by Eve Paludan
“Ramon?” Amanda said from my body. “Ramon Santiago?”
The man—Ramon apparently—turned to her. “Yes?”
“I—I just wanted to say that I love you in everything you’ve been in.” She forced a laugh.
Ramon smiled even wider. “Well, thank you for saying that. I love connecting with our YouTube film fans. What’s your name again?”
“Pauline Ocean,” she said in a somber tone, as if irritated she had to keep up this charade in front of her lover. “I’m the medium that Amanda hired to be a ghost whisperer and lead the troublesome spirits in this mansion into the light. So you can film without distractions on Monday.”
Ramon leaned into me, pulling me against his body and I could feel that he was—well—excited to see me.
Over Ramon’s shoulder, I peered at Amanda in my body. Her expression was a mixture of mortification and rage. Is that how I look when I’m furious?
She narrowed her eyes and mouthed the words: Get away from my boyfriend.
But what was I supposed to do? He had his hand on my butt!
The tall, broad-shouldered, beautiful actor pulled back from me, a wicked expression on his face. He caressed my arm and lowered his hand to my waist, pulling me into him again.
Suddenly, the crowds and noise around me all faded. Everything fell silent and all I could see, all I could hear was Ramon. My body felt like it was on fire and pulsing with electricity everywhere he touched me in her body. I couldn’t help myself. I was losing myself in those chocolate-brown eyes and sinking even deeper.
“Ummm, Amanda?” Amanda’s voice—or rather, my voice—pulled me out of my reverie and landed me back into the present. All of the sights and sounds returned, but still, Ramon’s face was in front of mine. Those eyes, that smile.
“Amanda?”
My eyes drifted over to Amanda in my body; she was glaring at me from my own angry eyes, as if she wanted to throttle me. Her face was red and tears shimmered. I didn’t understand why she was so upset. Everything was beautiful. This man in front of me was beautiful. Life was beautiful.
“Yes?” I replied, my head swimming and my voice dreamy.
“I just saw Mack,” she snapped. “He looked really upset. He left. Walked right through a wall. Along with some of the others who looked like they walked straight off a 1940s’ movie set—other spirits who didn’t look too pleased to see him. And yes, I can see things in your body. Like I can see your aura and it’s not nice what you are doing with…”
I heard the words, but they didn’t seem to matter. Nothing else seemed to matter other than Ramon’s beautiful face. Those sumptuous lips. That amazing body.
“Okay, thanks for letting me know,” I said.
“Amanda!”
Ramon rolled his eyes and turned to her. “Look, I want to spend time with my lady. So, please go and enjoy the party, Pauline. It was very nice to meet you. I wish you much luck in ghostbusting this place. Someone already fell down the stairs and said he was pushed by an unseen force.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. He dusted himself off and got another drink.”
“Okay, so—”
Ramon sighed, looking annoyed. He turned to me. “Come, querida, let’s go somewhere more—private.” He made a kissy noise that embarrassed me.
In my body, Amanda stood still, her shock, anger, and hurt more than clear as Ramon pulled me away. I felt powerless to stop it. Then again, I wasn’t sure I even really wanted to stop it. It was like I had no self-control in Amanda’s body. I wondered how she was going to fare in my body.
I followed closely behind Ramon as he led me to one of the mansion’s palatial bedrooms. I’d never seen a bedroom so luxurious and beautiful. The bed was extremely large—probably large enough for me, Ramon and six of his closest friends. It was appointed with what looked to be very high-thread-count sheets and full, plump body pillows. It looked like the kind of bed I could fall into and sleep for days. Or at least, fall into and do other things for days. If I were young and in love. Oh yeah, now I’m beginning to see what’s going down.
Ramon locked the door just as a fierce pounding began on the other side.
“Ramon,” Amanda screamed in my voice. “She’s not who you think she is! Ramon, her name is Pauline Ocean. She’s a medium and she stole my body! I’m Amanda! Ramon, open this door!”
“Your hired psychic is a little crazy,” he said in his smooth, rich voice.
