We’re roomies. That means we’re best friends. I’ve been waiting to get a roommate for two years.”

  “Oh.” What could I say? Regardless of her sporadic behavior, having someone refer to me as their best friend struck a nerve. It felt good. My chest swelled up with a warm feeling, and a rush of confidence descended upon me.

  A best friend. Like normal people. I eyed the red-haired girl again. Or almost normal. Kinda normal.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as she began to move again.

  “Shopping.” She led the way, pulling me outside and all the way across the lot, stopping next to a cherry red Corvette.

  “Is that yours?” I took in the beauty that sat before me. College kids didn’t drive cars like this.

  Red shrugged her shoulders, and a bored look crossed her features. “Compliments of

  Daddy.” She pulled out her wallet and flipped it open, revealing a charge card. “Who needs hugs when you’ve got fancy cars and endless shopping?”

  While her words implied one thing, the way she said them told another story. A twinge of pity hit my gut. My own father never having been around made me suddenly feel more connected to her. Maybe we had more in common than I thought. Maybe, this was a blessing. A true friend.

  Red didn’t linger on the topic. “So, shopping. Let’s do it.” She hit a button on her key, unlocking the doors, then climbed inside.

  I hurried around and did the same, managing to close the door just as she was shifting the gear into reverse. The car roared as she took off, driving as sporadically as the rest of her seemed to be.

  I gripped the dashboard. “So, um, what are you shopping for?”

  Red looked over and lifted a brow. “You, bitch. You look square as fuck. Not my best friend.”

  I bristled but made myself shake off the comment. New start. New friends. Normal. Maybe, this was normal. She’s being nice. She’s trying to help me fit in. That’s it. I looked down at my button down blouse and blue jeans. What was wrong with this? It was pretty basic. White shirt and blue jeans.

  Red made a noise then hit the brakes. I looked up, fighting to see what had caused the sudden stop when she rolled down the window.

  Two guys were jogging down the sidewalk, shirts off, and Red didn’t seem to mind holding up the cars behind us, regardless of how loud they honked their horns. “Yo! Hey! Yeah, you! How you doin’?”

  I covered my mouth, unsure of whether to laugh or die.

  The two guys looked over, then laughed between themselves, still jogging.

  “What?” Red hit the gas, pulling up closer to them. Cars began to whip around, angry drivers glaring at me as if I had anything to do with whether or not the car moved.

  She didn’t seem to care. “Don’t run! I just want to love you!”

  They laughed again, and this time, one of them actually stopped to approach Red’s open window. “Sorry, ladies. We’re both taken.”

  Red pouted then smiled warmly, not seeming put out in the least. “Good answer. I like you even more now. You boys keep running.” She blew a kiss, then hit the gas, peeling away like an indie driver on the final lap. “All the good ones are taken,” she whined.

  I nodded, back to gripping the dashboard.

  I had the stones, a new place, another new start…

  So why did I feel like things were only going to get crazier from here?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Red dragged me around like a life-size Barbie, barking orders: try this dress, try those pants. Then, when she was finally satisfied with what I had on, she turned her attention onto a poor hairdresser. Make it big! Curls, bitch! Curlier!

  By the time we walked into the Happy Nail Time Salon, my exhaustion had hit a new height. Girls’ day out had never been my thing, never having really had girls. But Red treated it like a profession as if it were her job to tackle the challenge.

  When the little woman led us over to a set of chairs, each at its own station but still directly next to each other, Red seemed to chill the fuck out a bit.

  “Are you having fun?” she asked.

  I paused for a long moment. “Yes?” I looked down at my new outfit: skin tight jeans too ripped to donate and a T-shirt advertising a band I’d never heard of. I should have been grateful. She’d done all this to me. For me. She did it for me.

  “Great!” Two women sat down in front of us in unison, and Red turned her attention towards them.

  “I’d like red. She wants black.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek and tried to smile at the woman in front of me. “Black it is.”

  She gave me a smile in return, seemingly unaware that I’d been taken hostage. Amelia Snow had escaped her kidnapper, then got kidnapped again by a new brand of torturer. I could have left, had thought about it more than once, but couldn’t gather the courage to actually follow through. This girl was my roommate, and now, my best friend apparently. I couldn’t just snub her. Besides, it was kind of hard to be awkward when she never gave me the chance. As a matter of fact, this was almost relaxing in a way. My mind didn’t need to work at all. Red’s ran rampant enough to account for the both of us.

  “Your hand?” the woman prompted, and I looked down at the purse currently gripped in mine.

  Red noticed and watched as I carefully placed the bag between my feet. “What’s with the attachment? Is that like your blankey or something?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ve just got something important in there I can’t lose.”

