Haunted (3 page)

* * *

We got ourselves settled on the couch with our Chinese food and a movie rental. I let her pick something out as I had no clue what was good – I wasn't big into cinema after a lifetime of not being able to see the screen. She'd picked out some teenage angst-ridden movie from the pay-per-view channel, leaving the order screen up so I could read the description. I nearly fell over when I saw that it was about vampires and werewolves, but I managed to keep it together – barely. I wasn't looking forward to Hollywood's take on my genetic abnormality, nor was I at all excited at the thought of Cooper coming home mid-film. In his current condition, I didn't think it possible for him to keep his mouth shut; I was wicked nervous. I sat on the far end of the couch from Peyta, nearest the kitchen so I could escape whenever it seemed necessary. I wasn't entirely comfortable with girl time to start with and the movie choice did nothing to lighten my mood.

Surprisingly, as we got into the film I found myself relaxing more and more. There had only been vampires up until that point, and as far as I knew they didn't exist. I felt more at ease until Cooper walked in the door.

Oh shit.

“Hey, P, how's it going?” he shouted over the deafening volume of the TV. She paused the movie and got up to go greet him. He gave her a huge hug, making a big show of picking her up and swinging her around before putting her back on her feet and walking over to the kitchen. “What are we watching tonight, ladies?” he asked, inviting himself to girl time.

“Twilight,” Peyta answered. “It's a love story between a human girl, a vampire and a werewolf. Have you seen it?”

My chest and back started sweating almost instantaneously. I was begging internally for him not to blow it somehow.

“No,” he replied, feigning seriousness. “Who do you like the most?”

“I like them both, but I'm pulling for the werewolf, Jacob.”

“Interesting…makes me wish I was a werewolf, too. Seems like they get all the girls,” he said.

I nearly fell off of the couch. I shot a look his way that could have melted ice, and he laughed out loud at me.

“So what do we have to eat over there since the fridge is barren as usual.”

“Chinese. Do you want some?” Peyta asked.

“Sure,” he said, walking behind the couch. He jumped over the back to land in between us, making himself very comfortable – too comfortable. I looked over to see Peyta smiling at the TV screen, and it wasn't the actor she was smiling for.

Awesome. This is so not going to end well – a horny teenager and…well, another horny teenager.

I spent the rest of the movie watching the body language between my couchmates. I didn't really think that Cooper wanted to hook up with a teenager, but he wasn't doing much to deter her crush on him – he was playing into it. It just seemed like a bad idea, which left yet another thing for the two of us to discuss.

When the movie finished I kicked Cooper out of the living room so I could put Peyta's bed together. The pullout couch was surprisingly comfortable, but it was a huge pain in the ass to have to drag out. I gave her sheets to dress it with, hoping it would keep her busy while I cornered Cooper in his room.

“What exactly are you doing?” I asked.

“Not sure what you mean,” he answered, knowing damn well what I was talking about.

“She's a child, Cooper, not one of your drunken whores from the club. Don't you dare even think about messing with her,” I threatened. “If you do, I won't wait for Ronnie to kill you. I'll do it myself.”

He stared at me for a minute without saying anything. Apparently what I said was a lot to process. The truth often is.

“I would never do that, Ruby,” he said, actually sounding truthful. “I like Peyta. She's a good kid. I was just playing.”

“Well don't! Remember that whole 'get your shit together' conversation we had? Try following through with it,” I said as I stormed out of his room, not giving him a chance to reply. In my mind there was nothing left for him to say.

I popped my head out into the living room to see if there was anything else Peyta needed, as well as check to be sure the front door was locked. She switched off the main overhead light while I made my way to Cooper's room, looking in on him as I passed. I gave him my best “I've got my eyes on you” gesture, then made my way to my bedroom. The door closed softly behind me as I collapsed onto the bed. I was exhausted from my babysitting and was regretting my decision already.

Me and my big mouth.

