To Free a Phantom

by Carrie Pulkinen

  She was still self-conscious about her scars, but he would change that. Hopefully, with time, she’d learn he didn’t give a damn about whether or not her skin was smooth. Someday, she’d believe him when he told her she was beautiful.

  He busied himself rebuilding a computer, and when lunchtime rolled around, he jetted out the door to meet his sister.

  At the restaurant, he found Chelsea sitting at a table by the window, impatiently drumming her bubblegum-pink nails on the red-checkered tablecloth. She glared at him as he approached. “You didn’t call her yet, did you?” Typical Chelsea. Straight to the point.

  He slid into the seat across from her. “It’s good to see you, too. How have you been?”

  “We don’t have time for chitchat. Your happily ever after is hanging in the balance here. Oh, and I ordered you your usual roast beef sandwich. I hope getting laid hasn’t changed your tastes.” She smirked and sipped her tea.

  “That’s fine, and no, I haven’t called her. But I don’t get why I’m not supposed to.” It was all he’d wanted to do all morning.

  “Didn’t you read any of the articles I sent you?”

  “Some of them.” He’d read every damn one, and was even more confused than before he started.

  “The rule is you need to wait at least a day to call after you have sex.”

  He laughed. “I thought that was the rule for calling after the first date. This wasn’t our first date. And anyway, it’s Erica. It’s different.” Surely all these crazy relationship rules didn’t apply to dating his best friend.

  “It won’t be different if you don’t listen to me. You don’t want it to turn out like it did with Allison and Roxanne…”

  “Rochelle.”

  “And every other woman you’ve attempted to date, do you?”

  He crossed his arms. “No.” She had a point, but damn. Waiting a full day to call her when he couldn’t get her off his mind seemed wrong. They’d connected. The entire dynamic of their relationship had changed overnight. Shouldn’t he at least let her know he was thinking about her?

  A server delivered their sandwiches and gave Gage a glass of water. As the waiter scurried away, his friend Trent approached the table. He wore a charcoal suit and carried a paper bag in one hand and a Styrofoam cup in the other. He tucked the bag under his arm and reached out a hand to shake. “Hey, Gage. How you been?”

  Gage stood and shook his hand. “Good, man. How about you? No more trouble with spirits in your house?”

  “Haven’t heard a peep.”

  Gage turned to Chelsea. “This is Trent, he had the shadow entity I told you about.”

  She cringed. “I’m Chelsea, Gage’s favorite sister. You’re braver than me staying in that house. I would’ve moved out the first chance I got.”

  Gage glared at his sister. “I’ve told you things aren’t that simple.”

  “I know. I know. Hey, why don’t you join us for lunch, Trent?”

  He took the bag from under his arm. “I don’t want to impose.”

  “You’re not imposing. Come on.” She pulled out a chair and practically shoved Trent into it.

  Gage sighed. His sister never did know how to take no for an answer.

  “I was just telling Gage he shouldn’t call the girl he slept with last night.” Chelsea grinned and took a bite of her chicken salad.

  Gage huffed. “Let the man eat his lunch, Chels.”

  Trent chuckled. “Oh, man. That’s none of my business.”

  “I want a man’s opinion on this,” Chelsea said. “He slept with his best friend last night. They didn’t talk about it before she left this morning. Tell him he should wait a day to call her.”

  Trent took a bite of his own food and cut his gaze between Gage and Chelsea as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved. Gage groaned inwardly at the thought of yet another person having an opinion on his love life. Then again, Trent was happily married…his advice might be more helpful than his twenty-two-year-old sister’s.

  “You slept with her, and then you didn’t talk about what that meant for your relationship?”

  “Exactly.” It was a dick move. He should’ve said something, but he’d been too caught up in the afterglow to think clearly.

  “That’s a tough one, man. On the one hand, you don’t want to seem too needy. It might be good to give it some time to simmer. Let her come to terms with how she feels about it.”

