Haunted (5 page)

Randy looks me directly in the eyes.

“He wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit him on the nose,” he says, pointedly

He eyes me up and down and smirks a little as if he knows something I have not yet discovered.

“And that’s also a damned shame. Good day, Ms. Wilder. Be seein’ ya.”

Randy walks slowly away.

As he does, he fumbles out another Marlboro.

I follow his progress until he gets to the south end of the parking area.

Then, I blink, and it’s as if he vanishes into thin air. Or cigarette smoke.

Weird.

BRIAN

I have to find Kim so we can shoot her part of the intro while there’s still some daylight.

“Have you seen Ms. Wilder,” I ask a grip.

He points her out, and I walk over to see what we can do to try to salvage the day.

“Kim?” I say.

She spins around to face me, and suddenly I think maybe she’s angry.

Why angry?

“Uh, are you okay?” I say.

“Do you know anything about what’s really going on here, Brian?” she asks me.

“I know we’re running out of light. See that storm over there?” I say, pointing to a line of thunderheads working their way towards us.

“The weather people are telling me that’s going to be here in less than an hour, and won’t clear up until late tomorrow. We’ve got just enough time to shoot our intro pieces, if you can skip makeup,” I tell her, wanting just to kiss her again.

I smile at her.

She doesn’t need makeup.

She doesn’t need anything at all.

She’s stunning.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

I feel Mr. Peet agreeing with me.

Stop that, you asshole!

No time for all of that now!

“Where’s the trailer?” asks Kim. She whirls her head around, and her gorgeous hair is flying all over. She’s searching for the trailer, but I’m directly in her line of sight.

She’s pissed all right.

“Look, Kim, I was just joking. Your hair is fine, and in this light, you won’t need any additional blush or eyeliner. Can we just get started?” I say.

Then, I get inspired. I’ll just do what I normally do. I yell at the crew.

“Hey, Sam! Bob! Barbie! Get your asses over here, now, we’re rolling in five!” I shout at them.

Lardbutts, every single one of them…

“Tell Steve to hurry up! On the double!” I yell.

“That storm is moving in fast, and if there’s a lot of thunder, it will screw up the sound.”

Kim ambles over to me, holding a fancy cell phone and a micro recorder.

“I want to record this for my show, Brian,” says Kim.

“Sure, sure, whatever,” I reply.

She looks hot, just standing there.

Steady, boy.

Concentrate on work!

I’m checking the light meters, and the wind direction.

I move us over to a building that looks like a restroom. This will be fine to do our setups and voiceovers, and I can fix almost anything crappy in post.

And, if we do get some storming and thunder, it will go great with some of the other footage I am planning to shoot.

“Kim, you stand here, and I’ll have Steve and Sam get you miked and in position.

The next hour is just a frantic mess, as everyone runs around, taking some footage here, and another shot over there. We’re interrupted a few times by tourists and workers who walk into the scene since we don’t have the area cordoned off properly. I just wait until they leave, and then tell the crew to reset.

We do another take.

Then another.

Kim is professional, answering the leading questions I am asking. It’s fun to work with her like this. Later, we’ll edit this to make her look smart, but not –too- smart.

For some reason, I don’t want her to get a ton of hate mail.

But, I am sure we’ll also toss in enough doubt about her position to quell any issues people will have with the reasons the park won’t get built.

It’s win-win-win for everyone except those poor dead suckers, and they won’t care.

Kim gets some exposure for her vlog, and comes across as a tough cookie; the sponsor gets to get their lumber without too many hassles, and the State gets some revenue and exposure for the park.

And, of course, “Haunted” will get an eighty share.

Maybe even eighty-two.

*****

BRIAN

We’re filming the final take of Kim giving her summary bit when the thunderstorms finally arrive in force. The lightning is fierce, and I tell everyone to hurry up and get this before the rain hits.

Suddenly, Kim’s eyes get as big as pie plates, and she turns as white as a sheet.

I spin around to see what she’s looking at.

The thunderclouds have this weird shape to them, almost like a wolf’s face.

There’s eyes, and a mouth and a huge bolt of lightning shoots from one ‘eye’ and hits one of the construction cranes with a giant explosive crack.

Luckily, there is no one in it.

When my ears stop ringing, I think I hear a howl and someone laughing.

But, it’s just the rain, now coming down in sheets, bouncing off the roof.

When I get back to my car, my phone has four urgent text messages on it, all from Candice.

Oddly, none of them are sexts…

I call her, and she tells me what’s been going on while I’ve been herding cats all day. She’s pissed, too. I can tell. All these women suddenly pissed off at me. Not a good feeling.

Apparently, the tribe’s attorney, a Mr. Mitchum, has put a restraining order on our crew. We can’t work on location until we get this straightened out.

Then, I get the really bad news.

Candice tried to make reservations at the local hotel, but there’s some kind of conference rolling in tonight. I am pretty sure I had told her to be sure to book us a block of rooms before we headed out here, and she tells me she did.

Someone at the hotel fucked everything up.

There’s only one room available – the Bridal Suite. It’s going to cost an arm and a leg, and it only sleeps two.

Candice’s already got rooms for the rest of the crew in the next closest town, about thirty miles away. She called them while I was still on the way back, and they’ve already lit out for some dinner and shut-eye.

Candice icily lets me know that she also has informed Kim that the two of us will, of course, be spending the night in the Bridal Suite.

She is so angry; my phone is heating up.

Candice doesn’t know Kim is my stepsister, of course.