  “Like what?”

  The women worked silently and feigned not to listen in. I racked my brain for an answer. Rocks. Stones. The truth would only bring more questions, questions I couldn’t answer. I thought of why I needed them so bad. “A restraining order.”

  Her eyes widened. “For real? Against who?”

  “A stalker,” I replied dryly. “It’s the only thing that seems to keep him away.”

  Red’s eyes darted to the purse then back to me. “Is he an ex? Or just someone random? Is he dangerous?”

  “He’s gone now,” I said, my voice suddenly quiet. I stared down at the purse, pra
ctically feeling the magic inside it. He wasn’t gone. Not yet.

  “That’s creepy. You gave me goosebumps.” She held out her arm, showing me. “I used to watch movies about that kind of stuff. The men are always hot as hell in those; however, in real life, that’s not how it happens. I bet your dude looks like the guy from Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

  I didn’t say a word.

  Thankfully, Red didn’t pause for an answer. “Speaking of hot guys. There’s going to be a few at the party.”

  My eyes darted over to her. She held an expectant expression.

  “I don’t do parties.”

  “I know,” she said, maintaining eye contact. “That’s what you said. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we’re going.”

  What was it with her? “I don’t—”

  Red cut me off as she turned back to study her hands. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing huge. Just a small get together. I know everyone who’s going to be there.” Her voice had a dismissive quality, and for some reason, I didn’t argue further.

  The woman in front of me released my hand and smiled. “You can go dry,” she said, pointing to a set of chairs facing the front windows. Tables lined the front, and dryers sat in a row of four upon their surface.

  I stood, hooking my purse over my wrist and holding my hands out in front of me. The woman followed, and the moment I was seated with my hands inside the device, she pressed the button to turn it on.

  “Wait here until the light turns red. Then I’ll check.”

  I nodded just as she walked away. My gaze took in the parking lot, the many cars and shoppers.

  Then, the man.

  The very familiar man. Just across the lot, leaned against the back of a large pickup truck. Brady lifted a hand and waved. A wiggly fingered wave—the creepiest of all the fucking waves.

  “You alright?” Red asked. I’d been so preoccupied, I hadn’t even heard her walk up and take the spot beside me.

  “I’m fine.” I looked at the glowing blue light upon my hands, then let my eyes dart up once again.

  He was closer, but still a good distance away.

  “Do you know him?” Red asked.

  I grit my teeth. She could see him. Of course, he’d let her see him. If it wasn’t convenient, Brady made it happen. How talented. “That’s the guy,” I said, not even bothering to lie.

  Red made a noise. “No shit!” She shifted in her seat. “The movies were true.” Her voice was an awed breath.

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s an asshole.”

  “They usually are.” She continued to stare at him. “They know they’re pretty. That’s why.” She was quiet for a moment. “How long?”

  I looked at her. “Long time, but hopefully soon, I’ll finally be done with it.”

  Red’s head bobbed in a thoughtful agreement. “I could try to distract him if you want.” Her eyes darted to Brady, full of interest.

  For some reason, it pissed me off, and the fact that it did, pissed me off even more. “I wouldn’t,” I huffed, zeroing in on my hands with no intention of looking back up.

  Red laughed, then nudged my shoulder with hers. “I’m just fucking with you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I stared at the green light, willing it to change so I could move away from the window. His gaze seemed to penetrate me, even from a distance. I shifted, feeling the weight of the purse in my lap, and wishing I could reach inside to touch the stones.

  Red hummed, pulling my attention back to her. She held a smug expression, knowing. She didn’t know shit.

  “He looks intense,” she commented, a soft smile lifting her lips. “He’s staring at you pretty hardcore.”

  “That’s what stalkers do.” I looked up, and sure enough, Brady was staring at me. The moment my eyes met his, he tilted his head. Then in a slow move, his hand lifted and one finger crooked in a come here motion.

  I shook my head slowly, trying my best to school my features into a death glare.

  Red snorted. “You don’t look scary at all.”

  I turned the glare on her.

  “Look. If you really want him gone, just act like me. It seems to work.” Her voice grew dry at the end.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m annoying,” she stated plainly. “Guys don’t like a girl with personality.”

  Guilt hit me, but I didn’t know what to say, so I just didn’t say anything at all. Instead, I changed the subject, choosing for one I thought she’d appreciate. “He is hot though, huh?”

  Red’s smile returned, the widest I’d seen from her. “He definitely is. Dammit, man! You could do much worse in terms of a stalker.”

  I rolled my eyes again, but a grin tilted my lips. “But he’s not someone you’d want to get mixed up with.”