  Chelsea leaned forward, smiling smugly. “See, I told you.”

  Trent shrugged. “On the other hand…if you guys were good friends already, you might want to get it sorted out quickly. I don’t know what to tell you, except go with your gut.”

  Gage gave Chelsea a pointed look. “My gut says to call her.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And going with your gut has worked out so well for you in the past.”

  Trent rose to his feet. “I’ve got to get back to the office. It was nice to meet you, Chelsea.” He shook her hand and clapped Gage on the shoulder. “Good luck, man.”

  “Thanks, Trent. See you.”

  He turned to Chelsea as Trent strode away. “I want to call her.”

  “Please don’t. Just wait one day. Call her tomorrow afternoon.” She took his hand across the table. “Trust me on this. Please?”

  He sighed. If waiting a day, giving Erica some time to think, would help him not make an ass of himself, he could do that. It went against everything his gut was telling him to do, but Chelsea was right. He couldn’t allow himself to fuck up this relationship too. “Okay. I’ll wait until tomorrow. But you better be right about this.”

  Erica sat at the makeup table in the theater wing, staring at the ghostly image of Colette in the antique mirror. “I can’t believe Amber didn’t show up for her private lesson.” Today seemed to be chock-full of disappointments from people she thought she could count on. “I’m going to call her.”

  “No, don’t.” Colette’s image solidified in the glass. “I’m telling you, dear, if she doesn’t have the drive to show up, she has no business being your lead.”

  “She’s an amazing actress. Wait until you see her perform.” Erica had brought the mirror to the theater to get the spirit out of her house. She’d assumed her personal life was about to get much more personal after last night with Gage, but the day was almost over and he still hadn’t called.

  “I’ve seen…better, I’m sure.” The spirit faded to a translucent mist.

  “You keep fading. Do you need to recharge? I should call Amber and make sure she’s okay.” She paused, a foggy image flitting through her mind. Her student standing on the stage rehearsing her song, Erica pacing through the seats.

  She shook her head. Amber hadn’t shown up for her private lesson; she’d remember it if she had.

  Colette darkened for a moment before fading again. “You need to let it go. Let them both go.”

  A sharp pain shot through her heart. After the way Gage had made her feel last night…the things he’d done for her…to her… She never should have told the spirit what she’d done. “I don’t want to.”

  The ghost rolled her eyes. “You got a night of great sex out of it. If they don’t have money, that’s all men are good for. That boy is taking up too much of your mind when you should be focusing on the show. Have you bought the rights yet? Have you started looking for costumes? A tech to run the lights?”

  She picked at a piece of imaginary lint on her shirt. “I was hoping Gage could run the lights.”

  The spirit sighed. “When are you going to start listening to Colette, dear? He’s a man. They’re all the same.”

  He was probably busy. Maybe the server went down at work, and he’d spent all day trying to get it back online. Or he had a lot of computers to repair. Or maybe he was waiting for her to make the next move. “I should call him.”

  “Don’t.” Colette’s image solidified as she reached an arm toward Erica. The spirit almost seemed three-dimensional, as if her hand had penetrated the glass she’d bee
n trapped in for decades.

  Erica squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, the ghost appeared behind the glass like normal. “He was shy when we were kids. Maybe he still is.”

  “Never put yourself at the mercy of a man. If he really wanted you, he would have called by now. Forget about him.”

  She had a point. Gage had been shy when they were young, but not with her. Aside from never telling her he’d had a crush on her, he’d always been open with her. And even if he was busy, a text only took five seconds to send. He could’ve at least done that. Erica straightened her spine. “You know what? You’re right. He’s obviously not the same sweet guy I used to know.”

  Colette smiled. “Of course I’m right, dear. I’ve had ages of experience.”

  He’d led her on, gotten what he’d wanted, and now he was done with her. Some best friend he turned out to be. She should’ve known something was up when he didn’t mention seeing her again when she’d left his apartment. He’d just given her that dreamy, sleepy smile and kissed her goodbye.