I didn't hear any shenanigans coming from the rest of the apartment all night, so I assumed that Cooper behaved himself. Early Saturday morning I awoke, knowing that I needed to get food for Peyta and myself before we went into work. I made my way to the bathroom beyond Cooper's room. His door was open, his bed made. He hadn't stayed in the house that night.

5

“Peyta?” I called, pushing the door from the back workroom open.

“Yeah, Ruby, what's up?” she replied, popping up like a gopher from the far side of the counter.

“I was planning to shut the shop down early today because I have to head down to Boston. Are you good with keeping it open, or should I stick to my original game plan?” I asked.

“Go ahead and go. If I have any problems, I can just call Cooper,” she replied.

You can call all you want…doesn't mean he's going to answer.

“I guess. You can call my cell, too. I'll have it in the studio with me,” I said.

“OK. Have a good time,” she said with a smile. “When are you home?”

“Late. Probably around ten or eleven. I left you some money for food in the back of the store in an envelope. I don't know if Coop will be around or not, so just worry about yourself,” I replied. “I'll see you later.”

She waved goodbye to me as she greeted the customer who walked in as I was leaving. The store was in good hands for sure.

* * *

I got to Boston around four p.m. to meet with the dance company I'd been working with for the past two months. I'd auditioned at the request of my instructor in Portsmouth. Her old friend, Pam, was the director of the company and had expressed interest in contemporary and jazz dancers. A few of us were hand-selected to go down and try out; I was the only one accepted.

We had a big performance coming up the following weekend and were in full-on preparation mode. That essentially meant the entire night would be spent working out the kinks and perfecting the dances. I was fortunate enough to have a piece I had choreographed included, but I was horribly nervous to see what the reaction would be to it; it varied considerably from the general tone and style of the others.

I walked into the large open room which was mirrored on three of the four walls. The hardwood floors were worn and scraped up from years of use without repair. I saw my partner, Matty, sitting across the room stretching, and waved as I made my way over to him. Matty was an amazing dancer with beautiful lines, and he wasn't hard on the eyes, either. His family was Italian, and he had all the features to match: dark hair, olive skin, and chocolate brown eyes that were warm and friendly. He was wearing his standard uniform of tan cargo shorts with a beat-up tee shirt. Some male dancers tended to come off with an effeminate quality, but not Matty. He looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch model who just happened to be a mind-blowing dancer. Matty had the gift which so many male dancers lacked – he could be graceful and manly at the same time. He was exquisite to watch.

We'd initially been paired based on height, as I was considered quite tall by dancer standards. Ballerinas look long and lean, but they usually max out at around five-foot-six. My five-foot nine-inch frame was a little more than most guys could handle, even though I was thin. Matty didn't have any issues with that. With a powerful six-foot four-inch build, he could lift me like I weighed ninety pounds and not even break a sweat. I was really lucky to have him.

“Hey, Ruby. How was the drive?” he asked, always concerned about my pilgrimage to Boston.

“It was great, no Massholes in my way the whole time!” I joked, knowing full well that Matty was born and raised just south of the city, and would likely not appreciate my slanderous statement regarding the erratic driving skills of Massachusetts natives.

“Well, I'm glad we cleared the road just for you.”

I smiled as I unpacked my gear and stripped down to the basics – black boy-shorts and a white v-neck t-shirt.

“So, are you getting nervous yet?” he asked. “You've never really performed before, right?” He leaned over his right leg to stretch, anxiously awaiting my response.

“Horribly nervous, but thanks for keeping that in the forefront of my mind. It's so comforting,” I replied, smiling at him.

“You shouldn't be. You're an amazing dancer. The best partner I've ever had…even if you are old.”

I smacked him in the arm and laughed, sitting down beside him. Matty didn't look his age so it was easy to forget that he was only twenty-one to my twenty-eight, soon to be twenty-nine. He danced with a maturity that would lead one to believe he was far older. My piece demanded every ounce of that maturity.