  “Why?” she asked. “What’s his defect? It better be a good one, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “He…” I paused. I couldn’t exactly say the truth. “He’s always scaring the hell out of me.”

  “How?” She looked down at her hands, then back to me.

  “He—” Holy hell, this was hard. How do you explain, when you can’t explain? “H-he does shit to scare me. On purpose. Always has for as long as I’ve known him.”

  “Like pranks?” Red asked.

  I thought about it. Prank was an understatement, but when I thought about it, also was pretty accurate. I shrugged. “I guess that’s one way to describe it.”

  “That’s not a good enough reason,” Red stated.

  “There’s more, but—”

  “Look,” Red said. “He’s helping a fucking lady with her groceries.”

  My eyes darted up, and he was. Brady smiled at the woman, then at the children currently running around them as he hefted her bags into the back of a Jeep. No. “He’s doing that on purpose!”

  Red made a face at me. “You’re right,” she drawled. “How very sinister.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Why is he here?” I said. “Don’t you think, if a girl tells a guy to back off, he shouldn’t randomly show up and stare at her?” My eyebrows lifted as I waited for her response.

  Red shrugged. “I think it’s sweet.”

  The light turned red, and I jumped up from the table. “I’m done talking about it.”

  Red’s head fell back as far as it could, and she looked up at me. “I’m sowwy. I’ll take your side. That guy’s awful. What a creep! He shouldn’t be allowed to breathe the air on this earth. The dick!”

  I wanted to be mad. The anger was there, the irritation pricked my skin. It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t funny.

  But it was.

  Or, more specifically, Red was.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, not knowing if I should laugh or scream. “Fine. Thank you. Let’s just talk about your party now.” I’d go. I’d go to her party. I’d even get high if she’d just stop talking about Brady.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I looked good. Too good. Every single year of high school, I dreamed of being one of those girls, the ones that seem to glitter and shine as they walked through the hallways—the social butterflies.

  I looked like a butterfly, pink and pretty, hair flowing around me like golden waves, makeup expertly applied. Red had done this to me. But after my last party, I no longer wanted to be a butterfly. I’d prefer a stick bug, blending in, completely unnoticed.

  “Drive your fucking car!” Red shouted at the vehicle in front of us, hand stuck out in a one finger wave. I took in her crazy mane of red curls, her enraged snarl, the way her butt didn’t touch the seat as if she could somehow get physically closer to the object of her annoyance. Something tells me no amount of camouflage will make me go unnoticed with her beside me.

  We were the only two cars on the strip of highway, the same highway with the double yellow line in the middle. Double yellow lines meant no passing, which meant stay in your lane. These are the facts that raced through my mind when Red yanked the wheel. She accelerated, bringing us along
side the car in question, one finger wave still in place.

  “Learn how to drive!” She jerked the car back in there direction.

  I watched in horror as what looked like a typical soccer mom was forced to swerve onto the shoulder with a silent scream. Or at least, it seemed silent from my position. Inside her car, I’m sure the sound was anything but.

  Red whipped back into the correct lane, then finally took the time to look over at her unfortunate accomplice. “Don’t worry. I’m a good driver.”

  I gaped at her. “You’re a maniac.”

  “That too.” She shrugged, looked away, then hit her turn signal.

  I had just enough time to turn my head before she pulled down a new road, if you could even call it that. It wasn’t paved, wasn’t even dirt. A lonely line of tire tracks was the only thing distinguishing the path. The tall trees on either side made it feel like we were taking off into the wilderness.

  I looked at Red again, then back to the road to nowhere, and for a not so brief moment considered the odds of her planning to murder me out here. It looked like a perfect spot for it, not that I spent too much time thinking of such things.

  “Where are we going?” I asked tentatively.

  Red looked over and smirked. “There’s a house back here. My buddy Rick lives in it with a few of his friends. It’s where the party is.”

  I nodded, trying to school my features in a calm expression, a no-way-I-thought-you-were-a-murderer expression.

  To give proof to her statement, a house came into view ahead of us. It was small, white, a little run down, and pitch black apart from the glow of Red’s headlights.

  “Are you sure this is the place?” I asked as if she could accidentally go to this house. Maybe, it was the next random hidden driveway. Maybe, she planned to kill me after all.

  “This is it. See?” She pointed, and it was only then that I noticed the light glow emanating within the front window. A candle.

  She threw the car in park, climbed out, and I, very slowly and reluctantly, did the same. We walked the short distance in silence. Inside my mind, a childlike version of myself, was shaking her head, arms crossed, and looking at me like I was an idiot.