  The morning after hadn’t felt awkward at the time, but the more she thought about it, the more awkward it became in her mind. He probably regretted sleeping with her. Maybe he’d done it out of pity.

  Anger burned white hot in her chest. A pity fuck. That’s all it had been to him. “I’m so mad at him.”

  Colette nodded. “You should be mad. He used you.”

  She glanced at the ghost in the mirror. “Thanks for talking some sense into me. I’m going to head home.”

  “Aren’t you going to take me with you?”

  She considered the heavy, oval mirror. It was awkward to carry, and she’d nearly dropped it coming down the stairs this morning. “I can’t keep carrying you back and forth. You’ll be better off staying here anyway. You can watch the kids and help me coach them.”

  The spirit pursed her lips, crossing her arms to tap a finger against her bicep. “True. You will be spending most of your time here now.”

  “I’ve got nothing else to do.” Her body ached, her stomach growled, and she was so mad at Gage she couldn’t think straight. Some food, a hot shower, and a good night’s sleep would make her feel better. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  A wave of nausea rolled through Erica’s body. Her vision blurred, and she swayed on her feet. This was the second time she’d experienced the strange sensation today. Blinking her gaze into focus, her own reflection stared back at her from the antique mirror. She glanced at her watch. Eight p.m. Hadn’t it been seven a minute ago?

  “Colette?” She tapped on the glass.

  A shimmering mist filled the mirror as the spirit’s translucent form came into view. “I’m running out of energy, dear. What is it?”

  “Weren’t we just talking?”

  “Yes, and you said you were going home.”

  “But…” She rubbed her temples. She had said that, hadn’t she? But she could’ve sworn it was seven when she did. She’d been thinking about getting some dinner. Or had she been…? Confusion clouded her mind. What had she been doing? “I think I lost an hour. How long have I been standing here?”

  Colette flipped a hand in the air. “A few minutes, maybe? I don’t know. I need to recharge, and so do you, darling.”

  The ghost faded, and Erica blinked at her own reflection. She shook her head. Some sleep would definitely do her good. All this stress was affecting her brain, and she needed to get it together if she intended to make this theater work. She had enough in her savings account to pay the rent and utilities for three months. That should be plenty of time to pull the show together.

  And with Gage apparently out of the picture, she’d have nothing to distract her from her mission. She took a deep breath and blew it out with conviction. She could live without him. She’d made it through the past ten years just fine.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gage stared at his phone and gripped a pencil so tight it broke in half in his hand. It had taken every ounce of willpower he could muster to keep himself from calling Erica last night. Hell, he’d had to turn the damn phone off and bury it in the bottom of his drawer, but he’d done it.

  And now he felt like the biggest ass on the face of the planet.

  Why had he listened to his sister? Not calling Erica had been a mistake. Every cell in his body had screamed at him to call her. To tell her how he felt. That he wanted to be hers and hers alone. Now she wouldn’t take his calls.

  He’d tried three times this morning. Every one went straight to voicemail.

  “Dude, could you stop with the leg bouncing?” Adam called from across the room. “Some of us are trying to work.”

  “Sorry.” He stilled his nervous jitters and checked the clock. Eleven a.m. “I’m going to take an early lunch.”

  Adam lifted a hand to wave but thankfully didn’t look up from his keyboard. Gage wouldn’t have to explain the sweat beading on his forehead in a sixty-eight-degree workroom. If Erica wouldn’t take his calls, he’d go see her in person. Apologize profusely. Hell, he’d beg for forgiveness if he had to.

  He drove by her apartment complex, but he couldn’t find her car in the parking lot. If she wasn’t home, she must’ve been at the theater. It made sense. The place was her only source of income now. Maybe she was there with her friend who was helping her plan that big show she’d talked about. Hopefully she’d be there alone.