I nodded, still feeling as if I were walking through a dream. “She is. But that medium is one hell of a ghost whisperer, I promise. She’s also a new friend. I really like her.”
“All right. We’ll talk about her later, querida.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and I was captivated by the way his muscles looked beneath his tailored shirt. I ran a hand through his dark hair and down his cheek, smiling at the way the stubble on his face tickled my hand. A small voice in my mind told me I shouldn’t be doing this. That it was wrong. But I told it to shut up and let Amanda’s body have what it wanted.
Ramon smiled. “How did you meet her again? If you don’t mind me saying so, she seems a little old, and a little—frumpy—for you to be hanging out with.”
I shrugged. “I met her at the holistic spa. For my de-tox weekend. Not the full monty. I wanted to get clean. Of coke. What the hell are we doing, Ramon, blowing all of our money on coke?”
“Enjoying the moments of life. I can’t believe you actually went to rehab.” He sounded disappointed.
The pounding on the door picked up again, as did Amanda’s screeching complaints coming out of my body. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to get herself kicked out of the party. I wanted to tell her to calm down, but I wanted to sit there on the bed with Ramon even more. He smelled like Axe and minty toothpaste.
“Why was she in rehab? Coke, too?”
“No, nothing like that.” I was surprised at how defensive I sounded. “She’s just got some minor issues with drinking she wanted to get under control. She said it was interfering with her abilities.”
He ran a fingertip down my jawline and I could see the hunger and passion in his eyes. “Abilities?”
“I told you. She’s a medium. She is going to be trying to clear this place of all the ghosts before we start shooting on Monday. I am pretty sure I told you in a text.”
His laugh was slow and sweeter than honey. “Ahhhh. Now, I see. You’re afraid that the rumors are true. That this house is haunted.”
“Something like that. I want the house cleared of the restless spirits before we start shooting on Monday.”
“I suppose it’s a good idea. It does seem like the house has a restless energy. And Federico did fall down the stairs. He said he was pushed by something he couldn’t see.”
I nodded and couldn’t bring myself to turn away from his eyes. They were intense, deep, and gorgeous.
“Well, you look so worried about this ghost thing,” he said. “I’m going to help you forget all about them. We are going to have such a night of passion that you won’t be able to think of anything else.”
I nodded again and felt the heat blossoming within my body—well, Amanda’s body—but it was mine, for now.
“That sounds amazing,” I said in a soft, timid tone. “But I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t.”
“Yes, we should. So, which first?”
I cocked my head at him, not understanding. “First?”
“Sex?” He smiled. “Or cocaine?”
I looked at him evenly, stuffing down my sudden flare-up of irritation. “Did you not just hear me tell you I quit doing coke?”
He gave me a placating expression. “So you did. Passionate lovemaking it is, then.”
As Ramon playfully threw me back on the bed and growled at me in a sexy way, I was aware of Amanda still pounding on the door and screaming at us in my voice. But only vaguely.
As he was tickling me and undressing me, I giggled and did it back to him. It was then that I realized that somethi
ng was controlling me. I was powerless to stop Ramon or even myself.
Chapter Nine
Amanda in Pauline’s body…
My hands hurt from pounding on the door. Ramon was in there doing God knew what with Pauline and there was nothing I could do about it. He couldn’t understand that we’d switched bodies and that the woman he was doing all of those amazing things to wasn’t actually me.
I sat in the hallway, my back against the bedroom door and cried. Some of the partygoers walked by, casting strange looks my way. Some looked at me like they were bored and I wasn’t very interesting. Others stared at me as if I were a homeless person who might jump them at any moment. And still others were too wasted to even notice me.
The people who did see me, though, didn’t see me as the beautiful and talented actress that I was. They saw a middle-aged, dowdy woman with bad hair and a bit of a fat roll around her middle. Pauline really needed her roots done. Big time. I had half a mind to beg Darlene for a haircut tonight to fix poor Pauline’s hairdo. But I was mad at Pauline right now. Ugh.