We weren't up to practice for a couple of numbers, so we continued to chat as we waited.

“I've been meaning to ask you something, but you always seem to take off as soon as we're done. I never get the chance,” he said conversationally. “The piece that we're doing, 'Gravity', where did you get your inspiration for that?”

Holy can of worms, Batman!

“Um. Well…it's complicated,” I said, trying to evade his question.

“Bad relationship?” he asked, standing up slowly.

“You could kinda say that, I guess. Dysfunctional to say the least,” I replied, picking at the floor.

“He must've done a number on you,” he said, sounding sympathetic. “Men can be real assholes.” He reached out his hand to help me up from the floor. I accepted his aid with a grin, and soon thereafter found myself standing inches away from him.

“Yes. Yes, they can, Matty,” I replied, finding a need to break eye contact with him. I began brushing the dirt off of my shorts for distraction. “Good thing you're not really a man then, eh?”

“I'll leave that one unanswered,” he said, smiling. “Come on…it's our turn.”

Ever the good sport.

6

Rehearsal ran longer than expected and I couldn't bear the thought of driving home on an empty stomach. Matty and I were both starving so we stopped to grab a quick bite at a coffee shop around the corner before I left Boston. I didn't make it home until almost eleven which left me guilt ridden for leaving Peyta home alone on her second night at my place.

The lights from the apartment spilled out onto the street below when I pulled up outside. I was surprised that she was still up. Maybe she's having trouble sleeping in a new place alone. My guilt ramped itself up even more, and I ran up the stairs, feeling the need to check on her as soon as possible. The door was unlocked, which surprised me, and I made a mental note to discuss the importance of always locking it. Lord knows I had learned that the hard way on more than one occasion.

I peeked my head in, expecting to see her curled up in bed with the TV running. Instead, I saw her and Cooper perched on the couch sharing an enormous tub of popcorn, watching what appeared to be the same movie as the night before. On one side, Peyta was snuggled up with a blanket on her lap, and on the other, Cooper was sprawled out, arms resting along the back of the couch. Thankfully, the huge bowl separated the two of them.

“Hey, Ruby! You're late…did everything go OK at dance tonight?” Peyta asked, looking mildly concerned.

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I should have sent a text, but I thought you'd be asleep. I didn't want to bother you,” I replied.

“No worries, Rubes. I took Peyta out to get food and we rented part two of the Twilight saga, New Moon,” Cooper said, looking ever so responsible. “It just started. We could reset it if you want to watch.”

I was pretty certain my jaw was hanging open. I stood staring at him like he was a completely different person, because that's how he was acting. It was as though all of a sudden I had regained Captain Appropriate instead of the douchebag I'd been dealing with for the past three months. I clearly didn't know how to respond to that, although gawking like a fool appeared to be the default.

“Um…no, no it's okay. I need to go shower. I'll just catch whatever is left when I'm done,” I mumbled.

“Well, there's plenty more popcorn for when you get out, Roomie,” Coop informed me. He never took his eyes off the screen, but I saw the smirk plain as day on his face.

“Thanks,” I said, turning to walk down to the bathroom. I'm pretty certain my mouth was still hanging slightly agape.

WHAT IS GOING ON? Am I starting to lose it or is everything just getting turned on its ass lately?

I hopped into the shower for a quick scrub, leaving my mop of hair out of the festivities. The curls were tangled, and I was just too tired to deal with combing them out in the shower, only to have to spend at least fifteen to twenty minutes drying it once I got out. I loved my blond fro, but it was high maintenance for sure.

I finished up with all the post-shower necessities and joined the couch party in the living room. Picking up the bowl that sat between them, I plopped down in the center of the couch, firmly planting my butt there. Cooper flashed me the “I know what your ass is telling me, and I don't need to be told” look, while Peyta gave a wan smile that never quite reached her eyes. Her look was more of an “I'm glad you're home but you're blocking my view of the real show” variety.