  He parked in the theater parking lot next to Erica’s car and strode to the entrance. Pulling on the front door handle, he found it unlocked. The auditorium door hung wide open. He’d have to talk to her again about keeping them locked when she was here alone. Though the place was located in an upscale part of town, there was no need to tempt the fates.

  “Erica?”

  He crept down the aisle toward the stage, scanning the rows of seats, but the auditorium sat empty. Eerily quiet. As he reached the front row, the air temperature around him plummeted as if an arctic wind gusted through the room. Every hair on his body stood at attention, saluting the electric buzzing sensation crawling across his skin.

  He let out a breath, creating a fog in front of him. “Whoever you are, you’ve got my attention.”

  The seat next to him unfolded and popped back into its normal position.

  “Are you Leroy or Stanley? Or someone else?” Though the two stagehands were the only spirits he’d met when D.A.P.S. investigated, there could’ve been more ghosts hanging around. Sometimes when dormant spirits became active again, they drew in other ghosts from the area. Even in death, it seemed humans sought out the company of others.

  Another seat flopped down and popped back up. Then another a few spaces down, as if the spirit were leading him toward the right side of the stage. If he’d thought to bring his backpack inside, he could’ve used an audio recorder to communicate with the ghost. If it had something to say—and it seemed like it did—he might have been able to hear the spirit’s disembodied voice on the recorder.

  He usually carried a few pieces of paranormal equipment with him whenever he knew he’d be in a haunted location…just in case. But this time, his mind had been occupied with apologizing to Erica. At least he had his priorities straight now, Erica being number one, and all those stupid dating rules not even making it on the list.

  Climbing the short row of steps to the stage, he caught a glimpse of Erica in the wing. She sat at a makeup table, the halo of lights shining brightly around her. The antique mirror he’d seen in her bedroom sat propped against the makeup mirror, and Erica leaned toward it, running a brush through her long, loose hair.

  Frigid, buzzing energy pressed against him, almost as if trying to keep him away. He stepped through it, and the electricity dissipated. The curtain ruffled, and as he took another step forward, warmth returned to the air.

  Erica didn’t seem to notice his presence, so he entered the wing and stood behind her. “Hey.”

  Narrowing her eyes briefly as if she were confused, she tilted her head slightly. “Gage.” She said his na
me as if she were recognizing him for the first time. Rising to her feet, she pushed the chair aside and faced him. Her hair fell behind her shoulders, revealing the thick layer of stage makeup she’d applied to the scar on her face and neck.

  She used to apply this type of makeup for the shows in high school, when she’d been an actress herself. From a seat in the house, her skin would’ve appeared smooth. She’d told him it was the only time she’d ever felt normal. When she could pretend to be someone else, like her past didn’t exist. Up close, though, the scar was still obvious. The makeup almost comical.

  “What’s with the stage makeup? Are you putting on a one-woman show tonight?” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

  A strange intensity flashed in her eyes, like she wanted to ravish him and strangle him at the same time. “Why would I do that?”

  He couldn’t blame her if she wasn’t in the mood for jokes. She was probably furious with him. He cleared his throat. “I tried to call this morning a few times.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Hmm. I must’ve turned my ringer off. I was very angry with you.”

  “Yeah. About that. I’m really sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. I was trying so hard not to screw this up, and I took some very bad advice from Chelsea.”

  She prowled toward him, her gaze raking up and down his body. Slipping her tongue out to moisten her lips, she caught her bottom one between her teeth. “Chelsea?”

  His heart sprinted. With the hungry look in her eyes, he didn’t know whether to be turned on or scared. “My little sister. Are you okay?”

  She touched his shoulder, gliding her hand down his arm, and moved closer to him, her body mere inches from his. Her breath warmed his cheek as she leaned in. “Do you want me, Gage?”

  “You know I do. I’ve always wanted you.” He’d do anything to make her understand how much she meant to him.