I was so frustrated and angry that I wanted to scream bloody murder. I sighed and tried to clear my head. Where was my yoga mindset when I needed it? Heck, this woman couldn’t even sit cross-legged on the floor.
But I digress. I needed to figure out a game plan. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back, and tried to summon Pauline’s friend, Mack. Mack the friendly ghost. If anybody would be able to help get me out of this mess, it was going to be him.
Mack, I called with my mind. Mack, I need you. Yo, ghost BFF of Pauline’s? Get your transparent butt in here right now. It’s an emergency and you, Mackster, are the ambulance!
I listened and listened, straining my ears and my mind, but heard nothing. Not so much as a “boo” from Pauline’s favorite ghost. He must have been really upset at seeing her fawning all over Ramon. Maybe he was even as upset as I was. Obviously, he cared for her a lot. Not that Pauline could see it. As astute as she was about other people’s emotions and baggage, she sure had put a lockdown on her own.
At any rate, I needed to find Mack so he could get her out of that bedroom and off of my lover. I got back on my feet, cast one last look at the locked door behind me, and set out in search of her ghost, her familiar, whatever he was to her.
I passed through rooms packed with partiers galore. Mostly my friends and some strangers, too. Not that they would know me in Pauline’s body.
Mack! Mack! I called in each room, in my head and sometimes, aloud.
People were half-naked and intoxicated—but all I could think of was Ramon, who was alone in that room with Pauline, who’d stolen my body and was now stealing my boyfriend. Damn that woman.
Mack! I screamed in my mind. Where are you? I need you! Come on. Pauline is being unprofessional!
As I walked from room to room, doing my best to summon Pauline’s ghost squeeze, everyone was Kung-Fu making out, and more. But I was too upset to care.
They looked at me and my saggy, frumpy, middle-aged body with disdain. I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to tell them that I was one of them. I was one of the pretty people, too! If not the prettiest!
I moved deeper into the house and with each passing room, the music out front began to fade, replaced with something different. Something older. I couldn’t quite place it, but it seemed like the Big Band and jazz you’d hear in a bygone era. And then I began to see them. Ghosts!
My own empath powers weren’t anywhere near as keen as Pauline’s medium powers. But I felt something inside of me. A surge of energy I’d never felt before. And it was powerful. Maybe being in Pauline’s body had amped up my own psychic abilities. It was the only explanation because I could now clearly see and hear these people—or rather, these spirits. They looked like they came straight out of the 1940s.
I watched them dancing, singing, laughing, and talking. I even saw two of them making love in a dark corner under a pile of ghost coats and purses. Pauline had been right when she said this place was stuffed to the rafters with the dead. It was amazing. It was as if I was in the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland where they were all dancing in the ballroom. And doing other things that never happen in D-land.
“Hey, what are you looking at?” asked a guy whose voice I knew well from old black-and-white movies.
I glanced around, thinking I’d been caught gawking at a pair of people—living people—in a delicate situation. But the only person I saw staring at me was a man who looked an awful lot like William Powell. And he looked angry.
On the couch behind him, very demurely attempting to cover herself, was a woman who looked to be the spitting image of Jean Harlow. But then, considering where I was and the reputation this house carried, it was entirely possible that I was, in fact, looking at the spirits of William Powell and Jean Harlow.
“Wow!” I said stupidly. “I love your movies!”
“I said, what are you looking at?” the man growled.
“I’m sorry,” I started. “Are you not William Powell?”
“Can you not see that I’m a little busy here?”
I shifted my awkward gaze to the woman, who lowered her head and refused to meet my eyes. She looked embarrassed to have been caught in such a compromising position.
“I’m really sorry, Miss Harlow, Mr. Powell,” I said. “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just—”
“Well, you are intruding, so buzz off, cream puff.”
I was feeling almost lightheaded with the power coursing through me. It was as if something had been unlocked in my head—or Pauline’s head—I didn’t know what name to give it. But combining the power she left behind in her body with my own mind and emotions was a heady brew. Too heady.