No one does.

Somehow, I am fairly certain that mentioning this fact to Candice will do nothing at all to assuage her anger.

I try to tell her to book Cabo for when I get back, but I am already talking to a dead line.

*****

KIM

“Are you fucking serious?” I yell into the phone. “I can’t do that!”

Brian’s stupid executive assistant is droning on, apologizing for all the last-minute bullshit that’s happened to fuck up my life.

Good Old “Randy” has slapped a restraining order on the “Haunted” production crew, so they are not permitted to be even on the State Park grounds until it’s resolved.

Shit.

I ask Miss Honeycakes Dumbass if she knows if I am personally named, and she takes way too long to answer. I can hear her trying to come up with some kind of smartass remark, or anything bitchy to set me off.

I pray to God that she tries to pull something, because, after all, the crap I’ve had to put up with today, I am ready to lay into someone.

I wait, and wait, and can hear her backing down over the phone. She’s reconsidering something, but I don’t know what calculus she is doing.

Maybe it’s something between her and Brian, I don’t know?

Probably, that’s what it is.

I think about it for another two seconds.

Of course, that’s EXACTLY what it is.

She’s fucking Brian!

That bitch!

That lucky, lucky bitch!

My heart stings a bit at the realization that Brian’s cock is no stranger to Candie.

I hear her sigh. I hear her rustling some papers, which is weird. Doesn’t she have a computer? Hasn’t she heard of PDFs?

Maybe the legal documents had to be faxed or snail-mailed for certified delivery or something. I still find it strange to use ordinary paper.

Oh well.

She says that I am specifically not named in the order, so I should be good to go.

She tells me more crap about how she’s so sorry, but there’s no more rooms available. Some bullshit convention coming into town for the week and taking up every damned room for twenty miles around.

She’s not at all happy with this arrangement, either. I feel it in her coolness towards me.

Call it intuition, call it sixth sense; call it my complete and total realization that my son of a bitch stepbrother is definitely fucking this gal.

It comes across with every word she speaks, in her condescending tone, and in the poison dripping from her no-doubt adorably kissable lips. I wonder what’s keeping her from just jumping on a plane to come out here and fight me over him. Probably not one damned thing.

I know the type of woman Brian likes.

Every time you see him in “Variety,” there’s another one hanging on his arm. Hollywood Bimbo-slut, version two point four or five - whatever their age is.

I try to tell her “Thanks!” but before I can get it out, she slams the phone down.

You can tell she is not a happy camper.

Well, fuck her.

Bitch.

*****

BRIAN

“Hello, Kim!” I say.

I am trying to be nonchalant about the fact that we’re shacking up for the night.

We haven’t slept in the same house, let alone room, for over twelve years.

This should be interesting.

Kim plops her travel bags in a closet, near the door, and scans the Bridal Suite critically.

There’s a strange look on her face. It’s almost as if she is trying not cry. Which is kind of silly, to me.

“Look at this bathroom!” she cries.

“This is amazing! There’s a Jacuzzi, a walk-in shower, and a claw-footed bathtub! And, these towels and these robes! Wow!” she exclaims happily.

Now, that’s more like it.

She’s brightened up a bit, and my heart does a little flip.

She’s happy, and it makes me feel great!

“There’s a mini-bar, are you thirsty?” I ask.

I grab a beer for myself, making a mental note of the price for my expense report.

I sit down on this huge sofa. It’s definitely seen some hard use as a lovemaking accessory, I notice.

I also note that we’ve been given a complimentary bottle of champagne. Not a great vintage, but hey! Free champagne!

Kim eyes the bottle and the elegant flute glasses hanging from the bucket and then sees I am already almost halfway through my beer.

“What else is there?” she says. “Vodka?”

I peruse the contents of the bar, and it’s got some scotch, bourbon, gin, tequila and the beers, but, oddly enough, no vodka.

“Sorry, babe. No vodka,” I shrug my shoulders.

She elbows me aside, and takes a quick glance, then grabs the three tequila shooters.

She cracks one open and sucks it down in three seconds.

“That’s better,” she says and gives a tiny hiccup.

She opens the next one, and finds a glass, into which she pours the contents and adds three ice cubes from the champagne bucket.

Then, she sits down next to me, on the love seat.

*****

KIM

I put my bags down, and there’s Brian standing over next to the bar - naturally.

I’m still pissed about this whole arrangement, but I guess I will try to make the best of a bad situation.

Once I get my bearings, I am shocked at how opulent this place really is!

Who would have guessed that this place, out in the middle of nowhere, had a five-star reputation?

‘Candie’ did a fine job. I’ll have to be sure to thank her for real. Maybe I will get her a gift card to some adult toy store, so she can fuck herself.

I giggle at that thought.

I walk around a bit more.

Holy mackerel!

It’s got real marble and granite floors and countertops!

This is a really classy place! I am drooling, thinking of how to put this kind of stuff in my dream home, when I spy Brian’s ass as he leans to peer into the mini-fridge.

My thighs loosen a bit, and I move to the other hallway. There’s a small vanity there, and a linen closet.

Then I come to the bathroom.

Oh, my God. I think I have died and gone to heaven!

“Look at this bathroom!” I yell.

This room is definitely going to get a workout; I think to myself.

And I suddenly find I am making all kinds of interesting and lewd connections in my brain, and I’m blushing again, and I am thinking about Brian’s ass, and that kiss in the stairwell.

I feel hot and wet.

Then, I feel stupid at my outburst.