The man reached out and pushed me.
I took a couple of steps backward to avoid falling down. “Hey, you ghost!” I said. “You pushed me!”
“Don’t ya have somebody else to go peep at? What are ya, some kinda weirdo?”
He pushed me again and this time, I couldn’t stop it. I fell flat on my butt. I quickly got back on my feet and frowned at the man. “That was not very nice!”
“Neither is spying on two spirits when they’re trying to make time.”
“Can’t you go into a bedroom?” I asked. “With a door that locks, maybe?”
His expression grew angrier and before I knew what was happening, he’d reached out and snatched a handful of my hair. He dragged me down the hallway as I howled in pain and protest. We got to the head of a staircase and he tossed me. I took a couple of clumsy, stumbling steps but managed to barely avoid falling down the stairs—only because I grabbed the railing.
I looked down and saw some of the partygoers—the living ones—staring at me like I’d lost my mind. All they could see was me stumbling down the stairs, gripping the railing for dear life.
I felt the heat rise in my face as I looked back at them. But then, the moment passed and almost in unison, they all turned back to their conversations. It was almost comical in a way. Almost.
Ghosts were giving me the bum’s rush and shoving me back to hang out with the living. I rushed down the stairs, desperate to find Mack because I needed help. I was in way over my head.
Minutes later, I found a door that led down to the basement and the wine cellar. I figured I’d try looking down there since I’d had no luck upstairs.
My footsteps echoed hollowly on the wooden stairs. The light was dim and no live people were down here. I was afraid I was going to miss a step and go crashing down, so I picked my way carefully.
Finally reaching the bottom floor, I found a large, ominous-looking wooden door in front of me. Like something you’d find in a medieval castle. I reached out and turned the knob, pushing it open.
More Big Band music played inside the dimly lit wine cellar, and my mouth fell open when what was inside of the room was revealed.
“Hey, who the hell are you?” one of the men snapped at me.
“Yeah, what are you doing standin’ there,
starin’ at us? Don’t you got nothin’ better to do?”
“You’re dead. You’re all dead and I can see you. I mean, forgive me, but this is cool and is it too fangirl of me to ask for your autographs?”
The women giggled.
I was still trying to get used to the idea that I could see these spirits and they could see me, too. Could interact with me. And as William Powell had showed me, they could harm me, too. This ability to interact with spirits was a power I hadn’t had before. I loved it and was afraid of it at the same time.
“I’m just looking for somebody,” I said. “A friend.”
“Yeah, well, he ain’t down here,” said the first man. “So scram, sister!”
“And close that door unless you’re auditioning for a part in tonight’s entertainment,” added another.
I stood there like an idiot for another moment, trying to place them. I’d seen their movies, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place them. At first.
“Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney!” I exclaimed. Still, the ladies’ names escaped me.
The men looked at me, clearly annoyed. “Hey, you can see us,” one of them said. “What gives?”
“I’m trapped in the body of a medium.”
“Well, la-di-da for you,” replied another ghost.
“Just tell me where Mack is. He’s a ghost, too. He came here with us, and I need to find him. It’s an emergency. A huge emergency.”
“I don’t think she’s real,” Humphrey Bogart said. “And if she’s a spirit, she’s playing some sort of trick on us.”
“There’s one way to find out if she’s dead or alive.” James Cagney threw a bottle of wine at me. It came at me end over end, as though in slow motion, and a thin stream of red liquid pin-wheeling out of the bottle’s neck as it flew. I squeaked and pulled the door shut just in time. I heard the loud thump followed by the sound of shattering glass and then, riotous laughter.
“Jerks,” I muttered. “Total jerks. And yeah, this place is haunted. Big time!”
Movement in the corner of my eye drew my attention and I looked up. At the end of the long, dark corridor I was standing in, I saw shadows. Dark shadows with gold, glittering eyes. They stared at me, and I could tell that these weren’t old stars and starlets. These weren’t typical ghosts. There was something sinister about them.